"Is something the matter, Mama?" Elizabeth questioned.
"Isn't that...one of the dresses...you brought with you... from London?" Mrs. Bennet inquired. "That's right, Mama," Elizabeth responded cheerfully.
Mrs. Phillips, who had invited herself over for dinner for the third time this week, had overheard everything, and was shocked.
"Surely you are not going to wear that to the assembly!" she gasped.
"Oh but I am," Elizabeth answered.
"Lizzy, you can't!" Mrs. Bennet protested.
"Why not?" Elizabeth wanted to know.
Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Bennet exchanged glances. "Because..." Mrs. Bennet murmured hesitantly. "Well that man...he paid for it...didn't he?"
Elizabeth's eyes darkened momentarily with pain. "Yes, he did," she managed to reply. "It is lovely, isn't it?"
Mrs. Bennet made a choking noise. Mrs. Phillips was speechless.
Elizabeth ignored them both and went to look at herself in the mirror.
"I think it is beautiful," she remarked dreamily, admiring the way the silk folds clung to her body.
"How can you!" Mrs. Phillips exclaimed.
"How can I what?" Elizabeth countered innocently.
Mrs. Phillips appealed to her sister.
"Lizzy, dear, if that man gave it to you," Mrs. Bennet ventured, "don't you think you should take it off?"
Elizabeth turned away from the mirror to face her mother and aunt. Instead of the blushing confusion they expected, her gaze was cold and haughty.
"No, Mama," she replied firmly, "I do not think that. I shall wear this gown tonight, because I consider it the most suitable one I possess."
This was too much for Mrs. Phillips.
"Really, Lizzy!" she cried. "How can you shame Mr. Collins by insisting on that dress?"
Elizabeth's expression grew slightly more hostile. "Why should he be ashamed?" she questioned frostily.
"You know very well why!" Mrs. Phillips declared. "I confess I don't," Elizabeth responded.
"Because of the way you acquired it," Mrs. Phillips clarified.
"Indeed?" Elizabeth queried.
"It is the result of your sins," Mrs. Phillips muttered. "Poor Mr. Collins!"
Elizabeth flushed. "What do you expect me to put on?" she demanded. "Rags?"
"Certainly not!" Mrs. Phillips retorted.
"Or perhaps," Elizabeth continued as if she had not heard her aunt, "you would be happier if I went in sackcloth and ashes?"
"There is no need to be rude, dear," Mrs. Bennet said. "Your aunt and I only felt that something a trifle less blatant, like one of your nice dance dresses which you wore before..."
"...before that episode in London," Mrs. Phillips completed.
"Exactly, before that trip of yours," Mrs. Bennet agreed. "One of those dear little gowns would be better."
Elizabeth smiled.
Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Bennet began to splutter indignantly at this, but Elizabeth silenced them with an imperious wave of her hand.
"It would disgrace Mr. Collins far more if I turned up in one of my old dresses," she stated bluntly. "He will have no cause to be embarrassed by my appearance."
Neither Mrs. Phillips nor Mrs. Bennet was able to respond to that, for at that moment, the door opened and Hill admitted Mr. Collins. He took one look at Elizabeth's gown and beamed.
"The perfect outfit!" he declared, kissing Elizabeth's hand. "Absolutely right for the occasion."
Elizabeth rewarded him with a triumphant smile, and then, before Mrs. Phillips or Mrs. Bennet could collect their thoughts, the couple had gone.
* * * *
Elizabeth and Mr. Collins, like the other guests, arrived punctually. They were greeted by their host and hostess, after which they made their way upstairs.
Since it was a warm night and rather close, the windows of the ballroom had been left wide open. There were some people already there when Elizabeth and Mr. Collins reached the first floor, milling around admiring the lavish decorations—the host spared no expense for this party—and welcoming their friends and acquaintances.
Presently, when all the guests were assembled, the floor was cleared, the musicians tuned their instruments and various couples took their places for the first quadrille.
"May I have this dance?" Mr. Collins addressed Elizabeth.
"Of course," she answered, curtsying.
Since the center of the ballroom was by now filled with dancers standing in position waiting for the music to start, Mr. Collins led Elizabeth to a corner near the open windows, where, with three other couples they formed a square. The band played the opening bars and everyone began to dance.
As the evening progressed, she chose to sit a dance out, so that she could have a couple of minutes to compose herself.
Elizabeth rose to her feet and was wandering distractedly around the edge of the dance floor when she vaguely heard a new arrival being announced.
"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire."
Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy is here?
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth's frozen heart started to melt. Tears of joy sprang into her eyes. She wanted to run to him and fling her arms around him. She only just managed to stop herself from doing so by reminding herself that they were not alone.
But she could not prevent herself from staring at him.
And then, as if he had suddenly become aware of her presence, Darcy turned his head in her direction. In an instant his expression changed. In that moment, Elizabeth gazed full into his eyes and saw that they burned fiercely.
Involuntarily, Elizabeth took a step backwards, retreating from his wrath. Then she picked up her skirts and ran across the dance floor, weaving her way in amongst the dancers, to the supper room where she had last seen Mr. Collins.
As soon as she spotted him, she slowed to a more decorous pace and put her hand on her forehead.
"Are you unwell, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Collins asked solicitously.
His voice seemed to come from a great distance. Elizabeth thought she was going to faint, but miraculously, she remained on her feet.
"Headache," she whispered.
"Shall I take you home?" Mr. Collins offered.
"Yes, please."
Luckily, their hostess was nearby and they were able to say goodbye quickly. Fortunately, too, Lady Lucas suggested that they should leave without going through the hot noisy ballroom, so they went by another route to the main entrance of the house, where their carriage was waiting.
Elizabeth was trembling. What if Darcy caught up with them. What if he didn't?
Did he pursue me? Elizabeth asked herself as Mr. Collins escorted her back to Longbourn.
If he had attempted to do so he must certainly have become entangled with the dancers on the crowded ballroom floor. But perhaps he had not bothered. Perhaps he did not care anymore.
Elizabeth could hardly wait until she was on her own.
The moment she reached home, she said a hurried good night to Mr. Collins. Then she raced upstairs to her room. There she could let go. There she could fling herself down on her bed and weep as if her heart would break.
He was furious at seeing her again.
If he had wanted me, he would have followed me, she told herself.
And what is more, he would have caught up with her. But he had not pursued her. He certainly had not overtaken her. And therefore he could not possibly desire her anymore.
Because of this, Elizabeth cried, until she began to wonder where she had acquired so many tears to weep with. And yet, though she was miserable, she was also relieved that Mr. Darcy was in Hertfordshire.
* * * *
The next day, Elizabeth felt completely drained.
Mrs. Bennet diagnosed that too much rushing about had brought on a migraine which would probably last a day or two.
"You had better rest," she advised her daughter. "Yes Mama," Elizabeth agreed.
That evening, however, she made an effort to accompany her sister
s and Mr. Collins to a dinner at Lucas Lodge.
"I have no choice but to go," she reflected wearily.
To tell the truth, the high spirits of her friend Charlotte Lucas helped to lift her out of her depression for a few hours.
The following day was Saturday, and that morning Mrs. Phillips came over with the news that the militia was returning to Meryton.
"Wonderful news," Mrs. Bennet remarked, "if they have as fine weather as we have now. It will make their journey easier."
"Yes," Mrs. Phillips agreed, adding, "it is a beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is," Mrs. Bennet concurred.
"It is the sort of day that is just right for a picnic," Mrs. Phillips commented.
"A picnic!" Mrs. Bennet declared leaping on the suggestion. "What a splendid idea! Let us go for a picnic and give the servants the rest of the day off to celebrate!"
Mrs. Phillips was not averse. "By all means," she answered. "What about making it a real occasion by inviting Mr. Collins and a few of our other friends?"
"Yes! Yes!" Mrs. Bennet cried excitedly.
Elizabeth smiled bleakly as she listened to the pair of them discussing their plans.
"I think I shall stay at home," she said.
"Oh?" Mrs. Bennet questioned. "Why?"
"My head," Elizabeth said. "It is still very bad."
Besides she could not bear to have to endure Mrs. Phillips telling her for the rest of the afternoon how lucky she was to be marrying Mr. Collins.
Mrs. Bennet bit her lip. "Yes, you do look rather pale," she mused. "Would you rather I stayed home with you?"
"Oh, no!" Elizabeth protested. "Please don't miss the fun on my account!"
"But you will be alright?" Mrs. Bennet wanted to know.
"Yes, perfectly," Elizabeth assured her. "I need peace and quiet; and if everyone is out I shall get that."
Mrs. Bennet did not need much persuading in order to agree to leave Elizabeth on her own that Saturday. She ordered the servants to prepare a cold collation for her daughter for lunch, as well as to pack hampers for herself, Mrs. Phillips and their guests, but otherwise, she permitted them to have a holiday as well.
It was early afternoon by the time everyone, including the servants, finally departed. Elizabeth went into the drawing room, where she felt as miserable as she had on that bleak November day when Mr. Collins had first proposed to her.
Elizabeth sighed, making a hollow sound in the deserted drawing room.
"Strange," she murmured to herself, "how eerie a home becomes when it is empty."
She selected a book from one of the bookcases and took it to the window seat where she sat down and started to read. But the book was dull and plodding. It failed to absorb her attention and she put it down. A glance at the clock informed her that she had spent no more than fifteen minutes on her own, but it seemed much longer.
Elizabeth addressed the clock. "How time drags when one is on one's own!" she complained. Then she inquired, "When will the others come back from their picnic?"
Her voice seemed to reverberate through the drawing room; but there was no response from the clock which merely went on with its steady ticktock, ticktock.
"Oh you don't care, do you?" Elizabeth accused. Scarcely had she finished speaking, when the doorbell rang.
"Oh!" Elizabeth gasped. "That did give me a start!"
She went towards the front door, believing that her mother might possibly be returning because she had forgotten to pack her parasol or her smelling salts or some other equally indispensable item.
It must be that, she told herself silently. They can't be coming home already!
In her experience, unless it rained, picnics lasted the entire afternoon, and sometimes, if the weather were warm enough, into the evening as well. Certainly a quick glimpse of the provisions as they were loaded into Mrs. Phillips's carriage, indicated an ample supply of food, sufficient for a large lunch and an extremely generous tea.
And Elizabeth had deduced that the expedition would go on until five o'clock at the very least.
What could they have left behind? Elizabeth puzzled as she opened the door wide.
A split second later, her jaw dropped and she gaped in astonishment. There, standing before her, was Mr. Darcy!
* * * *
Elizabeth and Darcy stared at each other for several seconds without speaking.
"How did you find me?" she stammered.
"I saw you at the assembly. You took off."
"You insult me," Elizabeth defended.
"Do I indeed!" he snapped at her.
"Yes. You do." Elizabeth colored. The rebuke in his voice cut through her like a knife.
"Mr. Bingley informed me of where you live, since now, as you know, he is set on marrying your sister."
"And now you know," she said weakly.
"Obviously," he returned witheringly.
"Are you going to let me in?"
Meekly, Elizabeth backed into the hallway.
"Won't you come in?" she invited.
"Thank you," Darcy responded, following her into the drawing room and shutting the door behind him as he did so.
They stood several feet away from each other, fighting for their self-control. Elizabeth by the windows, gazing out at the shrubbery in the garden; Darcy near the fireplace, leaning against the mantel shelf.
This time Darcy broke the silence. "Why did you run away from me at the assembly?" he demanded.
Elizabeth wheeled round to face him.
"I did not run away from you!" she cried.
"Yes, you did!"
"Why does it matter? You sent me away!"
"I sent you home so that you would be safe."
"Ha!" Elizabeth snorted.
"What does that mean?" he questioned dangerously.
"There was absolutely no need for me to leave London," Elizabeth insisted. "I would have been perfectly all right if I had stayed there."
"How dare you doubt me!" Darcy said to her.
Elizabeth was taken aback.
"I wouldn't fancy any woman's chances in a situation where Mr. Wickham was involved," Darcy told her, "much less one as careless as you!"
Elizabeth's cheeks burned. She knew that he had a point, but she stubbornly refused to admit it.
"You are making a fuss about nothing," she retorted.
Darcy clenched his hands. "I sent you home so that I would not have to worry about you," he said evenly.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "You made me come home, knowing full well I did not want to return," she reminded him.
"It was the best place for you."
"No!"
"Yes!"
Darcy strode across the room and seized hold of her.
"Can't I get anything through that thick head of yours?" he demanded half angrily, half despairingly.
"Don't you know what you've done?" Elizabeth countered.
"Yes," he answered. "Spared you from the horrors of ruin."
Elizabeth knew that he was telling the truth. She cast her eyes down so that he would not see how near she was to tears. But though she was willing to acknowledge that he had tried to protect her, the way he had done so still rankled.
"You sent me straight back to the marriage I was running away from when we met!" she informed him.
"What!" he exclaimed. And then, hesitantly, "I don't believe you!"
"Look!" Elizabeth exhorted.
She held out her hand revealing Mr. Collins's engagement ring.
Darcy winced as if she had struck him.
"You don't love this man," he questioned pleadingly, "do you?"
Elizabeth focused on the carpet. There was no point in denying it.
"No," she replied.
"Then why agree to marry him?" Darcy inquired.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Because he asked me," she said brokenly, "and my family wants it."
"That's no reason."
Elizabeth was silent. How could she tell him that it was thanks to h
im that she was engaged to Mr. Collins? How could she tell him that when her family had learned of her acquaintance with him they had bullied her into accepting Mr. Collins's proposal?
Darcy sensed her reluctance to speak and deduced its cause.
"Elizabeth" he queried, drawing her into his arms, "is this engagement of your own choosing?"
She shook her head in negation.
"Then end it," he ordered bluntly.
"You make it sound so simple," she murmured.
"It is."
Elizabeth frowned. Was it? She slipped from his arms and paced the room. But what if her mother and aunt had been right? What if she jilted Mr. Collins and was left in the lurch by Mr. Darcy?
Elizabeth seated herself on the sofa.
"You didn't intend to get rid of me?" she asked, unable to conceal the agonized break in her voice.
Darcy was shocked by the idea. "Certainly not!" he exclaimed.
"Did you think that? Was that why you gave my servants the slip?"
"Yes."
"Oh Elizabeth."
"That's the way it appeared to me."
Darcy growled with exasperation.
Elizabeth bit her lip. "At the time, I thought you were indifferent to me."
"What put that notion into your head?"
Elizabeth was aware that he had moved closer to her.
She could just see the tips of his boots from where she sat. But she could not look at him. She could not raise her eyes to meet his.
"Miss Bingley" she explained.
Darcy sighed. "I might have known she would have something to do with it," he commented.
He took another step towards Elizabeth and knelt at her feet. His hands were on hers and his face below her, where she could not avoid gazing at it.
"Do you believe me now?" he questioned. "Do you understand that I wanted you here where you would be safe—and that was the only reason I sent you to Longbourn?"
Had information been in her power, she would not have been so wretchedly blind. But pride, not love, had been her folly.
"Yes," Elizabeth replied. "I believe you."
He kissed her hands, her palms and each finger separately. Then he stood up once more.
"Thank heavens for that!" he remarked. He gave a little snort. "I most assuredly did not intend you to become engaged to someone else," he added.
Elizabeth's eyes flew open. "Someone else?" she echoed weakly.
Darcy's Charade Page 13
