by Suzan Lauder
Realising she had best break the trance she seemed to have fallen under, Elizabeth made an effort to engage her partner in conversation.
“Mr. Darcy, you dance very well for one who dislikes the activity,” Elizabeth said archly. He smiled at her reference to Sir William’s entreaties to have him dance with her at Lucas Lodge.
“I am fortunate to have you agree to it this time.”
Several more turns in the dance occurred before Elizabeth resolved to continue the conversation in an effort to distract herself from her partner’s brooding gaze. To summon her courage, she reflected on his insult at the assembly ball and the accusations of Mr. Wickham, and began the conversation with a challenge.
“Come, Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation. A little will suffice.”
“Do you talk as a rule then, while you dance?”
“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”
“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”
“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly, “for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.”
“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” said he. “How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”
“Although it seems an argument bent on a certain type of flattery, your contradiction is perhaps intended to make me out as ill-qualified to perform such an assessment, or at least not as qualified as you. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous of you to disagree with me on this point—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock you.”
“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.
For a moment she was lost in the sight of his dimples but then recollected her intention to dislike him and said, “You have knowledge enough of my intellect to withstand a challenging discussion.”
“I have.”
“Very well,” she said brusquely. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy; you once stated that you hardly ever forgave—that your resentment once created was implacable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.”
“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.
“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?” Elizabeth asked in an accusing tone, shocking herself at her impertinence.
“I hope not.”
“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“May I ask to what these questions tend?”
“Your character, by all accounts,” said she, “is perplexing. I know you to be a stubborn person in an intellectual debate, and my father feels you to be a trustworthy friend, yet I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly. I hope you will not be hasty in assessing my character.”
“No one admitted to the privilege of knowing you can think anything wanting.”
The dance ended and Darcy returned Elizabeth to her family and retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom to think about their odd conversation. Elizabeth seemed displeased, and Darcy sensed he was being castigated for something, but he knew not what offence had earned her censure.
As the evening went on, he restlessly stalked about the ballroom hiding behind an affectation of detached aloofness while jealously watching as Elizabeth gaily enjoyed the company of the young bucks who clamoured to ask her for a dance. He mentally reviewed the conversation. It was not like the discussions they had shared at the Bennet home; she seemed to be judging his character and not his opinions, and he was unnerved by it. He was unable to think of any response he had made that was less than civil and did not feel he deserved her reproach. Perhaps she was angry at the antics of Mr. Collins, who was bent upon displaying his officious nonsense to anyone who would care to listen.
Darcy considered asking Miss Elizabeth for the supper dance to assure another opportunity to speak with her in order to determine the cause of her displeasure. He tried to convince himself it was unimportant, but the effort was in vain. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not see Mr. Bennet approach and was startled when he spoke.
“Well, Darcy, all of Meryton is now quite convinced of your particular interest in my second eldest daughter. No doubt you felt it your duty to excite such speculation regarding your inevitable declaration and nuptials. I admit surprise because her disapproval of you surely had little influence on your choice of dance partners from among Meryton’s eligible young ladies.”
Darcy scowled at the inference his friend was making and jumped to defend himself from what he interpreted as a slight towards his honour. “I assure you, if that is the case, then it was most unintentionally done. I do see it as my duty to show I am not above Meryton society and country manners. My discomfort with strangers naturally influenced my decision to request a dance with Miss Elizabeth over other young ladies, as our discussions in your home have allowed me to feel more at ease in her company.”
“You could have danced with Jane, Mary or any other young lady in the room, but you singled out Elizabeth for one dance. You may have raised expectations. You certainly have raised eyebrows.”
“But Miss Elizabeth gave no indication she had any expectation beyond the one dance, and I have no desire to renounce our friendship for the imaginations of a few small-town gossips. I proudly admit I enjoy Miss Elizabeth’s company above most, as I do yours, for we have mutual interests. I most certainly relish the intellectual discussions I have with your daughter, and it is my particular wish to continue our debates whenever I am fortunate enough to be in her company. Your comment about her disapproval surprises me somewhat, but she did seem to find me lacking during our dance. Although I am not certain of the reason, it is of little concern to me since I readily acknowledge that most of my discussions with Miss Elizabeth are comprised of verbal challenges, and she enjoys taking opposing opinions to test my mind.
“However, as to any meaning inferred by my selection of dance partner, you must know I have a duty to my family to improve my position within the first circles, which would preclude me from showing preference to any young lady from the country. I reproach myself for any displays that were seen as romantic intentions towards Miss Elizabeth. It was not my objective to expose myself to such speculation as could never be possible but merely to enjoy a harmless dance with an intelligent partner whom I have always regarded, in the most honourable manner, as a good friend.”
Darcy would have been better able to convince the listener of his impartiality were it a time more distant from his obsessive ruminations about the dance with Elizabeth. But Darcy’s sense was affected. As his breast was filled with tolerable powerful feelings towards her, he was less guarded than intended and seemed to feel the need to repeatedly refute arguments that had not been made. He carefully held a stern countenance to convince Bennet of his sincerity. However, he was betrayed by his eyes, which gave away the feelings blossoming in his heart even as he was determined to deny them.
Bennet was sensible to the young man’s conflict but also felt compelled to give Darcy cause to ponder his reasons for such a vehement denial of his partiality, particularly when Darcy had underlined his friendship with Elizabeth too often for one to not be suspicious of deeper sentiments. Although Bennet’s characteristic impatience was urging him to ask Darcy more pointed questions, his greater sense prevailed. So Bennet chose his words carefully while hoping to inspire Darcy to reconsider his position.
“Darcy, I must protest this little speech of yours by two points you cannot deny. Had you always regarded Lizzy in such a favou
rable manner, my daughter would not have reported overhearing you admit to Mr. Bingley that she was ‘tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me.’ Obviously that opinion no longer holds true.” Darcy’s lips compressed into a line, but he made no comment.
Bennet continued more sternly, “But the second point challenges your honesty with yourself. Be assured, Darcy, your regard towards my daughter has been displayed all these weeks. I am not blind, sir; I have seen the way you look upon her when you think no one is watching. I hardly think you see my Elizabeth as merely a friend, or I would expect to see you dancing with Bingley and giving him longing gazes from across the room.”
Darcy looked away without protest. Bennet paused and crossed his arms before making his next point.
“I have not spoken before because I esteem you, sir, and I do not see the connection as unwelcome. Were you to apologise and gain her approbation, I would be agreeable to a request to pay her court, and in fact, I would disclose information that would clearly demonstrate she has everything necessary to attract an offer from a man of your station.
“Your pride and prejudice have kept you from attempting to win her, yet you continue to show her special regard. Although her seemingly mild aversion to you has comforted me that her heart is not likely in danger, your attentions have been noticed enough to raise speculation, and I will not sit by and watch her reputation be tarnished. As her father, I must insist you be certain of your intentions and more guarded with your countenance before you are so quick to deny responsibility for the conclusions made by astute observers.”
Darcy was silent for some minutes as he looked downward with a furrowed brow, his hand over his mouth, mulling over the truth of what his friend was saying. The accusations were not to be refuted, and he was angry with himself for being so easily read. He was captivated with Elizabeth’s innate kindness and spirit of mind and found it difficult not to spend an excessive amount of time basking in her glow.
But he was also offended that Bennet all but demanded a declaration. Darcy’s intentions were to marry well; his duty to his family and estate demanded it, and it would be most ill advised to admit his feelings towards Elizabeth to anyone. Darcy was sure her father would extol the blessings of his daughter, but his indicated revelation surely could have no effect on her circumstances within society or her relations. Darcy felt it prudent to avoid this point and answer only to his insult at the assembly, and he tried to do so with a lightened expression and convivial tone.
“Bennet, I have long regretted my ill-mannered comments at the assembly, and beg your forgiveness. I was not certain which young lady Bingley was promoting for my felicity, thus the comments were directed towards someone I did not know. I also did not know our discussion was overheard, and I am ashamed my remarks were considered to be offensive. No excuse would justify such a deplorable comment regarding any person. I have been remiss in not relating all this to Miss Elizabeth, and I will correct that as soon as a suitable opportunity avails itself.”
Bennet bowed his head as if accepting the apology. Darcy took a deep breath and continued, “As to your other point, as much as I enjoy a spirited discussion with you, this is too personal a topic for me to explore dispassionately. I request you respect my privacy on the matter, trusting that I am taking your advice quite seriously. I do thank you for your honesty, and my respect for you will most certainly guide my actions. With that, my friend, I beg your leave to end this debate and attempt a discussion with more levity.”
“You back away like you have something to hide, Darcy, and other fathers would not relent easily. Still, I accept your apology and acknowledge your decision since you have consented to consider my concerns. I agree that we end this discussion as it is no more pleasant for me than you.”
“Very well, Bennet, you are indeed a good friend,” said Darcy. “Now, since you chose that last disagreeable topic, I would like to challenge you with my choice.”
Bennet raised his brows, but Darcy’s demeanour revealed there was jest in his intended conversation, and a smile threatened on one side of his mouth.
Darcy saw his friend understood his intention and so continued, affecting outrage, “Tell me, as a friend, what in blazes is that cousin of yours thinking, dancing when he has no notion of the forms? I was pained to see the embarrassment on your daughters’ faces as he was disrupting all the participants in the dance and ruthlessly treading on the ladies’ feet!” Bennet noticed a hint of a wry smile in Darcy’s eyes.
“I see we have abandoned all principles of gentlemanly discourse, and I am sorely regretting upsetting your sensibilities with the last topic, such that you feel a need to punish me severely by bringing up my cousin in such a manner,” Bennet said, his mouth twitching to suppress a grin. “I too observed his performance, and if it were not likely that it would further mortify the young women on the receiving end of his company, I would drag him off by his ear like an errant school boy!” However much he thought his cousin ridiculous, his humour was severely tried by Collins.
“My apologies for his ungentlemanly conduct, old man,” he continued. “He drives me quite mad. I was hopeful about his improvement, but it is obvious he does not care how he exposes himself. I have had more than one occasion to chastise him discreetly this evening, but somehow he thinks he is above heeding my counsel. All the response I receive is another ill-mannered speech about your aunt and her condescension and how the import of his station bestows him the right to do as your aunt would admire. I hope you are not so unfortunate as to be much in his company at your aunt’s estate.”
“I imagine I have succeeded in obtaining a little retribution for your opinions on the last topic, Bennet.” Darcy smiled and added drily, “Perhaps if I am ever again in the company of Mr. Collins, I could imply that you are inferior in the skills needed for a proper supplicating sycophant and make the suggestion that he exert himself to provide you advice on how to show subjection towards me and my station! I am sure he would act on my advice with uncommon alacrity!” Darcy was trying not to laugh. Bennet showed no such restraint and threw his head back with a hearty guffaw.
“If he were able to convince me as you suggest, it would make our wrangling much less lively!”
“You are correct, Bennet; that would certainly be most regrettable. In that case, I have no choice but to amend my strategy. I will avoid him, scowl most viciously to show I am not at all approachable, and refuse to attend to his ridiculous speeches.”
“Well done. In any case, we will not long have him in Hertfordshire; he is to return to Kent next Saturday.”
“I am sure you will be most grateful.”
Bennet indicated his agreement and then paused. He took a deep breath and began, “Darcy, I have another serious matter to discuss. We have a new acquaintance in the neighbourhood who causes me concern. I worry because it is not likely this person will take his leave any time soon since he is in Colonel Forster’s group of militia officers. Do you know Mr. George Wickham?” Bennet turned to point the man out. “He is right now standing up with Miss Maria Lucas. I have not yet met him but have learned much of him. He claims to be known to you.”
Darcy’s defences immediately came to full alert. He roused himself from the amusing thoughts of a moment before, straightened to his full height, and clenched his fists at his sides. “I do know him, sir, and he is a scoundrel. He was the son of my father’s steward, a very good man, and I have known him most of my life. We played together as children, and I was aware of Wickham’s nature, but his pleasant manner allowed him to gain my late father’s good opinion. My father funded Mr. Wickham’s education through school and at Cambridge. Away from my father’s eyes, he used his charms to gain friends who shared his wicked ways. He quickly developed habits of gambling, deceit, and debauchery, which caused me to abandon any presumed friendship from our youth.” Darcy was unable to hide his disgust towards Wickham.
“He tells a tall tale of misuse at your hands, and as much as my family has tried to quest
ion the verity of his claims, much of Meryton is charmed by him. Tell me, is there any part of truth in his allegation that you denied him the living your father had promised?”
“I had every intention of honouring my dear father’s wishes,” said Darcy, “without regard to my own reservations. Mr. Wickham received a legacy of £1,000 on my father’s death and was to gain a most valuable living when one became vacant. However, Mr. Wickham expressed his disinclination for the clergy, saying that he would not be agreeable to a life of making sermons. He requested and accepted an additional sum of £3,000 for the study of law in lieu of the living promised by my good father.
“Not three years later, the living at Kympton became available, and Wickham returned to claim it, citing my father’s preferment and intention that his godson be well situated. Of course, I was incredulous and denied his claim, not only because Wickham had already been adequately recompensed, but also because I had strong reservations about his suitability for the church due to my observations of his dissolute behaviour. Since then, he has continued to speak ill of me and my family.”
“Well, that is very interesting. No doubt it was gaming that took most of that £4,000 in so short a time,” Bennet said crossly. He observed the subject of their discussion leaving the ballroom.
“Yes, and he has been known to leave debts of honour.”
“I will now tell you how I happened to know of Mr. Wickham. My daughters reported being introduced to him in Meryton by Lt. Denny, an officer of the ——shire Militia. They resumed the acquaintance again at the home of their Aunt Philips in Meryton, where they were enjoying a social evening with the officers and other young people of the neighbourhood. My daughters thought he had a more than agreeable countenance; his manners were attentive and his words flattering, but the two who spoke with him the longest felt an unsettling air about him. From the very start of the acquaintance, both Lizzy and Lydia suspected Mr. Wickham of a tendency towards ungentlemanlike behaviour. I do not believe other girls would be so astute as to identify his sly attempts to impose himself upon them nor confident enough to call attention to impropriety before it reached a scandalous nature; therefore, I am quite proud of the sensibility of my daughters.
