Yet he judged people by class. He considered himself to be . . . No, he knew himself to be superior to most people. What did Elizabeth say about him once? He was ‘a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world.’ Darcy frowned. He had to be more than that. He knew his manners weren’t conciliatory, but they were correct. There was something to be said for correctness, wasn’t there?
Or were his manners not as correct as he believed? They antagonized people, which didn’t seem the overall goal of manners. It was the way he chose to employ them, though, not fault in the theory behind them, which provoked. Why did he do that? He was smart enough to know what he was doing. He was smarter than Bingley. Why couldn’t Darcy use his intelligence to make himself popular? Why not make people like him, not his position, or at least use his mind to win money at cards?
The answer was glaringly obvious. He didn’t care. He cared about the people he was responsible for. Not their opinions, but their wellbeing. There were few of any rank whose opinion of him mattered to Darcy. It was a simple fact that he was happier helping his workers than he was winning at cards. He was happier helping Mrs. Collins than he was attending a party.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy many of the activities of his class. He took pleasure in riding, fishing and hunting. He valued walking outdoors, especially the grounds of Pemberley. He very much enjoyed verbally fencing with Elizabeth. He liked watching her.
Accepting his hat and gloves from his valet, Darcy wondered if he would have been happy if Elizabeth had agreed to marry him for financial security, the way Mrs. Hurst had married for the elevation of Hurst’s connections. Darcy gave his valet a nod, leaving the room and heading downstairs.
No, he wouldn’t be happy with that. Not so much because of her marrying him without love, something he’d all but resigned himself to in a wife, but because Elizabeth wouldn’t be who she was if she did so. She was one who would not settle for security alone.
He admired her spirit and independence. How much spirit and independence could she keep at the Lucases? How long would they be happy to keep her before she must return to living with her mother?
Darcy nodded to his butler, who opened the door for him, and descended the steps of his London home toward his carriage. Why must Elizabeth always come into his mind? He should forget her.
That was more easily thought than accomplished, however, especially as he gathered Bingley and Hurst for their visit to Elizabeth’s uncle and his family. How could Elizabeth be far from his mind on such a journey, and when Darcy must speak of her youngest sister. For, after thought, Darcy deemed Bingley should know of the scandal before possibly reattaching himself to Miss Bennet.
“There’s a situation, of sorts, I feel I should alert you to, Bingley.” Darcy didn’t believe in a preamble. A thing must be said. Dithering wouldn’t soften the news. “Miss Bennet’s youngest sister, Lydia, eloped with Mr. Wickham, several months ago. They did marry, but it was rather belated.”
Bingley blinked, looking like an owl. “They did marry?”
Darcy nodded.
“Wickham doesn’t seem like the sort to marry once he’s had his fun,” Hurst said, his eyes suddenly shrewd as he looked at Darcy. “You had a hand in it?”
Darcy gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Did you pay to make the marriage take place?” Hurst pressed.
“Yes.”
“How did you know that, Hurst?” Bingley looked between the two in confusion.
“It’s Darcy’s nature. He has an exaggerated sense of responsibility.” Hurst leaned back, appearing casual. The eyes he leveled on Darcy were slightly amused once more, as if he knew more than he’d said.
“Wickham isn’t your responsibility, Darcy, and Lydia Wickham certainly isn’t,” Bingley protested.
“Wickham was, in a way. My father made him what he is: a man who can pass for a gentleman. Somehow, the morals that should go with a gentleman didn’t stick. At least he can’t marry another unsuspecting woman.”
“Will you continue to support him?” Bingley asked, looking troubled.
“No, and he’s aware of that.” Darcy offered another shrug. “I’ve taken him out of the market, so to speak. I’ve done more than enough.”
“If you marry Miss Bennet, would Louisa and I meet Mr. or Mrs. Wickham in your home?” Hurst asked, sounding almost bored. “Louisa wouldn’t be happy.”
“No,” Bingley said slowly. “I wouldn’t want to make either of my sisters uncomfortable. Or you, Darcy. I can’t imagine you’d care to see the man again.”
“I can see why you brought it up, Darcy,” Hurst said, his amusement returning. “I would certainly think twice about marrying a woman now related to Mr. Wickham. Wouldn’t you, Darcy?”
Darcy was saved from answering that overly-astute question by their arrival at the Gardiner home. The carriage pulled to a halt and Darcy wondered if he could be happy visiting there. The street was a mixture of businesses and residences. No one in his class would be comfortable living in the area.
The three of them disembarked, Bingley leading the way up the steps. Instead of a butler answering the door, a housemaid opened it and invited them in without verifying they would be welcome. Darcy suspected their obvious wealth had something to do with that, but her actions emphasized that he had descended to a class with which he was unfamiliar. The Gardiners weren’t remotely of a level to be considered his equals.
Somehow, with the dispensing of outer garments, Darcy ended up directly behind the maid. She led them to a moderate sized drawing room, in which Miss Bennet and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were seated. As he entered, Miss Bennet offered a friendly smile.
Darcy couldn’t imagine what business she had smiling at him. He was never kind to her, beyond common politeness. Did she smile at everyone? She also smiled at Hurst, who followed Darcy in. She had no discrimination at all.
Then she saw Bingley. The smiles before were inadequate imitations of her expression compared to what she offered Bingley. Her face showed sheer joy, even though she should be angry with him, or at the very least, suspect there would be nothing between them.
Darcy felt a stab of envy. If Elizabeth ever smiled like that at him, he would be preparing the marriage contract. Any doubts he had about Miss Bennet’s attitude toward Bingley disappeared. Radiant was an insufficient word to describe how she looked.
The look lasted only seconds. With obvious effort, she schooled her features. She greeted them equally, with controlled politeness.
Darcy doubted it surprised anyone in the room that Bingley took the chair closest to Miss Bennet. The conversation was general at first, but Hurst said something to Mrs. Gardiner while Darcy was listening to Mr. Gardiner. It surprised Darcy, because Hurst was usually quite silent around women, until Darcy realized the goal was to assist Bingley in speaking privately with Miss Bennet. Darcy doubled his efforts at occupying Mr. Gardiner, determined to be a good friend, but soon found no effort was required at all. It wasn’t a strain to engage Mr. Gardiner. He was both intelligent and interesting.
Mr. Gardiner was sufficiently engrossing that Darcy found himself drawn into easy conversation. Mr. Gardiner participated in several charities in London. Poverty in London was more nuanced than poverty in Derbyshire, and Mr. Gardiner well versed in the organizations he supported. Darcy was interested in attempts to alleviate the misery of the poor and pleased to give and receive details about how to accomplish this in both places. Darcy did, of course, give to London charities but in London, he gave money without much oversight. He depended on others to see it was well spent. Mr. Gardiner gave as much thought to how best to spend his charity money in London as Darcy did to his efforts in Derbyshire.
It would have been correct to leave after fifteen minutes. A half an hour would have been acceptable. Darcy forgot to check the time, however, and before he knew it, they were invited for dinner and had accepted. There was only one course and it was served by a single servant, but the food was good and the comp
any better.
When they finally left, Darcy was certain of three things. The first two were that Bingley was very likely to marry Miss Bennet and that Darcy had greatly enjoyed the evening. The third was less easy to wrap his mind around. After meeting the Gardiners and seeing the happiness Bingley and Miss Bennet shared, Darcy realized he couldn’t give up the idea of Elizabeth in his life. The trouble was, then, how to convince her to accept him.
The following day brought the usual slew of invitations and business correspondence, but also two letters of great interest to Darcy. The first was from Mr. Collins. After apologizing for taking the liberty of writing, Mr. Collins said,
I am not certain of how to handle a situation which has arisen. Longbourn House was broken into last night and some silver platters were stolen. Mrs. Collins has kindly not blamed me, but I feel responsible. I doubt I can afford to replace what was lost, and no one really knows the value of what was taken. I am concerned that there may be a repetition of this, since it was done so easily, without anyone noticing anything amiss until morning. I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to how to proceed, and hoped you might offer an opinion. I trust you to have both fairness and the interests of the estate at heart.
Darcy smiled as he set down the letter, though he knew it wasn’t kind to find happiness in the plight of others. Mr. Collins’ request gave him all the excuse he needed. Darcy would go to Hertfordshire.
He read the second letter with a light heart. It gave him an even better excuse, for now he assuredly needed to speak with Mrs. Collins. The letter was from Lady Catherine.
Chapter Sixteen
“You should not reveal things to his detriment.”
“Even if they’re true?”
“Especially if they are true. A lie can be countered.”
Elizabeth was unsure of her emotions when Lady Lucas told everyone Mr. Darcy wrote his intention of visiting to assess the situation which had arisen with the stolen silver. She realized she looked forward to seeing him, though she was embarrassed at having misjudged him again. At least, when it came to the shilling he’d donated to assist the Millers, she’d kept her negative thoughts to herself. She was spared anyone knowing she’d judged Mr. Darcy and sentenced him to be someone she disliked for his lack of charity, when really he’d done far more to fix the problem than anyone could have imagined.
The day Mr. Darcy was to arrive, Elizabeth found herself oddly agitated. She wasn’t sure why she must keep checking for his carriage, or couldn’t focus on her reading. It must, she concluded, be out of worry he would somehow know she’d misjudged him yet again. He had a harsh tongue when he was of a mind, as she well knew.
She tried to calm herself, taking up a post in the window seat of the parlor, where she could check for his arrival without it being noticed. Lady Lucas and Charlotte sat on a large sofa opposite her. Maria and Susan were both reading on another, while Arthur arranged toy soldiers on the carpet, out of the way in a corner. John Lucas and Miss King were out visiting some old friends of hers, driving in an open phaeton, as close to being alone as they were permitted. Sir William had retreated to his office.
A knock at the door made Elizabeth start. She pulled back the curtain, but it was only the mail. Elizabeth dropped the curtain back in place, suppressing the urge to sigh. She opened her book to attempt reading the same page she’d been staring at all day. One of the Lucas’ maids appeared a moment later. To Elizabeth’s surprise, she was offered a letter.
Taking in Jane’s handwriting, Elizabeth opened the missive with mild trepidation. Jane hadn’t been happy since Mr. Bingley’s desertion, her state made worse by the loss of their father and her exile from her sisters. Jane’s false cheer was the sort of thing that would dampen Elizabeth’s mood and prejudice her against Mr. Darcy, whom she wished to look on with a clear eye for once, if possible.
The opening line of Jane’s letter, nearly bereft even of salutation, shot Elizabeth to her feet. “Mr. Bingley and I are engaged,” Elizabeth read aloud, unable to contain herself.
“I beg your pardon, dear?” Lady Lucas said, looking up from her needlework.
Maria, Susan and Arthur stared at her with wide eyes. Charlotte offered a happy smile. She, at least, didn’t appear at all shocked, likely understanding Elizabeth read from the page she held.
“I don’t mean me.” Elizabeth laughed, realizing the confusion she’d created. “It’s from Jane. Jane says she and Mr. Bingley are engaged.”
“Why, that’s marvelous news,” Lady Lucas said, her smile broad.
Elizabeth hugged the letter to her chest. “It is. It’s wonderful. She sounds so happy.” She held the pages out to read, then looked up. “I’m sorry. Please don’t let me keep you from your tasks. I really should have controlled myself. My mother will want to give the news.”
Lady Lucas gave a reassuring smile, returning to her work. Maria and Susan began whispering rapidly. Arthur took Elizabeth at her word and went back to his game. Charlotte met her eyes with a pleased smile before applying herself to the blanket she was creating.
Elizabeth retook the window seat, though what she wished to do was run about the countryside shouting for joy. She smoothed Jane’s letter, starting from the beginning.
Mr. Bingley and I are engaged! I had given up on ever seeing him again, but five days ago, he called on us with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. Within an hour, it was like we’d never been separated. I didn’t write you earlier because I was so uncertain it would last, but he asked me to marry him and of course I said yes. Uncle Gardiner says that since I am of age, we don’t need Mama’s permission, but he is certain she will give it.
Elizabeth had to suppress a chuckle at that. Since Jane had undoubtedly written their mother in the same post, Elizabeth expected Mrs. Bennet would be spreading the news as fast and as far as she could. Jane’s letter went on to express her joy and her thanks to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. She said Mr. Bingley told her both men wholeheartedly encouraged him to visit her.
Joy was like a living thing inside Elizabeth, urging her to leap into the air or run about the room singing, but she contained herself to the window seat. She alternated between rereading Jane’s letter and scanning the yard for signs of Mr. Darcy’s carriage. An odd fluttering filled her at the thought of meeting him now, with her greatest objection to him remedied. She would never have taken him for a man who would so unbend from his judgement as to remedy an error his prejudice had led him to.
Despite all her searching, Elizabeth was reading Jane’s letter again when Mr. Darcy was announced and shown into the parlor, Sir William on his heels. She, along with everyone else, stood to greet him. Though she knew it was poor manners, she couldn’t contain a radiant smile as he nodded to her. Jane would be happy and well, and Mr. Darcy had a hand in that.
There was a commotion without and Elizabeth could hear her mother’s grating tones, though the words were still garbled. Everyone turned toward the sound except Mr. Darcy, who crossed to stand before Elizabeth.
She’d forgotten how tall he was, she realized, looking up at him. His eyes were intent as he studied her face. His gaze lingered on her smile.
“Miss Bennet, you seem in fine spirits today.”
His voice was low, containing an odd note she couldn’t identify. Behind him, her mother burst into the room.
“I have news,” Mrs. Bennet crowed, waving a letter in the air. “Wonderful news.”
“You must know the source of my happiness, sir.” Elizabeth kept her words quiet as well, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation, oddly intimate, for all they were in a room full of people.
“Must I?” If anything, the intensity in his gaze grew.
“You are the source of it.” The fluttering inside her increased, when he looked at her that way. She was aware of a great deal of talking going on behind Mr. Darcy, most of it in her mother’s voice, but couldn’t focus on those words when he stood before her as he did.
“Me?”
“Well, much of
the source.” She searched his face, seeking comprehension, but finding only banked fires burning in his eyes. “You and Mr. Hurst. You must know Jane is engaged to Mr. Bingley. She wrote that you and Mr. Hurst are much to thank for it.”
Mr. Darcy was silent. He blinked once. “Your sister’s engagement is the source of your excessive good humor?”
Elizabeth’s smile returned. “How else could it be? And you are responsible for it, sir. Do not be modest in this instance. I wish to thank you with all sincerity.” She touched his arm lightly.
He looked down at her fingers. Elizabeth felt something shift in his mood and dropped her hand, realizing she was being too forward, made silly by her joy. She muted her smile. Her praise and behavior embarrassed him. She should have expected it would, for a man who would buy apple trees and lightning rods without publicizing it obviously wished to avoid thanks.
“Don’t worry. I shall not praise you to the room.” She sought to reassure him. “I’ve learned you prefer to keep your good deeds to yourself.”
He nodded, turning so he stood beside her, facing the others. Elizabeth was aware something had cooled between them. She wasn’t certain why, or even what it was, but she felt the loss keenly.
“Mr. Darcy, I did not see you there,” Mrs. Bennet said. Her expression moved rapidly from surprise to suspicion. “If you’re here to come between Jane and Mr. Bingley, you’re too late. I have it in writing. They’ll be married.” She waved the letter in the air.
Elizabeth blushed. She hoped Mr. Darcy didn’t think she’d been spreading tales about him, for she’d not. Her mother had stumbled upon the idea on her own. “Mama, I’m sure that is not Mr. Darcy’s intention.”
“I saw the way he looked at them dancing together, him and those horrible women Mr. Bingley is related to. I have eyes, Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet marched across the room toward them. “There’s no stopping the union now. My Jane will be rich.”
Believing in Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 12
