Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

by Kara Louise

  “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Truly? And as you grow up, you will notice more and more things like that, making you a good studier of character.”

  “Is that good?”

  Elizabeth tilted her head. “It can be in some ways.” She thought back to her study of Mr. Darcy. “But we must not always rely on what we first perceive. We may not always be correct.”

  “How will we know if we are mistaken?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Sometimes we may not know until it is too late. But,” Elizabeth clasped her hands together, “a good rule of thumb is to not be too quick to judge someone poorly, but always be willing to judge them well. Then collect the facts you need to support or disprove your opinion.”

  Emily displayed a wide grin. “That does sound like a good idea.”

  Elizabeth felt a little better after her talk with Emily. She enjoyed sharing lessons she had learned from people, books, and her own experience. Fortunately, the young girl did not ask what it was that was bothering her, and Elizabeth did not volunteer the information.

  ***

  To Elizabeth’s relief and Rosalyn’s regret, for several weeks there were no balls, no parties, and no evenings at the theatre where Mr. Darcy, his sister, or Mr. Bingley were in attendance. Rosalyn still harboured hopes that Mr. Darcy had a fondness for her, but kept it between herself and Elizabeth. She had not owned up to her sister what her hopes and dreams concerning him were.

  Elizabeth was grateful for his absence from those functions, but Rosalyn continued to mention him at every opportunity. While she dearly enjoyed the friendship they shared, when the subject of Mr. Darcy came up, Elizabeth had to choose her words very carefully.

  She was also immeasurably grateful that there had been no announcement concerning an engagement between Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley. She had made a decision early on that she would not burden Jane with the fact that she had seen him again until it was absolutely necessary. But she knew it would only be a matter of time.

  Chapter 5

  Blue skies and mild breezes became increasingly prominent in the ensuing weeks, replacing the grey skies and cold dampness that had plagued London throughout the spring. The promise of summer brought with it the anticipation of colourful gardens, warmer days, and of course, the move to the country. The house was all astir with plans and packing.

  While Elizabeth savoured each visit to her aunt and uncle’s, more often than not her smiles were forced and she found it difficult to join the others in their laughter. It pained her to know that these visits would shortly be coming to an end when she departed with the Willstones for the north. But just as she was determined to guard what she said to Rosalyn about Mr. Darcy, so she had to be careful not to mention Mr. Bingley to Jane. Until she knew for a certainty that an announcement between him and Miss Darcy had been made, she would not acknowledge to her sister that she had seen him. It was an insufferable thought that lingered continually in the back of her mind.

  As the time drew nearer for their departure, arrangements were made for one final party at the Willstones’ home, and Elizabeth had been asked to practice a song for Emily to sing for the guests. Invitations were sent out to all their closest acquaintances, and Elizabeth pondered quietly whether that would include Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Bingley. She could only hope and pray that he would not attend and that they had not yet become betrothed.

  Elizabeth diligently tended to her duties with little Emily, working with fervour on a song she would play on the pianoforte and Emily would sing. She did everything to keep the thought of which guests might attend out of her mind. Rosalyn, however, brought forth that subject to Elizabeth at every opportunity. The day before the party, she came to see Elizabeth.

  “He most likely will not be here, Elizabeth,” she pouted despondently.

  Elizabeth tilted her head at Rosalyn and gave her a sly smile. “Of whom do you speak?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth, how you tease me! We have heard that Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley will attend, but nothing from her brother.” Rosalyn let out a deep sigh. “It is just as I feared. My sister supposes that he has already left for the country and will not be returning to London until next season.”

  A great sense of relief flooded Elizabeth, but she felt compassion for her friend’s disappointed hopes. “I am sure there will be plenty of opportunities to see him in Town next year.”

  Rosalyn waved her hand through the air in a dramatic gesture. “Oh, no. I am convinced he will be married by then. Or at least promised to someone.”

  Curiosity prompted Elizabeth to ask, “Why do you say that?”

  Reaching out and grasping Elizabeth’s hands, Rosalyn answered, “If his sister is to marry, he will be released from the burden of her guardianship and feel the freedom to take a wife of his own. Some say it may have been due to his devotion and care for his sister that he has not yet married…”

  Elizabeth abruptly looked down as her heart began to pound. Slowly looking back up at Rosalyn, she asked apprehensively, “Are they engaged, then? Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley?”

  Rosalyn waved her hand back and forth. “No… that is… I have not heard that there has been an announcement, but everyone believes it will be soon. And if that is the case, if I do not see Mr. Darcy before we leave for the country, it may be too late. I will be gravely disappointed.”

  “Rosalyn,” Elizabeth tried to reassure her. “There are many fine men out there. Certainly someone other than Mr. Darcy would make you a wonderful husband.”

  “Perhaps,” she said as she drew her hands into her lap and wove her fingers nervously together. “But he is so good and kind and generous. He is devoted to his sister and does not seem to be impressed with the trappings of society. Besides that, he is so terribly handsome. He is just about the only man in the world I could ever consider marrying!”

  Elizabeth let out an unwitting breathy chuckle. Rosalyn looked up abruptly.

  “Do you think me foolish?”

  “No, Rosalyn.” Elizabeth answered, chiding herself for her reaction. She recollected the words she lashed out at him when she refused his offer of marriage, that he would be the last man she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. “If he is as good as you say, I cannot think you foolish at all.”

  ***

  On the day of the Willstones’ party, an early morning light rain dampened the grounds. But later in the afternoon the clouds were pushed north by a pleasant southerly breeze, allowing the sun to peek out intermittently. By late afternoon, the blue sky prevailed and the sun poured down its warmth on the Willstone household.

  Due to the cool and wet weather, Elizabeth was forced to keep Emily entertained indoors. The excitement the girl felt about the evening gave her an abundance of energy, and it was all Elizabeth could do to keep her out of the way of the servants making final preparations for the evening.

  Elizabeth had been given instructions to keep Emily upstairs again until she was called for. Guests would begin arriving in the late afternoon, and a supper would be served in the early evening. Emily would be asked to sing in the parlour just prior to the supper being served, before everyone proceeded to the dining room.

  The two had been working together on their song rather diligently. They had practiced it over and over for the past two weeks until both knew it quite well. Emily had no qualms about singing in front of an audience, so Elizabeth did not have to fear that the young girl would suffer any nerves. She was confident her charge would perform splendidly.

  Being a larger party, Elizabeth knew she would not be put in a position to have to speak to anyone. She and Emily would come out, perform, and then take their leave and return upstairs. If Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley were there, she would not be required to converse with them. At least she was prepared this time to see them, and she would bear it admirably, although she still harboured lingering disappointment for her dear Jane.

  She readied herself in her dark grey muslin gown before attending to Emily. The longer th
e little girl could remain in her everyday dress, the easier it would be. When Elizabeth began to hear voices coming from downstairs, she knew that people had begun to arrive. She went in and tended to Emily.

  She took care to curl Emily’s long hair and weave it with ribbons. She helped her put on her dress, which was dark pink satin with lace sleeves and a bow at the neckline, which Emily insisted on tying herself. When they were both finally ready, Elizabeth took Emily by the hand and they sat down in the two chairs in her young ward’s room. Elizabeth had Emily pick out a book that she could read quietly to herself as they waited to be called downstairs.

  Emily actually read through two books, only asking Elizabeth for assistance three times. Elizabeth was pleased with the girl’s progress, and her plan was to steer the girl to books that were a little more challenging during the summer months in the country.

  At one point, Emily stopped, looking determinedly at Elizabeth. “I think you should put on a more colourful dress. You would look so much prettier!”

  Elizabeth smiled softly. “Emily, I wear only grey or black because I am in mourning. When a year has passed since my father’s death, I will go back to wearing my other dresses.”

  Emily’s lips turned down in a pout. “I wish you could look pretty tonight. Everyone downstairs will be dressed so finely.”

  “Just a little while longer,” Elizabeth answered, surprised by the young girl’s comment.

  At length, just as Emily was about to begin her third book, there was a tap on the door.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth answered.

  It was Lilia, and she peeked her head in. “They are ready for Miss Emily to sing now.”

  Emily quickly stood up, and the maid clasped her hands together. “Why, don’t you look simply beautiful and all grown up!”

  A smile graced Emily’s face, and in a very adult manner she said, “Thank you, Miss Lilia,” followed by a gracious curtsey. “Miss Bennet cannot look beautiful yet, for she is still in the morning.”

  Elizabeth and Lilia chuckled at her innocent mistake. Elizabeth took the opportunity to gently correct her. “I am in mourning, Emily, not in the morning.”

  “In mourning,” Emily repeated to Miss Lilia. She reached up for Elizabeth’s hand and the two walked downstairs.

  As they came into the room, people were visiting with each other as they stood or sat around the parlour. This gave Elizabeth a few moments to go over some things with Emily, position her where she ought to stand, and then arrange her music at the piano. While she did so, her gaze swept quickly over the crowd. She let out a brief sigh of relief when she saw neither Miss Darcy nor Mr. Bingley.

  Emily’s father walked over to his daughter and cleared his throat. Speaking to his guests, he said, “Our precious daughter, Emily, loves to sing, and we have asked her to entertain you tonight with one of her favourite songs.” He looked at Emily and then at Elizabeth, nodding for them to proceed.

  Elizabeth played a short introduction, and then Emily began to sing. Her voice, mature beyond her youthful age, was clear and steady. Elizabeth was proud to see that the young girl remained poised, had a pleasant countenance, and seemed ever so confident.

  Having completed the first verse, Elizabeth adeptly reached up to turn the page of her music. Her gaze was momentarily distracted by someone walking through the doorway. It was Miss Darcy.

  Elizabeth forced her gaze back down to the music score to relocate her place; only a few errant keys brought her back nicely without doing the piece too much harm. But she did not have to look back up to see who had walked in with the young lady. As her eyes scanned the music, she could easily determine that it was not Mr. Bingley. It was Mr. Darcy!

  As her gaze drifted unwittingly back up, their eyes met, followed by a slight jarring of the keys and an involuntary lowering of her head. This cannot be! As her heart raced, her eyes blurred, making the reading of notes very difficult. Fortunately for her, she had the song partly memorized, and once she had inwardly chided herself and turned her attention back to Emily, one would hardly know she had not played the piece precisely as written.

  A look from Emily, however, displayed the young girl’s surprise at the sudden rearrangement of the piece.

  When they finished with the song, Elizabeth collected herself and slowly closed the piece of music, taking it in her hands and forcing a smile upon her face before standing. It need not have mattered. The guests were all standing and clapping their hands in appreciation for Emily’s song. No one likely noticed Elizabeth’s blunder. Except Emily.

  Elizabeth remained at the piano while the applause continued, allowing the young girl to receive all the adulation. It also gave Elizabeth a moment to gaze back over the crowd. She had not seen where Mr. Darcy and his sister went after she lowered her head, but she was curious to look upon him now that she was somewhat more composed.

  Her eyes turned toward the left, sensing a pair of eyes upon her. He stood taller than those around him. She lifted her head, took in a deep breath, and acknowledged him with a brief, polite smile, as if she was merely seeing an old acquaintance. He was an old acquaintance! The fact that she had mercilessly refused his offer of marriage the last time she had seen him was another matter.

  Mr. Darcy nodded slightly, causing Elizabeth to blush faintly. His eyes held hers, and she could only guess as to the meaning in his intense stare. She finally looked away and turned back to Emily.

  The young girl ran into her arms, thrilled by the response of the crowd. Elizabeth leaned down to give the girl a hug, and then the two hurriedly returned upstairs.

  Once up in Emily’s room, the young girl turned to Elizabeth. “What happened? You played the song differently than we had practiced!”

  Elizabeth drew her hand over the young girl’s head, combing her fingers down her long hair. “I am so sorry, Emily. I lost my place for a moment, but I do not think anyone noticed. You did a fine job disguising my mistake.”

  A satisfied smile graced Emily’s face. “I did, did I not?”

  “You certainly did.”

  After readying Emily for bed and allowing her to read a few more books, Elizabeth returned to her room. She was grateful for the solitude as she thought back to that moment when she saw Mr. Darcy walk in. While she had prepared herself for seeing Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley, she was certainly not expecting to encounter Mr. Darcy. She was surprised that it was not anger she felt when she first saw him. Perhaps all of Rosalyn’s words of praise about the man had begun to soften her prejudice against him. Certainly she knew, both from his letter and a year of reflection, that he was basically a good man, just as she had affirmed to Rosalyn.

  As she thought about the moment she saw him walk in, she realized that she had been struck by the intensity of his eyes. When his gaze met hers, every thought about where she was and what she was doing vanished. While knowing the song well, it took her a moment to compose herself. She could only do that by averting her eyes and lowering her head so as not to see him.

  She turned and saw a reflection of herself in her mirror. Confusing emotions began to swirl within as she noticed the grey dress. She recalled Emily’s words earlier, wishing she could have been prettier tonight. She was suddenly gripped with distress that Mr. Darcy had seen her that way. Perhaps that was the reason for the look in his eyes. He was appalled at how much she was altered.

  She shook her head and pounded her fists against her dress. She must not allow herself to think this way. “I have no reason to fret about what he thinks of me,” she whispered to her reflection, “whether he thinks I am altered or not!”

  When she finally crawled into bed, after listening for some time to the gaiety coming from downstairs, she could not help but wonder who Mr. Darcy would talk to, what he would say, and how Rosalyn would behave around him.

  She closed her eyes as she thought how desperately Rosalyn might conduct herself if indeed she felt this would be her only opportunity to secure his notice. Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy well enough to know t
hat he would not look kindly upon any behaviour displayed to attract his notice. She hoped Rosalyn would behave in a prudent and artless manner.

  It was difficult to fall asleep, even after voices became subdued and guests began to depart. She found herself waiting for Rosalyn to come bursting into the room to give her an account of the evening. While she dreaded it, she was surprised to realize that a small part of her hoped to hear all that transpired over the course of the evening.

  In the early hours of the morning the house was dark and quiet. Rosalyn never came to Elizabeth’s room, and Elizabeth lay in bed wide awake. Images of Mr. Darcy’s face, his nod, and his tall, handsome demeanour flooded her thoughts. She knew that even if she were spared these thoughts by sleep coming upon her, he would invade her dreams. And when she did fall asleep just before dawn, he was there just as she had expected.

  ***

  A spattering of raindrops against the window woke Elizabeth. Pulling her coverlet up over her shoulders, she curled up, grateful that it was Sunday. She could sleep in a little longer before setting out for her aunt and uncle’s.

  Her mind swirled with thoughts of last night and the dream that had been so vivid. It did not surprise her that Mr. Darcy was prominent in her dream, but the nature of it came as a surprise to her. She was at his wedding. He was standing up front waiting for his bride to come down the aisle. Rosalyn sat next to Elizabeth, crying inconsolably.

  Suddenly the doors to the back of the church opened wide, and everyone turned to see the bride come down the aisle. Elizabeth did not know who the bride was, and was just as anxious as everyone to see who would step out and walk down the aisle to him.

  For several moments everyone waited, but no one came. Turning toward the people in the church, Mr. Darcy demanded, “Where is my bride?”

  His eyes searched the crowded church as young ladies called out asking, “Is it me? Is it me?”

  He grew impatient, and finally turned and noticed Elizabeth; his eyes glared out at her. “What are you doing over there, Elizabeth?” he demanded to know.