By six o’clock Jane could take the suspense no longer. She entered Elizabeth’s bedchamber, ready to demand her sister’s decision if need be, but her demeanour changed quickly upon noting the trace of tears in her sister’s eyes.
Elizabeth sat at her dressing table, staring into the pier glass.
“Are you all right, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I am fine, Jane.”
“You have been crying.”
“Yes.”
“Why, Lizzy?”
“I was just contemplating my future prospects, or should I say my lack of future prospects,” she said with a small laugh that both sisters knew was anything but genuine.
Elizabeth released a deep sigh. “At fifteen I remember dreaming of the day when I would find love and marry a man who loved me in return. But perhaps that is beyond my circumstances now. Perhaps I should resign myself to be content with someone like Mr. Collins. Someone who would not treat me unkindly and who would accept me the way I am.”
“Do you have feelings for Mr. Collins, Lizzy?” asked Jane, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
“None at all, at least none that would endear him to me,” replied Lizzy with a slight grin.
“Well, if that is the case, I believe you would be quite miserable married to him,” replied her sister, making Elizabeth smile even wider.
But Elizabeth’s smile quickly faded. “Yes, but my heart would be safe.”
“That is the poorest excuse I have ever heard to marry. Has he declared himself?”
“Not officially, but I believe it is forthcoming, and I will have to decide. I cannot be a burden to our family forever.”
“Promise me, Lizzy, you will not do anything rash or foolish. You must believe that love is not lost to you, if only you would grant someone the chance to know you. Come tonight, please, Lizzy.”
“I do not think I am ready yet, Jane. Aside from you and Charlotte, no one will miss my presence anyway. Besides, you will have Mr. Bingley to occupy your time.”
Before Jane could reply, the sound of their mother’s voice assaulted their ears.
“Jane! Jane! Come quickly!”
The urgency she conveyed had both sisters headed for the stairs. They breathlessly reached their mother, only to discover the cause of such excitement was merely the delivery of some flowers.
“They are addressed to the Miss Bennets,” said their mother as she tried to contain her elation.
There were two bundles, but Jane automatically reached for the roses, as they were her favourite. The note was from Mr. Bingley, expressing his anticipation of their meeting that evening and requesting the pleasure of her company for the first set.
Elizabeth eyed the second bundle with curiosity. The note simply read “The last of the summer jasmine. F.D.”
He remembered.
She picked up the bouquet and inhaled deeply. As she did, she closed her eyes, and his image was there. She sighed. Surely they were meant only as an apology, a token to seek forgiveness for his bizarre and peculiar reaction to her disfigurement.
Abruptly the flowers were snatched from her hands.
“Of course, these are meant for Lydia!” exclaimed her mother. “Who else would they be for? Mr. Darcy said he remembered her well from the Assembly.”
Mrs. Bennet was beside herself with joy.
“Oh Lydia, I believe you have caught his eye!” she called out to her youngest daughter. “You must make sure to thank Mr. Darcy at the ball.”
Once again her mother’s thoughtless remarks baited her emotions. Was it her mother’s intention to be so cruel? Could she not even consider that the flowers might have been meant for her?
“And you, Miss Lizzy! Mr. Collins has been very attentive and most patient, though you have done nothing to deserve it! Since the man is your only prospect, you would do well to pay him every courtesy and encourage his advances before he changes his mind!”
“Encourage his advances? What exactly are you suggesting, Mama?”
Mrs. Bennet at least had the scruples to blush.
“You know very well what I mean, Lizzy. All young women use their feminine wiles to help them secure a gentleman’s favour. Were you to attend the ball tonight, you might suggest a breath of fresh air on the balcony, and then perhaps you could pretend to swoon in his arms . . . oh, I am sure you can think of something! Use your imagination child!”
“Mother, really! I will do no such thing.”
Elizabeth and her mother glared at each other until Lizzy reached out and pulled a long stem of jasmine from the bouquet of flowers that her mother still held in her hands. She turned abruptly, then proceeded to climb the stairs back to her room.
********
Darcy had nearly worn the carpet bare as he paced the length of his bedchamber. The ball had already begun, and she still had not arrived. He could hardly blame her. After his disgraceful behaviour, avoiding his company was most likely paramount in her thoughts. He had always considered himself a gentleman. But a gentleman would never have acted so atrociously towards an innocent, young lady. Yet despite the inappropriateness of his conduct, he could not help recalling the rush of pleasure that had consumed him.
The whole situation was getting out of control, his desires almost beyond containment. It was his plan to inform Mr. Bennet at the ball that business called him away to London. Certainly the gentleman would have to admit he had done his part; had not her confidence improved?
He had stayed far too long in Hertfordshire. Perhaps seeing Miss Marston again would help cool his ardour for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
As he headed down the stairs, he gazed out the window that overlooked the front portico just in time to see the Bennet carriage arrive. He stopped and observed as Mr. Bennet climbed down from the box seat beside the driver and opened the carriage door. He first handed down his wife; the eldest Miss Bennet then followed. The two youngest daughters came next as they jostled against each other, both attempting to be the next one to escape the close confines of the carriage. Lydia was easily the victor.
The next person to withdraw was the clergyman he had observed that day in Meryton. He took Mary’s hand and guided her down the carriage steps as she gave him a shy smile.
Darcy’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood at the window and waited.
Then Mr. Bennet reappeared in front of the carriage and extended his hand inside the open door as a delicate gloved hand reached out to his.
She has come.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elizabeth stepped from the carriage, and her eyes looked upward, briefly holding his gaze. Before he could discern her countenance, Darcy quickly moved away from the window, afraid to witness her reaction to the sight of him.
As she took her father’s arm, Mr. Bennet gave her a reassuring smile. She steadied her stance and took a deep breath. There had been no arriving before everyone else, and there would most likely be no potted plants to hide behind. No, tonight she would be completely exposed and vulnerable.
They waited their turn in the reception line, and Elizabeth’s hold on her father’s arm was steadfast. When they reached their hosts, Miss Bingley greeted their entire party, and the crush of people surrounding her obscured any notice of her limp.
She released her father’s arm and gave him a slight nod of her head, allowing him to leave her side. She joined Jane, and then Mr. Bingley gallantly accompanied them both into the ballroom, offering an escorting arm to each sister.
Her gait was certainly now noticeable, but she had automatically reached for Mr. Bingley’s left arm, allowing him to support her weaker right side.
Darcy stood across the ballroom and watched as they entered, his attention on Elizabeth’s steps.
Her eyes briefly glanced his way, and she noted his gaze was directed towards her feet. If he was looking at her to find fault, he certainly did not have to look far. She felt a rush of uneasiness and quickly turned her head to look elsewhere.
When Darcy took
in the whole of her countenance, her appearance was lovelier than he could ever recall. Her hair was fixed in a most attractive upsweep, with several buds of jasmine securing the curls that were piled on her head. Several wisps hung enticingly, brushing the nape of her neck. He wondered what it would be like to enfold her in his arms while he inhaled her fragrant scent. And her gown . . . well, it was all a gown was meant to be: a light green which resembled the colour of the sea, the bodice cut low enough to stimulate one’s imagination, yet perfectly suited for a ball of polite society.
He watched as Jane and Bingley left her company, but her friend, Miss Lucas, immediately joined her.
“I must admit I am surprised to see you here, Elizabeth. Jane had all but assured me you would not attend.”
“I am just as surprised as you, Charlotte. I don’t know what possessed me. I shall have no choice but to make the best of it now.” As she spoke, Mr. Collins approached the two young women. Elizabeth tried to look upon the man with an open mind, for as her mother was only too happy to point out, he might well indeed be her only prospect. She smiled at him, perhaps too broadly, and Charlotte gave her a look of curiosity.
“Charlotte, may I present our cousin, Mr. Collins. My friend, Miss Lucas.”
Mr. Collins’s eyes lit up upon their introduction. “I am indeed honoured to meet any friend of my fair cousin’s,” he stated. “And as your friend has no intention to dance this evening, might I solicit you to join me in the first set, Miss Lucas?”
“I would be honoured sir,” answered Charlotte. As he led her to the dance floor, Charlotte looked back at her friend, but Elizabeth‘s smile had not faltered. As they departed, a zealous Lydia and Kitty, accompanied by Denny and Chamberlayne dressed in full regimentals, hastened towards her.
“I had hoped for you to meet Mr. Wickham tonight Lizzy, but Denny has informed me that Colonel Forster has sent him to London on business and he will not return for several days,” said Lydia. “I’m afraid you have been deprived of his excellent company once again.”
“A circumstance that might well be for the best,” replied Elizabeth. She and Jane had warned their younger sisters to be mindful of Mr. Wickham and to make sure they were never alone in his company, but Elizabeth feared Lydia did not take such counsel seriously. As the foursome rushed away, arms linked and determined to have a happy good time, Elizabeth was left standing alone.
She looked around the room; there were no chairs within easy distance. She stood there, biting her lower lip, wishing now she had not let her mother’s careless remarks provoke her into attending. This was a mistake. She took a few deep breaths as she tried to decide the best course of action to avoid drawing attention to herself.
She sensed his presence behind her and turned to see him standing there.
They both looked upon each other for an uncomfortably long moment, and by their colour it was obvious the intimacy of their last encounter was most likely lingering in their thoughts.
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you have come tonight, Miss Bennet. I have been anxiously anticipating a chance to more formally apologize for my impetuous behaviour.”
“Mr. Darcy, please, there is no need for you to go on, I assure you. The flowers you sent were more than adequate means of apology, sir. I have little doubt that you most sincerely regret your actions that morning.”
Darcy said nothing as he stared into her eyes. How could she have gotten it all so wrong? He had not sent the flowers as an apology; he had sent them because he had hoped they would please her. And while he owed her an apology for his impulsiveness, he certainly did not regret his actions.
Which is why I must leave Hertfordshire.
“I sent the flowers, Miss Bennet, so that you might enjoy the jasmine that you missed this summer. It was meant as a gesture of our friendship. As for the other, I can offer no excuse, except that I found myself reacting to something wholly unfamiliar to me.”
She searched his eyes and saw the honesty of his words. When he looked at her like that, she could almost forget her imperfections.
“If I was ungracious just now, Mr. Darcy, please forgive me,” she said softly as she still held his gaze. “The flowers were lovely and much appreciated.”
When he offered his arm, she gave him a smile of gratitude, and they moved towards the row of seating. As he saw her to a chair, Miss Bingley approached them.
“Miss Eliza, have you twisted your ankle already? I see you have required Mr. Darcy’s assistance. Is he not most attentive?”
“I would say he is very gallant, Miss Bingley, as my ankle is not injured. Mr. Darcy was only attempting to put me at ease by masking a defect of my leg.”
“Oh, I was not aware. How very . . . unfortunate for you. Yes, the gentleman is very gallant indeed.”
Elizabeth looked up at Darcy and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am quite settled now.”
“It was my pleasure to assist you, Miss Bennet. And please don’t forget, you have promised me your company for the supper set.”
Elizabeth could not help but blush as she responded, “I shall look forward to it, sir.”
As he bowed to both ladies and left their company, Caroline sat down beside Elizabeth and could not resist appeasing her curiosity. “You and Mr. Darcy seem to be well acquainted, Miss Eliza.”
“He has visited Longbourn several times with your brother, Miss Bingley.”
“Ah, yes. I did not realize he was much in your company on those occasions.”
As much as she had tried to discourage her brother from furthering his acquaintance with Jane Bennet, he would not listen to reason. And Mr. Darcy, whom she had thought would have been her staunchest supporter in this endeavour, did nothing to help facilitate her cause. Was Mr. Darcy also being taken in by these country chits?
“I am sure Miss Marston will be happy to learn that he has not been lonely in her absence.”
It was obvious Miss Bingley was waiting for her to inquire after Miss Marston, and Elizabeth saw no reason to disappoint her. She found herself anxious to know more about the woman of whom she spoke and her relationship to Mr. Darcy.
“Miss Marston?”
“Oh, did he not mention he has been calling upon her in London? She is quite the beauty I’ve been told, and they are said to be a perfect match.”
She relayed this information as if her interest in Mr. Darcy was inconsequential, when in reality she could hardly contain her envy of his attentions upon the young debutante. But as much as she coveted Mr. Darcy’s affections, at seven and twenty Caroline resolved that she could not waste another season trying to gain his favour. But if she had to lose Mr. Darcy to another woman, at least it would be to a young lady of high society, not some country bumpkin.
Caroline now almost felt sorry for the poor thing. After all, Mr. Darcy would never bestow his affections upon a woman hampered with such a burden. The thought was almost laughable as she imagined what society, not to mention his family, would think of such a match. She determined that it was indeed a kind gesture on her part to inform Miss Eliza that Mr. Darcy’s interests lay elsewhere.
“I am sure it is his plan to renew his attentions, and I would not be surprised to learn of their betrothal very soon. I believe I heard him instruct the valet to pack his trunk for an early departure to London tomorrow. Yes, I imagine he is most anxious to see Miss Marston again.”
Elizabeth tried to look indifferent, even though she felt as if her heart was breaking. Until that very moment she had not realized how much she had been secretly hoping that he might somehow learn to care for her.
Oh, she had never expected to earn his love, and indeed, she tried to console herself with the knowledge that love was something Mr. Darcy was unwilling to offer any young lady, no matter how graceful her gait might be. However, knowing he found the perfect Miss Marston worthy of his desire and regard only made her own insecurities resurface, for obviously he cared enough for Miss Marston to consider matrimony.
But at
least now she would not have to burden herself with hopeless dreams, for thanks to Miss Bingley, she now knew for certain that Mr. Darcy’s perfect match was awaiting his return to London. He would leave Hertfordshire tomorrow.
She released a sigh of resignation. Of course, her mother had been right; Mr. Collins was her only prospect.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The ball was well under way, and Mrs. Bennet was keeping an observant eye on her two eldest daughters. She noted that Jane, though not the most aggressive of young women, was successfully maintaining Mr. Bingley’s attention. Upon completion of his other sets, he would return to Jane’s side, eagerly waiting the time of their next scheduled dance.
As Mrs. Bennet looked over to Elizabeth, she let out an agitated breath and shook her head. Once again her second eldest daughter was sitting alone, and now Mr. Collins was engaged in yet another set with Charlotte Lucas.
When it was time for the supper set, Mr. Darcy approached Elizabeth. “Might I persuade you to dance, Miss Bennet?”
She looked up into his eyes. How she longed to dance with him, to feel the warmth of his hands upon her, to have her body move closely in rhythm with his. Unbeknownst, she let out an audible sigh.
“I admit, you have tempted me, sir,” she confessed as a rosy hue heightened her complexion, “but I think it best to decline your kind offer. I would, however, welcome your company.”
He took the seat beside her. “Is it your intention to never dance again?” he asked.
“I suppose I might one day, if I felt secure enough with my partner. But even if I could manage an awkward attempt, I would not wish to invite ridicule from those who remember my once gracefulness at that pleasure.”
He looked at her thoughtfully as if contemplating her answer. “Tell me you are at least enjoying the music.”
“Oh, I am, sir.”
“And the company, has it added to your enjoyment?” he asked.
The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love Page 10
