“Aah! So you concede that you are not that well-informed. It has obviously escaped your notice then that Mr. Darcy finds Miss Eliza somewhat attractive and that she is currently doing her best to reel him in,” retorted Caroline triumphantly.
“I think that jealousy makes you see something that is not there. However, be that as it may, you will never marry Darcy and that is the relevant point. Give it up, Miss Bingley,” said Lady Randall and leaning heavily on her stick, painfully raised herself from the chair in which she had been sitting. Nodding briefly in Caroline’s direction, she walked slowly away.
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Darcy stood: a detached figure amongst a small but enthusiastic group of observers who eagerly studied the run of luck as each new hand was dealt. Over the last hour and a half he had done little more than shift his weight slowly from one foot to the other, finding himself possessed by a strange inertia which both prevented him from taking an interest in the game or from leaving the room. Luckily Bingley would accept his absence: his dislike of dancing was a well-established fact with his friend. Nevertheless, if he failed to appear in the ballroom at all, it would appear strange, even to Bingley, and could possibly provoke the very questions and comments that he was trying to circumvent.
It was his impression that his attraction to Elizabeth was well concealed from everyone at the moment. Everyone but Caroline Bingley, whom he was avoiding like the plague. He respected Elizabeth and would do all he could to protect her from speculation, but marriage to her could not be justified – not if he was to call himself a man.
As much as the straightjacket of custom and family chafed at him, in this instance he acknowledged that he could not walk away from the Fitzwilliam family when they needed him. They had been steadfast in their support of both Georgiana and himself since the death of his parents and he simply owed it to them. If that meant marriage to his cousin Anne, then so be it. His attraction to Elizabeth Bennet could not stand against his honour. He could not be the means through which fate dealt a blow to the very people who had always held his interests at heart.
He felt a sudden longing to escape, to return to the quiet of Pemberley. But first he must put an end to this dawdling in the card room and resolve the immediate issue of how to conduct himself during the rest of the evening. The important question was: could he trust himself to keep his emotions in check? He knew that if he went into the adjoining room, the temptation to dance with Elizabeth would be strong. Yet as he considered it, he began to think that he could control his emotions… if it was just one dance. Just one dance and then he would be satisfied. Then he could put her from him, knowing that he had had the most from their acquaintance that could be respectably allowed.
Suddenly resolute, he looked at his watch. Yes, it was almost the supper hour. The last set would be starting shortly. He would go in now. If she was free, he would engage her for the dance and then take her into supper. There would be the pleasure of her company during the meal and then he could just disappear, melt away to his room upstairs. After the wedding tomorrow he would be gone. The good people of Meryton would never see him again.
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Lady Randall might have dismissed Caroline out of hand, but Darcy had never underestimated Bingley’s sister. She was cunning rather than clever, but he had learnt to ensure that he was always one step ahead of her in their personal duel. In his opinion, there was nothing she would not do: no depths to which she would not sink to achieve her ambitions. So, when he entered and swept the ballroom with eyes sharpened by unease, he at once perceived her sitting all alone on one side of the room, tell-tale spots of rage burning in her cheeks.
Something had occurred to annoy her – that much was obvious. It would be easy to believe that her temper had been aroused by his late arrival, but Darcy knew Caroline well and was inclined to believe that the hour of his arrival would be immaterial to her this evening. In fact, given her obvious suspicions about his preference for Elizabeth Bennet, he guessed that she would have preferred him to stay away altogether. He also knew that she would never dare to show outward irritation over any act of his: at least not until she had him well and truly trapped in her web and could torment him at her leisure. No, it must be something else.
Curiosity and an instinct for self-preservation now drove Darcy to find out. He directed his feet towards her.
“Miss Bingley,” he said as he approached carefully. “You are all alone?”
“As you see,” she said, glaring at him.
He was surprised at this lack of restraint and tried to adopt a sympathetic expression. However, he could not prevent an unholy twinkle from appearing in his eye. She must be considerably distressed to forget herself so!
“I must apologise for my late appearance,” he said smoothly.
“What?” she said harshly. Then her voice altered to a purr. “No. Nothing you have done has annoyed me, dear Mr. Darcy,” she said, eyeing him hungrily.
“Then, perhaps you can point me towards the source of your irritation and I can attempt to assist by removing it?”
She was quiet for a moment, as if considering. Then he saw a spiteful gleam appear in her eye and she said, “Even you could not remove six rowdy young men without causing a stir, sir.”
She primly nodded her head towards a group of young men who had gathered at the far end of the room. As another gale of laughter went up, she said, “Their behaviour is insufferable. Of course they are receiving encouragement or they would never continue to embarrass themselves and everyone else in this manner.”
Darcy was a little puzzled. Balls were always frequented by the young and where there was youth there would be merriment. He could see nothing too out of the ordinary in the situation, but intrigued by Caroline’s attitude; he decided to see who was responsible for the so-called ‘encouragement’ of the young men. If he were to hazard a guess, he would put his money on it being Caroline’s current arch enemy: Elizabeth Bennet.
Having made his bow, he moved purposefully towards the group that had gathered next to the doors to the balcony.
___________________________
Elizabeth and Kitty sat next to each other, their chairs surrounded by a group of energetic young men who never seemed to stop teasing and joking.
As if to ground each other, the sisters occasionally touched hands and exchanged quiet smiles. They had been engaged for every set so far and had found dancing to a full orchestra in a large ballroom the most intoxicating experience imaginable. This was something that they had never thought would come their way; but then they had never imagined wearing such beautiful gowns or receiving such flattering attention from the young men of the district.
This heightened male interest in the two remaining Bennet sisters, had been an unanticipated consequence of the family’s long absence from Meryton’s social circle. In the same way, the constant flow of visitors - both male and female - to Longbourn seemed to indicate that the Bennet family’s old life of quiet seclusion was at an end. It appeared that the marriage of two of the Bennet daughters to such decidedly eligible young men, was all it took for the citizens of Meryton and the surrounding districts to forget that there had ever been a scandal.
“I say, Miss Elizabeth,” said a sturdy, young gentleman with a shock of red hair. “I’m not sure that you will care to be reminded of it, but I remember you being a great sport when we were younger. I have just had it from your sister, Miss Katherine, that you are still a great walker.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t mind recalling it. In fact, I remember a time when I used to climb trees a great deal better than you did, Mr. St Clare. And in so saying, I refer to a certain contest, held during a picnic at Lucas Lodge, in which you fell out of a tree and broke your arm. I believe I won that particular challenge, even though my victory went unrecorded at the time.”
“Yes, I wrecked my shoulder and never achieved quite the same scores at stone skipping after that,” the young gentlema
n said ruefully.
“Your scores were largely imaginary anyway, St Clare,” interrupted Richard Neville, a thin young fellow whose absurdly high collar points prevented him from looking in any direction other than forward.
Elizabeth had made his acquaintance for the first time that evening and thought that he had a peevish look to him. So far, he had done nothing to alter that impression, as he had spent the time using his newly acquired London drawl to lord it over the other young men around him. Unfortunately for him, they were largely unimpressed and he had even come in for some good-natured teasing. Now, thoroughly annoyed and jealous of the attention that his friend was receiving from the newly acknowledged beauty of the district, he was showing his teeth.
“Well, that’s as maybe,” retorted St Clare, his temper rising. “However, I don’t go about calling a horse ‘a prime bit of blood’ when in reality it is nothing but a dashed screw that throws me over at the first fence.”
Behind them, an amiable voice called, “Gentlemen! Gentlemen, perhaps you might care to conduct your quarrels away from the presence of the ladies?”
Elizabeth stiffened imperceptibly. Despite the demands upon her, she had earlier on found time to note Darcy’s absence and wonder if he would appear. She had secretly hoped to dance with him and knew that her enjoyment of the ball would be affected should he stay away. It would, she had thought at the time, be a little like eating a boiled egg without its sprinkling of salt: something would be missing. But it would never do to let the man see that she had noted his absence.
Darcy bent his perfectly groomed head over her hand and murmured, “I see that you have found more than enough admirers to feed your vanity, Miss Elizabeth. They have youth on their side, but whether they can be considered intellectually challenging is another matter.”
She smiled wryly. “I can appreciate that matters of intellect might be of primary concern to you, Mr. Darcy. As someone who has existed on the fringes of Meryton society for so long, they are of less importance to me. Most of these gentlemen are old playmates and I appreciate their friendly reception for what it is. However, I won’t keep you with my idle chatter. I presume that you are looking for Mr. Bingley?”
Old playmates! Darcy doubted the young men saw themselves in that role. He was reasonably sure that the four young ladies wilting from the lack of male attention in a nearby corner would share their view. He had approached Elizabeth Bennet with the idea that he would ask her to dance but he could see now that such an eventuality had not occurred to her. It seemed that she assumed that he had only stopped by because he was looking for Bingley. He stepped back, feeling rather awkward. It was simpler to agree.
“Yes, I was wondering where he had gone.”
“He and Jane are outside on the balcony, taking the air. I’ll call them for you,” said Elizabeth, surprising Darcy by immediately rising from her chair. Darcy wasn’t to know it, but she hoped to spare Jane the embarrassment of having him barge in on an intimate moment. Sweeping her skirts to one side, she threaded her way past the young men who had moved to encircle Kitty during her conversation with Darcy.
She glanced back over her shoulder and was a little dismayed to find him following close on her heels. Opening the door, he politely ushered her through it into the darkness and the bracing night air. On the far side of the balcony Elizabeth could just make out the merged forms of Bingley and Jane. She cleared her throat loudly. At her side, Darcy had the grace to look both confused and a little embarrassed.
As the two figures separated, Elizabeth suggested quietly, “Perhaps we should go back inside, Mr. Darcy. I’m sure that they have heard us and will follow.”
Just then the door behind them opened and Caroline Bingley stood outlined against the light streaming from the ballroom. Behind her the dramatic opening strains of the pre-supper waltz could be heard.
“Just as I expected,” she said loudly, advancing on Elizabeth. “You are nothing better than a doxy! And you, Darcy, are a fool,” she added harshly, throwing the remark back at him over her shoulder.
For a second Elizabeth was confused and then she realized that Miss Bingley must think that she had lured Darcy out onto the balcony! She was astonished at the assumption.
“Perhaps you should exercise a little more caution, Miss Bingley. Are you sure that you are in possession of all the facts?” she asked.
At this challenge, rage erupted within Caroline. All the humiliations of the past few days narrowed down to focus on the slender outline of the woman standing before her. She hardly felt her hand lift, but then suddenly there was the biting sting of the blow as her palm made contact with Elizabeth Bennet’s cheek. She stepped back immediately, aghast at what she had done.
Darcy leapt forward to seize her arm, but stopped as Charles’s voice rang from out of the gloom.
“Caroline! Have you gone utterly mad?”
Caroline’s heart sank to her stomach. Darcy and Elizabeth had not been alone! She had exposed herself to no point. The realization dawned that, in Darcy’s eyes, there would be no coming back from this for her. She turned deathly white and began to shake.
Mrs. Gardener, who had quietly appeared behind her in the doorway, glanced at the five young people and immediately sensed something of the situation.
“Miss Bingley, you are not well. Come with me,” she said kindly, walking forward to put her arm around Caroline’s trembling shoulders. “Jane, I think that you and Mr. Bingley ought to come inside now.”
She turned to Darcy. “I chanced to be watching, but luckily, few of the guests are aware that anything happened out here. If you can manage to extract Elizabeth without attracting any further attention, Mr. Darcy, we may have a chance of avoiding a scandal,” she said as she turned and shepherded Caroline through the door.
Darcy looked across at Elizabeth who had stood by silently the whole time, her hand held to her smarting cheek. At his glance, tears began to fill her eyes and with her head down she hurried towards the door. Just as she reached it, he grasped her arm and she turned her head away.
“Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of granting me this dance,” he asked.
“I think that it’s obvious that I’m crying, Mr. Darcy,” she muttered, her face still averted.
“I know you are, Miss Elizabeth,” he said gently. “But your aunt asked me to get you to the other side of the room without attracting attention and I do think that we could achieve that best by blending in with everyone else. Bingley, will you and Miss Bennet go ahead? We will follow close behind.”
He looked down at Elizabeth’s slender, bowed body and was overwhelmed by a feeling of inexpressible tenderness. He put his arm around her, took her hand and they stepped into the light. Under his domination, he felt her taut form suddenly become surprisingly soft and supple as it relaxed into his and then he was swept up by the demands of the music.
Elizabeth was badly shaken and therefore uncharacteristically submissive, but her mind still managed to register surprise at the refined fluidity of Darcy’s movements. As the two of them glided effortlessly across the floor, she found herself melting into his protective embrace. Slowly she began to relax further into the security and comfort that came from his clean smell and the way in which her cheek rested against the warm, solid muscles that flexed beneath his jacket.
Their nearness served to conceal much of her reddened cheek and so, as her choking emotions receded, she allowed herself to continue leaning against him. After a little while it was as if she were mesmerized, aware of nothing but the rhythm of the music and the beat of his heart. Their closeness was now both soothing and just a little seductive. Onlookers might consider them improper; at that moment Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to care.
For Darcy these were moments of exquisite torture. At last he held her close and there was nothing in the world for him beyond the warm seduction of her body and the subtle perfume of her hair. Ahead of him he could see the doors that opened onto the entrance hall, where Bingley
, Jane and Mrs. Gardener would probably be waiting to receive her.
They lay just a few short steps away now. After tomorrow he would probably never see her again. Unable to resist - he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her hair.
All too soon, they glided to a halt and he breathed deeply and held her close for just one more second before releasing her into the care of her family. Safe in her sister’s embrace, Elizabeth turned and raised her eyes rather shyly to his.
“You have been extremely good, sir. Thank you for your kindness.”
His heart in his eyes, Darcy bowed and the women moved toward the front door.
“Are you alright, Darcy? Allow me to apologise for Caroline’s behaviour,” said Bingley, moved to compassion at the misery he saw etched on his friend’s face.
“I am well, Bingley,” said Darcy, ignoring the dull ache that clutched at his heart. “Look after Miss Elizabeth, will you? I think that she may be more distressed than any of us imagine.”
BOOK 2
Chapter 23
“People who lean on logic and philosophy and
rational exposition end by starving the best
part of the mind.”
W. B. Yeats
Netherfield - Late Spring 1815
“I don’t know anyone but you who would walk three miles in this teeming rain, Lizzy” said Jane, peeping for the umpteenth time into the rosewood cradle that stood next to her chair.
“You should consider yourself honoured, said Elizabeth as her clothes gently steamed against the heat of the fire. “I almost didn’t come but then Mama began criticizing Kitty for moping next to the window and I knew that the three of us would end by pulling caps. I’d far rather be wet than miserable. You’re lucky that little Charles is too young to have a fit of the blue devils because it’s raining out.”
Jane smiled wryly. “But his father’s not. I’ve never seen anyone so eager to question a poor poacher than Charles was today. He gobbled down his food and was out of the door and down the road in a flash - rain or no.”
The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 19
