by Jann Rowland
“You would do well to take my example,” said Lady Catherine. “If you practiced more, your performance on the pianoforte might be adequate. Nothing is achieved without practice.”
“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth sincerely. “I believe you are correct.”
As Miss Elizabeth toyed with his aunt, Fitzwilliam turned his attention back to his cousin, peering at her, curious as to what he had just seen. Unlike his aunt’s initial lack of awareness concerning Miss Elizabeth and Anne’s tête-à-tête, Fitzwilliam had seen the young woman approaching his cousin, interested to see what Anne’s response would be.
Though he had only met her a few times, Fitzwilliam had already developed a healthy respect for Miss Elizabeth. She was a bright light, one at home in any situation, one able to pull a grin from the dourest of countenances. Among that number, Fitzwilliam counted his cousin Darcy, who often seemed as if he did not have any joy in his life, though Fitzwilliam knew his cousin was not at all unhappy. There remained much unresolved between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, he suspected, and how it would end remained uncertain.
Those thoughts, however, were not Fitzwilliam’s focus. Instead, it was the person of his cousin who drew most of his attention. If there was anyone who had experienced little joy in life, that person was Anne. Fitzwilliam did not think she was discontented, exactly, but her mother controlled so much of her daily life that Fitzwilliam did not think she had ever been in a position to live. The family tended to forget Anne or to consider her as nothing more than an extension of her mother, perhaps the same as a child who had not yet left the nursery.
But a strange thing had happened when Miss Elizabeth sat and spoke with Anne, and Fitzwilliam did not know if it was a function of her ability to charm anyone, or something more emerging from his shy cousin because of another paying her a little attention. Though she had started as reticent as usual, as they spoke, he saw Anne beginning to show a little more enthusiasm, a little cheer in what was a monotonous existence. And Fitzwilliam, for the first time in seeing her as a cousin, began to feel the appeal of a young woman who was not lacking in feminine attributes. It was intriguing, and he wished to know more.
Aunt Catherine was, as usual, intent on pushing Anne toward Darcy after interrupting the two younger women. Soon, however, she was again distracted, and given the opportunity, Fitzwilliam moved closer to his cousin, curious about her, aware he had not engaged her in conversation in quite some time.
“Anne,” said he in greeting as he sat beside her. “I see you are as well as ever.”
Far from the expected civility he expected in return, Anne gave him a level look, as if she did not know him. “I suppose I am,” said she after a moment. “It does cross my mind to wonder why you would choose to approach me now.”
“Should I not?” asked Fitzwilliam nonplused.
“It has been some time since you have.”
“Yes, well . . .” stammered Fitzwilliam, painfully aware she was entirely correct. “At times I have not known how I would be received, and at others . . . Well, your mother.”
While Fitzwilliam thought his last words were perhaps the stupidest he had ever spoken, Anne’s response was a tinkle of laughter, which Fitzwilliam found intriguing, wishing to provoke that laughter more often.
“The Darcy conundrum,” said she after a moment.
“Indeed,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I do not know if you recall, but during a visit several years ago, when I sat beside you for some few moments, your mother took me to task after warning me against attempting to infringe upon Darcy’s territory.”
“She could not have said that!” exclaimed Anne, though with an undertone of laughter.
“Perhaps not in so many words,” replied Fitzwilliam. “But that was the general message.”
With a sigh, Anne looked over at her mother, shaking her head. “Oh, Mother, this obsession has ruled your life for so many years, it pains me, but there is little else for you to live for.”
“Are you telling me you do not wish to marry Darcy?” For some reason, it seemed of utmost importance that Fitzwilliam learn the answer to this question.
Anne turned and regarded him. “This is the second time I have been asked that question tonight, and for the second time, I must say that I simply do not know. I have always assumed I would marry him if he decided he wished to have me for a wife, but I have never considered my own desires.”
“Perhaps it is time you should.”
For a long moment, Anne remained silent, watching him as if trying to understand him. Then, from her mouth issued three small words, words which seemed the most important in the world at that moment.
“Perhaps it is.”
Chapter XI
The night of the Davidson ball soon arrived, and Darcy began to wonder if the women of his family were arrayed against him. The intervening days had been characterized by a lull in society, a brief respite, but one welcome, nonetheless. In those days, those residents of his house spent most of their time at home relaxing, and when they did venture out, their activities were sedate and not taxing.
Though Darcy was not certain what had happened, the Bennet sisters had been ill at ease for some days before, but the arrival of a letter the day before the ball seemed to provide relief. Even Miss Elizabeth’s laughter had seemed forced during those days. Darcy had no direct knowledge of what the letter contained—though it seemed to him his mother did—and while there were a few educated guesses he could make, he decided against thinking about it.
The ball and their preparations soon dominated the ladies’ talk, such that Darcy often found himself at sixes and sevens amid a group of four females, excited for a coming amusement he did not find nearly so interesting. Fitzwilliam was much more in evidence those days, which provided some relief, though the ubiquitous presence of Lady Catherine and her daughter did not. Darcy and Fitzwilliam often employed tactics they used to avoid Lady Catherine when at Rosings, and though the lady did not seem to appreciate it, Darcy could bear her displeasure cheerfully.
On the night in question, the lingering questions which had persisted in Darcy’s mind, grown larger as the ball approached, began to manifest in his mind, leading to growing suspicion. He might have ignored it and enjoyed the ball as much as he could, if not for the actions of his sister.
There was a tacit agreement between siblings since Georgiana’s coming out that they open every ball together. Not only did it prevent Lady Catherine from insisting he open with Anne—much to the woman’s chagrin—but Georgiana, who was in her first season, avoided showing similar favor to any of the young men on the hunt for a young lady of fortune. On that night, however, Georgiana seemed to have a different agenda.
“I can hardly believe Jane and Elizabeth have been with us for almost two months, William. Do you not agree they have provided life to our party this year?”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” said Darcy. As Georgiana was speaking, Darcy was scanning the ballroom for Miss Elizabeth, though he could not see her. There had been some conversation between her and his mother, so it was possible there was some problem with her gown, or they had stopped to talk with some acquaintance or another.
“As I recall, you were not in favor of inviting them to London,” continued Georgiana. “What do you say now, William? Was Mother’s invitation not inspired?”
Darcy turned back to his sister. “What do you mean?”
Georgiana laughed. “I mean exactly what I have said. Their presence, especially Elizabeth’s, has been a blessing in so many ways. I could not have wished for the support of better friends in my first season.”
“I had not realized you had become so close to them,” murmured Darcy, wondering at the significance of his sister’s words.
“Then it appears you have paid little attention, Brother. In fact, I now count Elizabeth as one of my closest friends. Jane, too, though as she is much engaged with Mr. Bingley, I have not come to know her so well as Elizabeth.”
&nbs
p; As his sister continued to wax poetic on the subject of the Bennet sisters and how happy she was to have made their acquaintance, Darcy’s eyes found Miss Bennet and Bingley where they stood together not far away in conversation. Though Darcy had watched them with the close attention the fox paid to the hare it was stalking, Darcy had seen nothing in the young lady’s manners which indicated false feelings designed to capture a man of fortune. This had led Darcy to concede his suspicions of the lady had been unfounded. Given their intimacy, it was clear he had made the right choice to avoid aligning himself with Miss Bingley.
Miss Bingley was not happy about the situation, of course. While she paid every arrear of civility to Miss Bennet to her face, she disparaged the young woman as unsuitable whenever the opportunity presented itself. At first, Darcy was certain she had been attempting to induce him to support her, but afterward, it seemed to have become habit. Mrs. Hurst, by contrast, had accepted the inevitable and was now openly friendly with Miss Bennet. At present, Miss Bingley was watching her brother with some distaste, while she shot glances at Darcy, an invitation for him to approach her for the first dance. Darcy had little trouble rejecting the notion, for he had no interest in his friend’s sister.
“Perhaps we should change our usual arrangements tonight.”
The comment penetrated Darcy’s thoughts, and he turned to Georgiana askance, only to follow her eyes to where Miss Elizabeth had appeared in the company of his mother. The attraction he had felt for her from the earliest moments of their acquaintance had increased tenfold by now, for she was divine in the pale-yellow ball gown his mother had purchased for her. Again, Darcy had not favored Lady Anne’s decision to show them such favor as to purchase clothes for them, but he was forced to acknowledge the results were stunning.
“Do you not agree, William?”
“How do you mean?” asked Darcy with an absence of mind while he contemplated Miss Elizabeth’s perfections.
“Why, that we dance with different partners to open the ball. I am certain there are many willing men who will open the ball with me, and if I am escorted by some other man, you would be free to dance with Elizabeth.”
The suggestion prompted Darcy to turn to his sister, wondering what she meant by such a suggestion. “You wish to dance with someone else?”
“I might have thought you would wish to dance with someone else,” said Georgiana, her chin jutting out in Miss Elizabeth’s direction.
“You cannot avoid dancing the first, and if I do not dance with you, those dances may be taken by a man you would as soon not favor.”
“Oh, do not concern yourself for me,” said Georgiana. “Elizabeth has helped me gain so much confidence, I am certain I shall be well. There, it is decided—I give you leave to dance with her, for I am certain that is what you want. You have scarcely removed your eyes from her since she and Mother entered.”
There was something cheerful about Georgiana’s words, something that rang false. Oh, there was nothing amiss with the sincerity of her friendship or esteem for Miss Elizabeth, for Darcy could see both were genuine and true. But this suggestion that he dance with Miss Elizabeth, seemed to be calculated for some other purpose than what she was saying. Given his mother’s assertions concerning Miss Elizabeth, Darcy suspected her of pushing the young woman as a suitable partner, and perhaps more. The old defensiveness rose in Darcy’s breast, and he disabused his sister of any notion he would open the ball with Miss Elizabeth.
“There is no need for that,” said he, his words more clipped than he had intended. “We shall open the ball together, as we always do, for I have no desire to alter our agreement.”
Georgiana frowned. “What if I wish it?”
“Do you?” asked Darcy, directing a pointed look at his sister. “Is there some young man who has caught your eye?”
“Of course not,” said Georgiana, a hint of annoyance making itself known. “To be honest, I thought you would.”
“I have no desire to dance with another at present. Thus, we shall open together.”
The way Georgiana looked at him, Darcy thought she was not quite willing to believe him, but Darcy did not care to further speak on the subject. Thus, when the music began, Darcy grasped his sister’s hand and led her to the floor, leaving no opportunity for her to protest. Georgiana came willingly, for it seemed her words about having no one else she wished to dance with were nothing but the truth. That begged the question of what her purpose had been—it would take a fool to misunderstand—but Darcy did not wish to consider it, so exercised his well known stubbornness and turned his mind to other matters.
“Look, there is Jane dancing with Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy allowed his gaze to wander to his friend, and he noted Miss Bennet’s smile in response to something Bingley said. Though Darcy was still of the opinion that Miss Bennet smiled too much, there was now no choice other than to acknowledge Miss Bennet’s affections for his friend were nothing less than genuine. When his sister voiced her opinion of their future felicity, Darcy grunted in agreement.
Then he saw it. Near to her sister, just to one side, Miss Elizabeth was also dancing the first, and with a man who Darcy counted as a friend. While Darcy might have thought nothing of Miss Elizabeth dancing with Tidwell, for he was a good man and a good friend, as Darcy caught sight of her, she laughed at something he said, her countenance bright and her eyes sparkling as they always did when her mirth was released.
A wave of jealousy swept through Darcy. The glare he directed at his friend might have frozen him into a block of ice. But Tidwell’s focus was on Miss Elizabeth and he did not notice, which was likely for the best. For the rest of the dance, Darcy could not pull his eyes away from Miss Elizabeth. Georgiana continued to chatter about some matter or another, but Darcy heard nothing of it. When the dance concluded, Darcy considered marching to Miss Elizabeth and demanding a dance.
What held him back was the sight of Miss Elizabeth standing with her sister and Bingley and the thought of the fool he would make of himself if he took such an action. Discretion, however, while it might be the better part of valor, had its own price. For while Darcy was standing by the side of the dance floor fuming, wondering why he should feel so angry, a most unwelcome companion joined him.
“I see you are beginning to understand the truth, Mr. Darcy.”
“You have my apologies, Miss Bingley, for I have no notion of what you speak.”
“Why, the Bennet sisters.”
Darcy darted a look at Miss Bingley, noting her customary sneer, the way she glared at the two women of whom she spoke. Knowing of her distaste for anyone she considered lower than herself in society—whether warranted or not—Darcy attempted to ignore her. Not that she received his message he did not wish to speak to her. Then again, she never did.
“It is unfortunate you did not support my efforts to separate my brother from Miss Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “for it makes it much more difficult now. It still may be accomplished, but if we do not act soon, it will all be for not.”
A pause ensued, in which she waited for him to speak and agree with her. That Darcy did not reply seemed to cause her little grief, for she continued as if he agreed with every word she said.
“It is also unfortunate that your mother found herself so imposed upon for an invitation to London. That, I suppose, is the one event which led to Miss Bennet’s continued proximity to my brother and the subsequent deepening of his infatuation. Of course, I would never presume to cast blame upon your mother.”
“Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, what little patience he had for this woman fraying to the point of breaking, “unless my recollection of the event is faulty, the Bennet sisters used no improper means to intrude upon my family party—my mother invited them of her own volition and without hesitation.”
Miss Bingley sniffed with her usual disdain. “As I was not attending the conversation between them, I cannot say.”
“I was,” said Darcy, knowing she was dissembling. “And eve
n if they made the attempt, do you not think my mother possesses the ability to reject such stratagems?”
“In this instance, I must suppose she did not,” snapped Miss Bingley, her deference giving way to her frustration.
“Then you suppose incorrectly,” said Darcy, his tone short. “Though I cannot say why, my mother invited them and, I suspect, went to Longbourn that day intending to do so. There was no imposition on the part of the Bennets. Furthermore, my mother and my sister hold the Bennet sisters in the highest of esteem and claim them as the most intimate of friends. I do not feel likewise—this I will own. But to speak of my mother in such a manner diminishes her. Please desist.”
It was no less than obvious Miss Bingley would like nothing better than to continue to protest, but the woman swallowed her bile. “I offer my apologies, Mr. Darcy, for I had no intention of casting shade on your excellent mother or insinuating she is not capable of avoiding those undesirable elements of society.”
Darcy ignored the insinuation of the Bennet sisters comprising those elements. Any hope that Miss Bingley would cease speaking was dashed when she shifted her line of attack.
“Be that as it may, I will not have Jane Bennet as a sister. We can separate them, but as I said before, I must have your support to succeed.”
“And you shall not have it,” was Darcy’s short reply. Then he turned to her and said in a voice which stated his feelings without the possibility of misinterpretation: “There is nothing anyone could say which would induce me to interfere in your brother’s affairs. He is his own man. Only a simpleton could fail to see how much affection has grown between them—yes, on Miss Bennet’s side as well. You may do as you please, but I shall not attempt to persuade him, not when I believe it is doomed to failure.”
With a short bow, Darcy moved away before she could hint at her desire to dance with him. The conversation had unsettled him, and Darcy cast about for a way to put Miss Bingley and her words behind him. Miss Elizabeth, it seemed, had gathered another partner to her for the next dance, and while Darcy tried to tell himself he did not care, he found it difficult to stop glaring at this man. In time, resentment began to build in his breast for the way this woman had captured his attention and refused to let it go.
