Mr Darcy's Admiration

by Lauren Hughes

  He opened the envelope, taking out a letter from a sentimental young man enamored by a pretty face. Elizabeth was lovely with that sable hair and those great pansy eyes, but it was not her beauty that made him love her, then or now. It was her sweetness. She made London’s fine ladies look like so many faulty imitations of womanhood.

  He looked down at the letter. The words inside said it all. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

  “If only I’d had a chance to give it to her,” he said, handing it to Bingley. “Things might have been different.”

  Bingley read the letter and a smile crept over his face. “Darcy, perhaps it's not too late...”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kitty delivered Darcy’s message to the cook and started for her bedchamber. Then she stopped and retraced her steps, turning back toward the sitting room. No matter what Elizabeth might say, she was still a young woman. And young women, however much they might protest, wanted husbands — and liked new gowns.

  Elizabeth was still stitching, but her color was quite high. Kitty did hope Mr. Darcy hadn’t been unduly harsh with her. “So,” Kitty said, making her voice cheerful. “Is it all settled? Shall we go to the dressmakers this afternoon?”

  Elizabeth put down her stitching and looked Kitty sternly in the eye. “I have agreed to accompany you to the ball — and I have agreed to the new gowns. But I will not be pushed into an unwanted alliance. Not by you. And not by Mr. Darcy.”

  Kitty swallowed. When Elizabeth got that look of determination in her dark eyes, that firm set to her chin, there was no point in arguing with her.

  “So,” Elizabeth asked, her voice rigid. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes,” Kitty hastened to reply. “I promise not to badger you about marriage.”

  She dropped into her chair and picked up her needlepoint. There was no need to push. When the right man comes along, Elizabeth would know — and all her objections to marriage would dissolve.

  Kitty threaded her needle. “I think one of your gowns should be blush pink. That’s such a becoming color with your dark hair.”

  * * * *

  Later that afternoon Elizabeth and Kitty descended from the carriage outside the dressmakers in Meryton. Elizabeth wished herself somewhere else. Being the wife of a vicar meant she'd spent little time out in society in the past year. This shopping expedition had put her nerves all on edge.

  “Come!” Kitty tugged at her arm. “I cannot wait! Madame always has the newest fashion books — straight from Paris!”

  Elizabeth let herself be led inside. It was a cheerful place, at least, with plenty of light. Madame was a little stick of a woman dressed completely in black, smiled soberly and led them into a comfortable room furnished with pattern books and bolts of material.

  “Oh!” Kitty squealed. This is such fun!”

  Elizabeth swallowed a sigh. She wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of fun. She asked only for peace and quiet — and to remain in a home with people she loved.

  But Kitty’s excitement was contagious and before long Elizabeth was caught up in it, too, exclaiming over this pattern, extolling the richness of the material.

  The upshot of the matter was that some time later when they settled back into the carriage, she had ordered considerably more gowns than she meant to.

  “I just love that sapphire silk,” Kitty said with satisfaction, pulling the carriage robe up over their knees. “That’s just the thing for you to wear to the ball. The men will be all agog over —”

  “I don’t want —” Elizabeth began.

  “Fudge!” Kitty proclaimed. “Don’t say such silly things, Lizzy. Every woman wants men all agog over her. It makes her feel beautiful.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I have never been concerned with my looks,” she said. “Why should I start now?”

  “Because you are a beauty,” Kitty insisted. “Even Mr. Darcy says so.” She dropped her voice and rolled her eyes dramatically. “And above all men he should know.”

  For the rest of the ride home, Elizabeth pondered Kitty’s remark about Darcy. Was it Darcy’s extensive knowledge of women that made her so uncomfortable around him? And why, if his knowledge was so extensive, did he find her company so objectionable? Did that mean something was wrong with her?

  When they reached home and descended from the carriage, she was no closer to answering her questions. But at least he would be pleased that she had kept her word and purchased the new gowns.

  Actually, she’d never given much thought to gowns before. As a child, playing about the countryside, she wore whatever her father could provide for her. When they were wondering where their next meal was coming from after Mr. Bennet's, the niceties of fashion had meant little to either of them.

  And once she’d married Mr. Collins, she’d left the choice of outfits entirely up to him and the dressmaker he chose. She had been more concerned then with his failing health.

  But now, as she handed the butler her cloak, she had to admit that choosing new gowns could be fun. Would Darcy approve of her choices? Would he like the sapphire silk? Or would he think it too daring for a woman just out of mourning?

  Sapphire blue was such a vibrant color, calling attention to the wearer. And no matter what anyone said, she did not feel herself beautiful. She turned into the sitting room. Well, she’d done as Darcy asked and ordered the new gowns. Some in the colors he’d suggested, too — rose and blue. But she liked the sapphire one best, except that if Kitty was right and men came around her . . .

  She swallowed a sigh. Mr. Collins had made the matter very clear in his will. It said she was to have an ample allowance for the rest of her life and the ordering of her own affairs. That meant she needn’t ever marry again. So neither Darcy nor anyone else for that matter — could make her marry.

  The sound of a stopping carriage drew Kitty to the window. “It’s Mr. Darcy,” she said, peering between the lacy curtains. “And he has another gentleman with him. One I’ve never seen. A very handsome one.”

  She turned, color flooding her cheeks. “I must look a sight.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Sit down, my dear. You look perfectly acceptable. Lovely, in fact.”

  Kitty appeared about to fly out of the room, but by that time Darcy and his guest could be heard approaching and so she sat down.

  Elizabeth picked up her stitching. Having something to do with her hands helped her remain calm. And anyhow, there was no need for nervousness. This visitor was obviously someone Darcy meant to introduce to Kitty, possibly an eligible party.

  Darcy paused in the doorway. “May we join you?” he asked. “My cousin here is just home from the Peninsula and craves the companionship of beautiful ladies.”

  This fulsome flattery elicited a delighted giggle from Kitty. Elizabeth managed a polite smile. This was a Darcy she had never seen, so smooth and charming.

  “Come in,” she said. “We’ll be glad for some company.” That was not entirely true, either. But it, too, was polite. Choosing another color, she threaded her needle. Then to her surprise Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed the room and took the chair beside her.

  “I heard of your husband's passing,” he said softly. “A fine man. You have my deepest sympathies.”

  A lump formed in Elizabeth's throat. “Thank you.”

  From across the room Kitty’s giggle floated merrily toward them. The Colonel addressed it. “I’m afraid Darcy didn’t do the honors quite adequately, Miss Bennet. I'm Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

  Elizabeth met his gaze. “Colonel Fitzwilliam and I met at Rosings Park,” she said with a smile.

  The colonel nodded. “Yes, we suffered through the whole experience together,” he laughed. “Darcy spoke of you often since you returned to Hertfordshire. Thought I would come visit the countryside myself.”

  The strangest sensation stole over Elizabeth’s skin, turning it all goosebumpy. “Darcy? Talked about me?” she whispered to the colonel.

  The colonel adjus
ted his cuff. “Yes. Many times.”

  She longed to ask him what had been said. To inquire if he knew what could have changed Darcy’s mind about her. But she could not. The colonel was still considered a stranger, and Darcy his cousin. If she started asking him questions, he would tell Darcy. And she couldn’t bear that.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Kitty trilled, sending him that coquettish smile she used on men she thought eligible for marriage. “Do come over here and tell me about the war.” She patted the chair beside her. “It must be just dreadful to be in battle.”

  The colonel sent Elizabeth a rueful smile and rose to cross the room. “I’m afraid it is, Miss Kitty. And not the sort of thing for a lady’s delicate ears.”

  Elizabeth went back to her stitching. Kitty would be pleased to have two men pay court to her.

  But to Elizabeth’s surprise Darcy crossed to sit by her. “I hear you went to the dressmaker,” he said, his voice strangely cordial.

  “Yes. Kitty could not wait.” She risked a look at him. He appeared to be smiling. “And I’m afraid I ordered more gowns than I should have.”

  He was smiling! “Only you would think such a thing,” he said. “Don’t you know a lady cannot have too many gowns?”

  She knew it! He was criticizing her again. She took a deep breath. He might as well know it all. “I’m afraid one of them is sapphire. It seemed rather a strong color, but the dressmaker and Kitty both said it went with my looks and — and —” Her tongue seemed suddenly swollen, making it difficult to speak. He was looking at her so strangely, his expression almost friendly.

  “I’m sure it will look lovely on you,” he said. “You have the proper coloring to support it.”

  This reply so surprised her that she was at a loss for words. She cast around in her mind for something to say, but her mind seemed distressingly empty. Fortunately, the butler chose that moment to enter.

  He presented her with the silver tray used for calling cards. “This came for you, milady.”

  It was not a calling card. It was sealed up in an envelope, an envelope that bore only her name — and in a hand she didn’t recognize. She lifted it from the tray and turned to Darcy. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course.”

  The envelope had a curiously old look to it, as though it had been lying somewhere for some time. She opened it, pulling out the letter. A secret admirer! Who would be sending her a love letter? And why now?

  “You appear to have an admirer,” Darcy said, leaning closer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In confusion Elizabeth raised her gaze to Darcy’s. “An admirer? I don’t see how that’s possible. I mean, I have not gone anywhere. I know no one.”

  She wanted to run out of the room, but with his gaze on her she reminded herself that she was a young lady, and she must behave like one. Slowly she opened the letter again. The words stared up at her. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

  There was no signature.

  Warmth flooded her cheeks and embarrassment heated her body. She looked toward Kitty, but she was laughing and flirting with the colonel. Elizabeth said the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s a joke. Someone must be teasing me.”

  But Darcy did not laugh. “I wouldn’t be too certain of that,” he said. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have an admirer. You have all the qualities a man may desire in a wife —”

  Stunned, she could not answer. The moment passed, then she straightened. “It must be a joke,” she repeated, looking up into the dark face so close to her own. The most curious sensation swirled through her, a dizzying sensation like she’d experienced as a girl when Jane pushed her too high on the garden swing.

  She looked away. This dizziness no doubt came from the long and difficult day. Dealing with Darcy was always difficult, of course. There was something about him that made her feel strangely on edge. And now with him pressing this marriage business, she was even more uneasy.

  Darcy, his gaze on her face, fought the desire to touch her. He longed to sweep her into his arms and declare his love for her — right there in front of Kitty and his cousin — in front of the whole world! But he remained silent. He was an ardent man, a passionate man, but he was not that much a fool. He dared not risk shocking Elizabeth with such a public declaration.

  If only he’d been able to tell something from her expression. She’d blushed, but that could mean anything — from anger to embarrassment to joy. But her insisting the love letter was a joke didn’t bode well. He’d wanted to arouse her curiosity, to see if her aversion to marriage was deep set or merely girlish loyalty to her cousin's memory. But her reaction had told him nothing. Apparently, he would have to think of something else.

  After Colonel Fitzwilliam left, Darcy made his excuses and went off to the library. Elizabeth, breathing a sigh of relief, tucked the love letter in her sewing basket and went back to her stitching.

  But Kitty came hurrying over to sit beside her. “Do let me see.”

  “It’s a joke.”

  Kitty opened the letter. “Oh my,” she breathed. “You have an admirer, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth felt the heat pouring over her again. “That’s impossible. I —” She turned. “You sent this card, Kitty. Admit it.”

  Kitty’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

  Kitty’s bewilderment certainly appeared sincere. “Then who did?”

  Kitty shrugged, her fair curls bouncing. “Maybe you’ll find out at the ball. It’ll be the event of the year.”

  She sighed and clasped her hands together. “Colonel Fitzwilliam will be there. Oh, Lizzy! I believe I’m smitten.”

  “Smitten with what?” Elizabeth inquired, keeping her expression carefully blank.

  Kitty giggled. “Why with love, of course. Isn’t he quite the handsomest man you’ve ever seen?”

  “Quite,” Elizabeth agreed, though she thought Darcy far handsomer. And how could Kitty have formed an attachment for the colonel on such short acquaintance? “Kitty, tell me, how do you know when you’re — smitten?”

  Fortunately Kitty didn’t find the question strange. “Oh, you know. You feel peculiar when you’re with him, kind of tingly all over and so . . . alive. Everything he says is so important. You want to be with him, to please him. To see him smile.”

  Kitty closed her eyes. “The Colonel has a divine smile. Yes, I believe he’s the one.”

  “But his character,” Elizabeth protested. “You know nothing of his character.”

  Kitty shrugged. “Mr. Darcy brought him here. If he’s Darcy’s friend, I needn’t worry.”

  She got to her feet. “I’m just too excited to sit still. I’m going up to my room to look through my gowns. Colonel Fitzwilliam said he might come around tomorrow to take us for a walk.”

  And she was off, flitting out like a gaily colored butterfly.

  Elizabeth let her stitching fall into her lap and picked up the love letter again. It was still a complete mystery to her. Who could have sent it?

  Strange, Kitty’s description of being in love did not fit her feelings for Mr. Collins at all. Kitty’s description was more like —

  Elizabeth stared blindly through the sudden blurring of tears. This description of love fit exactly the feelings she had for Darcy. And that, she saw with sudden clarity, was the reason she did not want to marry again. It was not her ignorance of the estate of matrimony that prevented her desiring another marriage, but the fact that she was in love already — in love with a man who endured her company only out of respect for his friend who married her sister. God help her, but she was in love with Mr. Darcy!

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next days were difficult ones for Elizabeth. The startling knowledge of her true feelings for Darcy only made her more nervous in his presence. And then, to her distress, every day brought another love letter, each with the same message. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And each arrived unsig
ned.

  To add to her confusion, the letters always seemed to arrive when Mr. Darcy was present. And his persistent though gentle questions convinced her that he didn’t believe her protestations, that he thought she knew the identity of the sender.

  Finally, in desperation, she questioned the butler. But all he could tell her was that the cards were delivered to the door by an urchin, an urchin who said a gentleman paid him to bring them.

  Kitty behaved in truly love-struck fashion, fluttering and sighing and staring into the distance as though she was really addlepated. And Darcy was kind and attentive, far more kind and attentive than usual. But Elizabeth was convinced that was so because he thought this unknown admirer might marry her and remove her from the house — and from his life.

  All this only served to increase her distress. She hardly knew how to behave with either of them. Thankfully Kitty was so engrossed in her own feelings that she didn’t notice the peculiarities of Elizabeth’s behavior. But from time to time Elizabeth caught Darcy staring at her with a strange intensity. Was he taking note of her nerves? Or, perhaps, since he found her company so distasteful, was he asking himself who could possibly want her? And why?

  And then it came. Elizabeth and Kitty were at their stitching and Darcy was out as he often was on business. With a sigh, Elizabeth hurried to open it — still another love note. Maybe this time she could avoid Darcy’s scrutiny. Maybe this time, though it seemed unlikely, the card would bear a signature.

  The card was flowery, the sentiment the same, but this time a message was written across the bottom in a bold masculine hand. “I wish to marry you. We’ll meet at the Winter Ball. You can give me your answer then.”

  “Oh no!” The words escaped before Elizabeth could stop them.

  Kitty dropped her stitching and leaned closer. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Elizabeth tried to think. “He says . . .” she blurted. “He means to . . .”

  Kitty took the card from her hand and read it herself. “He means to make himself known at the ball! How marvelous! Now see? I knew we were right to order that sapphire silk!”