Mr Bingley, in turn, gave his apologies for being so delayed, then began the introductions of those he brought with him. Some were his relations, come to visit for a few months. One was his sister who would act as his hostess, ensuring the gentleman would be able to take in all the pleasures the neighborhood expected of him during his stay. The next few introductions were for some friends, all eager to join in with the neighborhood in dancing this evening.
Then, at the back of the group, stood one lone man. He was head and shoulders above the others, and was obviously out of place among the revelers. His dark looks and strong features gave the impression he was little impressed with such society. His eyes scanned around the room until, finally, they found Elizabeth’s and stopped. Both were now held in a near trance, their eyes locked for a soul searching conversation in which neither spoke, but so much was said. The thoughts they would dare not utter were understood without judgment, and a connection was made that would forever bind the two in a way no one would ever fully understand.
Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Charlotte back at her side.
“Lizzy? Are you well? You look pale.”
She looked around quickly, her mind slowly returning to the reality surrounding her. Her eyes took in the doorway as their neighbors, the Gouldings, were announced. She looked back to Charlotte, “I... I am sorry Charlotte, what was it you just said?”
“Well, I have been standing here talking, and you did not say anything in response. You look pale. Perhaps we should step outside for some air.”
Elizabeth stood, “Yes, I might need that. My mind is too easily swayed from what is occurring around me this evening.”
Charlotte chuckled and wound her arm through her friend’s as she led them towards the doors that would bring their freedom from the stifling room. “Oh, Lizzy, do not tell me you are imagining how the evening will unfold again! You know it is never as you see it, and usually you are so disappointed in the real that you end up ensconced in the imagined on paper for at least a week afterward.”
“I cannot help it if my mind is always playing out these scenarios. Perhaps it is just a reflection of a lack of genuine drama in my life.” Both began to laugh, knowing the other was imagining Mrs Bennet and her fluttering handkerchief as she reclined on the chaise lounge and declared a reason for her smelling salts to be produced by the housekeeper, Mrs Hill—a nearly daily occurrence at Longbourn.
The cool breeze caught them both by surprise when they stepped through the doors. Elizabeth pulled her shawl around her shoulders more tightly so as to ensure it would not fly away in the wind. The two walked down to the far end of the portico, where the shrubbery would keep their hair from needing a maid’s assistance when they returned inside.
“Guess what happened to me this morning?” Elizabeth queried of her friend.
“Should I guess, or just ask for you to tell me?”
She chuckled. “I shall spare you the difficulty in trying to guess and just tell you. I was on my walk this morning to Oakham Mount, and just as I was about to return home, the same boy from London turned up and gave me flowers.”
Charlotte’s hand went to her chest, “Oh Lizzy! Please tell me you did not accept them again!”
“Charlotte, you make too much of it all. Yes, I accepted them. In fact, I have them woven into my hair this evening.”
“Oh, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth tilted her head so Charlotte could see the flowers.
“Oh my! I never thought you to be so brazen! What if he is here tonight and sees you?”
“Charlotte, if I am being brazen, then what must he be labeled? He is the one who sent them to a stranger? I cannot believe such would adequately describe either of us. Joseph, the boy who always delivers the flowers, says his master only wishes to see me smile. For some reason, I just know the gentleman is having a difficult time of things at the moment. If I am able to produce a smile on his lips, as he has produced on mine, then it is worth the few minutes of rosy cheeks at such a brazen act.”
Charlotte smiled and once again wound her arm through Elizabeth’s, turning them back towards the doors where the noise of the room filtered outside, “I am not a romantic, Lizzy, but this is turning out to be quite the tale. Perhaps there is something to those stories you have secretly written all these years.”
When they entered the assembly hall again, they heard a hush come over the crowd and all eyes turned towards the doors as Mr Bingley was announced. Into the room walked six individuals. An amiable fellow by nature, Elizabeth could tell immediately which one was Mr Bingley. He escorted a lady who held her nose up in such a manner as to convey to all those around the room that she knew she was far superior to them. An orange feather, to match the orange of her dress, had been chosen to adorn her hair, and it waved around in the nose of the poor gentleman who stood to her other side. He swatted it away like he was chasing an annoying bee. Next to him, gripping his arm, though he was not showing signs of enjoying such intimacy, stood a lady who looked remarkably like the first. They must be sisters.
Behind those four stood two other gentlemen, both taller, and obviously also related, though the one who drew Elizabeth’s attention was the taller of the two. He had dark curls that fell onto his collar and forehead, shading even darker eyes. The gentleman beside him leaned closer, patting his shoulder and giving a smile that was not returned. Some words were exchanged between the two, and they both followed after the rest of the party as Sir William began to make the circuit of the room to introduce them to all the neighborhood.
Elizabeth shuddered at the vision before her. He looked just as she imagined he would! She felt her knees go weak. Her heart began to race and her breathing became unnatural, so she excused herself from her friend’s side and stepped back outside, this time alone.
She walked further down the portico from the doors to ensure she would not be seen, then went to the edge, grasping the stone banister as she tried to still her breathing. She must have seen him somewhere and that is why her mind told her what he would look like. Yes—that must be it. She had seen him in the park at some point while she was in London, and with all the uproar over the anonymous sender of the flowers, she just assigned to this stranger the feeling she felt would work if she were writing the story herself. He is not even the same gentleman. I know it, she tried to tell herself. He is just a friend of Mr Bingley’s, and he has no interest in me or in making random ladies smile while at the park. Yes, that is it. It cannot be him.
Elizabeth did not realize how long she had been outside until she heard someone else walk out onto the portico as well. She was hidden in the shadows, so she remained still. She was shocked to see that it was the gentleman she had just been convincing herself was not Joseph’s master.
The gentleman walked to the banister and took a deep, shuddering breath. Elizabeth could see him shaking even from where she was hidden, and wondered would could cause such a strong reaction in him.
“There you are, Darcy,” the other gentleman with their party said as he exited the Assembly Hall and joined his friend. “I was worried you had returned to Netherfield already.”
He was leaning down heavily on his arms, the stone banister supporting the weight Elizabeth knew to be tremendously more than just that of his physical form. She stepped back into the shadows even more, not wanting to cause either gentleman distress over her unknown presence being revealed.
“How can you do it?” His deep voice cut through the cool air.
“How can I do what?”
“How can you stand there amongst complete strangers and be introduced with such aplomb without thinking of her?”
“She was only my cousin, not my sister. It is not the same for me as you are going through. My duties with the Army have kept me away so often that my memories of her are more from when she was much younger. Meanwhile the two of you bonded deeply over your losses and were very close—as close as two siblings your ages could ever be.”
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nbsp; It was at that time that Elizabeth’s eye caught the fluttering movement of something tied to his arm. A mourning band. He was in mourning, and obviously it was a dear sister that had died. Her heart broke for the gentleman.
“I will make your excuses for the evening, if you will do one thing for me.”
“What is that,” he said, turning to look at the gentleman beside him.
“Promise me you will not throw yourself off this balcony. I would not want to be the one to explain to Aunt Catherine just why you were so seriously injured.”
“What makes you think I would survive?”
“Because you have lived through more severe and challenging moments than this one, and as in the past with your parents’ deaths, you will survive Georgie’s as well. Your life may not turn out exactly as you wished it would when we were boys, but it will be a life worth living. Promise me you will at least try to see the brightness a future could hold for you beyond these grave months of mourning?”
He took a deep breath and looked down to the ground far below, giving out the nearly whispered words, “I promise.”
The gentleman beside him patted his shoulder and then returned to the Assembly.
Elizabeth watched as he stood there, still as a statue except for the fluttering of the black ribbon tied to his arm, her heart aching for his obvious pain.
A movement in the shadows caught the man’s attention and he turned, surprised to see someone standing there. He was almost determined to go back inside so as not to have to speak with the lady whose dress he could barely make out in the shadows. Then he heard a familiar and lilting voice speaking to him.
“I did not mean to disturb your privacy, sir.”
It was her... his savior, though he doubted she even knew what role she had played in what took place a few months earlier. His voice cracked when he tried to speak, “I... I should be the one apologizing for coming upon your privacy, madam.”
She stepped from the shadows, “My deepest condolences on your loss, sir.”
He looked down at the black fabric tied around his arm. His hand reached up to hold it, his eyes closing, as he said with much emotion, “My dear sister was lost to me just four months ago.”
“I am sorry for your loss. I am certain your family feels it deeply.”
He turned again, looking out over the dark land beyond the banister, “It is only me. I am now completely alone. Our parents were lost to us many years ago, and the few relations besides my cousin,” he nodded, indicating the gentleman who just left his side, “have their own lives and families that keep their attention.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say to such a statement. It was so far from how her own family was. Her mother’s sister lived just a mile from them, and they often visited for card parties or teas. She and her sisters could be found in Meryton shopping on a regular basis, and it was not unheard of for their family to visit their relations in London at least once a year. She truly was blessed in having such a loving family around her, but it was not something she had thought about until hearing this gentleman’s plight. She just stood in silence beside him while they both looked out over the Hertfordshire landscape beyond.
After a few minutes of silence, she finally said, “I feel it must be upon me to welcome you to our neighborhood, sir.”
“I thank you.” he said with a small bow of his head. “I was in need of some time away from Town, and was grateful for my cousin’s insistence that we come to Netherfield Park with my friend, Mr Bingley, who has just let the place.”
“I pray you are able to find some solace in our neighborhood.” She nodded as she curtsied, “I shall leave you now to your privacy.”
“Do not feel you must,” he said boldly, turning around to face her retreating figure.
She turned back. “As we are yet to be formally introduced, I feel it is only proper, sir.”
“Is it your habit then to accept flowers from a stranger and weave them into your hair without being formally introduced first?”
Her eyes grew large with shock, her cheeks reddening as she lifted her eyebrow in challenge, “Is it your habit, sir, to send flowers to a lady of whom you know nothing, and then follow her across England to once again bestow your gifts upon her where your audacious act would possibly be seen by her family if not for her quick response in keeping it a secret?”
His lip rose at the corner ever so slightly, but she could see a brightness flicker through his eyes as he said, “It seems we must both carry the weight of blame for our previous encounters.”
Hearing the music end, Elizabeth said, “I am promised to a neighbor for this dance, but, perhaps if you are able to rejoin our reverie, I may be able to keep a dance open for you.” When he started to say something, she put her hand up, stopping him, “I know you cannot dance, sir, but perhaps we can just talk.” At his nod, she returned inside to find the gentleman with whom she was to dance the next set, her heart hoping the stranger would allow himself the opportunity to be formally introduced to her sometime this evening.
When the set was over, her partner led her back to the fireside where her father stood. She was happy, though shocked to see the stranger standing there as well. She imagined he would have Sir William introduce them, but it seems instead he had located her own father.
She gave a simple nod of greeting and awaited her father’s words of introduction. When they did not come, she asked, “Papa, may I be introduced to your friend?”
“Oh? Are you not already acquainted?”
Elizabeth blushed, realizing he must have seen them both come back inside earlier and knew the two had to have met.
Mr Bennet smiled and leaned over to kiss her bright red cheek. He then turned to the gentleman, “Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire; my second-born, Elizabeth.”
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth curtsied.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said in greeting back to her.
“During this set, Mr Darcy and I have found many a common interest,” Mr Bennet said, “not the least of which is, we both enjoy playing chess.”
“Yes, it is a game my father taught me when I was very young,” Darcy said. His voice cracked just a little when he continued, “It is one thing I have missed these five years without him.”
Mr Bennet nodded his head and patted Darcy’s shoulder in understanding, “I know you cannot yet attend many social functions, but my door is always open to you, my boy, if you wish to have a game. Perhaps even Elizabeth could join us.”
“Oh? Do you play as well, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I too learned the game on the knee of my father.”
Darcy looked around at the crowd, most of whom were focused on Mr Bingley and his cousin, who were both amiable gentlemen. Finally, he turned back, “Miss Elizabeth, I am in mourning, so I cannot ask for a dance, but please know it is my wish that I could.”
Elizabeth smiled, “I am not promised to anyone else for the evening, so perhaps instead of dancing we could simply remain here beside the fire, sir.”
Mr Bennet reached for his daughter’s hand, lifting it and patting the back, “As thrilling as that prospect is, I fear my old bones cannot take standing any longer. I will leave you two to your devices.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, saying quietly in her ear, “You are wearing some lovely flowers in your hair this evening, my dear.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing redder with every passing second. When her father was gone and she now stood with only Mr Darcy beside her, she said quietly, “You told him of the flowers?”
“I did not wish to taint our friendship with lies of our past, so yes, I told him of my own faults. He was very forgiving when I explained why I did it though.”
“Am I to know the reason as well, sir? I asked Joseph several times, but he would only say his master wished to make me smile.”
Darcy was contemplating how to answer her question when a young gentleman from the neighborhood came up to them, asking if Elizabeth had a free set.
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bsp; “I do apologize, Mr Lucas, but I fear I must deny you the pleasure as I am not keen to dance any more this evening.”
The poor young chap was obviously taken aback, but he nodded and left the two alone once again.
“You need not deny any possible suitors on my account, Miss Elizabeth.”
She lifted her eyebrow and smiled coyly, “I cannot deny he is a tolerable dancer, but not tempting enough to draw me from my current place beside the fire.”
Was it the fire that she wished to stay beside, or him? He had to know, so he said in a teasing manner, “It is a shame, as I was going to ask if you cared to join me for some punch.”
Elizabeth smiled and looked at him, “If whetting your whistle will loosen your tongue enough to answer my question, then lead on, sir.”
Thinking he had distracted her, he was surprised to hear she would still require an answer of him. “Perhaps it would be best to leave that discussion for the morrow. I am to call on your father for a game of chess around two o’clock. I would be delighted if you were available as well.”
“Hmm, perhaps I shall be, Mr Darcy. Perhaps I shall be.”
That night Elizabeth was careful when pulling the flowers from her hair. She placed the blue hydrangea petals on a piece of waxed paper and pressed them into the pages of a book. These would forever be remembered as the flowers she wore the night she lost her heart to a gentleman she hoped would one day be more to her than the near stranger he now was.
Jane watched her sister from her own perch upon the bed, after having brushed out her curls and readied for bed quickly. She would leave Elizabeth to her quiet reverie for now, mostly because she had her own joyous evening upon which to keep her mind agreeably occupied.
“Elizabeth, come in here please.”
She heard her father’s call as she was trying to sneak past his door for a walk out of doors. Obviously she was found out. “Coming Papa,” she called, removing the hat and gloves as she entered his study. “Did you need something?”
Whispered Kisses Page 3
