Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A PRECARIOUS HALO
U pon being asked whether perhaps I had gone a touch too far in throwing Lady Catherine off my scent, Mr Darcy had been succinct.
“Gone too far? I nearly swallowed my tongue, Elizabeth. If for some reason our wedding was not destined to take place—which I assure you it will unless my aunt murders me—should you not consider a career in the theatre?”
“Oh dear.”
“If I were not intimately concerned and had been merely a bystander, I doubt I could have been more amused,” he said somewhat less heatedly.
“Was I entertaining?”
“You always are, even when you are tearing me limb from limb for—what was it?”
“Which time? At Netherfield Park when Jane was ill, and I accused you of an inclination to hate everybody?”
“Imagine my horror to be so upbraided for my rationality while, at the same moment, becoming hopelessly entangled in obsessive feelings for you!”
“I am sorry,” I said, and though there was a light note of teasing in my voice, I did feel the pinch of dismay. He had borne a great deal of insolence from me!
We were walking hand-in-hand deep in one of the wilder spinneys at the edge of Rosings Park, having stolen a meeting for the first time in four days.
“Liar,” he growled.
“Ogre,” I countered.
“Vixen.”
“Tyrant.”
“Siren,” he purred, and before I could fling an appropriate epithet back at him, he had somehow swirled me into his chest, and we were kissing as though our lives depended upon the intensity of our embrace.
“Might you visit me again tomorrow?” I asked breathlessly.
“Yes, and you will do me a service by refraining from trying to make me laugh.”
“But why should I? I so thoroughly enjoy seeing you scowl your way through those oh-so agreeable duty calls.”
“I know you do, but tomorrow I am bringing with me my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, and unlike everyone else around whom you freely dance circles, he is a touch more astute than the average fellow.”
“Will I like him?”
“While I suspect you may, I am certain he will like you. In fact, I am braced against the inevitability you will flirt with him in order to torment me.”
“I can hardly do so if you expect it of me.”
“My darling Zephyr,” he said, stopping to explain to me face-to-face, “you can hardly prevent yourself from catching his notice.”
“But why? I am not beautiful, you know.”
“Neither are you as sly as you think you are. Do you suppose I do not know when I am being manipulated into complimenting your looks?”
“Well, I can only claim to be tolerable.”
“Oh? How so? I find your provocations to be intolerable just now!”
“You had better kiss me then, lest you fall into the sulks.”
He sighed as though highly inconvenienced, but he then obliged me with a pressingly erotic meeting of lips, after which I was rendered devoid of my wits, much less any other saucy things to say to him.
Having effectively silenced me, he then said, “I am in earnest. Your smile alone is sufficient to dazzle a man. It would be impossible that my cousin will be indifferent to your charm.”
“Even if I am modestly tucked into the comfortable folds of the gentrified poor? Your formidable relation has marked me off the list of her present concerns, you know, because I am so uninteresting.”
He examined me with a look of affectionate exasperation. “That matchstick halo of yours is only glued in place, Saint Elizabeth. Have a care you do not accidentally knock it off your head while dancing those circles around my relations.”
The following day brought gusting winds to worry the brand-new leaves of spring. It also brought Mr Darcy and with him Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had just arrived at Rosings Park.
From the first instant of making his acquaintance, I recognised the colonel as a rarity among men. He was sensible, conversant, and obliging, but only reasonably so. He was not overly eager or exaggeratedly amiable. Instead, he had about him a steady, masculine confidence that did not seem as though it could be easily dislodged by anyone or any circumstance. Had I not already fallen in love with the humourless grump who sat next to him, I would have sprung to life with interest in this new prospect.
Luckily for all of us, Mr Collins had lately—at Lady Catherine’s insistence—spent his days at the church that was undergoing some repairs. Since we were not oppressed by his drivel, the colonel was then free to oblige his hostess by making conversation effortless for her. He impressed me with the range and facility of topics he brought into the room. We talked of the wind, of the county of Kent, and of his leave from his regimental post. He brushed easily past the topic of the war which was, for the most part, deeply distressing. Seeming to sense the salient questions I longed to ask but did not dare, he casually satisfied my curiosity with an explanation he was merely a second son who was pleased to be independent and much inclined to make his way in the world on his own power. He and Mr Darcy, he had explained with a nod towards his cousin, had been good friends since childhood and met every year at Easter if not more often.
While all of this could have made for dull listening, Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to somehow convey his intent to become acquainted, and Charlotte and I smiled complacently at him throughout.
“How long do you visit Hunsford, Miss Elizabeth?” he then asked me.
“I am here for two weeks only, sir. My sister is engaged to be married in late May, and I must be home in time to add to the mayhem.”
“A wedding? How delightful it always is to wave the new couple away after breakfast!” he said with a smile of comprehension. “Where will your sister make her new life?”
“Not three miles from home. She is marrying Mr Darcy’s friend,” I said, slanting a glance at his mute cousin, “who leased an estate in Hertfordshire many months ago.”
“Oh?” he asked, turning to Mr Darcy in enquiry.
“Bingley.”
“Bingley!” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face betrayed some element of surprise at this news which he quickly overcame. “Now there is a happy fellow. I am sure your sister will never have a gloomy day in her life.”
“That is true, since she is the most sweet-tempered of all of us,” I said, for his implication that all the goodness was on the side of Mr Bingley cried out for correction. “But, as you say, he is a most agreeable man and makes for a happy addition to our family.”
This led us to talk of my family and of Charlotte’s as well, and in a few easy strokes, our new acquaintance had the lay of the land. Mrs Collins and I knew each other from childhood, our sisters were friends just as we had always been, and she had married my cousin who would inherit my father’s estate.
I cannot say the colonel’s face revealed much; however, there was some quality of alertness which led me to believe my so-called suitability, which was admittedly threadbare, was under review. I had no suspicion this was anything other than a longstanding habit. Who did not take the measure of a new acquaintance to see where they might land in the hierarchy of the world? No one! And so I submitted to this casual review with a decided sense of calm. If he only knew just how suitable his cousin found me, I thought a little gleefully. Perhaps Mr Darcy had the same thought for our eyes locked, and we enjoyed a silent chuckle between us.
In spite of this ritual of judgment, the colonel came full circle and ended our visit as it had begun—upon a note of goodwill.
When our company left, Charlotte stood and paced before me to relieve the ache in her back.
“Mr Darcy has paid a call on us every day since you arrived, Lizzy,” she observed.
“I know it, and I am sorry you must bear with his visits.”
“I did not mention it to complain.”
“No?”
“I mentioned it because it is very odd. Last year, he never visited even once.”
“Well, I do not know why he has chosen to do so this year, particularly today, when he did not say so much as three words.”
“He does so to look at you, Lizzy.”
“What? No. Mr Darcy does not think I am handsome, remember?”
“Perhaps he has changed his mind. The trouble is Lady Catherine expects him to marry her daughter.”
“Which is—oh, be reasonable, Charlotte! Why should he? That lady is wretched no matter the time of day. Has she seen a doctor?”
“She has seen a dozen this year alone.”
“I think Mr Darcy is remarkably patient with his aunt’s unreasonable expectations of him.”
“Unreasonable! He would gain her fortune and Rosings Park. It is a wonder he has not yet married her and satisfied his duty.”
After a pause in which I governed my temper, I replied carefully. “On this subject, dear Charlotte, we have always disagreed. For me, the profit of a union must be leavened by inclination and affection. I am romantic, you might recall.”
She sat down and surveyed me with her customary frankness. “And in this instance, I believe Mr Darcy is entertaining an inclination.”
I dismissed her insinuation with a wave of my hand. “He certainly seems disinclined to marry a woman who is sickly.”
“Do not pretend you do not know what I am suggesting. If he offers for you, Lady Catherine would suffer such a rage as must blow our way for having thrown the two of you together!”
My reply was perhaps too passionate, yet I could not help but object. “Forgive me, Charlotte, but I cannot control fate, nor can I promise to forego my future happiness in service of Lady Catherine’s satisfaction!”
What a tangle! I took three quick breaths, and said, “Consider, dearest, your own example of practicality. Would you, as my friend since childhood and knowing what you do of my prospects and expectations, honestly advise me not to accept Mr Darcy’s suit? I am not saying he has serious intentions in asking you this question, but I do not dislike him as much as I once did.”
My friend eased the burden of her growing child by pressing upon the side of her abdomen. A small crease marred her brow, and after I placed a pillow on the chair behind her, she sat back, putting her feet on a cushioned stool.
“Pay me no mind, Lizzy. I am so fractious these days.” With her free hand, she patted my arm with great affection. “Marry your Mr Darcy if he asks you. Lady Catherine may blow a gale, but nothing lasts so terribly long, does it? Besides, I shall soon have an infant to keep me at home, and the prospect of motherhood pleases me very well.”
“If it ever comes. What a trial! Should I fetch Cora? You had best lie down, and if we have any more callers, I shall send them away.”