Chapter 20 An Elder Sister, Unmarried
CHAPTER TWENTY
AN ELDER SISTER, UNMARRIED
Thoughts of Mr D or Mr Darcy plagued her over the next days. If they were indeed the same man—and she was more and more convinced they were—he was truly an exemplary sort of man. A man she admired much against her own good sense.
If nothing else, I do think I must owe him an apology…or at least an explanation. Surely that was only good manners? Did she not need to see him at least once more to apologise for her distress in their last meeting?
Of course, she had no way to arrange a meeting with him. Their encounters had been all coincidental, or at least to her knowledge they were. It is not likely you will see him, and if he sees you, he will very likely run away.
When Miss Darcy—who was actually quite talkative once one got her started—let it slip that it was her brother’s habit to walk very early in the morning in St James’s Park, Elizabeth formed her plan. If she then saw Mr D, could she conclude that he was Mr Darcy for certain?
Not wholly, she decided. There remained the possibility that both Mr D and Mr Darcy took early morning walks. But the preponderance of evidence spoke for it.
She lay abed the next morning for several minutes, the vestiges of a dream of him still shadowing the recesses of her mind.
Would she see him? What would she say if she did?
For inasmuch as she wanted to know who he was, she had come to understand she was not really ready to allow him to know who she was.
For it would end then, and she hated the idea of that.
Elizabeth was soon outside, walking towards the park, praying that the cool morning air would calm her disordered spirits.
Alas, it was doomed to do precisely the opposite, for almost as if her dreams had conjured him, he was there, almost immediately.
He walked in a pensive posture at a sluggardly pace.
She knew not what made him raise his eyes, but he did; their gazes met straightaway.
She offered a small smile which was not returned.
Would he cut me? Is it possible to cut someone you are not truly acquainted with?
His cruelty would devastate her. She left the path, going to look over the Serpentine.
If he wished to speak to her, he could; if he did not, it would be easy enough to pass her by, and she would understand it.
Understand it and use it to banish him from her thoughts forever.
Her heart was in her throat while she stood there, for what seemed like forever. At last she perceived a small glimpse of him round the edge of her bonnet. “Good morning,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “A good morning to you as well, ma’am.”
A silence fell between them.
“I beg you would—”
“Pray allow me—”
They both chuckled lightly, and finally she turned to really look at him.
He looked down at her, his gaze warmer than it had seemed previously. “Please, you first,” he said.
“Forgive me,” she said, “for the last time we met I…I made assumptions that were not fair, nor were the sentiments expressed warranted. I do not wish to misunderstand you, sir, and the flattering attentions you pay me are…confusing to me.”
He gave a small nod. “Not all who flirt or flatter have dishonourable intentions to provoke them.”
“Perhaps not. I judged you unfairly, and for that I do apologise.”
“You said you wished for our strange little friendship to come to an end. Is that what you want? That I should have no part with you?”
She could not answer for a moment. The prudent answer was yes, they should have no further intercourse. But her heart could not give that answer, for what it wanted was far, far different. “It would undoubtedly be the most prudent course,” she said at length. “But no, it is not what I wish for.”
He exhaled, loudly and theatrically; the sound seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. They shared a short laugh. “I am new to this,” he said in a confessional tone. “And no doubt making any number of ridiculous blunders.”
“New to…to what exactly?”
There was a short silence; when he spoke, he was surprisingly candid. “I have never known another woman to whom I felt such…such instant attraction. From the very first moment of our acquaintance, I have been drawn to you and my mind has been filled with you.”
Her heart began to pound. Walk away now, she told herself. Get out while you still can.
“Your presence has been rather constant in my thoughts as well,” she admitted softly.
“And yet you will not allow me to know you.”
She forced herself to laugh lightly. “I daresay if you knew me, you would be far less intrigued by me. I must remain enigmatic.”
“Something tells me that is not true,” he said. “And that something is my heart.”
Impulsively, she laid a hand on his arm; he immediately raised his own to cover it. “I daresay that the mystery of me is what provokes such intensity of feeling in you.”
“No. It is not merely the mystery which compels me,” he insisted. “I am not such a fool as to imagine that my attachment is born of nothing more than intrigue and a pretty face.”
Gently she removed her hand from beneath his. With a fortifying inhale, she told him, “You and I could not be, not as we are now, not as we are ever. It does not bear thinking of.”
“Are you beholden to another? Someone…someone who is perhaps not married to you, but…”
She looked at him curiously. “I have already told you I was neither married nor engaged, and my answer has not changed since.”
“But perhaps you are beholden in…in some other way.”
“An understanding of some sort? No, I do not have one.”
“Not an understanding, no.”
She tilted her head and studied him. He seemed awkward, less in command, more uncertain than she had ever seen him before. Alas, she had no idea what he meant. When at last he glanced up at her, she gave an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, but I truly do not understand what you might mean.”
“The fact that you do not is likely answer enough,” he said with a little shake of his head. “Allow me to be plain: is there any man, in any way whatsoever, to whom you are beholden in a romantic way?”
“No,” she said. They both watched the rippling of the water in the Serpentine for several quiet seconds until comprehension at last came to her. A maiden she might be, but she was not stupid, just slow to understand. “Oh! Are you asking me if I am a…am a kept woman?” She giggled at that idea.
A deep red flush crept up the sides of his face as he apologised to her. His abjectness only made her giggle more, raising her hand to cover her mouth.
“I probably ought to be offended,” she said with a last, small giggle. “No, I am not a kept woman, nor a prostitute, nor active in any manner in the oldest profession.”
He apologised again. He had lowered his head to study the tips of his boots and scuffed them into some stones at their feet a little. “You ought to slap me. I deserve nothing less.”
“I am more amused than offended, sir,” she said. “In any case, anyone’s mistress I have ever seen is pretty and well-dressed. I have been confused with worse, to be sure.”
Finally he raised his head, and only regarded her, a small smile on his lips.
She returned his smile. “What? Why do you look at me so?”
He shook his head, continuing to look at her in a manner that could only be described as admiring. “You are the most singular lady I have ever known. Who could help but to fall in love with you?”
Bewilderment beset her. His words were…discomfiting and surely not true, and yet there was truth in his looks.
She did not truly know him, but somehow she knew he would not bandy about such words lightly.
It was decidedly too baffling; wishing the moment gone, she again turned to teasing him.
“Lady? How do you know I am a lady? I might be a servant, for what you know.”
She had gambled correctly; she saw his posture relax and he gestured at her pelisse. “Your dress is rather fine to be that of a servant.”
“That is true, but perhaps it is my custom to steal the mistress’s clothing and gad about the town for my own pleasures.”
“And lure in unsuspecting gentlemen with your wiles?”
“Precisely,” she said with a little wink. “You have caught me at my game.”
He sobered, saying to the ground beneath him, “I believe it is I who have been caught.”
She did not reply to that; it seemed he wished it to pass unnoticed, and she had no idea what to think much less how to respond. There was silence for several minutes until he asked, “Can you…will you tell me if you are the daughter of a gentleman?”
“Yes, I am.” Or at least I was. “And you are a gentleman, as I can plainly see.”
“Can you? For all you know, I might be a stable boy whose habit is to steal the master’s clothes and gad about the town.”
His teasing delighted her so much, she was immediately carried away into their little farce. “A stable boy! We must see about that!”
With nary a thought, she grabbed his hand and tugged the fingertips of his glove, removing it from his hand.
She then removed her own glove and ran her fingertips over his palm and fingers.
“Not the calluses of a footman or a stable boy, to be sure. Even a valet often has marks from tailoring his master’s clothing and shaving him.
No, I must conclude, based on these very lovely, well cared-for hands—which also have an ink stain on them, by the by—you are undoubtedly a gentleman, and one who has recently written a letter, to wit. ”
Too late she recognised her air of levity was not matched.
Mr D had gone utterly still and did not even seem to be breathing.
Belatedly, she understood she had been far too bold—indeed, almost brazen—and the effects of it were writ large upon his countenance.
His colour was high, and his eyes had moved to her lips.
His breathing quickened, and after a moment, she realised hers had too.
The air between them grew thick with an emotion she did not know.
She dropped his hand and took a small step back, lowering her eyes and murmuring, “I beg your pardon.” She returned his glove to him. She looked up in time to see him swallow hard. Keeping his eyes on her, he slowly replaced it on his hand as she did likewise with her own.
“I…” she began but stopped, having no idea what she meant to say. “I should go.” Her voice squeaked a little on the word ‘go.’
“No,” he replied immediately.
“No?”
“Stay with me.” After a little pause, he added, “Walk with me just a little while.”
“Very well,” she agreed quietly. “I shall.”
He did not offer his arm. They walked side by side on the path, going in the direction that she needed to go anyhow.
The sun had warmed, and a few people were about, mostly stable boys exercising horses and servants darting through between errands.
None of them seemed to pay the least bit of mind to the finely dressed couple on the path.
Eventually mundane observations were made to cover their mutual discomfort; she commented on the size of the path, and he remarked on the scarcity of walkers and riders. Both agreed the day would be warm, and he felt certain a succession of rain was due.
At length, she said, “I really must go before I am missed.”
“When will we meet again?”
She shrugged. “Who can say? None of this has been planned, has it?”
“Perhaps not, but that will not do.” He turned to face her, taking her hand in his.
She gave a quick glance round them, relieved to see that the park was yet uninhabited by anyone who might be interested in their meeting.
“You will come to my house—”
She laughed, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “This plan is already quite indecent.”
“You will come,” he said, his voice low and urgent, his eyes boring into her.
She stopped smiling immediately. “Obviously, I cannot do that.”
“Then you must tell me how to come to you.”
“Why? For what purpose?”
“Because I mean to kiss you,” he said. “Thoroughly. And then I shall propose to you and hear you agree to be my wife.”
His wife. The notion made her heart throb within her chest even as she fought against the feeling. She did not wish to fall in love with this man, not when there was absolutely everything in the world against them. “It is impossible,” she replied softly.
“No, it is not.”
“I could be a laundress, for all you know.”
He had her hands in his still, and he brought them to his lips.
While she watched, he bit, gently, the edge of her glove and, with one fierce tug, pulled the glove from her hand.
He then spat it onto the ground and brought her hand up, rubbing it along his cheek.
“Not a laundress,” he said. “No laundress has hands this soft.”
“A lady’s maid, then.”
He looked at her hand again. “No. You would have burns from the curling irons.”
“A governess, forced to take a position because I had fallen on hard times.” It was too near the truth, and it put her heart in her throat to hear what he would say to it.
“Excellent.” He smiled. “A gentleman’s daughter, and me a gentleman. Equals.”
She shook her head, sliding her hand from his grasp. “Gentlemen’s daughters come in many varieties. The daughter of an insignificant country squire is not the equal of a man of consequence.”
He bent and retrieved her glove, studying it for a moment while he said, “She is if the man of consequence loves her.” He handed it to her.
“How can you speak so?” She replaced the glove on her hand. “You of all people should know it is not true. Love does not conquer all, certainly not for those in the first circles.”
He drew back, studying her. “You know who I am,” he said flatly.
She neither confirmed nor denied it, saying merely, “I really must be gone.”
“I want you to know that I am not finished with you. I will persuade you that you may love me.”
She gave him a rueful smile which he returned.
“Fare thee well, Miss Long,” he said.
“Miss Long?” She laughed heartily. “I fear you have mistaken me for someone else.”
“Miss Lewis? Miss Leighton? Miss Lloyd?”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Not even close, Mr D. Now I truly do bid you good day.”
“Good day, Miss Lodge.”
She laughed again as she turned and moved a few steps away from him. Some mad impulse, some freak of foolishness turned her back. He had not moved.
“I have an elder sister who is unmarried,” she said, then turned again and continued off.
He stared after her for some time. She knew it because when she turned back, having put a substantial distance between them, he remained in the place where she left him, watching her go.