Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
D ressed and ready to depart, Darcy was handed a note from his butler merely a moment after calling for his carriage. “Damn,” he cursed to himself.
Not only had he not wanted to attend the theatre that night, but now he would be going alone. He had let Fitzwilliam talk him into it, only to find himself staring back at his staircase wondering if he should simply call it a night. Season tickets or no, a glass of brandy in the library sounded much more enticing.
“Sir, the carriage has been brought ’round,” his butler informed him.
“Thank you, Ebright.”
Darcy hesitated on the front steps, but considered that his cousin, the viscount, could be in attendance, and if not, he would join another friend. It seemed a waste to turn back just then.
Darcy always arrived at the theatre shortly before curtain. Unlike many who came to see and be seen, he was part of the minority of Londoners who attended the theatre because of a true appreciation of the art. Like most voracious readers, he thoroughly enjoyed seeing a well-known story come to life on the stage.
This night was no different; in fact, he had delayed his arrival to the point where he feared he might miss the opening act. Darcy moved through the vestibule greeting some and avoiding others who he knew might be unduly encouraged by his notice. He had just turned his head to avoid one such young lady when his eyes briefly alit upon a light figure moving in a way he knew well.
His breath hitched. Elizabeth. My Elizabeth . It was as if the universe had answered his prayers and dropped her down right in front of his wandering mind.
She was stunning. Her gown stood out in a sea of blatantly garish fashion. Standing in contrast to the crowd of wildly unnatural looking peacock feathers, Elizabeth’s muted elegance reminded Darcy why he considered her such a prize. Her beautiful chocolate brown hair was pulled up elegantly, dotted with tiny white flowers that reminded him all too painfully of their walks in Kent.
Moving down, his eyes traced the line of her neck across her shoulders to the capped sleeves which topped her graceful arms. He had never seen this gown before, but it was an immediate favourite. It shimmered as the candlelight danced on the intricate threading nearest to her neck. Her gown was the colour of a soft yellow sunrise, and he reminisced on the mornings spent together with her arched eyebrow and knowing smile. Bathed in sunlight, he remembered accompanying his precious Elizabeth through the meadows in Kent . It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
At once, he was aware that should he continue standing there gaping, he would miss an opportunity to speak to her. She and her party were attempting to keep up with the bustling crowd which moved in all directions, everyone eager to find their seats before the play began.
His heart began an almost violent staccato as he watched her consider the entire room while being softly guided along by her sister’s hand on her back. Darcy could see her expressive eyes curiously observing all the fashion and people. Before he could think, he was moving in her direction.
Eyes widening with surprise, Elizabeth took in Mr Darcy’s handsome features and long strides carrying him in her direction. His eyes never left hers, and she held her breath in anticipation. She stood firmly, even when Jane attempted to steer her where their uncle had indicated. She grabbed her sister’s hand, guiding her to stay put. By doing so, she also halted the forward motion of her aunt and uncle, who nearly ran into her.
“What is this, Lizzy?” her uncle asked. “We must make haste, or we shall miss the opening.”
But move, she did not. She could not. Not when he was merely two strides from her.
When at last he reached her, he opened and closed his mouth twice before Elizabeth took in his clear discomposure and realised it was to her to insert some civility into the meeting. As serenely as she could, she said, “Mr Darcy, good evening.”
He bowed, somewhat jerkily, then seemed at a loss for words, so Elizabeth continued, “I hope you left Miss de Bourgh and Lady Catherine in good health? Or have they joined you in London? ”
“Um, no, no they have not. Will you introduce me to your friends?”
In spite of her anxiety, this nearly produced a laugh. Mr and Mrs Gardiner did appear people of fashion. She wondered what Mr Darcy would think when she introduced them.
“Sir, may I introduce you to my aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner. Aunt, Uncle, this is Mr Darcy of Pemberley.”
Mr Darcy bowed again. His visage was more severe than it had been in Hunsford, but still lighter than during his stay at Netherfield. “I am pleased to find friends among the audience tonight. I would be even more pleased if your party would join me in my box this evening.”
Mrs Gardiner was quick to demur, as politeness would dictate, but Mr Darcy was just as quick to insist.
Mr Gardiner said, “Thank you for the kind gesture, Mr Darcy, but we would not wish to put you out, sir.”
“I would be honoured to have you,” he replied with all civility.
Mr Gardiner looked to the ladies for their approval. “Well then, it is settled. Mr Darcy, we would be delighted to join you. Pray, sir, lead the way for us.”
Mr Darcy held out his arm for Elizabeth, who took it quickly, but with an uneasiness she could not name. She laid her gloved hand on his arm so gently she could barely feel his coat underneath. He was not hers and would never be, nor was she certain it was wise to desire his attentions at all.
While she would like to stubbornly continue to hold it against him—to berate him for the liberties shared in a flowered glade in Kent and the unmentioned betrothal—she could not find it within herself to punish him for it. Her feelings for him were so dear, and she knew he was only seeing to his duty. She, who had defied duty, wished he had the power to make the same decision for his own happiness—but alas, he had not.
So, instead of sulking in her defeat, she decided to savour the time in his presence. It was likely the last. Soon, Mr Darcy would be married and off travelling with his new wife to one of his vast estates. But it was her object to be satisfied and her temper to be happy. She would simply enjoy the evening—a moment in time that could belong to only her.
Except, it quickly became clear it was not just her, or the two of them, alone in a moment of time. She could feel the eyes of the crowd as they passed by. She could hear the talk intended to be blocked by their intricately painted fans, “Who is the young lady in yellow?” She could have chosen a more traditional cream colour, but the fabric had been so vibrant and full of life. She could not have envisaged being on display in this way—on the arm of such a man. She turned to take in Jane’s countenance. Jane looked serene and lovely as usual, with only a hint of a question in her eyes for Elizabeth. Later. I must speak to her later.
She turned her eyes to Mr Darcy, and the satisfied look on his face told her he was planning to enjoy this respite from his duties as well. After years of doing what was expected of him, she imagined he might also enjoy an evening spent only in the present.
The ladies and Uncle Gardiner were shown to the front row, and Elizabeth furtively watched while Mr Darcy chose a seat directly behind her. Jane and Aunt Gardiner were quite taken with the view and exclusivity of the seats. In fact, Jane leaned over to quietly mention the attention they were receiving from the room.
Elizabeth turned back to the large theatre, taking it all in. Tonight’s parade of feathers, jewels, and wagging fans was especially diverting. She heard movement behind her, and she could sense him before she felt his breath on her neck, leaning in to speak quietly into her ear. The small space left between them, merely inches, felt overtly intimate for such a public setting. His gloved hand hovered ever so slightly above her shoulder as he leaned in and gently drew her attention to him. She felt it land softly on her capped sleeve, sending shivers throughout her entire body. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope you will enjoy the performance.”
Fortifying herself to sound calmer than was her wont, she answered, continuing to keep her eyes on the room rather than his hand, “I am certain we shall all enjoy the performance. Thank you for inviting our party to join you this evening.”
He leaned slightly closer, “Of course, Elizabeth. I am exceedingly pleased you are here.” She was not even sure if he realised he had spoken her Christian name, but her entire body reacted.
An internal battle of reason versus desire urged Elizabeth first to protect herself by responding blandly and avoiding his attention, while in parallel wanting to let his consideration and kindness seep into her every pore.
Meanwhile, even though the entirety of the theatre did not hear him speak to her so informally, she could feel the eyes and whispers surrounding her increasing.
He seemed entirely oblivious to the growing talk. Perhaps he did not consider this type of attention worthy of his acknowledgment, but this was new for Elizabeth. His friendly gestures and whispers were not going unnoticed. She knew this type of display would bring undue attention, especially as Mr Darcy’s betrothal was undoubtably known among his circle.
Elizabeth was wrong about his attentiveness. Darcy could, in fact, feel the glances and whispers as if they were a tangible, living being—growing and moving as the murmurs about the lovely woman in yellow moved through the throng of people. The crowded room heckled quietly at his display, but Elizabeth meant more to him than the gossip of theatregoers. Their whispers were not untrue. Darcy loved Elizabeth, and he did not care who observed them. Her ease was his priority. He must find a way to ensure she could trust him.
Darcy imagined how fulfilling his future would be with Elizabeth on his arm, holding court with the best of the ton . He imagined her soothing his spirit at each required event, and it brought a smile to his face. How much easier this will all be with her by my side!
It was during these thoughts that he realised Elizabeth had turned her head just slightly and was speaking to him.
“Pardon me, I was wool-gathering. Are you comfortable?” Darcy asked, pleased she was speaking to him of her own will.
“Certainly, Mr Darcy,” she responded. He could hear her smile in the tone of her voice. “These seats are completely pleasing. Your box provides an ideal view of the stage.”
She continued, “I am curious when the rest of your party will be joining us?”
He smiled and answered her, “I am quite pleased with the current gathering. I was not expecting anyone else. Colonel Fitzwilliam was supposed to accompany me but was detained at the last minute. I may have joined another friend in their box if I had not the pleasure of encountering your party.”
“You came alone tonight, Mr Darcy?” she asked.
“Yes. I enjoy seeing the performances,” he whispered. He leaned in a bit farther and lowered his voice. “As you have been a great studier of my character, Elizabeth, I would assume you understand me enough by now to know I do not require a crowd, nor do I enjoy it.”
The slow, measured way he said her name reverberated through her. It was clearly said with purpose; but for what purpose, she did not know. Before she thought it was a slip; but not now. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, on her neck, on her ear. Even if he was not engaged to another woman, the implication was intimate. She was unsure how to respond, though her body instinctively leaned in closer. Too close, as it happened—as his lips brushed her earlobe, and she heard a sharp intake of breath.
He moved away from her, but not so quickly as to warrant any additional notice. She wanted to turn around and see his expression—to savour his response to her unplanned movement—but she could sense it affected him when she heard him sigh.
At last, and as if to break up the tension of the moment, the curtain slowly opened, and she heard Mr Darcy adjust his seat.
The performance was all that was lovely and moving. Elizabeth felt her cheeks ache from smiling throughout. It had been two years since she had spent a significant amount of time in London, and the theatre was one aspect of town she missed dearly .
As abruptly as the show ended, she was dropped right back into her present reality. So moving was the performance, that Elizabeth had quite put Mr Darcy out of her mind.
Darcy, on the other hand, had spent the hours with his attention fixed on her neck, her hair, and her reactions to the performance. She is exquisite , he thought. He was also brought quickly from his own musings when everyone began to rise.
Formalities and gratitude were shared. The group was a cheerful one leaving the theatre. Darcy was particularly contented to have Elizabeth once again on his arm as they made their way through the crush. He knew their time was to be brief now, so he had only one chance to speak. He leaned in and lowered his voice for Elizabeth only as they moved through the crowd, “Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of allowing me to call on you at your uncle’s house?”
Elizabeth froze and looked surprised, “Thank you, Mr Darcy. You are most welcome.”
He did not enjoy her shocked expression but thanked her nonetheless. He was eager for the chance to right the past.
She hesitated before saying quietly, “His home is on Gracechurch Street.”
Ah, yes—he connected the dots quickly. She was concerned he would not mix with tradesmen after his arrogant behaviour in Meryton. He hoped to reassure her quickly, “Yes, I believe I know the area.”
Elizabeth was confused about his request to call on her at Gracechurch Street. It was kind enough to allow her family to join him at the theatre, but there was no need to continue this ruse if he was soon to be married. Besides, it could harm her fragile contentment or perhaps even her reputation. She tried to hush the concern growing inside her and to simply live in the moment, but she had to ask, “Will you be returning to Kent shortly?”
Darcy looked surprised and chuckled, “No, Miss Elizabeth. I believe I have spent quite enough time in that county for the year. I should think even next Easter will come rather too quickly.”
She answered quietly, but archly, “I should punish you for being so wicked, Mr Darcy! I could write to my dear cousin, Mr Collins, to request he send you copies of his most recent sermons. He would be grateful to know you have condescended to show interest in furthering your religious studies.”
“Minx,” he said with a look in his eyes that told her he was not at all displeased with her teasing. His eyes were so intense, she quite lost her ability to breathe for a moment.
Thus they were—smiling and strolling in silence with looks of complete satisfaction—when they reached her uncle’s carriage. Mr Gardiner handed in his wife and Jane, nodding to Mr Darcy, who stepped up to hand in Elizabeth.
She was nearly out of breath when she took her seat next to Jane. Ever the example of a refined woman, her aunt would say nothing but would communicate her interest and curiosity with mere glances. Even in the dark, she could read her aunt’s teasing expression. She coloured and looked away.
After thanking Mr Darcy for the lovely evening, Mr Gardiner joined the ladies in the carriage. “Well, my dearest ladies, what a charming fellow and what a lovely performance!” He was jolly as usual, and all the ladies offered obliging responses about the evening. Elizabeth provided short answers, distracted as she was. Her mind was reeling. How long would it be until she understood what had just taken place?