Chapter 6
A LADY’S IMAGINATION
Elizabeth’s adventurous spirit was heightened by the time of their arrival.
While she looked forward to the gaiety a night at a London soiree afforded, the prospect of finally meeting Mr. Darcy held just as much intrigue.
How one man could engender so much of derision and disdain, admiration and approbation in so many different people was increasingly puzzling, and Elizabeth thoroughly enjoyed a mystery.
There he stood. His likeness at Pemberley hardly does the gentleman justice.
Surely it was taken some years earlier, for Mr. Darcy was more handsome than she had supposed.
Dressed in stark black and white, with broad shoulders and well-crafted arms and legs and standing more than six feet, he was taller than most of the gentlemen there.
In comparing the man who now stood before her to the image she carried around in her mind, he had matured into adulthood in a manner that could only be described as exceedingly agreeable.
What she had not been able to appreciate from his likeness was the brilliance of his eyes.
She reminded herself not to stare. Nor did his likeness serve justice to his dark-brown hair. She could well imagine how soft it was.
What a thrill of awareness she had felt when she accepted his proffered arm, and he led her across the dance floor.
Only after they had taken their places opposite each other did she relinquish his arm.
How amazed she was at the honour he had bestowed in dancing with her, especially since he had danced with no one other than those from his own party at the Meryton assembly.
Her friend Charlotte had expressly told her that she overheard him saying he hated to dance.
Yet, he had made a deliberate effort to single her out within moments of her arrival and requested a set.
She expected him to dance the first set with his sister, the next set with his aunt and then maybe he would get around to dancing with her—strictly out of obligation.
In appearance, the gentleman was the embodiment of perfection.
That was the problem. He was too perfect.
Recalling herself to her mission to satisfy her curiosity about Mr. Darcy’s character, Elizabeth finally noticed why her mother and sisters deemed the man a bit too haughty.
He had not spoken a single word to her except to express his pleasure in engaging her for her first dance.
Pursuant to Elizabeth’s arrival in town, satisfying the social arrangements her aunt and uncle had made for her to get better acquainted with many of their friends was but one of the activities that filled her calendar.
There was also shopping, in fact, a prodigious amount of shopping.
Once her Aunt Gardiner learned of young Georgiana Darcy’s invitation for Elizabeth to be her guest at many of the upcoming balls, she saw fit to purchase several gowns, all the latest fashions, befitting grand soirees and private parties.
Elizabeth had been exceedingly pleased to meet Georgiana’s aunt, Lady Matlock, although she had yet to meet any of Georgiana’s other relations. Until now.
They stood for some time without speaking a word. Elizabeth began to imagine their silence was to last through the two dances.
Why is he staring at me? Is that—is that a grimace? Surely he completed his inspection and found me wanting. Elizabeth’s busy mind now compelled her to question his motives.
Is he dancing with me merely to appease his sister?
Were it the case that he was merely acting the part of the dutiful older brother and doing what he could to satisfy his sister, she would not fault him.
But that did not mean she intended to allow his act of charity to go unchallenged.
Suddenly fancying it would be a greater punishment to her taciturn partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance.
He replied and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time.
“It is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”
He smiled. “Please tell me what you desire to hear me say, and I shall accommodate your wish.”
The perfect reply. Mr. Wickham had said the gentleman could be exceedingly pleasing when he chooses. Perfectly handsome in countenance and added to that, he moves with such grace and dignity. Excellent dance partner is on my list of admirable traits.
“Might I ask how you found Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?” Judging by your haste to return to London, one would imagine you found it quite objectionable.
“I am sorry not to have made your acquaintance during your stay. However, I met the Bingleys. Miss Bingley speaks quite affectionately of you.” If anything might engender in him some evidence of excitability then surely it would be the mention of Miss Bingley, but Elizabeth read in his countenance nothing to give him away.
Darcy spoke not a word, and they were parted by the steps. When they reunited he said, “I trust you enjoyed your stay in Derbyshire. My sister said the two of you formed a steady correspondence after meeting at Pemberley.”
Is he insinuating I deliberately went out of my way to make Georgiana’s acquaintance?
She answered in the affirmative. Slightly irritated by his manner and unable to resist the temptation, Elizabeth said, “I have since made another acquaintance, other than yourself, of course, who hails from Derbyshire. Lt. George Wickham.”
The effect was immediate. A deep shade of hauteur overspread his features. His voice resounding, almost intimidating, he said, “Wickham?”
“Yes, having learned of my visit to Pemberley, he was eager to tell me of his own experience having lived there. He is quite amiable.” It is a shame you saw fit to deny him the living that might have satisfied his every notion of happiness.
Mr. Darcy uttered not a word, but his silence spoke volumes. Elizabeth supposed she had said enough. He is my dear friend’s brother. We need not be adversaries simply because he and Mr. Wickham do not get along.
At length, Darcy spoke in a constrained manner. “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. From what I observed of the people of Meryton, there is no doubt they would find the likes of him most agreeable.”
There it is again—that haughty air of condescension! Indeed, sir, unlike you whom they all found quite deplorable. “He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship, and in a manner he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
“You know nothing about me. Why would you say such a thing?”
Satisfied with his discomposure, she said, “It was merely something that the gentleman conveyed about your relationship. Am I mistaken?”
His countenance suggested he would rather speak on any subject but Mr. Wickham. “I see no occasion for a renewal of my acquaintance with the man. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”
Elizabeth arched her brow. “With such strong convictions, I suppose you never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”
“I hope not.”
“I ask because it is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion to be secure of judging properly at first.”
“May I ask to what these questions tend?”
“I merely seek to illustrate your character. I am trying to make it out.”
“And what is your success?”
She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I have heard such varying accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes away from hers for an instant. “I think this is a conversation for another time.”
“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”
“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied.
She said no more, and they went down the other dance in silence.
What on earth is she about? If she meant to provoke me, then she surely succeeded in her quest. Why would she wish to garner my ire? Surely she has not been persuaded against me by Wickham’s lies. There is no telling which of his tales of woe he has laid at her feet.
How did Wickham find himself in Hertfordshire, of all places?
What do I care? Unless Bingley is foolish enough to attach himself to the eldest Bennet daughter, I likely will never set foot in those parts again.
When the dance was over, he escorted Elizabeth to where his aunt and sister stood. Georgiana said, “Brother, I see you take no pleasure in being here. I thereby give you permission to take your leave.”
“You are mistaken, dearest. I find there is no place else I would rather be than here with you and your guest. Moreover, you and I have yet to dance.”
Indeed, Darcy’s curiosity was stirred. Whether it was the young woman’s teasing smile or her strange fascination with George Wickham, he did not know.
He rather supposed it was the latter. The Ramsgate affair, despite having happened over a year ago was too fresh in his mind to countenance a similar situation unfolding.
The trust he had placed in his sister’s former companion, Mrs. Younge, was one of his greatest failings.
Never would he allow such a mistake again.
Anyone who considers herself a friend of Wickham’s is no friend of mine and certainly is not to be trusted around my young sister. Whatever Miss Elizabeth is about, I intend to find out.