Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
SLAIN DRAGONS
Mr Darcy arrived on Gracechurch Street, bringing his cousin, his sister, and Miss Darcy’s companion along with him.
The colonel was as charming as ever, and Mrs Annesley was motherly and sweet, but it was Miss Darcy who most interested Elizabeth.
She greeted Elizabeth with a warmth that was clearly the product of a genuine desire to please, carefully assembled, and Elizabeth resolved at once to put the girl at her ease.
Miss Darcy was, Elizabeth decided within the first quarter of an hour, quite different from what she had expected.
Mr Wickham had told her that the girl was ‘dreadfully haughty’ and ‘proud, like her brother’, but Elizabeth saw nothing of that sort, only a girl who seemed very shy.
She was an unusual combination of worldliness and naivety, likely due to an excessively sheltered upbringing, and there was an artlessness to her that was immediately charming.
Before they left, Mr Darcy went to her uncle and asked if he might speak to Elizabeth in private. Mr Gardiner raised his eyebrows but offered the use of his book-room, leading the two in and then leaving them with the door ajar.
When the sound of her uncle’s footsteps in the hall had faded, Elizabeth turned to Mr Darcy who looked as grave as ever. “I think I may assure you that there will not be a duel.”
Her heart leapt. “Oh good! I cannot tell you how the thought of it has twisted in my gut since ever I knew of it! But Mr Bingley—”
“Bingley was on his way to Hertfordshire the last I saw him.” Mr Darcy pulled his watch from his pocket. “He is likely already there.”
“To Hertfordshire? To speak with my father?” Mr Darcy nodded, and without knowing what she meant to do, she flew at him, flinging her arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you!” she gasped. “Oh, but do you mean it? Of course you do, you could never—” She kissed his cheek again.
“I simply cannot…it is too good. You are too good!”
Mr Darcy had flushed red, but he had remained master of himself long enough to raise his arms to keep her within his embrace. “It is not done yet,” he told her. “But I feel we can be sure it will be tomorrow, barring highwaymen or your father’s refusal.”
“My father would not dare refuse,” she said with an elated laugh that was accompanied by tears in her eyes. “My mother would have his neck. As for a highwayman? I believe my mother would hunt that man down and have his neck as well.”
“A vigilante for matrimony,” said Mr Darcy with a grin. He bent his head and gently kissed her lips before releasing her. “I would not like to take advantage of your uncle’s trust. Perhaps we should return to the drawing room.”
“Yes, I daresay we should.” She quickly wiped away the delighted tears.
“I am going to have a difficult time not showing my glee,” she told him over her shoulder as she turned to quit the room.
“As they did not know my despair, it would seem quite strange to return with a lunatic’s jubilation in my eyes. ”
As it was, she was able to pass well enough. Mrs Gardiner remarked on her colour, and Elizabeth replied that she was eager to see the performance and the subject was left, albeit with slight puzzlement in Mrs Gardiner’s eyes.
There were five of them in the party: Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, Elizabeth, Mrs Annesley, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The colonel was as blandly charming as he had ever been and took charge over Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley while Mr Darcy gave her the fullness of his consideration.
Elizabeth had of course been to the theatre before—the Gardiners were enthusiasts and had taken both Elizabeth and Jane from an early age—but found it was a considerably different experience to go in the company of Mr Darcy.
The world seemed to understand his position and his consequence.
Crowds parted, gentlemen nodded, and ladies peeped flirtatiously from behind their fans.
Somehow he was oblivious to it all, his attentions fully on the task of escorting her safely through the crowd.
Giving him a little peep or two as their party made their way, she could see it clearly now, his discomfort that was more about the crowd than the status of the people.
When a loud, clearly elevated lady remarked upon his income to a young lady at her side, he gave her the very same look he had given Mrs Bennet.
And with good reason, she thought. Why did people think it sound to so obviously discuss these things in public spaces?
Mr Darcy settled her into a seat directly next to Miss Darcy, in the front of his box, and then took a seat on her other side. While he seated himself, she asked Miss Darcy, “Have you come much to the theatre?”
“Oh! Yes! I mean, no, not as often as I would like, but…do not think my brother is not very good to me! He would bring me all the time, I suppose, if I asked it of him. He is very good, you know, very, very good, a most excellent brother.”
From this outburst, Elizabeth gleaned that Miss Darcy thought her brother very good and an excellent brother. She smothered a grin. “How fortunate you are to have such a brother.”
“I am, truly I am.” Then after a breath, she asked, “And you, Miss Bennet? Do you enjoy the theatre?”
“I do,” Elizabeth said. “My chances for it have been far fewer as my father does not like to come to town, but when I am here, my aunt and uncle have always made a habit of taking my sister Jane and me.”
“The music and the voices and the actors…it is all quite extraordinary, do you not think? Is it not remarkable that they all know to be in the same place at the same moment? That it never goes wrong?”
“I daresay it often goes wrong,” said Elizabeth with a little laugh. “I once saw a performance in which the leading man walked directly into a piece of scenery that was not where it was supposed to be.”
“Did he?” Miss Darcy looked delighted. “What did he do?”
“He pretended it was what he meant to happen. The scenery was a pillar, and he simply leant against it; only a moment of hesitation gave away his consternation. He delivered the rest of his lines from that position.” She paused.
“It was from him that I realised that even when one stumbles, you can make it appear as if it was just as you meant it to happen.”
Miss Darcy acknowledged that with a smile and added, “Wear the air of it until you earn the right to it.”
“Just so!” Elizabeth laughed delightedly. “You have expressed that very elegantly.”
Miss Darcy blushed with pleasure and as she did, Elizabeth turned and found Mr Darcy seemingly watching them from the corner of his eye, his own lips turned up into a faint smile.
Below them, the orchestra had progressed from tuning to something that had the shape of an overture, and the audience obligingly reduced its roar to a murmur.
Elizabeth settled in her chair and directed her attention to the stage, where the curtain was preparing itself to rise with all the slow ceremony of an institution entirely confident of its own importance.
Mr Darcy leant in to her and murmured, “Georgiana was excessively eager to meet you tonight. So much so that I feared she would be unable to utter a syllable.”
“I would hope I am not so fearsome as to render an agreeable young lady silent.”
“You are not fearsome at all,” he said. “I speak not to your qualities but rather to your effect on the Darcys.”
She glanced at him and found him unembarrassed by his admission. “I am heartily glad that both of you seem to have put aside such dread.”
“And I am heartily glad that I am able to seem relatively in command of myself.” He reached out and slid his hand towards hers which rested at her side, concealed from the others near them. His fingers lightly caressed her gloved palm, then squeezed lightly and departed.
She found herself remarkably discomposed by such a small action and lowered her head to cover her consternation. If somehow he can set this calamity to rights, she thought, I must marry him. He does love me so.
The thought did not trouble her at all. What could be more wondrous than the devotion of such a man as Mr Darcy?
“Well, well, well.”
Elizabeth turned to look in the direction of the voice. A handsome blond man who vaguely resembled Colonel Fitzwilliam stood at the entryway to the box, his hands on his hips.
“This is a fine piece of business,” he said, advancing into the box. “What is the meaning of it?”
“What do you mean?” asked Mr Darcy, seeming unbothered.
“Why was I not invited?” he demanded.
“Come join us,” said Mr Darcy. “There; you have received as much an invitation as anyone else did.”
“Sit beside me, Saye,” Miss Darcy urged, patting the seat on the other side of her.
“No,” the man retorted petulantly. “You go there. I want to sit by Miss Bennet. Why should I be the last to make her acquaintance? I ought to have known her first.”
“Had you gone into Kent with Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam informed him, “you would have. Alas, that task fell to me.”
“Let the ladies sit together,” Mr Darcy told him. “Sit by your brother, Saye.”
The blond man ignored him and made a shooing motion at Miss Darcy.
“Sit in this row with me,” Colonel Fitzwilliam told her. “Then you can lean forwards if you wish and speak to Miss Bennet, perhaps sharing impressions of your elder cousin which are sure to be unfavourable.”
With a giggle, Miss Darcy did as he had suggested, and the blond gentleman slid in beside Elizabeth and was introduced, by Mr Darcy, as his elder cousin, Lord Saye.
“I am pleased to meet you,” she said warmly.
He did not reply to that directly, instead taking a moment to study her. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I can see it.”
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. Mr Darcy was not looking at her but instead scowling towards his cousin.
“See…what, exactly, my lord?”
“Why the entire family has been upside down about you,” he replied. “Georgiana nearly shed her skin when she learnt she would meet you.”