Chapter 20 #2
As soon as the music stopped, Darcy offered his arm, which she took readily. She still had chills, but she did not hesitate to fully enjoy every moment in his company.
They walked slowly towards the supper tables along with the colonel and Anne, as well as Bingley and Jane. The other guests seemed in more haste and had already taken their seats.
At the head of one table was the Duke of York and at the other, Mr Wilson. Between the tables, there was some distance, but they could still hear or speak to the other group. The Matlocks, Lady Catherine, and the viscount were seated at the duke’s table.
Darcy, the colonel, and Bingley took their partners to Mr Wilson’s table, much to Lady Catherine’s displeasure.
She motioned to them several times to join her, but she met with no success.
Anne was placed between Elizabeth and Jane and seemed to enjoy herself exceedingly while her cousins and Bingley sat opposite.
“Miss Bennet, I wish to congratulate you on your engagement,” Anne told Jane.
“Thank you, Miss de Bourgh,” Jane replied with a warm smile. “I am very happy to finally meet you. We were honoured when you agreed to attend the ball.”
“It is a lovely party.”
“We hope so since we have barely slept at all while preparing for it, and we are as tired as anyone can be,” Elizabeth said in jest. “From now on, every time I attend a ball—which I used to really enjoy—I shall think of all the work involved. I shall surely never criticise a ball again.”
“You do not look tired at all, Miss Elizabeth. In fact, you both look beautiful and lively. You seem to be so…happy all the time.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam explained. “I believe the secret of joy and liveliness is to surround oneself with people who know how to laugh and jest and enjoy each day just because they can.”
Darcy said nothing but watched them intently, as did Lady Catherine from the neighbouring table. While the Matlocks seemed perfectly comfortable with their companions, Lady Catherine’s face expressed only severity and disdain.
The food was praised and enjoyed through easy conversation.
The restraint of most of the guests slowly fell away, encouraged by the exquisite selection of wines.
Discussion flowed throughout the tables, and by dessert time, there were few people not fully enjoying themselves.
Lady Catherine was among them, in contrast to her daughter’s high spirits.
Towards morning, when the guests’ tastes were satisfied, groups were formed again. Some preferred billiards, some cards, while others simply preferred conversation.
As the music was about to begin, Colonel Fitzwilliam walked into the room with his elder brother and Anne, along with Jane and Bingley.
The rest of the Fitzwilliams remained near the Duke of York, along with many others including the Countess of Jersey and the Countess of Sefton.
Mr Wilson, his sister, and Elizabeth joined the group.
The countesses and Lady Matlock stood close to His Highness while the gentlemen—including Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine—remained behind.
“The dinner was exquisite, Mr Wilson. You deserve praise for the entire ball. I had doubts about the success of this evening, but you proved me wrong,” Lady Jersey said.
He bowed deeply. “Your ladyship is too generous. Your presence surely added to the success.”
“And the selection of drinks—perfect, Wilson,” the duke declared. “I remember your sending me some special wines from India once. I miss that; if you happen to find some more, I would appreciate it.”
Wilson bowed. “It would be my pleasure to find a way to comply with Your Highness’s request.”
“I am sure you will find a way, Wilson. You always do.” The duke raised his glass to him.
“I must say, it is the first time I have attended a ball hosted by someone outside our circle of acquaintances, but I have no reason to repine so far,” Lady Sefton added.
“You are a mystery, Mr Wilson. You must tell us more about yourself since we have speculated all night but reached no conclusion.”
His Highness shrugged. “What is there to know except that he is a brave and courageous soldier? At times, too much so. A man should also be prudent and careful with his life, but Wilson is often oblivious to his own safety.”
“Your Highness’s praise is too generous. I did no more than my duty.”
“Yes, yes, but these army tales do not satisfy a lady’s curiosity. We wish to discover more,” the countess continued. “Nobody knows much about you except that…well, I hope you will not feel offended when I say we are aware of your…modest origins.”
Wilson smiled bitterly and glanced around. All were curious: Darcy and Elizabeth, the colonel, Lady Catherine and Anne, the Matlocks, Mrs Gardiner, and the countesses.
“Not offended at all. I have made no secret that my family, although supporting and caring, was of little consequence. My father was a tenant who then purchased a shop to support his family. He was a hard-working, respected man, and he struggled to ensure his family a decent life. I left twenty-five years ago because I was not given the choice to stay.”
He paused, and his audience looked at him, waiting.
“And…?” the countess demanded.
“I spent my life abroad, and some might consider it successful. I do not know whether that is true. I am proud that I had the chance to serve my country under the command of one of the most illustrious men of our time,” he said, bowing to His Highness.
“You are a brave and determined man, Wilson—one of the best to serve under my command. I have known you for over ten years now, but I realise how little I know about you. Where are you from? And why have I never asked you this before?”
“Surely, Your Highness has more important things to do than ask about my roots and hometown. I was born and raised in one of the most beautiful places in all England: Derbyshire. More precisely, in Lambton, a small town five miles from Pemberley, the Darcy estate.”
Elizabeth watched the others’ reactions carefully. Most of them were curious and attentive to his explanations.
“I know Pemberley for sure. And the Darcys,” the duke claimed.
“My son mentioned something about your living in Derbyshire,” Lady Matlock said brightly.
“So Matlock, Lady Catherine, and Darcy were acquainted with you before? They were very sly to pretend ignorance,” the His Highness said in mocking reproach, glancing at those named. Both siblings appeared puzzled and somewhat distressed.
“Mr Darcy was only a toddler when I left; he could not possibly remember me. Our acquaintance is very recent. As for Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine, even if they happened to know me, I was surely too insignificant for them to notice my existence.”
Frowning, Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock turned pale at his last words while they glared at each other. Elizabeth briefly caught their eyes, and they turned their backs to her but did not depart.
“Do you still have relatives in Lambton, Mr Wilson? Will they remember you after all this time?” the countess inquired.
“I have my sister—Mrs Gardiner—but my family left Derbyshire twenty years ago. Still, I trust there are people who will remember me as Gilbert Wilson. Some of them will hopefully be glad to see me while others will loathe discovering I am still alive. Nevertheless, I still have some unfinished business, and it is time for me to conclude it accordingly. It was one of the main purposes for my return.”
He spoke calmly, his voice clear and cold, his eyes darkened with feelings buried deep inside.
He looked around and then towards Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine. Elizabeth followed his gaze, puzzled and worried as she noticed a silent, disturbing confrontation, much like that between Darcy and Wickham when they first met in Meryton.
Lady Catherine leaned against Darcy for support, and Lord Matlock dropped his glass. Several gazed towards them, and the earl apologised, visibly disturbed.
“Lord Matlock, may I help you?” Mr Wilson asked with apparent worry.
“No, I am fine,” the earl responded without looking at his host.
“Well, you might have had either too much brandy or too little.” The duke laughed.
“Perhaps,” Lord Matlock admitted. “I shall take a seat for a moment,” he said, moving towards a corner of the room. Lady Catherine quit the group without apology. Lord Matlock joined his sister, and they sat together, talking privately.
Darcy looked at them, puzzled and embarrassed by his relatives’ behaviour.
Lady Matlock and the viscount shrugged, accustomed to strange behaviour from Lady Catherine.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and noticed her equal concern.
Mr Wilson’s countenance was stern, but he continued to carry on an entertaining conversation with his companions.
In the corner, Lord Matlock left his sister and moved towards the billiard room.
It was already three in the morning, and the dancing resumed. Darcy’s concern increased as he had the feeling that something was happening against his will and beyond his control.
He glanced at Elizabeth several times and noticed she was equally distressed. He was tempted to approach her, but he met Lady Catherine’s sharp glare and walked towards her.
“Aunt Catherine, are you unwell?” Darcy asked, sitting by her. “You walked away in such haste that everybody was surprised.”
“And why would I care about their surprise when nobody cared about mine?” she answered sharply. “Did you know Wilson’s real name—who he really was?”
He stared at her dumbstruck. “What do you mean, Aunt? Is Mr Wilson the problem? ‘Gilbert’ is his real name; he told me who he was from the beginning. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, it is. Fetch Anne; we shall leave immediately.”
“Will you not tell me what has happened?”
“What happened is that I cannot stay in that man’s company a moment longer. We shall leave this instant. Call Anne before I drag her out in front of all these people.”
“Aunt Catherine, you are behaving irrationally. You seem to know Mr Wilson. I tried to tell you about him last week at dinner, and both you and Uncle told me you never spent much time in Derbyshire, and when you did, you never made any acquaintances in the area. You were the one who refused to talk about him—even in Kent. And now suddenly I find you are deeply troubled by a man who should mean nothing to you. And I suspect Uncle is equally disturbed. You cannot expect me to accept this without further inquiry.”
“There is nothing to inquire about further, Darcy. We shall leave and so will my brother. As for you, it is time to decide where your loyalty lies.”
“My loyalty? What do you mean? You cannot leave without taking your farewell of the hosts, of His Highness and the countesses…”
“I can do whatever I please, whenever I please!”
That moment, Lord Matlock arrived with his wife, both his sons, and Anne.
“I told the duke we must leave. There is no need to offer other explanations,” he said coldly.
Their group left the ball while everybody looked at them in puzzlement and no little reproach. As they left, the rumours began, censuring Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock for leaving the party for no other reason than Mr Wilson’s not belonging to the ton.
The Duke of York openly expressed his reprobation while the Countess of Jersey and the Countess of Sefton debated whether the Matlocks should be give a voucher at Almack’s when next they applied for one.
Darcy was the last in his group to leave. He turned for a final glance around the room, and the last thing he saw was Mr Wilson’s strangely calm countenance and Elizabeth’s pale, astounded face.