Chapter Five #2
“I have broken my sister’s confidence enough for one day, Mr. Darcy,” she said at last. “All I will say is that Jane is very proper. She would not speak of her feelings with any man until he has made his own clear.”
Mr. Darcy nodded slowly. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Now that he will not be leaving for London with any haste, perhaps they will have time to discuss such matters.”
“Without interference from his family or his friend?” Elizabeth asked pointedly.
Mr. Darcy held up his hands, palms out.
Elizabeth stared at them. My goodness, his hands were large.
“Bingley has already made that very clear,” the gentleman said. “He respects my advice on most matters, but in this he will be his own man.”
“That speaks well of him,” Elizabeth mused.
Mr. Darcy nodded. “You will not find a better fellow in all of England. He is amiable to a fault at times, but when he knows what he wants, he is determined, disciplined, and patient.”
Mr. Bingley had spoken well of Mr. Darcy. It was pleasant to hear that the admiration was mutual. Still. “You make my sister sound like an investment, Mr. Darcy.”
He nodded. “Marriage is an investment of a very significant sort, Miss Elizabeth.” His eyes bored into hers. “Do not you agree?”
She pursed her lips. “If I were to use your terms, I would rather say it was a committed partnership where neither member of the company can sell out. I would have love, Mr. Darcy, but I think the sort of love I require must also include respect for one another.” She smiled.
“And now you will find me quite ridiculous.”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, but Elizabeth believed that she had offended him, for he sat back in his chair with a strange expression writ across his countenance. Perhaps it would be a good time to ask his pardon.
“I should like to apologise to you, Mr. Darcy, and I do not think we shall find a more convenient time.”
“Apologise for what, Miss Elizabeth?”
She grimaced. “I am a vain creature, Mr. Darcy. I had not thought it of myself, but so it is. At the assembly you had the sense to agree that Jane is something rather special. However, you then declared me ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough’ to tempt you to dance. That did not put you in my good graces.”
Mr. Darcy’s complexion had paled, and that was not what she had intended.
“Please, sir, do not distress yourself.”
“You were not meant to hear that,” he mumbled.
“Well,” she teased, “you did look directly at me before you said it.”
He closed his eyes, and she laughed softly.
“Truly, I was angry, but you are entitled to your own opinion, and my response was infinitely worse. I allowed that first impression to colour all of my dealings with Mr. Wickham. He was quick to discern that you had offended me and then, I am sorry to say, he was very adept at painting himself as your victim. He was certain he would find fertile ground to sow his lies and he was correct.”
“Wickham?” Mr. Darcy was displeased, and Elizabeth could not blame him.
“I was foolish, sir. I took his words to heart because it soothed my injured pride. I have been quite prejudiced against you ever since, but no more. I apologise, truly and sincerely, I do.”
Mr. Darcy was silent. Once or twice, he made as if to speak but stopped.
“I accept of course,” he said at last. “Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. Yet you must also allow me to tender my own regrets, Miss Elizabeth. I did not recall that it was you at the assembly. I wanted Bingley to stop haranguing me to dance, and I had no hesitation in using the woman he had pointed out to achieve it, without any consideration for her feelings. Unfortunately, my manners are not as unfailing as yours.” He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and speaking again.
“If it is of any consolation, it was not a fortnight later that I realised that I did indeed wish to dance with you. You declined. Twice.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “I was sure you were only holding your nose and asking because Sir William forced you to it.”
“No.”
“And then I believed you meant to make fun of my taste, for I could not imagine you performing a jig.”
“I happen to dance an excellent jig.” Mr. Darcy did not smile, but there was a sort of twinkle in his eye. Elizabeth did not know what to make of it.
“Well, if we are finished making apologies and offering forgiveness,” Elizabeth said, rising, “I shall leave you to your book and inquire about breakfast.”
He nodded, and Elizabeth left the room.
As Miss Elizabeth swept from the room, Darcy watched her with a sinking heart. There was no way for him to avoid it. He was not falling for the woman.
He had fallen.
If he had only been able to leave with Miss Bingley and the Hursts this morning, unaware of Bingley’s accident, he might have been able to resist the claim Miss Elizabeth seemed to have on him.
But he had looked up yesterday to see her on the road and had followed her here, like a sailor lured in by a siren only to be dashed against the rocks.
That was before he had her to himself this morning for a quarter of an hour. Now, every moment in her company made him more certain that his heart was hers.
What was he to do? Though he had to admit that her family was not so bad as he had originally believed, her portion was not any grander, nor had she been suddenly discovered to be the kidnapped daughter of a peer.
Still, Miss Elizabeth was lovely, intelligent, witty, warm, and in all ways of a sterling character.
Even if she had given credence to Wickham’s folderal, she had given Darcy a fair hearing and had truly considered his words though he had done nothing to deserve it.
Then she had actually admitted she had been wrong about Wickham and apologised to him for believing the man’s lies.
Even his own excellent father had been fooled by Wickham to the last. The question now was not whether Darcy’s heart was engaged, but whether he would allow himself to follow it.
There was a quiet step in the hall, and the middle Bennet daughter stepped inside.
“Oh,” she said, startled to see him there. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy, I have come for my music sheets, as I always practice after breakfast.”
Miss . . . Mary, her name was Mary. “Your sister Miss Elizabeth has gone to see when breakfast will be ready.”
“Breakfast is always at eight, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Mary said. She found her music on one of the shelves, bobbed a curtsey, and left the room.
She had run off just as Miss Elizabeth had. Darcy began to wonder whether he was particularly frightening to young women. If only he had been aware of this power, he would have put it to better use in London.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” he heard soon after Miss Mary had decamped. Miss Bennet walked into the room. “Elizabeth told me you were here. How fares Mr. Bingley?”
“He is uncomfortable, as you can imagine,” Darcy said honestly. “But he was sleeping when I looked in on him this morning.”
He could see from the way her forehead smoothed at this intelligence that Miss Bennet had been anxious for Bingley.
He observed that her eyes were red, as though she had slept ill.
“Bingley would not want you to be concerned for him. His injuries are not debilitating, and he admitted to me that he ought not to have ridden alone. I doubt he will do so in future.”
Her smile was tremulous, but genuine. “I am grateful to hear it,” she replied. “I was very distressed when Lizzy found him yesterday.”
“Not so distressed that you could not ride for help,” he replied. “You did not devolve into useless weeping or fall into a faint.”
She laughed lightly. “What would be the point? If I swoon, Mr. Darcy, I would wish to have Mr. Bingley there to catch me.” Her blush was instant and very deep. “Oh. I should not have said that.”
The similarity of her words to Miss Elizabeth’s made him laugh, and Miss Bennet blushed deeper still.
“No, please do not think I laugh at you,” Darcy said hurriedly.
“It is just that Miss Elizabeth said the very same thing a few moments ago. I have never considered myself someone to whom young ladies unintentionally reveal their thoughts. Even my own sister. It is a new experience for me, that is all.”
Miss Bennet eyed him for a moment before she nodded and graced him with a smile.
“Well, we are glad you are here to help entertain your friend. Recovering from injury is a tedious business, and I am afraid Mr. Jones says Mr. Bingley should not be moved until he can walk without aid, which may take a few days.”
Darcy nodded. “I expected as much. He is fortunate his injuries were not more serious.”
“Would you care to join us for breakfast, Mr. Darcy?”
He stood. “I should like that very much.”
“And Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said quietly, “you should feel honoured. Lizzy is always guarded with her feelings, for reasons that must be clear to you.”
It was the gentlest admonition of one’s family Darcy had ever heard.
“If Lizzy’s discretion slipped in your company,” Miss Bennet continued, “she must feel safe with you.”
Darcy met Miss Bennet’s guileless gaze. “Is that so?”
Miss Bennet nodded.
An idea struck him. “You know, it may be for the best that we have been detained. Bingley loves the festive season, but he has never experienced the holidays in the country.”
Miss Bennet said nothing, but her face lit up, and this time, it was not with a blush.