Evening
Dinner went splendidly, all things considered.
Lady Truesdell, far from the gossip monger I feared she might be, was a genuine and kind hostess.
In addition to being Sir Sebastian's aunt, it would seem she is also Darcy's mother's cousin, thus why she so kindly offered to invite an unacquainted lady of scandalous reputation to her dinner party.
It might have been helpful if Darcy had explained the family connection so I would not have appeared so surprised when Lady Truesdell informed me of it, but then he would have actually had to communicate with me which of course is unbearable to him.
When we arrived at the party Darcy underwent a miraculous transformation into a social human being capable of doing something other than staring at people with Bored/Irritated/Tired/Contemptuous/Haughty Face.
I wish I could have heard what he was saying because he appeared to be speaking and his dinner companions appeared to find him amusing.
I was delighted to find Sir Sebastian seated next to me though he had said earlier he had declined the invitation.
Dora was seated on his right. She did not undergo a miraculous transformation, though she did try, as she had promised me before dinner, to listen to what other people were saying and converse with them on a topic they were interested in discussing.
She made it nearly three minutes before mentioning beetles.
I was so proud of her for I could tell those three minutes had been a great struggle.
The older gentleman on her right, who had apparently been someone important in the East India Company and had fully expected her to be impressed, looked a bit taken aback at first, clearly thinking she would wish to discuss his adventures in the East, but soon he settled in to listening to her lecture about tropical insects with the sort of dreamy expression men tend to get around a stunningly beautiful woman.
I have neglected to say that Dora is extraordinarily beautiful.
She has the dark, Darcy hair and the aristocratic features, though hers are less fearsome and her nose diverges from the Darcy pattern completely and is adorably upturned.
She is as pretty as Jane which is fortunate for she has no conversation.
Conversation in a pretty woman is unnecessary at least where men are concerned, for they are too distracted to listen anyway.
I am glad to be merely tolerable for there is a chance men actually hear what I say.
Unless they are Mr. Darcy then they just run from the room.
After dinner we all played at cards. Dora and I were at a table with Sir Sebastian and Mr. Farthingham. They both teased her relentlessly about her preference for entomology over ornithology and I do think she enjoyed their attention even if she was a little confused by it.
Darcy glared at me on the entire carriage ride home.
I do not know what I have done to offend him now, but I could see his eyes glinting menacingly by the light of the street lamps.
Horrid man. After observing him with Henrietta and Belinda I had almost liked him, but if he is going to be angry with me again after we have had a perfectly pleasant evening I do not know what to make of him other than to think him horrid.
A knock sounded at the door. The adjoining door. The Door.
I had been pacing my bedchamber restlessly as I am wont to do when I need to think and cannot go for a proper walk. I had probably been humming tunelessly as well. Perhaps Darcy has come to scold me.
I bid him to enter.
"May I speak with you?" he asked, hovering in the doorway. I could see he was going to speak to me no matter what my reply was. He had certainly come to scold me.
"Of course," I said as he entered the room. He was silent for an uncomfortable while, just standing there, glowering and towering impressively in his dressing gown.
"I suppose you expect me to apologize," I said when I had had enough. I was ready to get the scold over with.
"Are you going to?" he asked with a hint of a smile. His amusement made me more irate than his severity had."
"No, in fact I am not. I should have told you about Jane visiting—I should have asked I suppose.
But there are plenty of things you might have asked me as well.
Like if I wanted to be Dora's chaperon for instance.
I realize your great aunt put you in an uncomfortable position, but you might have at least pretended to consider my desires on the subject.
"Not that I mind Dora. I quite like her, really, but it is no simple task being chaperon to someone like her, though I think I did rather well with it tonight and if you had any sense of fairness you would praise me for that rather than scold me for Jane.
Or better yet offer conversation rather than either praise or scolding, for I am not a dog and you are not my master.
" Much to my shame I was babbling rather agitatedly. Mr. Darcy has that affect on me.
Annoyingly Darcy remained completely impassive.
"It is not your sister of whom I wished to speak, though I did not appreciate your use of Bingley.
That sort of cunning is beneath you. I cannot think my ire is so very frightening to you that you feel you need to have someone present to protect you from it. "
"It is not at all frightening. I find it quite amusing actually," I said, with as much pluck as I could muster.
"That explains much," he said darkly. Ha, I had irritated him. Good.
"If you did not come to scold me about Jane what did you wish to discuss?"
"Your attention to Sir Sebastian tonight was unseemly."
My shock at his declaration was such that I gasped.
"Are you referring to the gentleman or the dog?
" I had given the dog a good long pat when we returned home.
Darcy surely was alluding to that, because he could not possibly be suggesting I had been inappropriately attentive to Sir Sebastian Seymour.
"You know very well I am referring to the gentleman."
"I do not know it. I spoke to him often, of course. He sat next to me at dinner. He was my whist partner! I realize you might think it perfectly permissible to remain silent even at a party, but most people find it uncomfortable."
"Your attention was more than mere politeness. You were flirting with him. Your reputation cannot bear even slight indiscretions such as that."
"Flirting with him! You think I was flirting with him?"
"I know you were."
"I did no such thing. I am perhaps a little more playful than some ladies—"
"I know of your teasing nature this was more than that—."
"It was not!"
"I see from your surprise that it was not intentional, however I noticed your flirtation—as did others. In the future I urge you to be more circumspect."
"People are reading too much into an innocent situation. Sir Sebastian is just gregarious—like Mr. Bingley, you do not have any objections to me speaking to Mr. Bingley, do you?”
"Sir Sebastian is quite a bit less benign than Bingley."
I recognized the truth of his statement immediately. I had had a nagging feeling ever since I met Sir Sebastian Seymour this morning. He was both too flattering and too familiar. As Mr. Wickham had been. But not every genial young man was a Mr. Wickham, surely.
"Sir Sebastian is undeniably an outrageous flirt, but he is well aware I am married. It is all harmless."
"I would argue the fact that you are married—which I am relieved to find you remember—is what makes it not at all harmless.
People will already be inclined to think the worst of you, making a display of yourself by flirting with a man with a reputation for pursuing married ladies who has been in more than one duel as a result of his folly, will ensure you will never be accepted by good society. "
"Sir Sebastian has a reputation," I murmured not really intending Darcy to hear.
"Yes. Lady Truesdell should not have invited him, but I believe she has a soft spot for him," sounding more than a little resentful he added, "Most ladies do it would seem."
"But he watches birds . . . how could he partake in duels?" I whispered nonsensically. I do not know why I found this information so shocking. Perhaps because it confirmed, once again, I was not the good judge of character I had thought.
"I do not think the enjoyment of bird watching precludes someone from dueling, Elizabeth," he said gently.
I must have appeared even more affected by his tidings than I felt, because he was looking at me sort of pityingly. He stepped closer to me and took both my hands in his.
Well, this is strange. I think it was meant as comforting gesture.
But while his touch does not bring discomfort exactly, it is not making me feel at all soothed.
At initial contact I felt the same reaction I have experienced the other times when I had touched him; it feels like the momentary terror a sudden stumble brings before the correction when one is certain one will fall.
Now having had time to adjust to the sensation it just feels odd.
Perhaps Mr. Darcy is feels the same, he is certainly looking at me rather oddly.
"I should not have framed this conversation as a critique of your behavior."
Ah, I see. Darcy looks odd when he admits he is wrong. Not something he is used to doing, I suppose.
"Well . . . I should not have acted so familiar with Sir Sebastian . . . it was just that he was so helpful to me this morning. . . ." I trailed off having misplaced my thought.
Darcy was still looking at me very oddly.
And it seems to me it is not the sort of oddness of one who is doing something that makes them uncomfortable, rather it is the oddness of one who has found a delicious piece of cake and intends to eat every crumb.
If I was cake his expression would not be odd as that is a perfectly reasonable intention to have towards cake, but I am not cake.
And he was not just looking at me, he was staring specifically at my mouth. Why on earth was he staring like that? He had looked at me like this before, on the night of the ripped bodice—the night my life as the carefree Elizabeth Bennet came to an abrupt and tragic end.
At the time, I had thought he was going to kiss me. Why a man would kiss a woman he was arguing with, a woman he found only tolerable, I could not think, but now . . . well, I still can not explain why he would kiss me.
But Mr. Darcy is going to kiss me.