Chapter Four #4
Pretending to read the historical account of William the Conqueror, Darcy peered over his book and watched Elizabeth as she devoured the words.
She tapped her foot lightly as she read, evidently mimicking the rhythmic pattern of the lines.
Darcy watched her so intensely he came close to closing his book in order to give her his full attention.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she read, flitting glimpses of humor and sadness empathetically playing across her face.
They sat as such for half an hour—Elizabeth engrossed in the beauty of the lines, Darcy engrossed in the beauty of the woman.
Noting the time, she sighed deeply as she closed her volume.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and departed before he could acknowledge her remark or stand upon her exit.
Darcy released the breath he did not realize he held.
I must not say anything else to her today; Elizabeth Bennet must be out of my life.
At supper, Darcy devoted his attention to Miss Bingley and to Mrs. Hurst’s trivial administrations.
He purposely did not look at Elizabeth when she joined them.
Silently, he counted the minutes until the hour of her departure.
At length, Sunday brought the day of his redemption; in a few hours, he would be free of her.
As much as Darcy rejoiced at returning to his usual fare, his friend remained despondent over the loss of Miss Bennet’s company, and Darcy found he too would experience the deprivation of Miss Elizabeth’s presence if only he were allowed the luxury of admitting as much.
Reliving the last few days as he dressed for church services, he acknowledged Elizabeth’s power over him had escalated to the point of distraction.
His prayer on this particular Sunday would be to rid himself of the good opinion he had formed of her.
Putting distance between him and Miss Elizabeth could ease his distress; therefore, during the night, he had resolved to pretend business in Town and his need to leave Netherfield.
Waiting on the ladies in the main foyer, Darcy paced with a renewed resolve.
Bingley, on the other hand, anticipated the pleasure of escorting Miss Jane Bennet to the morning’s services.
As Darcy contemplated how he could inform Bingley of his departure, without offending his friend, the Miss Bennets stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the gentlemen.
Jane Bennet, still a bit pale, was dressed in light blue muslin, amplifying her blue eyes.
Darcy thought he heard Bingley let out a low moan, but he could not be confident it was not his own response; for a few paces behind her elder sister and taking a supportive role, stood Miss Elizabeth.
The image held him in place. She was perfectly beautiful and perfectly insensible to the fact.
Only moments before, he had silently professed his desire to be away from the brilliancy of her eyes, and now he could not force his regard from Elizabeth’s countenance.
Clothed in a simple dress of palest rose trimmed with red stitching and ribbon which complemented the auburn highlights of her hair, Elizabeth had no idea what inducements she created in a man.
Bingley sprang up the staircase to attend to Jane Bennet’s needs, taking up a position by her side and allowing himself the pleasure of bracing her unsteady motion.
Pausing to give her sister distance and some moments of growing affection, Miss Elizabeth began her descent, and Darcy discovered himself compelled to meet her and offer her his arm.
Although a bit embarrassed by his behavior, he offered the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet his hand.
She hesitated, but graciously accepted his offer.
Bingley, irritated with his sisters for being fashionably late once again, said, “Darcy, why do we not take the Miss Bennets in my carriage? My brother Hurst may bring my sisters in his.” Darcy knew the folly of such an action.
Two single gentlemen in possession of good fortunes escorting two single ladies to local church services could be viewed easily by society and by the ladies themselves as a declaration of the gentlemen’s intentions.
He wanted to say as much to his friend, but the slight pressure of Elizabeth’s hand upon his had wiped the idea clear.
He resolved to leave Netherfield in the next few days, and that would stifle any hopes Miss Elizabeth may be holding.
Darcy would allow himself the pleasure of her company one last time.
In the carriage, they found companionable silence.
Both ladies kept their eyes downcast as Miss Elizabeth fussed over Jane’s comfort.
Bingley and Darcy stared out the coach’s windows, but Darcy’s mind was anywhere but on the scenery; Miss Elizabeth’s use of English lavender—her lush eyelashes—the flush of color on her cheeks—the shift of her shoulders—all these things consumed him.
Alighting from the carriage, the ladies entered the church ahead of them.
Bingley grabbed Darcy’s arm, delaying their entrance momentarily. “Darcy, thank you for allowing me this deception. My sisters will take great offense, and we shall hear their rebukes this afternoon, but, for me, this will be well worth it.”
Darcy studiously covered the deep regard he held for Elizabeth Bennet. “Bingley, although we should not have allowed decency to fall to the wayside, I do enjoy being in your company, and, by the way, is this adventurous enough for you?” He winked at his friend good-humoredly.
“You are a faithful friend,” Bingley declared enthusiastically. “Let us find seats behind the Miss Bennets. I am afraid my attention may not be on the sermon today.”
Darcy felt guilty for deceiving his friend, but how could he admit the truth to Bingley? Darcy had not even vocalized to himself the disorder Elizabeth’s presence had afflicted upon him.