Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elizabeth took his hand, and they threaded their way through to a position halfway down and waited for the music to begin.
She could see Mr Collins watching her with a strange expression, combining his usual, awkward social smirk with a distinctly thwarted look.
She hurriedly turned her attention to her partner.
“I had hoped to see Miss Darcy tonight,” she said.
He smiled. “She is only sixteen and not at all accustomed to large social gatherings. When I proposed that she not attend, she was only too grateful to stay upstairs with her mother.”
The music began, and they exchanged bows.
Elizabeth suddenly felt happier than she had in weeks.
Her life was fraught with difficulties that would soon come to a head, but she did not have to think about that now.
The music was lively, her partner handsome and considerate, and when she caught sight of her own reflection in the great mirror over the fireplace, she thought she looked as well as she ever had in her life.
They joined hands, his warm and firm, the scar on his wrist between cuff and glove evidence of a life of energy and adventure, and she smiled up at him brilliantly.
They parted, proceeded down the set, and met again at the bottom.
She thought of asking him whether he was still to leave shortly and swiftly decided not to.
There was a strange bubbling sensation under her ribcage, her heart was beating fast, and she had no desire to dampen the mood.
“You can have no idea,” she said, “how pleasant it is to have a partner who knows what he is about.”
“You can thank my sister and Mrs Hurst,” he replied, extending a hand for her to take.
“I only knew two dances: the two I danced at the assembly. They assured me that was not nearly enough and drilled me most severely all yesterday afternoon. They were more exacting than any admiral.” They changed hands and turned in the opposite direction.
“Then I must thank them both next time I see them,” she said as they processed up the room. Mr Bingley was not dancing this time, and she could see him at the door, talking to one of the servants.
“Miss Bingley is to be congratulated. This evening will be talked about for months.”
“Not least by Miss Bingley,” he replied blandly as they parted and led down the set again. When they met at the bottom of the room, he looked a little penitent. “I really ought not to make a game of my hostess. It is the most terrible return for her hospitality to me and my little family.”
“Sir,” she replied, “I promise to tell no one. I know too well the impulse to say something true regardless of whether or not it is kind or polite. Usually I manage to restrain myself, but sometimes the thing is just too true to swallow. One can only hope for a friend to tell who will be too much a friend to tell someone else.” He managed to bow his assent without losing either his place or his rhythm and another wave of happiness washed over her.
He really was a remarkably good-looking man.
His skin still held the remnants of a tan, no doubt acquired in foreign parts; the small scar that bisected his left eyebrow was, if anything, faintly dashing; and despite those horrible green spectacles, the face beneath them was manly and well formed.
The pair in front of them stumbled when Miss Goulding caught her heel in the hem of her gown. The captain seized her arm before she fell, set her gently on her feet, and resumed his place, all without losing his step. “Bravo, sir,” said Elizabeth gaily. “Saviour of the nation and of the dance!”
“Believe me, Miss Elizabeth, there is nothing like a few years at sea to teach a man to keep his feet in all weathers. By the time I had been at sea six months, I had broken an arm and lost two teeth, although thankfully only the milk kind.”
“You must have gone to sea very young.”
“I was nine.” He must have spotted her dismay for he continued, “You are quite correct; that is far too young. Now I am captain, I will not take a young gentleman aboard without he is at least twelve or thirteen and only then if I am persuaded it is his earnest desire to go to sea. One sees too many lads made miserable by a life they have not chosen and for which they are not sufficiently strong.” His face had become stern, but by the time they met again at the foot of the set, he had quite obviously set aside any gloomy reflections.
“I was hoping to beg for your company at supper. I trust I have not been forestalled by any earlier applicants.”
“I would be delighted to join you for supper,” she said, and her heart sang.
The set ended, and during the polite ripple of applause, Mr Bingley came over to them.
“I am sorry to interrupt, but if I might have a word with you, Darcy? Miss Elizabeth, your servant.” They bowed to her and moved to one side of the room for a brief conversation.
Elizabeth, slightly surprised by this, resolved to seek out Kitty and Lydia to make sure all was well.
She had scarcely reached the door when Mr Bingley and the captain came after her.
“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” said Mr Bingley, “but a servant has come from Longbourn. Your father is not at all well.”
Elizabeth went cold, her recent happiness cut off as though with a knife. “We must go home.”
“I have arranged for my coach to come round,” said Mr Bingley.
“And it occurs to Darcy and me that, if you and Mrs Bennet leave now, your sisters can follow later in your own carriage with Mr Collins as escort. Darcy here has volunteered to return with you now in case there is any assistance he or Netherfield can offer.”
Elizabeth could hardly think. “Sir, that is most kind, but—”
“But nothing,” replied the captain firmly.
“I have seen plenty of sickness aboard, and you do not know but what another pair of hands might be needed. The younger girls will, I dare say, only become distressed without being of much help, and I cannot believe that Mr Collins—! That is to say, your cousin is better employed bringing them home in an hour or so.”
Through the open door, Elizabeth could see the carriage coming round.
Mrs Bennet came bustling out of the card room, followed by Mrs Hurst, who must have informed her.
“Oh, Lizzy, whatever are we to do? We must all return to Longbourn at once—your poor dear father, I ought never to have left him. Has anyone sent for Doctor Wallace?”
A servant arrived carrying their wraps and a huge greatcoat for the captain.
Elizabeth did her best to explain as she bundled her mother up warmly and then hurried her into the coach.
Her mother was, to her surprise, quick to see at least one advantage of the arrangement.
“For it would never do for Mr Collins to know how ill your father is before he has to. It is quite bad enough to see him pricing up my furniture without that!” Elizabeth, mortified at such comments before the captain, did her best to turn the conversation.
Mrs Bennet, however, was not to be gainsaid.
“I do hope Hill has sent for Doctor Wallace, for even though he costs so very much, I am sure he is the only one who has done your father any good at all, and that is little enough. It is all very well the doctor saying he needs to move somewhere warm, but we cannot all possibly move, and where would we go? That wicked Napoleon has quite overrun Europe, and though to be sure your father has often said he wished to visit Greece, how on earth would we get there?” She was obviously talking more or less at random, her hands twisting under her shawl.
“And should he die, what would become of us?” She raised her head and looked at Elizabeth accusingly.
“If you had only secured Mr Collins, we should all have had somewhere to go, and now I do not know what we shall do if Mr Collins will not marry you and Mr Bingley will not marry Jane.”
Elizabeth, tried beyond endurance, interrupted.
“Mama, please, surely we can talk of all this another time. We need not assume the worst until we see how my father is doing when we get home.” Mrs Bennet, recalled to her better nature, filled the rest of the journey with her hopes and fears for her husband’s health.
When they arrived at Longbourn, they found the house lit up.
The door was flung open before the carriage stopped.
As they entered the house, they could hear Mr Bennet in his library.
The deep, rattling cough they had hoped was gone was audible from the hallway.
Mrs Bennet and Elizabeth hurried in to discover him lying on his usual couch, his nightshirt gaping at the throat, his arms flailing weakly as he fought for breath.
“Is there any coffee in the house?” Elizabeth had quite forgotten that Captain Darcy was present until he spoke.
“Yes, sir,” answered Hill, absently responding to the voice of authority. She had knelt beside the couch where she was attempting to cool Mr Bennet’s forehead with damp cloths.
“Then have some made up at once, as strong as may be, and we must get the gentleman sitting up.”
Captain Darcy stripped off his heavy coat and flung it into a chair.
Ignoring the servants standing round, he went and bent over the couch.
“Good evening, sir. My name is Darcy. I brought your wife and Miss Elizabeth back from Netherfield,” he said.
“I am going to lift you up so you can breathe more easily.” With that, he placed a strong arm under Mr Bennet’s back and lifted him gently into a sitting position.
“Open that window! He needs air more than he needs warmth.”