Chapter 4
That Friday, Elizabeth, her aunt, and Miss Pratt dined at the home of Admiral and Mrs Morris, a middle-aged couple who had removed to the neighbourhood several years earlier upon the admiral’s retirement.
From what Elizabeth could discern, they had quickly become a central part of the community and were much liked.
Elizabeth, too, had come to think highly of them, despite their short acquaintance.
The party from Pemberley was also in attendance.
Elizabeth was not sorry to see them, despite remaining uneasy in Mr Darcy’s presence.
Yet, she also found herself studying him throughout the evening, wanting to understand him better and dispel the bewilderment she experienced whenever she saw or thought of him.
I shall have more opportunities to do so, she reflected.
One, at least. The previous afternoon, Miss Pratt had received a note from Pemberley, inviting her, Mrs Gardiner, and Elizabeth to a party the following Tuesday, which was New Year’s Eve.
There would be skating for anyone who cared for the activity, followed by dinner.
Elizabeth had suffered through the ladies’ sly looks and hints that she was the reason for the invitation, that it was her company that ‘a certain gentleman’ particularly wished for.
“Mr Darcy would never think to ask me to attend a skating party otherwise,” Miss Pratt had said.
The only reason Elizabeth had held her tongue was because the elderly lady had been happier than at any other point since she and her aunt had come to Lambton.
Miss Pratt will soon discover that her hopes for a winter romance are fruitless.
Better to allow the truth to occur to her gently than force her to accept it.
Elizabeth did not speak to Mr Darcy at the Morrises’ other than in greeting until after dinner.
She had spent the meal sitting between Freddie Darcy and another gentleman who left them to themselves.
Freddie was agreeable company—amusing and lively—and had appeared pleased to be next to her.
They spoke without awkwardness, apart from those moments he mentioned his older cousin, usually to praise him in some manner.
It was always done with a light, casual touch, seemingly off-handed, yet she had the impression it was anything but.
During the separation of the sexes, Rebecca and Georgiana Darcy had insisted she sit with them, the ladies proceeding to tell her stories of being at Pemberley.
As with Freddie earlier, there had been many remarks about Mr Darcy and a few hints that he had once had a close friend nearby who had misused and injured him.
Despite feeling as though they wanted to convince her of Mr Darcy’s goodness—which she was finding it increasingly difficult to refute—she valued spending time with them.
Indeed, I believe we could be very good friends if circumstances threw us together often enough.
The thought had instantly brought to mind the notion that the ladies and Freddie—and even Lord Bramwell and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who treated her as a good friend already—believed she and Mr Darcy might become more than acquaintances.
When this occurred to her, she had excused herself and sought solitude for a full ten minutes to regain her composure.
For a while after the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room, Elizabeth observed Mr Darcy, just as she had upon other recent occasions.
Once again, his demeanour was vastly different from what she had witnessed in Hertfordshire—except perhaps for a few moments here and there when she had been at Netherfield.
And those were times when Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were otherwise engaged, meaning they were not teasing him, and he could speak to his friend alone. It was an interesting realisation.
Elizabeth quickly averted her gaze when she saw the gentleman approach her, praying he had not caught her staring at him. She greeted him with a polite smile and hoped it was not obvious that her heart was racing.
“How are you this evening?” he asked, his eyes—deeper and darker than she had previously noticed—catching hers.
“Very well, thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“I am. The Morrises are always excellent company. I am glad they chose here when they were looking for a place to settle. Are you?”
“Am I what?” She had almost said ‘looking for a place to settle’, which would have been mortifying. She laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Yes, I am enjoying the evening. Everyone I have met since coming into Derbyshire has been very welcoming.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “Both that you are being treated as you ought and that you find the party tonight pleasing. You appeared distracted, and I…wondered.”
Her cheeks warmed but she decided to be bold, just as she had been in their past conversations, especially during the Netherfield ball. Adding lightness to her tone, she said, “Did you catch me studying you, sir? I shall not deny it. You puzzle me.”
He smiled, a small dimple appearing in one cheek. “You said something similar when we danced together last month.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Goodness, was it only last month?”
“One month and one day,” he was quick to say. “You had blue ribbons in your hair that night too.”
Without thinking, she touched her hair, recalling selecting the cornflower-hued ribbons that morning as she chose her attire for the party. Sure enough, she had also worn them to the ball. Whispering, and not necessarily meaning to ask, she said, “You remember?”
He nodded and swallowed heavily. “Are you still attempting to sketch my character?”
After regarding him for a long moment, she said, “What did I say then? That I had heard some differing accounts of you, I believe. Now I would say that I see such a different man. I am afraid I am being horribly rude.”
This time, he shook his head. “Tell me what you mean.” He spoke quietly, his tone making the request almost a plea.
Elizabeth hesitated before saying, “I do not wish to raise a subject that is likely to cause offence or disagreement.”
“Wickham.” When she nodded, he went on. “Shall I guess the deeds he accused me of? Ruining his prospects and refusing to give him the living my father left to him?”
Again, she nodded. “He was sincere, and it was…easy to believe him. But now, being here, I have heard many remarks that seem to be about him, suggesting that he is not the man he appears to be and that he mistreated you rather than the opposite. You are going to tell me he lied, are you not?” For some reason, she was certain it was so—and that he was the truthful one, not Mr Wickham.
“I am. I shall gladly explain my history with him, though this is not the proper time for such a discussion. You received the invitation for the thirty-first? Will you come?”
“We did and we shall.”
“Good. I am…very glad.”
He smiled, a small, gentle upturning of his lips that softened his expression.
She had seen it before when he regarded her.
Whereas she had always supposed he disapproved of her, being this close to him when he was looking at her in such a fashion showed that she was mistaken.
But that does not mean he approves of me, not in the sense of-of liking me! Or did it?
He continued. “When you are at Pemberley, I shall find an opportunity to tell you. Part of it is not my story to share, but I shall speak to the person involved to ask that they tell you or allow me to. Since we shall be at my house, I can provide proof.”
Abashed, Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “You are a gentleman, Mr Darcy, an excellent one from what I have lately discovered. Your word is enough for me.” It helped that so many people had praised him—not only his family, who would naturally think highly of him, but others she had met, from people such as the Morrises to the vicar and shopkeepers.
At present, she was reprimanding herself for not doubting Mr Wickham’s sincerity.
The silence before he spoke felt like it lasted a quarter of an hour.
“That is generous of you, Miss Elizabeth. It has lately occurred to me that I did not make a particularly good showing of myself in Hertfordshire. I regret it and must acknowledge that it must have made his lies easier to believe.”
As he spoke, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his again.
The moment felt weighty—especially significant in some way—and she smiled as best she could.
Sounding slightly breathless, she said, “We might do well to forget the past, think only of those parts that bring us pleasure, and seek to…do better in future.”
“Once again, you are too generous.” Briefly, he squeezed her hand.
It was almost too quick for her to notice, but his touch left a burning sensation, one of pleasure not pain.
“While we are speaking so frankly, may I ask you what might be a…delicate question? Please, refuse to answer if you like, but I am afraid I misjudged a situation.”
“As I believe I did regarding yours with Mr Wickham.” She still wanted to hear what Mr Darcy had promised to disclose about their connexion, but she was already certain that she had made a grave error in accepting the other man’s account so readily. “Please, ask.”
“I left Meryton convinced Miss Bennet harboured no special regard for my friend.”
Elizabeth momentarily closed her eyes, all the vexation she had felt regarding Mr Bingley’s failure to return to Netherfield coursing through her anew.
“I take it I was mistaken,” Mr Darcy said sheepishly; he sighed.
“Jane does not display her feelings for the world.” To his side, Elizabeth noticed her aunt approaching, meaning they would soon be interrupted.
Before that happened, she quickly said, “When Miss Bingley wrote to say you were all leaving Netherfield, she hinted that Mr Bingley and your sister would likely be married soon.”
He started, practically gaping at her. She nodded once, then turned to smile at Mrs Gardiner, who indicated she and Miss Pratt were prepared to depart.
Darcy wrote to Bingley without delay, beginning the task upon returning to Pemberley from the Morrises’ and finishing it the next morning.
His message was simple: he had unexpectedly met Elizabeth, and in conversation with her had come to understand that Miss Bennet did return Bingley’s tender sentiments.
Darcy apologised for having the effrontery to advise him regarding such a personal matter when he had not been asked for his opinion.
Further, he informed his friend of what Elizabeth had disclosed regarding Miss Bingley’s note.
The more difficult letter was to Mr Bennet, telling him that, seeing Elizabeth again, it had struck him that he had left Netherfield without warning people about Wickham.
Darcy explained a good part of his history with the man, leaving out any mention of Georgiana but assuring Mr Bennet that Wickham was a known seducer of young women, including the daughters of gentlemen.
He provided information about several men Mr Bennet could write to for reassurance that he was trustworthy and Wickham was not.
I deeply regret not discussing this subject with you in person.
It is one I would always wish to avoid, but that is wrong of me, given the potential consequences.
When I was in Hertfordshire, family matters consumed me, and I did not consider what my silence meant.
I apologise and hope my writing now will prevent any harm to the good people I was so fortunate as to encounter during my stay at Netherfield.
The task was unpleasant, but it was done, and he knew Elizabeth would approve. That was not why he had done it, but if it helped her think better of him, he would not complain.
After breakfast, a scheme formed to go into Lambton, and soon the entire party was on its way. Since the plan involved seeing Elizabeth, Darcy fully supported it. Indeed, Freddie, who raised the notion, specifically used her as an excuse.
“We were all very glad to see the two of you speak last night,” he said to Darcy, indicating the rest of their group. “And she did not appear at all vexed or suspicious of you, which was refreshing!”
Rebecca hushed him, Georgiana watched Darcy cautiously, and Bramwell laughed.
Fitzwilliam chuckled and said, “A gentler manner of saying that would be that we were happy the two of you seemed to be growing friendlier. Since we support your quest to win her love, and since our time is limited, we wish to do what we can to encourage your connexion. Thus, we shall take every opportunity of throwing you together.”
The brothers were expected back at their father’s estate, Romsley Hall, soon after Twelfth Night; Frederick and his children would leave then as well.
Darcy named a time for their departure for Lambton and left the room, saying he had to talk to the butler about something.
Fortunately, his uncle had not been present during the conversation at breakfast; having him involved in arranging Darcy’s romantic affairs would be even more humiliating than knowing his sister and cousins spoke of it.