Chapter 4
Elizabeth knew that Lord Halsley had seen the viscount and his cousin, but she did not encounter them again for almost a week after their first meeting.
They attended the same ball hosted by a prominent local politician.
While she was speaking to some acquaintances, she watched the two gentlemen approach Mrs Ryde and greet her; Elizabeth was close enough to hear what they said, but evidently, Lord Bramwell and Mr Darcy had not noticed her.
“Where is your companion this evening?” Mr Darcy asked.
“Lizzy?” Mrs Ryde said, her gaze sweeping the room. “She is…”
From her position, Elizabeth was able to see the look Mr Darcy gave his cousin. It was nearly smug, giving the impression he was saying, “Admit I was correct.” She did not understand it. The viscount shrugged offhandedly, then smiled, she presumed when he realised she was approaching.
“Ah, there she is!” Mrs Ryde said. Once Elizabeth and the gentlemen had completed the usual courtesies, she continued.
“Although we have not been here long, Lizzy has made a number of friends. As soon as we arrived tonight, she was called upon to talk to I do not know how many of them!” She laughed lightly.
The quartet spoke of inconsequential matters for a couple of minutes before Mrs Ryde turned away to speak to another lady, leaving Elizabeth with the young men.
“Have you made yourself as popular as Mrs Ryde suggests?” Lord Bramwell said, his demeanour demonstrating that he was in a good, likely playful mood.
His cousin is not, she reflected. Mr Darcy stood, tall, imposing, and mostly silent.
Dour was the word that best suited him, she determined.
“Hardly,” she said. “I have been fortunate enough to meet many amiable people, however, and since the weather has been so miserable of late, this is the first time most of us have been able to talk in over a week.”
“The rain!” he cried, dramatically throwing up his hands in despair.
“We have been assured that the excess of rain has been unusual, and we should anticipate better weather. I was dreadfully afraid tonight’s ball would be cancelled.
It is a relief to be amongst so many people.
My cousin would not agree, but…” He waved a hand as though dismissing Mr Darcy.
“The only company we have had, if you can call it that, has been to discuss business. Otherwise, we have visited that fine institution established by the Dublin Library Society. I found it a pleasant way to pass the time. It is preferable to staying at home all day, every day.”
“Such has been my fate,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “Not entirely, I should say. One afternoon when the rain was not too bad, I went to the castle with a few people. I found it fascinating. It has such a storied history. But I suppose that is to be expected, given it is six hundred years old!”
Lord Bramwell’s bright blue eyes were full of humour when he asked, “Did you encounter any ghosts?”
He and Elizabeth spent a moment sharing ghost stories. All the while, Mr Darcy observed them, largely watching her, she believed; she felt his eyes on her, and whenever she glanced at him, she found it was so.
“Regretfully, I see several gentlemen Darcy and I should speak to,” the viscount said. “Before we part, Miss Bennet, please do say you will dance with me.” He lowered his voice, but not enough that Mr Darcy would not hear. “Do not expect my cousin to ask you. He cannot.”
The gentleman’s cheeks turned pink and his features hardened as he regarded Lord Bramwell and muttered, “I can. Whether I like to is an entirely different matter.” To Elizabeth, he said, “Please do me the honour of dancing with me as well.”
She nodded and thanked him. If I could refuse and save us both from the unwanted event, I would! No doubt, if he could have avoided asking, he would have. She wondered if Lord Bramwell had teased his cousin to force him to make the request; if so, the question became, why?
They went their separate ways for a time, Elizabeth happily chatting with various people and ensuring Mrs Ryde knew where she was. When the lady enquired, Elizabeth admitted that both the viscount and Mr Darcy had asked her to dance, which seemed to satisfy her.
“I knew Bramwell would, and I am glad about Darcy. He is too serious, but I trust you to make him laugh at least once,” Mrs Ryde said.
“I shall try,” Elizabeth promised, though she thought success unlikely.
Mr Darcy was not only ‘too serious’, she was on the point of declaring him intractably ill-natured and entirely incapable of being pleased.
She had been observing the gentlemen every so often this evening, and found that, while the viscount did not hesitate to chat to everyone, his cousin almost always wore the same stiff, uninviting demeanour.
During their dance, the viscount and she talked about their families further. In speaking of his brother, she learnt that all three gentlemen—Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he—were good friends, but he and Mr Darcy had spent more time together in recent years.
“Because of my brother’s occupation. His time is less his own,” Lord Bramwell offered by way of explanation.
“To be sure, Darcy keeps himself busy overseeing the management of his estate, despite having an excellent steward. I would expect no less, given how his father raised him. As for me, what have I to do but get up to mischief to vex my mother and father until they can no longer bear the sight of me and send me to distant lands?”
She laughed. “Do you mean Ireland? It is not so distant. As to why you are here, I shall not speculate if what you imply is true.”
As soon as the pattern permitted, he leant close to whisper in her ear. “It is, more or less. But do not ask me for details. I would not want to lower your opinion of me.”
He went on to express his gratitude that Mr Darcy had chosen to accompany him, declaring it was far more pleasant to travel with someone whose company you appreciate than on your own.
Indeed, the more he spoke of his cousin, the more astonished she grew.
The man he described was not the man she had spent time with.
They might only have been together half an hour or forty minutes between their two meetings, but it was enough for her.
And I must dance with him before the night is over!
One advantage to travelling was that Darcy was not expected to dance every set.
He might do so—his cousin was—but by carefully evading introductions to ladies, he gave himself an excuse not to, which was his preference.
He had never liked the activity, for the most part because it meant having to stand across from a young woman for what often felt like several hours while every word from her mouth, every look she gave him, showed that her chief wish was to secure an eligible match.
He accepted that it was what girls were taught to long for, but that did not mean he had to tolerate it.
Despite these sentiments, and having suffered through two sets he had been unable to avoid, Darcy found himself in a curious situation.
A part of him—very small—was anticipating dancing with Miss Bennet.
She had caught his attention throughout the ball—a glimpse of her delicate rose gown, the light, musical sound of her voice or laughter—and he had watched as she smiled at whichever gentleman she danced with or people she spoke to during the intervals.
It might have irritated him a tiny bit to see that she enjoyed dancing with his cousin.
Bramwell, he thought, his vexation growing.
Earlier, when they were with Miss Bennet and his cousin had made a joke about him being unable to dance, Darcy had wanted to kick him.
During a moment alone, he had reminded Bramwell not to flirt with her, as he undoubtedly was doing whenever the chance arose. His cousin had only laughed.
“I treat her no differently than I do any other girl,” Bramwell had insisted.
“And before you tell me why that is a problem, let me assure you—again—that neither Miss Bennet nor I are in danger. She knows I am only having fun, and, as charming as she is, she does not make my heart sing, if that is not too poetic for you. I am not going to forget my family duty for her.” After a sigh, he had added, “Yet, I wish Lady Cassandra was more like her. My future might not seem so…colourless.”
When Darcy collected her for their set towards the end of the ball, she smiled politely, but there was none of the warmth he had witnessed in her exchanges with his cousin.
It is just as well. I want her to understand we shall never be more than indifferent acquaintances. If she were not Mrs Ryde’s companion, and if Bramwell had not teased him into asking her, they would not even be dancing together.
She broke the silence by asking him what he thought of Dublin’s architecture, mentioning the library he and his cousin had visited in particular.
His response was short; he doubted she understood anything of the subject and was wary of paying her too much attention.
But her subsequent statements—on architecture, garden design, and music—all demonstrated that she was more observant and knowledgeable than he had assumed.
But then, he reflected, Lord Halsley and Mrs Ryde had mentioned her curiosity and that they had been securing books for her on Dublin’s history and other topics.
She has read something of it recently and is now repeating it.
It does not follow that she understands or knows enough to offer a credible opinion.
Oddly, this answer was dissatisfying to him, because the way she spoke was at times passionate and poetic without being overly sentimental or romantic, such as when she mentioned particular composers or artists.
Poetic? he silently scoffed; he blamed Bramwell for the notion, since he had mentioned poetry earlier. At the same time, Darcy was straining to catch her words amidst the sound of shoes striking the floor and countless other conversations. His cheeks heated when he realised what he was doing.
But what was wrong with liking to listen to her?
She had a pleasing voice, and his chief company of late had been Bramwell.
As much as he loved his cousin, speaking to him was not the same as…
As what? Speaking to a pretty young lady whose eyes can capture you and draw you in, heedless to the peril.
He shook himself and gave his attention to the pattern, determined not to continue the conversation. As soon as possible after the set was over, he wished her a good night, and flew from her company.