Chapter 9 #2
It was an effort to keep his gaze from Elizabeth, but he called upon the lessons in proper deportment he had suffered through as a child and said, “No more did I realise you and my cousin would be. Mrs Ryde, how do you do?”
“I am very well, and glad to see you and your cousin again. And Colonel Fitzwilliam, of course. You remember Miss Bennet, do you not?”
At last, Darcy had an excuse to look at her.
He believed he saw a similar anxiety in her eyes that he was experiencing.
“Miss Bennet, how do you do?” he said, immediately feeling as stupid as Fitzwilliam had called him a moment ago.
He sounded like a parrot. How many times might he say ‘how do you do’ to a lady before the night was over?
“Mr Darcy,” she said, averting her gaze, her cheeks rosy.
As often happened, there was a brief confusion as multiple introductions, greetings, and explanations took place simultaneously.
The young woman with the ladies was Miss Marian Strachan, who had long been friends with Rebecca.
When it was discovered that she and Fitzwilliam had never met, his aunt introduced them.
“Strachan?” Fitzwilliam said. “Your father is—”
“Without wishing to sound disrespectful—because I try to be a dutiful daughter—yes, I must claim that churlish man as my father and nearest relation. I see you have heard of him, as, regrettably for me, so many have,” she said cheerfully.
“Astonishing that he married my mother, given his hatred of Africans. And Italians, Spaniards, the Scots, the Irish. Really, anyone he does not consider properly British. And worthy of his notice. But my mother was rich, and he loves money more than he hates people he views as inferior.”
Marian Strachan was an attractive young woman with skin the colour of coffee to which a small amount of milk had been added.
Her father was notoriously bad-tempered and frequently obnoxious—unless you happened to be wealthy or occupied a high place in society, at which time he might treat you politely.
His only child was the complete opposite; whenever Darcy had met her, he found her to be good humoured and generous.
“Oh, I-I—” Fitzwilliam stammered.
“Meant no offence,” Miss Strachan said. “I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, Colonel. I know what people think of my father, and I prefer to be direct about the connexion. I do not always speak so freely, but we are amongst friends, are we not?”
“Indeed, we are, Miss Strachan,” Fitzwilliam said.
Turning to Mrs Ryde and Miss Bennet, he continued, “My brother has had much to say of his and Darcy’s time in Ireland.
Knowing them both, you will not think it odd that my cousin shared little, while Bramwell was full of tales, some of which must have been exaggerated.
Miss Bennet, I do not believe either of them knew you would be in town this autumn. ”
Darcy listened eagerly to her response. When she laughed, he wanted to smile; it was the same pleasing, light sound he recalled so well.
How he had missed her! He had not realised how much until he saw her again—or how strong the force that had pushed him towards her since the day they had met would be.
Danger indeed, he reflected. What would he do about it?
If he approached the situation rationally, then the only option would be to stay away from her.
“I did not know I would be, although I do not remember ever speaking to either of them about the possibility,” she said.
Her eyes flickered to him, no doubt aware that they had touched on the subject.
Suddenly, shame at what he had then said to her washed over him.
It was not the first time, to be sure, but in her presence, it was a starker sensation.
Mistaking her position was one thing; implying she was not good enough to keep company with him and Bramwell if they met in London was another.
Yet, here she was, amongst his usual set, the guest of the Earl of Halsley’s sister-in-law, and in the company of his own aunt and cousin.
“But I could not do without her,” Mrs Ryde said. “Her mother and father must surely despise me for taking her away from them so often, and for so long, but…” She lifted her hands in a gesture suggesting she had no choice.
“How could I refuse when you asked me to come?” Miss Bennet said, the fondness in her voice making it warm and comforting.
“If I was not sufficient inducement to leave Longbourn, then becoming reacquainted with Rebecca would have been. That is why I mentioned her in my letter.” Mrs Ryde patted Elizabeth’s cheek.
“Reacquainted with Rebecca? My cousin?” The words tumbled from Darcy without him knowing he would ask, but it was a shock.
Clearly his exclamation had caught the attention of the others, and he worried he had spoken too loudly as well as at too high a pitch; he had heard the latter well enough and was mortified at his display of emotion.
Fitzwilliam was gaping at him, Bramwell appeared vexed, Miss Bennet embarrassed—but not as much as he felt, he wanted to assure her—Miss Strachan and Rebecca perplexed, and Mrs Ryde mildly amused.
Only his aunt acted as though nothing untoward had happened.
“We first met Elizabeth when she and Rebecca were little girls, although it has been some years since we last saw each other. Happily, that unfortunate separation has ended, and, even though Elizabeth has been in town less than a fortnight, all three of these fine young women have become dear friends,” Mrs Darcy said.
“Not unlike how your aunt, Lizzy’s aunt, and I became close friends as soon as we met as schoolgirls,” Mrs Ryde added.
“I had no notion you knew any of Darcy’s family,” Bramwell said to Elizabeth. “You never said.”
Darcy stared at her, wondering that he had not been aware of it either.
Surely, she would have mentioned it, and if not her, why had not Mrs Ryde or even Lord Halsley, who must also have known?
He did not want to question if there was some motivation behind the secrecy—No, of course there is not!
Even if I did not trust her, I do trust the earl and Mrs Ryde.
He was ashamed the thought had even occurred to him.
Had he learnt nothing from his final conversation with her in Dublin?
“I did not realise at first, and once I did, I suppose the subject never came up,” Elizabeth said. Again, while she glanced in his direction, she would not look at him. He wanted to say something to her, anything to lessen the unease between them, but with his thoughts so jumbled, knew not what.
Just then, his attention was drawn by a feminine voice calling his name.