Chapter 11
In Elizabeth’s opinion, Colonel Fitzwilliam resembled his brother in character more than he did Mr Darcy, although he lacked the mischievousness of the former and, if she was correct, some of the latter’s understanding.
That was not to say he was unintelligent, but she had the impression he did not read as much or on as wide a variety of subjects as his cousin.
In short, the colonel was his own person, and a rather amusing one; it made dancing with him exceedingly agreeable.
“My family and I heard a great deal about Ireland this summer,” he said. “Since my brother and cousin were gone for so long, we wanted to be together as much as possible. I should say that ‘we’ includes my parents and Georgiana, Darcy’s sister.”
“I understand the sentiment. I was glad to be with my family again,” she said, offering him a smile. “Where were you? I believe Lord Bramwell mentioned your father’s estate is in Worcestershire or Warwickshire? And Mr Darcy’s is in Derbyshire.”
“We stayed at both, first Romsley Hall in Warwickshire, then Pemberley, my cousin’s estate.” A shadow briefly passed over his face.
Knowing she could not satisfy her curiosity and enquire if something had happened to disturb him, she instead asked if he preferred the country or the city.
He considered for a moment before saying, “The city. I do like being able to ramble about the countryside, but I am a sociable person, and being able to see friends and attend busy events, such as this ball, is more satisfying. Which do you prefer?”
“The countryside, undoubtedly,” she said immediately. “I find it diverting to be in town for a while, but my love of aimlessly wandering through woods and listening to birds sing is greater.”
He studied her and said, “Even though we have just met, that does not surprise me. But I meant to ask you about Ireland. Bramwell said fifty words to every one Darcy spoke, as you might imagine, but still, from what my cousin said, the three of you were often together. What did you most like about your excursion to the Emerald Isle?”
It surprised Elizabeth that the colonel made a point of Mr Darcy speaking of her, but she soon dismissed it in favour of the more pleasant subject of her voyage.
She chatted about what she had seen and done, and he told her of some of the places his career had taken him.
He asked if she had spent much time in London, and she said she had not.
“But I suppose it depends on what you consider ‘much’. When I was a child, I came to visit Mrs Ryde with my aunt several times, and I have stayed a few days here and there with my mother’s brother and his wife, but they live…
at the other side of St Paul’s,” she said, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by saying Cheapside.
Lord Bramwell had not seemed to care about the situation of her London connexions, but Mr Darcy had.
The colonel said, “I have been to that part of the metropolis many times. There are some charming streets. Very comfortable looking, if you know what I mean. Do you plan to act as a tourist in London, since you are not that familiar with it?”
Gratified by his response, she mentioned several of the activities she and Rebecca had spoken of, including visiting museums and viewing important historical sites.
When he asked if Miss Strachan would be with them, she added, “I believe, and hope, so. Although we met only recently, I anticipate her becoming a dear friend. I cannot recall if you knew each other before tonight?”
“No,” he said, with a slight hesitation that Elizabeth thought might be unease. “I mean, I do not believe so. If we have been introduced, I am ashamed to admit, I do not recall. And-and I think I would have. She is…”
Elizabeth regarded him, brow arched delicately. She was aware that some people were uncomfortable with Marian because of who her mother had been and because her father was disliked, but she would be disappointed if Colonel Fitzwilliam displayed such prejudice.
Part of what she was thinking must have been apparent, because he seemed to shake himself and said hastily, “Please accept my apology for being distracted. I would like the opportunity to speak to her further, and, fortunately, I shall have it. We are to dance, and I was contemplating what I wanted most to ask her.” He gave an awkward laugh and his cheeks turned pink.
“Whatever else happens this evening, I shall remember it fondly. After all, it is not every day a man meets such lovely young ladies.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That was well said, Colonel. Another day, I might ask if you felt the same at the end of the ball as you do presently.” With that, she changed the topic, and they finished the set by speaking of art.
Almost at the close of the ball, Mr Darcy approached her.
Surreptitiously, she hid a sigh of disappointment, one she knew she ought not to feel.
Had she not earlier told herself that he might improve upon further acquaintance?
Given the ties between him and people she cared for—notably Mrs Ryde and Rebecca—she ought to learn to be easy in his company.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, his demeanour formal, “Bramwell reminded me that I have not asked you to dance this evening. If you have a set free, would you do me the honour?”
By her calculation, there were only two sets remaining. Either the viscount had only just issued his reminder, or Mr Darcy had delayed coming to her. With the hope I had no choice but to decline? If that was his purpose, he would be disappointed.
“Thank you. I do not have a partner for the next,” she said.
A couple he was familiar with joined them for the few minutes before the dancing resumed, sparing her the necessity of making awkward conversation with him—for that interval, at least. When they stood across from each other and began to move through the pattern, she was hard pressed not to show her discomfort.
Around them, couples were chatting, but they remained silent.
At length, she remembered they had not spoken since they were in Ireland, meaning she could ask about his and Lord Bramwell’s return journey.
They exchanged news of their passages, compared what the weather had been like, the steadiness of the ship, the quality of the roads that had carried them where they wanted to be in England afterwards, and other minutiae that was seldom interesting to anyone.
Once there was nothing more to say on the matter, there was a brief silence, which he broke.
“Miss Bennet, I feel I should… When we last saw each other in Dublin, that morning—”
“Pardon me for interrupting you, sir, but if you intend to refer to our encounter in Merrion Square, let me say that I think it would be best if we forgot it. Upon reflection, I believe I said more than I should have. We might encounter each other again in the coming weeks. Indeed, I would say it is a certainty, since I shall be in town until mid-December. Do you not agree that it would be best—for us and others, such as Mrs Ryde—if we set aside our differences and meet as indifferent acquaintances?”
He cleared his throat, but any other response was delayed by the pattern of the dance. When they could next speak, he said, “I did not realise you had met my uncle and his family.”
How she wished she had disclosed it in Ireland!
Far too much had been made of the topic this evening; both of his male cousins had spoken of it when she had danced with them, and Rebecca had also remarked on it, saying, “I did not recall at first, but you told me the day you arrived in town and my mother and I called, did you not? Yet, you never mentioned it again.” Elizabeth had no good excuse for her behaviour and so had made light of it.
To Mr Darcy, she said, “It was only after you and your cousin called that first time in Dublin that Mrs Ryde explained the connexion. As I believe someone said earlier, I had not seen any of them for years, and when we were introduced, it never occurred to me that you were related to people I had met so long ago.”
“Why did you not tell Bramwell or me after she had informed you?”
Elizabeth detected suspicion in his voice.
Given what he had said and implied during their angry exchange in June, she supposed he saw a wicked scheme behind her silence on the matter.
“Circumstance?” she offered, shrugging slightly to emphasise that she was not sure.
“It seemed odd to raise the subject, perhaps, like I was giving the coincidence more significance than it deserved. I had not seen them for seven years, after all. I did not know whether Rebecca and I would view each other as friends, even should we meet again, which was far from certain. I still visited Mrs Ryde after the last time I saw your relations, as you know, with my aunt before her death and without her afterwards. That stopped during Mr Ryde’s illness, and it did not resume until after her first mourning.
I do not recall her talking about Mr and Mrs Darcy and their children.
For all I knew, their former intimacy had ended. ”
He listened attentively while she spoke, and once she finished, he nodded. “It was a surprise to see you. That you are clearly on such good terms with my family only added to it.”
Contrary to what she might have expected, his voice was devoid of coldness; rather, she might have said it was warm, even that it contained a touch of tenderness, which shocked and confused her.
She met his eye and kept her gaze on his—unable to break the hold—as they continued the dance in silence.
Despite knowing she should be tired, given the late hour and how much she had danced that evening, Elizabeth lay awake for above an hour.
The house was quiet, which added a sense of loneliness to her reflections.
Worse, it offered no distraction from what was robbing her of sleep.
Mr Darcy. She could not stop herself from thinking about him.
She silently recited French verbs, sang softly to herself, imagined playing the pianoforte—none of it helped.
It was that one moment that dwelt in her mind, the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes when they spoke of her knowing his family.
“It was not tenderness I saw,” she whispered. “It could not have been. Mr Darcy does not like me.” He had proved that in Dublin. She was as certain of it as she was that her name was Elizabeth Bennet.
But what if she was mistaken? To be sure, he had insulted her before they parted in Ireland, but it was possible to interpret what he had said as an indication he did not dislike her as much as she had supposed. It seemed unlikely, but…
“Time will tell.” Others thought well of him—his family, Lord Halsley, Mrs Ryde—and she would trust their opinion on most matters.
Why should it be different when it came to him?
There was no denying the next weeks would be easier if the two of them were able to meet as acquaintances—not friends, which might be too much to expect, but people who were capable of being polite, perhaps even chatting pleasantly.
“Perhaps the best I can do is to overlook the past—not entirely, but partly. Enough to ensure no one, including myself, is uncomfortable when we are together.”
Again, the look he had given her—the softness in his eyes, the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth—came to mind. If it had been another gentleman, any other gentleman, she would be tempted to conclude that they saw something to admire in her, but not Mr Darcy.
What if he did think well of her? Would she allow it to change how she thought of him?
Sighing deeply, Elizabeth rolled onto her side, closed her eyes, and begged sleep to take her.