Chapter 23
If Darcy had to describe the last few days with one word, he would have chosen frustrating.
He was avoiding Lady Catherine as much as possible, evading her many attempts to command his time to, as she said, ‘finally have a serious conversation about the future’.
Beyond being vexed by her officious manner, he resented that she had ruined what had been an extremely pleasant period of his life.
What he most longed for was that she and Anne would leave London.
His aunt spoke of going to the ball Sir Walter and Lady Todd were hosting, which was on the twenty-sixth, and after that, he sincerely hoped she would take her daughter and return to Kent.
Anne’s health had never been strong. A consequence was that she had not been able to bear being in town for longer than a week at a time in the past. With luck, that pattern would hold true.
Then he would return to revelling in Elizabeth’s company and planning how he would propose.
In about a month, she would return to Hertfordshire.
If events unfolded as he wanted them to, they would travel there together, departing with sufficient time for him to meet her family, ask Mr Bennet’s permission to marry her in person, and be back in London to spend Christmas with Georgiana and their family.
When Lady Catherine had made her comment implying Anne would soon be his wife, he had seen Elizabeth’s shock.
Her expressive eyes were round, her lips parted, and her complexion pale.
Although his aunt’s wishes were hardly a secret, apparently no one had ever mentioned them to her.
Needless to say, he had not spoken of it.
Why would he? Besides, it would be insulting to admit how the thought of Anne as his wife disgusted him.
But I considered it not that long ago. Although he had not been certain it was where his future lay, he had viewed it as a possibility.
After all, it was what his mother had wanted, his father would have thought it a fine match, and the earl, countess, and Lady Catherine expected and desired it.
Knowing how happy he would have made them all, as well as what he would have materially gained by the union, was a strong incentive.
But then I met Elizabeth, and everything changed.
Now I could not imagine any other lady being my wife.
“Darcy, there you are,” Lady Catherine called from across the room. “Come. Anne and I wish to speak to you.”
“Do not keep him to yourself all evening, Catherine,” Lord Romsley said. “We are here to celebrate Georgiana’s birthday, after all, and they will wish to spend some time together.”
“They live in the same house,” she began to say, only for her brother to interject.
“True, but since your unexpected arrival, you have demanded the better part of his attention.” The earl patted his arm and gently pushed him towards his aunt and cousin.
It was thus some minutes—perhaps as long as ten, although it felt three times as long—before he could go to Elizabeth.
Lady Catherine had had no reason to call him over thus.
Instead, she repeated much of what she always said, mostly unwarranted praise for her daughter, including that she would have played the pianoforte and sung better than any other lady present, had her health permitted her to learn.
Darcy guessed from the comment that the ladies had indulged in music while he had been in the dining room with the gentlemen.
It was difficult to find a quiet corner in which to talk privately, but with a little manoeuvring, and thanks to Bramwell and Fitzwilliam insisting they share tales of Georgiana’s life—likely to provide Lady Catherine with fewer opportunities to speak—he finally managed it.
“I apologise for my aunt,” he said to Elizabeth. “I am afraid how she has behaved these last days is her usual habit.”
“It is hardly my right to judge her,” she said, her manner stiffer than he had seen it in weeks; it made his mouth go dry with anxiety. “I own, I am more surprised by some of what she says rather than how she says it.”
Naturally, he understood what she was referring to.
He sighed and shook his head. “Lady Catherine, like all of us, I suppose, has certain wishes for the future. Most of us keep them to ourselves or might mention them as that—wishes. She, however, speaks of them as fact. I beg of you, take no notice of what she says—anything she says—about you, me, other people, or, frankly, anything whatsoever.”
She glanced at him but seemed reluctant to hold his gaze. After a brief pause, she nodded.
“I anticipate she and my cousin will return to Kent after the ball,” he went on.
If he had his way, they would leave before it, but it was an unkind thought, so he kept it to himself.
“Will you dance the first set with me? I intended to ask you, but with their unexpected arrival…” Not knowing how to say he was extremely annoyed that de Bourgh ladies had disrupted their lives, he made a slight gesture, hoping no one but she would notice.
His question had the benefit of making her look at him. She met his eye and a moment later nodded, saying, “I would like that.”
Just then, they were interrupted by Bramwell, who called, “Miss Bennet, you have not known Georgiana long, but you must have some story to share.”
Immediately, she smiled, and Darcy recognised her polite, if not enthusiastic, agreement. She walked towards the others, saying, “I shall do my best.”
Elizabeth was reassured by Mr Darcy asking her for the first set.
All would be well, and she need not give up her enticing day-dreams of them marrying and sharing a long, happy life together.
It might have been better had he given some indication that he had developed a tendre for her—one serious enough to make him think of marriage—but he could hardly speak of such things in his aunt’s drawing room.
The upcoming ball would be a large, elegant affair, and by choosing her—not his cousin or another lady, or even deciding not to dance at all—he was making a statement about where his romantic interests lay.
Between the dinner at the earl and countess’s and the ball, she did not see him.
She spent Saturday morning with Marian Strachan, unfortunately without Rebecca, who was occupied with her mother.
Sitting in a pretty parlour in Mrs Ryde’s house, they drank tea and chatted.
They spoke of the ball, which her friend was attending.
“I am afraid you will not be able to avoid meeting my father,” Marian said. “I apologise in advance and beg you not to give up on our friendship. He will be insulting.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I hope I am strong enough to withstand a slight or two.”
Marian grimaced. “You may change your mind once you have experienced his unique charms.”
Laying a hand on Marian’s arm, Elizabeth said, “You are not truly worried that I would refuse to continue being your friend, are you?”
She opened and closed her mouth twice before speaking. “No, it is not in your character. Although, please know he will say or do something horrible. He is never so pleased as when he is making other people miserable.”
She inclined her head to indicate she would heed the warning. Having heard an emphasis on the word ‘your’, she asked, “What does concern you then?”
It appeared that Marian held her breath for a moment before blurting, “Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
The cautious look in Marian’s eyes and recalling how easy the couple were together, led her to ask, “Do you mean that you and the colonel are…?” Biting her lower lip, Marian regarded her and waited for her to continue. “You like him? Does he return your feelings?”
Her friend nodded. “Well, yes to the first, and I have reason to believe yes to the second, as well. I dread my father even suspecting I like him. He does not know how often the colonel and I have been in company. He does not even approve of my friendship with Rebecca, but I refused to give it up. The thing is, my father will absolutely hate the notion that I might want to marry one of Lord Romsley’s sons.
They detest each other. Our fathers, that is.
But, as surprising as I find it, Colonel Fitzwilliam fits me, if you know what I mean.
And since I am an heiress, it would be prudent of him to choose me. ”
“You do not think he—”
“Oh, no,” Marian interjected. “I do not mean to suggest his only interest in me is that I am rich. But as a second son who will inherit little, he does have to consider how much money a lady would bring to their marriage, and since he likes me and I happen to have a substantial fortune, it makes a match between us …practical. And I would be happy with him, all the more so since I know he and his parents would gladly help me avoid ever seeing my father, which I absolutely require of a husband.”
Elizabeth studied her for a brief moment before she began to smile and a sense of delight bubbled up inside of her.
How perfect it would be! Marian, Rebecca, and she would marry gentlemen who were related and very good friends.
If Jane married Mr Bingley—who was friends with Colonel Fitzwilliam as well as Mr Darcy—no doubt the eight of them would see each other often, visiting in the country and spending time together in town.
Their children would grow up as part of the same large family.
“Do Lord and Lady Romsley know?” she asked. “Before you answer that, let me say that I am so pleased. Colonel Fitzwilliam would be extremely fortunate to win your affections, and I have always liked him very much and am convinced he would be an excellent husband.”
Marian squeezed her hand. “I do not know if his parents are aware of our…friendship. He and I have only just begun to discuss the possibility. You know what I mean. Making little remarks to try to determine if the other person also feels that there is a greater connexion developing. But I believe he intended to raise the matter with them, even if it might be just to hint at the possibility so that, if things between us progress as I expect—and hope—they will, they will be prepared.”
Elizabeth was touched to have received her confidences, and they spoke of the ball and how her father might act when he saw Marian and Colonel Fitzwilliam dancing the opening set together.
“I would inform him in advance,” Marian explained, “but he might attempt to forbid me to have anything to do with the colonel, we would argue, and it is not worth the upset. But enough of me. What of you? Do you have a secret romance you wish to disclose?” She grinned mischievously.
“Let me say that I have a suspicion or two about you and a certain gentleman. There is no need to dissemble, because I shall not be shocked or disapproving.”
Elizabeth adopted an overly innocent air. “At the moment, I have nothing to say,” she said slowly. “But ask me after the opening set.”
They giggled and talked about what they would wear to the ball and how soon they thought Lord Bramwell would propose to Rebecca.
“We need the viscount to lead the way,” Marian said.
Elizabeth agreed. “They are the eldest couple, in a sense, because he began his pursuit of our dear friend first. Thus, he must show his brother what to do next to secure his happiness.”
“Just his brother?” Marian’s brow arched.
Elizabeth smiled and shrugged.