Chapter 24 #2
And then Elizabeth saw him. Her Mr Darcy was standing across from his cousin in the lines of dancers. Instead of coming to find her, instead of starting the evening by dancing with her—of showing everyone in attendance that he liked her—he was accompanying another lady.
The realisation struck her forcibly, seeming to knock the breath from her body. Despite asking her for the first set just a few days ago, he had decided to overlook it, to pretend it had never happened. Mr Darcy had chosen Miss Anne de Bourgh, not her, and not just for the dance.
“Lizzy? Elizabeth, what is wrong? Are you unwell?”
She started at the sound of Mrs Ryde’s voice; the lady had evidently noticed her distress, and Elizabeth struggled to regain her composure lest anyone else wonder at her behaviour.
What she could not do was tear her eyes away from Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh or avoid hearing Lady Catherine as she continued to speak about her daughter and nephew, their estates, and what a splendid match theirs was.
“What—?” Mrs Ryde said and then, apparently seeing what Elizabeth did, asked in a whisper, “Oh. Is it Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth gave a slight nod, willing the tears that burned at the back of her eyes to go away. Also keeping her voice soft, she explained. “He was supposed to dance with me. He asked me the other day, told me there was no truth to what his aunt had said.”
“Julia?”
“No. Lady Catherine. At dinner. What she said about Miss de Bourgh.”
Mrs Ryde placed a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s elbow. “Oh, my dear.”
Turning her chin towards her friend—but not her eyes, which remained occupied watching for any glimpse of Mr Darcy—Elizabeth said, “Is it true that his family expects them to…?” She could not complete the sentence.
There was a pause before Mrs Ryde responded. “Yes, but I know of no formal agreement, and I have suspected his interest lies with you for some weeks.”
Perhaps because she had been thinking of Ireland recently and what she had heard him say about marriage before they were even introduced, Elizabeth decided that—whatever attraction he might feel to her—he had not changed.
He was exactly as she had supposed him to be that spring morning, the same arrogant man who had expressed his certainty that he deserved to marry a fine lady, not the poor daughter of a country gentleman such as her.
Had he not also mentioned marrying a cousin?
She had forgot that part of his speech, but presently it was like someone was screaming the words within the confines of her mind.
He had said that his cousin met his requirements, or words to that effect.
Knowing she would soon be unable to contain her emotions, Elizabeth said, “Please, I cannot remain here. Not now.”
Mrs Ryde nodded, and led her out of the ballroom. As they waited for the carriage, she left Elizabeth in a quiet corner to arrange for Lord Halsley to be informed of their intentions to return home and that she would send the carriage back for him.
Once in her bedchamber, Elizabeth could no longer stop herself from crying.
Mrs Ryde was everything gentle and kind, and she soon extracted the entire tale of Elizabeth’s connexion with Mr Darcy from her, starting the moment she overheard him and Lord Bramwell in Merrion Square and ending with her certainty that he had decided the material benefits of marrying his cousin, including pleasing his relations, were more important than matters of affection and companionship.
“I should have known, these last few days,” Elizabeth said.
“Ever since Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh came to town, he has had no time for me. We barely spoke at the birthday dinner for Miss Darcy, and you must have seen how cool his demeanour was when we greeted him tonight. I should have understood what it signified.”
They were seated side by side on the bed, and Mrs Ryde kept a comforting arm across Elizabeth’s shoulders.
She said, “I cannot believe he, of all men, would behave so poorly! His mother and father would be ashamed of him. I know he was raised to think highly of his position in life, and I admit I was glad when I began to notice how much he liked you, not only because you are the most excellent young lady I know, but because it meant he was willing to set aside material considerations in favour of true affection. He is his own man and should be able to—willing to—overlook whatever coercion his relations are exerting and act in his own best interests, and that means choosing to marry for love.”
“But he will not!” Elizabeth cried, and wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief that was already damp with tears.
“Pleasing them and knowing he has a wife with grand connexions and a large fortune are more important than any other consideration.” Looking directly at Mrs Ryde, she continued.
“I hate to leave you, I do, but I cannot remain in town. I am humiliated. The thought of seeing him again, any of them, is too much to bear. In time, I shall be glad to see Rebecca and Marian, and even the viscount and colonel, but not him.”
Mrs Ryde kissed her forehead. “I understand, dear girl. I do not want you to go, but I know it will make these next weeks easier for you. Being somewhere else, surrounded by your sisters, parents, and friends, will distract you. As soon as my brother comes home, I shall ask him to arrange it. If you would like, I am sure you can be off to Hertfordshire in the morning.”
Elizabeth nodded and thanked her.