Chapter 28
As soon as the music ended, Darcy did as planned, overlooking the pulsing in his head which grew worse as his heart beat faster in anticipation of speaking to Elizabeth.
He escorted Anne to her mother, bowed, murmured something or other—he knew not what—and walked away, pretending he did not hear his aunt’s protests that he return.
His search for Elizabeth was frustrating.
Realistic or not, he had expected to find her easily, despite the crush of people, but even after several minutes, he had not spotted her. Who he did see was Bramwell.
“Why on earth would you dance the first with Anne?” the viscount hissed in a low voice. “I thought you had asked Miss Bennet?”
“I did. Lady Catherine—I shall explain later. I must find her. Have you seen her?” This was no time to discuss his poor health and stupidity in allowing his aunt to command his attention.
Bramwell shook his head. “Go and find her quickly. Take my advice, Darcy. Beg her forgiveness. Do not make excuses, and expect that she will be hurt and extremely angry.”
Darcy did not bother to respond beyond a curt nod; he then resumed his search, a bubble of anxiety growing in his stomach with each second he did not see her.
Several minutes after speaking to Bramwell, he encountered Lord Halsley and experienced a brief sense of relief.
The earl would know where his sister-in-law was, and if Elizabeth was not with Mrs Ryde, the matron would know where he might find her.
“Ah, Darcy, on your own? How do you find the ball? An amusing entertainment for some, I suppose, but I believe it would be more diverting if the number of guests was halved.”
“There are too many people here,” he agreed, thinking that if there were fewer, he might already be with Elizabeth, assuring her of his affections. “I am looking for Miss Bennet. She was kind enough to agree to dance with me.”
Lord Halsley frowned, briefly alarming Darcy; what if the earl knew about his failure regarding the first set?
As the gentleman charged with protecting Elizabeth while she was in town, he would have the right to reprimand him for slighting her.
But the earl said, “I am afraid the ladies left. My sister said that Elizabeth was feeling ill.”
Darcy experienced a sinking sensation, almost like he had swallowed a large lead ball, and his chest was tight. “I-I am sorry to hear that. Please…pass on my best wishes for a quick recovery.” He managed to say a few more words before politely excusing himself.
What was he to think? He knew the answer, of course, and as he walked towards where he might find a cold drink—which he desperately needed—he berated himself.
She had seen him with Anne and must have been disappointed, upset, and possibly confused, given what Lady Catherine had implied about him marrying his cousin when they had all had dinner together at Grosvenor Square.
And she had no interest in hearing his explanation, not at present, at least. In short, she had been so distraught, she had been unable to stay, unwilling to wait to speak to him.
Silently he cursed, and when he at last located punch, drank several cups, hoping it would alleviate the ache in his head.
There was no fixing the pain in his heart; that would have to wait until he saw Elizabeth and knew the damage to their connexion caused by tonight’s events had been repaired.
Darcy desperately wanted to return home at once.
If it were appropriate to call on Mrs Ryde and Elizabeth tonight, he would, but it was too late, and he doubted he would be admitted to the house.
First thing tomorrow, he would go to her.
In the meantime, he ought to try to tolerate the ball a little longer.
He had asked Rebecca and Miss Strachan to dance, and if he could, there were another two or three ladies he should ask, given their connexion to him and his family.
He might not, however, and instead use his megrim as an excuse.
In between dancing with his cousin and her friend, both of whom mentioned Elizabeth’s sudden departure—Miss Strachan rather pointedly—he was forced to evade Lady Catherine, who expected him to remain fixed to her and Anne’s side all evening.
“Who has a greater right to your time?” she demanded on the second occasion he attempted to bow and move away. “Are we not your nearest relations, soon to be even closer? We are seldom at such events—”
“Lady Catherine, with respect, I have other near relations and friends here with whom I have yet to speak. I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity to talk to people you rarely meet, perhaps introduce your daughter to them.” With that, he had bowed and left her company yet again.
Her tenacity was irritating, yet it was likely a valuable characteristic in other settings, such as negotiating a contract.
“You and Anne looked well together,” Lady Romsley said when he stopped to speak to her and the earl. She smiled and patted his arm affectionately.
Lord Romsley said, “Perhaps Catherine is not exaggerating, and her health has improved substantially. We must all rejoice at the news.”
“Have you asked her for a second set?” the countess said, adding in an encouraging, even eager tone, “You really should.”
Darcy felt his fists clench. “I have not. I offered to introduce her to other men who would ask her, but she claims she will not dance again tonight. I had the impression she would find it too strenuous. And, I would like to add, I did not ask her for the first set either. It was thrust upon me by my aunt.”
“Darcy…” Lord Romsley’s lips pressed together and he shook his head. At the same time, Lady Romsley said, “What do you mean?”
He made a gesture that silently requested patience. “We shall speak of it tomorrow, if you permit. I am afraid I have a megrim, and I ought to return home.”
His aunt was all solicitousness, and both she and his uncle encouraged him to depart; they would meet the next afternoon at Grosvenor Square.
Darcy passed a miserable night. The ministrations of his valet, along with the peacefulness of his townhouse, eased the megrim, but nothing could prevent him from ruminating until dawn, when he gave up his attempt to sleep.
He had behaved poorly, and he feared what it would cost him.
Elizabeth, too, would suffer; he suspected she was already, although he knew not how or to what extent.
If he failed to convince her to listen to him—and to forgive him—she would lose out on the life he would have given her.
In the morning, he went to Lord Halsley’s house as soon as he deemed the hour acceptable.
There, he was shown into the same drawing room he had often sat in when calling on Elizabeth and Mrs Ryde.
He wondered if the older lady understood his purpose in going as often as he had.
The previous evening, he had assumed she did, given his three closest cousins and Miss Strachan had discerned his tendre for Elizabeth.
Once Mrs Ryde entered the room a short while later, he had his answer. She did know. He could see it in her demeanour as she greeted him; the look in her eyes and her voice were unusually stern.
“I was hoping to speak to Miss Bennet,” he said once she invited him to sit.
“That is not possible.”
“Please—”
She shook her head and interjected, “You do not understand me, Darcy. It is impossible, because she is not here. She left earlier this morning. Even if she were, I am not sure I would permit it.”
Shame gripped him, and his chin dropped to his chest. He had known Mrs Ryde since he was a boy, and knowing she did not approve of his behaviour—chiefly because she was right not to—kept him from being able to meet her gaze.
She continued. “I suspected that you and she were becoming more than friends, and I admit, I was thrilled. You know how highly I think of her, and I have long considered you the very image of an honourable gentleman. Then last night, dancing with Miss de Bourgh when you had asked Lizzy!”
“I can explain,” he said hastily. “That is why I am here at this hour. I looked for her immediately once the set ended, but you were already gone.” He told her that he had been ill and had found himself in an unwanted situation without realising it was happening.
The more complete recounting of the last days and how he had intended to deal with his family was for Elizabeth’s ear only.
But she was no longer there. When would he have the opportunity to tell her?
He had counted on seeing her, and disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Before he could ask where she had gone, Mrs Ryde spoke.
“I am sorry you suffered the megrim. How far it excuses your behaviour, I cannot say, not when I am so exasperated. Only Lizzy can decide if she finds it acceptable. Obtaining her forgiveness might not be as easy as you assume.” Darcy met her eye, silently asking what she meant.
“In her distress, she was not as eloquent as usual, but I gather she overheard you making some rather arrogant comments regarding the sort of lady your wife must be.”
“What? When?” he cried, frantically searching his memory for a time such an event might have occurred.
“In Dublin. You had only just arrived, I believe. I do not know that you were aware she heard you and Bramwell. Between that and Lady Catherine’s insistence that you would soon be marrying her daughter—we overheard her speaking of it—and what happened last night, from the moment we greeted you on, Lizzy is convinced she was mistaken to believe you would ever choose a lady such as her, one with no fortune or connexions.
Well, she does have me as a connexion, for what that is worth, and she is not as poor as she supposes. ”
He took the last to mean the lady had made provisions for Elizabeth in her will, which was generous.
As to the ladies overhearing Lady Catherine speaking of a marriage he had never agreed to, it only added to his vexation.
“Where has she gone, Mrs Ryde, and will she return? Please, tell me. I…I shall do whatever necessary to earn her forgiveness. I truly believe if we spoke, she would understand how deeply I regret what has happened, including how stupid I was to say—even to think—of marriage in such a manner. Weeks ago, I chose Elizabeth, with both my heart and my head. I believe I did even before we parted last June, despite knowing she did not particularly like me. For very sound reasons, I acknowledge, especially after hearing me make such ill-informed remarks.” At the moment, he could not recall the conversation the lady meant, but he did not doubt he had spoken of his future wife in such a manner.
He berated himself yet again, and he would continue doing so for some time.
There was a long pause before Mrs Ryde answered. “She has returned to Longbourn. I do not know when I shall next see her.”
“I regret that my actions robbed you of her company weeks before you anticipated her departure,” he said sincerely.
She accepted his apology politely, asked if he felt better than he had at the ball, and offered him refreshments. He said yes to the former and declined the latter.
“I shall trouble you no further this morning,” he said as he stood. “Thank you for your time.”
“What do you intend to do?” She looked up at him from her seat.
“Find a way to explain myself to her as soon as possible. Even if she sends me packing, so to speak, she deserves to know.”
Mrs Ryde’s brow arched. “I trust you have more to say to her than what you shared with me?”
He inclined his head and said, “I do.”
“Then I wish you luck, Darcy. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see Lizzy well settled with a gentleman who would appreciate her. If I did not believe you might be such a man, I would have warned you off long ago, or had my brother do so.”
Grateful for the mark of kindness, which was more than he deserved, he smiled, wished her a good day, and left.