Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Upon returning to the house, Georgiana admitted to Darcy that she had told Elizabeth about her near elopement with George Wickham. At first unsure what he thought, Darcy soon decided he was pleased. Speaking of it willingly must be a sign of his sister’s growing confidence.
“You could not have chosen a better person in whom to confide,” he said. “She is sensible and generous and would never judge you for a youthful error.” Would that she extends her generosity to me and the errors I made this autumn!
“I know I must be more cautious in choosing friends, but I just knew she was…”
He touched her cheek lightly. “Not only is she part of our family circle now, she is exactly the sort of lady I would encourage you to befriend. I knew that when I met her in Hertfordshire.” The last words had come unbidden, but he had recognised instantly that they were true.
It had seemed unlikely Georgiana and Elizabeth would ever meet—and if they had when the identity of her father remained a mystery, he might not have encouraged a relationship between them.
But it was another sign that, in his heart, he had realised Elizabeth was not simply another pretty young woman.
Their conversation was short, and before long, they were in Curzon Street, at the home of their aunt and uncle Darcy.
“I considered inviting several other people—those with whom we are on particularly intimate terms, such as Lord Halsley and his sister—but I decided it might be best to keep tonight smaller, to give us all a chance to know one another better,” Aunt Darcy explained.
They sat in the drawing room, awaiting the party from Grosvenor Square.
“I am so jealous that you met Miss Sterling all those months ago!” Rebecca said.
Darcy chuckled, knowing she was not serious.
“It must have been so strange to learn who she really is,” his cousin continued. “You had no notion, did you?”
“Not at all,” Darcy confirmed.
“How could he?” Uncle Darcy asked. He was a tall, robust man who greatly resembled his older brother, both in appearance and character, a fact that had been a great comfort to Darcy and Georgiana after their father’s death.
“Lady Romsley says that Elizabeth has Mr Thomas Sterling’s eyes,” Georgiana said. “But I do not suppose my brother would remember that, even if he had met him. Did you?”
Darcy shook his head, and their uncle said, “I did, but it was so long ago, I would not have noticed the resemblance, had I met Miss Sterling. She is going to use that name, not whatever she was called when you met her?”
This time, Darcy nodded but had no opportunity to speak before Rebecca did.
“Tell us about her. What is her other family like? Did you spend much time together?”
His aunt laughed. “Goodness, you are full of questions. You will have to ask him another time. I hear the front door opening.”
Sure enough, the Romsleys, their sons, and their niece were soon with them.
Darcy found it difficult to tear his gaze away from Elizabeth; she was especially lovely this evening.
The deep-red accents on her gown, matched in the shawl draped over her shoulders, enhanced her complexion, and he sensed his feelings for her growing, a bubble ever expanding in his chest. When he had known her as Elizabeth Bennet, he had not allowed himself to dream of her being part of his life, and he doubted he would have been able to conjure such a charming scene as the one before him at present, with the two of them surrounded by those he loved best.
The party went in to dinner almost immediately, but he was unable to secure a seat beside her.
They were a small enough group that it was reasonably easy for them all to talk to one another, and the chief topic was Elizabeth.
Rebecca, sitting across from her, asked question after question, but she just as easily answered Elizabeth’s enquiries about herself and her brothers and sisters, and allowed other people their share of the conversation.
Darcy said little, instead choosing to listen to and watch Elizabeth.
Later, when they were gathered in the drawing room again, he was able to speak to her alone.
She had been standing near the fireplace with Fitzwilliam, chatting animatedly, and when Darcy saw them so comfortable together, alarm had shot through him.
The fear was quickly quelled when he recalled that his cousin knew that he had a special interest in her; his cousin would never seek to attach her under those circumstances.
Noticing him approach, Fitzwilliam excused himself, saying something vague about speaking to his father.
“You have a lovely family,” Elizabeth said. Her gaze swept the room, and there was a soft smile on her face.
“Thank you. I rather like them.” When she looked at him, he quirked an eyebrow to indicate he had meant his response to be amusing. He was pleased that he had succeeded in making her chuckle. “I am glad you approve of them,” he said more seriously.
“I do.” She sighed contentedly. “I had no notion what I would find when I wrote to inform Lady Romsley that I believed her brother was my father, and to be met with so much goodwill has—” She stopped abruptly and chuckled awkwardly; her cheeks turned light pink.
“Forgive me. You can hardly wish to hear such sentimental talk.”
He shook his head. Lowering his voice, he insisted, “I am glad. For you, for the countess, for everyone here, and the other relations you have yet to meet. I might add an extra dose of pleasure for my sister. She likes you very much.”
This time, her smile was broader, and her eyes, which met his, shone with sincerity when she said, “I like her too. She is delightful.”
“She told me she spoke to you of Ramsgate. I—”
Anxiously, Elizabeth interjected, “You need not worry I would tell anyone.”
He reached out and almost touched her arm but withdrew his hand at the last moment. “I do not. I mentioned it only so that you know I know.” How stupid he sounded! Shaking his head, he said, “I am glad— There must be another word I can use.”
She laughed. “I was glad”—she arched her brow mischievously—“that she was comfortable confiding in me.” Indicating their companions, she asked, “Do you think it has been easier for them to accept the daughter of a couple who eloped because she was almost tricked into doing the same?”
“No,” he said with conviction. “I think it has been easy for them because they are unconcerned about events that happened so long ago, because my aunt regrets the estrangement from her brother during the final years of his far-too-short life and never knowing he had a daughter, and mostly, because everyone about you can see that you are a lady worth knowing.”
She blushed and averted her gaze but did not walk away, which he considered a success. He had given her a hint of his regard, one that was surely unmistakable.
For a long moment, they stood in silence, Darcy observing her, while she took in the activity in the room—his aunts and Georgiana chatting together, his uncles and Fitzwilliam doing likewise, and lastly Bramwell and Rebecca, who were sitting together.
The viscount was turned towards her, his hand on the sofa in the narrow space between them, almost but not quite touching her hand.
“He has proposed to her twice already,” Darcy said. “That I know of. I suspect there have been more.”
Obviously astonished, Elizabeth glanced at him. “I cannot imagine any gentleman would ask again if he had previously been rejected.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she barely stifled a bark of laughter.
“You find it humorous?”
“No, no!” she insisted. “It is just that— Oh, it is so embarrassing.” Both hands covered her cheeks, but he could see they had grown red. Just as he was about to assure her that she need not explain, she said, “You recall meeting Mr Collins?”
He nodded, his brow furrowed in curiosity.
“The day after the ball at Netherfield, he proposed to me.”
“What?” he hissed, only just managing not to speak loudly and risk being overheard.
“I have not told Lady Romsley and see no reason to, but he did. Mrs Bennet wished me to accept, since he will inherit Longbourn, but I refused him. I suppose the entire business could be seen as diverting, but it was mostly distressing. What made me laugh was that, when I first refused him, he said he did not believe I meant to reject him, that it was just a coquettish trick young ladies played. How could he imagine I or any other lady would be so cruel?”
“And what sort of man would want to marry a lady who was?” he said.
“That is not the situation with my cousins, as I am sure you know. Bramwell vows he will continue to propose until she accepts him, and she must not object, because she has not asked her father to tell Bramwell to desist. I offered to speak to him myself, but she said no, she has the situation in hand, whatever that means.”
“Has this been going on for long? Do you believe Bramwell is correct that she is simply hesitant about becoming a viscountess?”
“The last four or five months, and yes and no. Bramwell is thirty years old, and in his younger years, he…gained a reputation for enjoying the privileges of his rank and wealth. He has left that behind him, in part because he knew he would never secure her affections if he did not show he could be a better man, one more worthy of her.” I, too, can be a better man, one less prone to selfishly disregard other people, whatever their circumstances in life.
“Does she not believe he will be a good husband? I speak as a fellow young lady, one who knows how vital it is to choose wisely. Not that all ladies have a great deal of choice. Oftentimes, they must accept whoever does them the honour of asking, if they wish to secure their futures.”
He stared at her for a long moment and eventually admitted, “I had never thought of it in that manner. I suppose I did, in one way—that a lady would seek out a rich man and attempt to attach him—but not in terms of her needing to.”
“To avoid poverty, the loss of a place to call home, to have the added social position that comes with being a wife, yes, some ladies must accept men they do not like or respect. Charlotte Lucas did that, and she will soon be Mrs Collins.”
Darcy ran a hand over his mouth then said, “I hope she will be happy.”
“It is hard to imagine she will be, married to such a man, but I know no evil of him. He is not vicious and will not misuse her, and she will have the home she longs for, possibly children. She will be content.” After a brief pause, she asked, “While we remain alone, tell me, Mr Darcy, did you have anything to do with Mr Bingley’s decision not to return to Meryton? ”
“Has he made such a decision? I have not seen him since shortly after we returned to town.”
“Miss Bingley indicated as much in a note she sent to Jane. I am not surprised his sisters did not approve of his interest in her. Perhaps I ought to say apparent interest, since it seems he will not return to her. She has been much affected.”
How on earth should he respond? What exactly had he said to Bingley?
He recalled urging him to be cautious, in part due to the mystery regarding the very lady with whom he was speaking, but he had no way of knowing if he had indeed influenced his friend’s actions.
I should call on him and tell him what has happened.
“I would hesitate to say that his sisters know what his intentions are, regarding Netherfield or anything else. I admit I was unsure whether Miss Bennet’s regard for him went beyond friendship. ”
She held his gaze for what felt like minutes before saying, “Jane does not display her feelings for the world. I shall not demand you answer my previous question, sir. It was unfair of me to ask. You will excuse me. I see my aunt wants me.” She smiled politely and walked away.