Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
While Darcy often passed his time with his Fitzwilliam relations, Elizabeth’s surprising arrival had increased the frequency of his and Georgiana’s visits to Grosvenor Square.
It was not all his doing; Lady Romsley had declared that she wanted as much of her family as possible to be together, given how much they had to celebrate that year.
“We are all in good health, it is Christmas, and, what makes me especially joyous, my brother’s daughter is amongst us for the first time,” she had said.
Tonight, the earl and countess were hosting a dinner party, which had been arranged before Elizabeth had come to London.
Lady Romsley saw it as an excellent opportunity for her niece to become better known.
It gave Darcy great pleasure to watch her as she charmed people simply by being her usual self—lively, interested in those she met, well-mannered, and lovely.
At dinner, they sat at opposite sides of the table, but he could see her and continue his observations.
The delightful lilt of her voice caught his attention more than once, and he longed to know what she and her companions were saying.
At one point, Fitzwilliam caught his eye and smirked, which let Darcy know his attraction to Elizabeth was not well masked.
Briefly, he considered if he minded and found that he did not.
First, he was not sure it would be as obvious to someone who did not already know that he had a tendre for her.
Second, he wanted Elizabeth to know that his feelings exceeded the bonds of friendship.
If it so happened that the earl and countess also realised it, so much the better; they would not be surprised if—when—he increased his efforts to win her regard.
As soon as possible after dinner, he secured a moment to speak to her alone. Seeing him approach, she smiled. Her gesture was more than he had allowed himself to hope for, because her demeanour held genuine welcome, not only politeness.
“Mr Darcy, how are you this evening? Did you enjoy the meal?” she said.
She continued to smile, even as she took a sip from the cup of tea she held and kept a steady gaze on him. He was not so stupid as to miss that something had happened to make her less hesitant and reserved in his presence. Whatever it was, he was grateful.
“I am well, and I can see that you are too. You look particularly lovely tonight, if you will permit me to compliment you.”
She laughed and, in a teasing tone, remarked, “Since you have already said it, I can hardly tell you not to.”
He grimaced slightly and felt like covering his face with a hand. However, her playful manner lessened his embarrassment. “I had not thought of it in those terms. Do ladies often feel they are subject to unwanted flattery?”
Her features softened. “I did not mean to imply I disliked your very kind words, for which I thank you. To answer your question, I would not say it happens often, but there are times when it is difficult to tolerate a gentleman’s excessive attentions.
I am afraid some men do not realise when their flattery is distasteful, even if they are told so directly. ”
“Are you thinking of Mr Collins?”
“In part, although not exclusively. You did not have to suffer much of his company, but he is the sort of person who likes his own voice above all others—except perhaps that of his patroness—and believes his opinion is always the correct one, again with the exception of Lady Catherine’s.”
They passed the next few minutes pleasantly discussing the party.
She asked about Georgiana, whom she said she anticipated seeing again, and a few other easy topics.
Then, she said, “When Lady Romsley and I were shopping this morning, we happened to see Miss Bingley. She mentioned her brother telling her about my situation.”
He nodded. “I saw him the other day. Fitzwilliam and I both did. We spoke briefly about Netherfield Park, but I do not know what he will do. I regret to say that he is, upon occasion, easily influenced. His sisters have no desire to return, from what I gathered. That may or may not alter his decision.”
She accepted the statement with equanimity.
“You do know that he will be at the ball, along with his sisters and Hurst?” he asked.
“So I have heard. I believe Mr Hurst is a relation of some sort? I admit, I do not have a perfect understanding of this new family I have so recently discovered.”
“How could you, in such a short time?” he said, unconsciously speaking soothingly, which he realised when her cheeks became rosy and she momentarily averted her eyes. “Hurst is a distant cousin to Lady Romsley, thus I suppose to you.”
“Oh dear!” She chuckled. “I cannot imagine that will please Mrs Hurst. You must have seen that neither she nor Miss Bingley cared for me. Although, when we met today, it appeared her sentiments for me had become…fonder, shall we say?”
He shook his head disapprovingly. “I imagine she greatly desires to make you a friend so that she has a connexion to the earl and countess. Other than the Twelfth Night ball, my aunt and uncle have little to do with them. Lady Romsley feels she must invite the Hursts and asks the Bingleys as a courtesy. I doubt she would invite the Bingleys, were I not friends with him, since she finds it difficult to tolerate the ladies or Hurst.”
“I had that impression,” she admitted. “Well, I suppose we shall have to wait for Mr Bingley to decide if the attractions of Hertfordshire are strong enough to draw him back, regardless of what anyone else thinks. At his age, one would wish him to have learnt to rely on his own opinion more than that of others.”
Darcy agreed. “All men should decide for themselves how they would like to live their lives, whom they want as…friends, rather than allow themselves to be led by others.”
“Do you include society and what it expects of us?”
Her enchanting eyes reflected her curiosity, and he seized the moment to hint at his wishes, though he did not believe she was ready for a more explicit discussion of his dearest hopes.
He said, “I admit, I am largely thinking of society at the moment. I do not say we should throw out the social order, but it—people in the ton in particular, I suppose—can be too rigid. It might lead them to overlook people whose presence in their lives would only enrich them and bring them happiness, because of superficial matters such as how large their fortune is or who their parents are.”
For a wondrous interlude, they gazed at each other silently, and Darcy allowed her to discover the truth about his sentiments in his eyes. A noise broke the spell, and they rejoined the party by going to speak to Bramwell and Rebecca.
Christmas Eve was busy and included dining with friends of the earl and countess.
Elizabeth was greeted pleasantly by everyone present, and—as she had expected—they were curious to hear the story of how she had found her aunt.
The evening was an agreeable one, but part of her was in Hertfordshire; she could almost see and hear the smiling faces and cheerful voices of the Bennets, the Gardiners, and their friends.
Upon returning to the house, the family gathered in the drawing room, shared a particularly flavourful wine the earl had procured for the occasion, and exchanged gifts.
Bramwell and Fitzwilliam gave her novels and candies, and Lord and Lady Romsley presented her with an exquisite diamond-and-pearl jewellery set she was certain had been extremely expensive.
When she said it was too much, the earl’s features took on an expression that reflected his one-word response, “Nonsense!”
The countess said, “You must have something special to wear to the ball, and had you been known to us sooner, you would have been receiving such gifts for years. I have some jewels that were my mother’s, and they will be yours, too, as her only granddaughter.
There are a few pieces I do not wish to part with right away, but we shall look through the others together when we are not so busy. ”
The feeling of not quite being in the right place lingered the following day—which she and the Romsleys were spending at Grosvenor Square with the Darcys—although it was not as strong.
From the moment they met at church, Elizabeth knew it would be a delightful, memorable day.
The lightly falling snow made for a picturesque scene as they went to and from church, and there was talk of the younger people going skating that afternoon, which would be diverting.
In the late morning, as Elizabeth listened to the lively chattering of her companions while they sat about the drawing room, so joyfully decorated with fragrant evergreen, she reflected that it was similar to what was likely occurring at Longbourn at the very same moment.
She did miss the Bennets, but she could not regret the reasons she was parted from them.
She had received letters from Jane and Mrs Bennet just the day before, along with a few small tokens, such as ribbons and a handkerchief on which her aunt had embroidered delicate lilacs.
Elizabeth was attempting to think and speak of Mr and Mrs Bennet as aunt and uncle rather than mother and father, because she found it less confusing when speaking to others; still, in her heart, they would also always be her parents.
Jane had repeatedly expressed her satisfaction that Elizabeth had the answers she had long wanted regarding her father, a sense she claimed the three younger Miss Bennets shared.
Aunt Bennet had written,
As much as I said I would never speak to you again after how you vexed me, I did not intend for you to go away forever!
I am sure it is a great thing to be the niece of an earl and countess, but do not forget that you have family here.
He will not tell you, but Mr Bennet is quite anxious to know when you will return.