Chapter Seventeen
Darcy knew that Elizabeth would not come to breakfast before Miss Bennet offered any explanation. Her chair remained stubbornly empty, and although he had told himself several times that she might merely be late, he had ceased to believe it by the time Lady Hortensia asked after her.
"My sister has a migraine," Miss Bennet said. "She hopes that a quiet morning will improve it, but she does not feel equal to joining us."
Lady Hortensia immediately instructed that a tray should be sent upstairs and appointed Lady Frances to act as captain until Miss Elizabeth recovered.
No one appeared to find the arrangement unusual.
Darcy kept his attention upon the coffee before him, aware that Miss Bennet had glanced in his direction several times over the course of the meal.
He had caused this. The anger he had felt upon the terrace had not survived the night.
Elizabeth's accusation had wounded him, but he could no longer pretend that it had been entirely unreasonable.
He had drawn her away from the others, kissed her until neither of them possessed much sense and spoken to her with an intimacy he had no right to claim.
He had thought of marriage, but he had never told her so.
He had expected her to understand the seriousness of feelings he had taken considerable pains to conceal.
He loved her. He had known it the previous evening while she danced, her eyes bright and one loose curl falling free as she turned beneath his hand.
Watching her come back to him at the end of each figure, he had understood with sudden certainty that he could never willingly accept another partner, in dancing or in life.
That knowledge had been with him when he led her onto the terrace, though he had still behaved as though desire were something separate from feeling.
A man who loved a woman ought to have made her feel safe in his regard, not left her frightened of his intentions and too distressed to face the company the following morning.
???
The third day of the Challenge was devoted to artistic merit.
Lady Hortensia assembled them in the long gallery after breakfast, where easels, paper and drawing materials had been arranged beside the windows.
Two points would be awarded for the individual drawing contest and three for a dramatic performance to be prepared during the afternoon.
Miss Lacey was selected at once for the ladies.
The gentlemen were less decisive, and after several minutes of evasions and exaggerated modesty, Darcy agreed to represent them.
He had received instruction in drawing at the request of his mother and had once possessed some skill, though he had not practised seriously in years.
Lady Hortensia did not provide the still life he expected.
Instead, she announced that each competitor was to draw a figure from imagination.
"Not a portrait," she clarified. "I do not wish to spend the next hour watching you study one another's noses.
A person of your own invention, placed in whatever setting you choose. "
Darcy began with the outline of a woman seated beneath a tree.
He did not consciously decide upon the turn of her head or the loose curls escaping beneath her bonnet.
They appeared beneath his pencil before he considered them.
By the time he added the curve of her mouth and the brightness suggested in her eyes, the resemblance had become impossible to ignore.
He paused and looked towards the door. Elizabeth did not appear. Darcy considered beginning again, but too much of the allotted hour had passed. He altered the line of the nose, darkened the hair and attempted to make the face less familiar. The result remained unmistakably Elizabeth Bennet.
Miss Lacey worked at the next easel with much greater confidence.
Her drawing showed an elderly woman seated in a kitchen while three children attempted to steal cakes from the table behind her.
The figures were lively, the expressions distinct and the whole scene possessed an ease which Darcy's careful work entirely lacked.
When Lady Hortensia came to judge them, she studied his drawing for rather longer than he liked. "An imaginary lady, Mr Darcy?"
"So the instructions required."
"Indeed."
Darcy accepted the judgement without protest. His drawing was technically competent, but it lacked the life and humour of Miss Lacey's.
Nor was the lady beneath the tree imaginary, whatever he had claimed.
The likeness was too clear, and the care he had taken over every feature only made it more so.
He wondered whether she would ever allow him to speak to her again.
Among the gentlemen, the reaction was unmistakable.
Mr Hadley looked from the drawing to Darcy and then quickly away, while Sir Geoffrey raised his brows and said nothing.
The Blackwood brothers exchanged a glance which made it clear that none of them believed the lady beneath the tree to be imaginary, and even Mr Ashcombe had to turn a startled laugh into a hacking cough.
Richard waited until Lady Hortensia had moved on before leaning closer. "What have you done, Fitz?" he asked under his breath. "Jane is beside herself with worry, and now you have drawn her sister for half the room to recognise."
Darcy kept his eyes upon the page. "I am aware of it."
"Then I suggest you find some way to put matters right before Miss Elizabeth decides never to speak to you again."
The afternoon performance proved no more comfortable.
Each team was given the same short scene concerning a traveller caught at an inn during a storm, though they were free to alter the characters and conclusion.
Lady Frances organised the ladies with efficiency, while the gentlemen spent much of their preparation arguing over who ought to play whom and whether Richard's proposed ghost served any useful purpose.
Darcy was given the part of a stern magistrate summoned to investigate a missing jewel.
He learnt his lines quickly and delivered them without error, but with so little feeling that even Sir Geoffrey looked disappointed.
Twice he missed a cue because his attention had gone to the door, and by the final scene Mr Hadley was forced to repeat his line before Darcy realised everyone was waiting for him to speak.
The audience laughed in the proper places, though most of the credit belonged to Richard, whose ghost appeared at the wrong moment and then refused to leave the stage.
The gentlemen's scene was not a complete failure. Hadley was amusing as the innkeeper and Richard's enthusiastic chain rattling drew much laughter. It lacked the coherence of the ladies' performance, however, and Lady Hortensia awarded two of the three points to their opponents.
Mr Pritchard entered the result in the ledger. "At the close of the third day, the ladies have ten points and the gentlemen eight."
The gentlemen's disappointment became obvious as soon as the performance ended. "A fine captain we have made of him," Mr Ashcombe said to the Blackwood brothers, not quite softly enough. "Moonstruck by a lady who has plainly rejected him and scarcely capable of remembering his own lines."
Darcy heard enough. He knew that Ashcombe meant to provoke him, but there was sufficient truth in the complaint to make a defence difficult.
He had neglected the gentlemen's performance, contributed little to their preparation and spent most of the afternoon looking towards a door through which Elizabeth had not appeared.
None of that mattered beside the sudden certainty that he could not endure another hour without attempting to speak to her.
He left the gallery before Lady Hortensia had completed her closing remarks and took the stairs two at a time.
The propriety of approaching a lady's bedchamber did not trouble him until he reached the upper corridor and found a footman stationed near the entrance to the ladies' apartments. The servant straightened at once.
"Sir, I am afraid gentlemen are not permitted beyond this point."
"I need to speak to Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
The footman looked increasingly uncomfortable. "I could carry a message, sir."
Darcy had been raised to respect the order of a well-run household and would ordinarily have considered it beneath him to place a servant in such a position. That day, patience and propriety had both deserted him. "You may tell Lady Hortensia that I ignored you," he said, stepping past.
The footman followed for several paces, protesting in a low voice, but stopped when Darcy reached Elizabeth's door. Darcy raised his hand and knocked.
"Miss Elizabeth."
There was no answer.
He waited, then knocked again, more firmly. "Miss Elizabeth, I know you may not wish to see me, but I must speak to you."
Silence remained on the other side.
The footman hovered at the end of the passage, plainly uncertain whether to summon assistance.
Darcy scarcely noticed him. He placed one hand against the door, lowering his voice.
"I was wrong last night. I should not have spoken to you in anger, and I should never have allowed you to doubt my intentions.
Please, give me the opportunity to explain. "
Nothing moved within the room. Darcy stood there for several moments longer before the futility of it became impossible to ignore. Either she was not inside or she had heard every word and chosen not to answer. The second possibility was far more likely.
At last, he stepped away from the door. "Tell Miss Bennet I came," he said to the footman. "And that I shall wait for her whenever she is willing to speak to me."