Chapter 27 #3
Without the shield of Mr Darcy, however, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst soon took up their earlier refrain, particularly interested in the speed of Lydia’s wedding. There seemed to be nothing either Elizabeth or Georgiana could do to quash them until Mr Darcy returned.
“Come, Miss Bennet, we are all friends here, and soon to be relatives, of a kind,” Mrs Hurst stated, after another attempted evasion from Elizabeth, and despite Miss Bingley’s visible wincing at the thought of being related to the Bennet family.
“It is clear to anyone that there must be some reason for such a quick wedding.”
“Yes, I am sure that my sister and Mr Michelson have their reasons, but that does not mean that they have been shared with me or with anyone else,” Elizabeth parried.
“As we all know, Mr Michelson is a working man, and it may be that this was the only time he could take for his wedding. Not everyone has the privilege of leisure, Mrs Hurst.”
“Still, even among the lower classes, such speed is unusual, according to my maid. Did they even have the reading of the banns? Or was there a common licence?”
Georgiana shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Shall we not play a duet now, Mrs Hurst?” she suggested.
“When I’ve finished my coffee, dear,” the older woman brushed her off, keeping her eyes on Elizabeth. “I’m just talking to Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth felt as bad now for Georgiana as for herself. This whole conversation was in very poor taste, and her temper could not hold indefinitely. She knew that Miss Bingley would love to make her angry, especially if she could be made to disgrace herself before Mr Darcy.
“I expect Mr Michelson bought a licence,” mused Caroline Bingley. “If there had been time for banns, then all the Bennets would have been at the wedding, surely? Unless your parents disapproved of the match, I suppose.”
“Or was there some impropriety?” Louisa Hurst added.
Elizabeth stood and bowed her head slightly.
“You must excuse me to the retiring room for a few minutes. Georgiana, would you like me to fix your hair again?”
While needing to get away in order to recover her equanimity, Elizabeth would not leave poor Georgiana alone to be interrogated by these women. Hopefully, in their absence, another topic would be broached, and then Mr Darcy would return.
“No, I am going to play the pianoforte,” declared the girl with unexpected spirit, standing and stretching her fingers as she went to the instrument. “Even if Mrs Hurst is not ready for a duet.”
Sitting down at the stool, she launched straight into a rather thunderous Beethoven sonata that crushed the chance of any conversation whatsoever. With a small smile to herself, Elizabeth left the room, feeling that Georgiana would be safe without her for a few minutes.
∞∞∞
Walking away from the music room, down the corridor where the smoking room lay, Elizabeth saw a light from the partly open door but heard no voices. As she passed, she saw Mr Hurst slumped alone in a chair by the fireplace, with a cigar hanging from his mouth.
When Mr Hurst spotted Elizabeth, he started and sat up in his chair, but she kept her eyes firmly forward and offered no greeting or acknowledgement.
Likely Mr Darcy had made a similar excuse to Elizabeth in order to find a few minutes’ peace, she reflected grimly as she walked on.
A tempestuous movement of the Beethoven sonata echoed after her.
Elizabeth went first not to the retiring room but to the library, planning to stand inside the doors of that empty room and count to a hundred, something she often did at Longbourn when one of her younger sisters or mother stretched her nerves beyond bearing.
It was one of the most effective means of self-control she knew.
As soon as Elizabeth entered the library, however, a burly figure shoved past her into the room, a strong arm seized her about the waist, and brandy-fumed breath on her face made her recoil in horror, thankfully wriggling from her assailant’s grasp.
Too late, she realised that the loud music had muffled the sound of footsteps behind her.
“Don’t be shy, I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” Mr Hurst slurred with unpleasant laughter as Elizabeth backed away from him in the dimly candle-lit library. “Everyone knows what actresses are, and when one sister takes to it, the others are sure to follow.”
“Keep away from me, you brute!” Elizabeth demanded, both angry and afraid, especially since the loud piano music might prevent anyone from hearing her call for help. “How dare you!”
“You’re just playing hard to get,” he growled crudely, making another lurch in Elizabeth’s direction.
Seeing no alternative, Elizabeth seized a large vase from beside the fireplace and brought it down with full force on Mr Hurst’s head.
The crash of the vase and the subsequent crashing of Mr Hurst to the ground, taking a table, chair and other ornaments with him, were loud enough that Elizabeth knew the whole house must have heard them.
Suddenly, Mr Darcy was beside her and standing over the prone man with an expression of contempt on his face.
He had arrived with such speed that Elizabeth knew he must have entered the library in time to witness at least the latter part of the awful scene, likely summoned by the sound of raised voices before she picked up the vase.
“Stand over there, quickly,” he said, nodding to the door, and Elizabeth obeyed him, feeling she had no other choice.
Now, she really would be disgraced and dismissed from the household. Even if Elizabeth explained what had happened, how many would believe her? God only knew what rumours that awful man would spread later and how many people would believe them!
In the background, the pianoforte had ceased playing, and the three other ladies came rushing into the library a few moments later, following Mr Soames and a footman, all seeking the cause of the commotion.
“Mrs Hurst, take your drunken husband from my house now, and do not bring him back unless you are in a position to replace any valuable items that might be smashed due to his appalling state,” Mr Darcy commanded with thunder on his brow and in his tone.
“This is completely unacceptable behaviour, especially in front of young ladies. Darcy House is not a drinking club or gambling den.”
Elizabeth blinked, shocked by what she was hearing. Mr Darcy was making it seem as though Mr Hurst had walked into the vase and wrecked the table in a drunken stumble, while she was made to appear only an onlooker like the others, drawn into the library by the racket.
While Mr Hurst was conscious and attempting to sit up, he appeared too drunken and stunned to make any claims for himself, or even really to comprehend what was going on around him.
“Soames, help me get him up,” Mr Darcy instructed.
“Put him directly in his coach. Mrs Hurst, I suggest that you call a physician to your husband tomorrow. He is drunken, rambling, and a social menace. Dipsomania is a terrible thing and not to be ignored. I will overlook tonight if I can, but tell Mr Hurst tomorrow that I shall expect a full written apology and acknowledgement of fault.”
“Yes, of course, Mr Darcy,” whispered the white-faced Louisa Hurst, supported by her sister. “I apologise. Oh, how dreadful! I never could have imagined —”
“Enough, Mrs Hurst,” he cut her off abruptly. “It is only your husband’s apology and admission of culpability in damaging my property that interests me. For the friendship I bear your brother, I shall not seek any payment, as long as I receive Mr Hurst’s letter tomorrow.”
Mr Darcy followed the guests and servants to the front door as Elizabeth waited with Georgiana in the library.
“How awful!” Georgiana whispered to her. “Did you see the state of him?”
Elizabeth nodded, scarcely daring to believe that she was safe, both from Mr Hurst and any future retribution from that man.
With the letter of apology that Mr Darcy was demanding, he could have no case to allege anything about Elizabeth’s involvement.
It was also quite possible that in the morning, he would not even remember what had actually happened.
Elizabeth hoped most earnestly that it would be so.
Several maids came into the library and were clearing up the mess when Mr Darcy returned and looked at first Georgiana and then Elizabeth.
“I hope neither of you were too upset by that unpleasant scene?” he asked.
“I feel we need some music to restore our spirits after such drama,” Georgiana replied, having been surprised but not really upset. “What would you both like to hear?”
Mr Darcy’s eyes remained on Elizabeth, the concern in them deepening. She guessed he could see her trembling despite the efforts she was taking to control her countenance.
“You must choose, Georgiana,” he answered a little distractedly. “Something soothing, as you suggest.”
“Very well,” his sister agreed, walking away ahead of them towards the music room, all too eager to be back at the keyboard. “Bach always calms me, but I am not in the mood for Bach. Maybe Haydn, or a more gentle Beethoven sonata…”
Elizabeth’s hand shook as she took the arm Mr Darcy offered, and he covered it with his own in a gesture that felt welcome and right rather than inappropriate.
“Were you hurt?” he asked in a low voice once they were in the passageway. “I ran here as soon as I heard you cry out. I would have struck him down myself if you had not done it.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I was very frightened but not harmed, thanks to you.”
“You saved yourself,” Mr Darcy corrected her.
“Words and rumours can hurt a woman as much as actions or blows, in our society,” Elizabeth pointed out. “You saved me from those.”
“I could not let anyone hurt you, not when it was in my power to prevent it,” he told her, his face growing very serious. “I wish I could, that is, I…”
“Was that vase really very valuable?” Elizabeth asked in the pause that arose as Mr Darcy seemed lost for words. “If I had known, I might have selected a cheaper means of defence.”
Mr Darcy smiled at this small jest and shook his head. “It was a detested present from Lady Catherine, and its breakage in such a manner tonight was only a blessing.”
They laughed together now, almost at the music room door. As if by unspoken mutual agreement, they paused there. Elizabeth spoke first.
“I must thank you, Mr Darcy, while I have this chance. When Mrs Annesley returns, we may never see one another again. So, thank you for your grace tonight and all your efforts with Lydia’s crisis, too.
I was so wrong about you when we first met in Hertfordshire.
I confess now that I have never met a man of higher principle and moral courage. ”
In the candlelight, Elizabeth observed a procession of sadness, longing, and anticipation across Mr Darcy’s handsome features. By the time she finished speaking, however, his expression had resolved into one of determination.
“I have a confession of my own, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, if you will hear it.”
In response, Elizabeth instinctively turned the hand that was on his arm so that she now held his hand. Her heart raced even though her mind still did not dare put words to her hopes.
“Everything I have done has been for you, Elizabeth, regardless of principles or morals. If I had had the courage to speak months ago, I might have told you then. But what I feel now dwarfs anything I have felt before, or could have imagined. I can no longer hold myself back from telling you that I love you.”
Elizabeth smiled at him, feeling as though the sun was rising after a long and stormy night.
“You love me?” she asked with pleasure and still some incredulity, even now that Mr Darcy stood only inches from her, holding one of her hands in his.
At this question, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it very lightly.
“I love you,” he breathed. “I have wanted to propose several times, but I could not, not without risk of embarrassing you or frightening you away. It seemed wrong to take such a liberty when I was your employer. But now, the thought of losing you so soon forces me to speak. Tell me, is there any hope for me?”
At this declaration, Elizabeth’s heart began to sing, almost given voice by the music Georgiana had begun to play on the pianoforte.
“There is more than hope, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she told him, bringing his hand to her own lips and kissing it in turn. “I love you too, with all my heart.”
When they entered the music room and sat down together on the sofa a few minutes later, Mr Darcy declined to release Elizabeth’s hand from his, and she made no effort to withdraw it. His signet ring now sat on the fourth finger of that hand, a sign of a promise already made.
“Shall we ask Georgiana to play us a wedding song?” Darcy whispered.
Smiling joyously back at her future husband, Elizabeth nodded.