Chapter Fourteen
Darcy could scarcely credit that the time had arrived already for the Emerys’ ball.
It seemed like he had just been telling Elizabeth about it yesterday, but it had to have been longer than that.
He had been in London for…two days? Three?
He could not quite recall. But his mind had been feeling fuzzy and unfocused recently; obviously he was exhausted and needed more rest. A niggling voice at the back of his mind told Darcy he had something important to discuss with Elizabeth, but he could not remember what it was.
Perhaps it was not so important after all.
He was holding a glass of punch. Oh yes, he had been taking it to Caroline. And there she was, talking to her brother and sister. In her orange silk gown, she was more beautiful than ever. He wanted to stop and admire her, but she would want her punch.
“Thankfully those goblin attacks have ceased,” Caroline was saying to Bingley as Darcy handed her the punch.
“That is a fine thing,” Darcy agreed, although he could not quite remember how he was so certain they had stopped.
Bingley turned to Darcy. “Caroline tells me you have set a date for the wedding.”
“Have we?” Darcy’s thoughts moved sluggishly—as though he had consumed an excess of wine.
Caroline laughed as if he had made a joke.
“I know you have not forgotten that!” She turned back to her brother.
“It will take place a week from today. Now that we are both back in town there is no reason for delay. I spoke to the rector at St. George’s Church and procured his services for the ceremony.
Fitzwilliam will obtain a special license.
” She snuggled her arm in his. “Will you not, darling?”
“Yes, of course,” he responded. There was little reason for further delay. They might as well be wed sooner rather than later.
“I have my trousseau prepared, and the gown is ready.”
Darcy frowned. “Although Georgiana is still at Pemberley. She will be hurt if I marry without her in attendance.”
Caroline patted his hand. “We have plenty of time to send for her.”
“Yes, of course.”
“This is wonderful news,” Bingley said, although he did not sound certain.
Caroline laughed. “Is it not? I know we will be very happy!” She gave Darcy a pointed look.
“Indeed,” he agreed automatically, rubbing his forehead. He was happy. Of course he was happy.
“We must be sure to tell everyone this news!” Caroline said to her brother. She steered Darcy toward a nearby group of their acquaintances, regarding him intently. “We will tell everyone.”
“Yes, of course.” Darcy wished he could dispel the fogginess in his mind. No doubt it was simply because the room was so close and crowded. He had always loathed balls, but they pleased Caroline, and her happiness was his greatest concern.
***
Elizabeth moved a little closer to her Uncle Gardiner as they navigated the crush at the ball. To avoid being separated, her aunt clung to his other arm like a lifeline.
When they had received the invitation to the Emerys’ ball, Elizabeth had tingled with anticipation. The two days since they had parted had seemed like an eternity. She was forced to admit to herself that these tender feelings had been growing stronger for weeks.
He is another woman’s fiancée. I should not think this way.
It would have been an excellent reason to avoid the ball altogether, and yet nothing short of an attack by the French could have kept her away.
Even though they could never be together, her heart glowed.
She would see Mr. Darcy again—knowing that she commanded his affections.
Elizabeth had not forgotten her aunt’s admonishments.
They had discussed her imminent departure for Longbourn; this might be the last time she saw Mr. Darcy.
But surely he would invite her to at least one set, and she would relate the fruits of her research.
She was determined to enjoy tonight and worry about tomorrow when it arrived.
Some of Elizabeth’s excitement had melted away when they arrived at the ball.
This was a much grander affair than anything she had ever experienced.
There must be above one hundred people in attendance!
Despite the chill of early spring outside the house, the many guests had raised the room’s temperature—as well as its noise level.
Their hosts had spared no expense with the décor.
The walls were “painted” with magical images depicting famous historical scenes that had come to life—Hannibal crossing the mountains, the siege of Carthage, the battle of Agincourt, the Spanish Armada.
Candles floated above the guests’ heads, spangling the ceiling like stars in a night sky.
And the clothing! Nearly every guest sported some sort of enchantment in their clothing.
Ladies wore dresses that subtly shimmered with light at every movement or altered color every few seconds.
One woman’s hat appeared to be fashioned from live flames.
Another woman had a tiny, living dragon adorning her dress.
The men’s clothing was less eye-catching, but many waistcoats glowed with their own light while some rotated through the colors of the rainbow.
Elizabeth had never encountered such ostentatious displays of wealth and magic. Her best evening gown was painfully plain by comparison. No wonder Miss Bingley had viewed Hertfordshire as a backwater.
If she could just find Mr. Darcy! Surely the evening could be salvaged if she could speak with him. He would be happy to see her and would appreciate what she had learned. They might even escape to the terrace and steal a kiss.
There he was. Mr. Darcy, with Miss Bingley on his arm, was speaking with a stout man and his overdressed wife. Elizabeth pointed her aunt and uncle in that direction.
She caught his eye with a smile, but he immediately looked away. Was there something wrong? Did Miss Bingley suspect his heart was engaged?
The other guests had departed by the time Elizabeth and the Gardiners met the engaged couple. The two groups exchanged pleasantries, and still Mr. Darcy would not meet her eyes. Miss Bingley coolly surveyed Elizabeth’s dress. “I did not know you were acquainted with the Emerys.”
Elizabeth flushed. Should she reveal that Mr. Darcy had secured their invitations?
She chanced a glance at him, but he was staring into his glass of punch.
Was he now embarrassed about the kiss in the carriage?
Was he ashamed of Elizabeth’s low connections?
Did he fear that she would reveal the truth?
“A friend was kind enough to secure invitations for us,” Aunt Gardiner replied rather stiffly.
Miss Bingley nodded absently, her attention fixed on Elizabeth. “My dear Eliza! I am so pleased to have encountered you here. I know you will be overjoyed to hear our good news.”
Elizabeth managed to choke out a few words in a fairly normal tone of voice. “And what is that?”
Miss Bingley leaned on Mr. Darcy’s arm. “Why do you not tell her, Fitzwilliam?” He blinked rapidly as if he had just awakened. “The event…in a week?” she prompted.
“Oh yes. Caroline and I will be wed on Saturday at St. George’s Church.” As he spoke, a slow smile spread over his countenance.
“Wonderful,” Uncle Gardiner said.
“Congratulations,” Aunt Gardiner echoed, with a troubled glance at Elizabeth.
She could not breathe; her lungs had ceased to work. Only days ago Mr. Darcy had assured her he was attempting to delay the wedding. Elizabeth now realized she had entertained hopes that perhaps he might not wed Miss Bingley at all.
But now he was gazing into his fiancée’s eyes with an oddly wide smile. “We have waited entirely too long for this event. I am eager to make my beloved Caroline mine for all eternity.”
No, no. This is all wrong. Why is he saying such things?
“I am so fortunate to possess such a loving fiancé.” Miss Bingley’s smug smile was directed at Elizabeth, whose lungs had ceased to function altogether. Had Mr. Darcy told her what happened in the dragon coach?
“I am very happy for you,” Elizabeth said woodenly. Mr. Darcy was grinning widely, wearing an expression she had never seen before. Had she ever known this man? Is he just a charming rake after all? Perhaps he was the sort of man who enjoyed toying with women’s hearts.
Mr. Hurst appeared suddenly, right beside Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth flinched, but Mr. Darcy evinced no wariness or discomfort.
Was he not concerned about possible goblin attacks?
Miss Bingley gave her brother-in-law a radiant smile.
“John, I hope you have no plans for Saturday. Fitzwilliam and I will be tying the knot.”
Mr. Hurst’s smile was more predatory than congratulatory. “Good work, my dear sister,” he said as if persuading Mr. Darcy to set a date had been a monumental feat. And perhaps it had been.
Then Mr. Hurst turned to the prospective bridegroom. “Good show, Darcy!” Mr. Darcy gave the other man that strange grin and shook his hand. Elizabeth had entered some kind of twilight world where up was down and left was right.
“I hope you will be able to attend the ceremony,” Mr. Darcy said to Mr. Hurst with every appearance of sincerity. “It would not be the same without you.”
“I would not miss it for the world!” the other man responded.
Elizabeth tried to keep her expression blank. Of course, Mr. Darcy would not want Mr. Hurst to know of his suspicions, but why demonstrate such uncharacteristic amiability? Mr. Hurst did not appear to think it odd, however. Perhaps Elizabeth misunderstood their degree of familiarity.
Had Mr. Darcy decided Mr. Hurst was innocent of the crimes they suspected? But if so, surely he would want to share that information with Elizabeth. The man before her seemed to have no intention of speaking with her privately or inviting her to dance.