Chapter 5 #2
The week passed with a painful degree of slowness for Darcy, as his thoughts centred upon Elizabeth and her activities in his absence.
He was in a perpetual state of agitation.
To distract himself, he spent countless hours at his fencing club.
In addition to honing his skill with a foil and promoting an outlet for his pent-up frustration, fencing required concentration, which prevented his jealous mind from constantly dwelling upon a certain Hertfordshire beauty and the charming gentleman who was, according to Bingley, a possible rival for her affections.
He dined with his friend in Grosvenor Street on several occasions.
While Bingley’s request that his sister accompany him to Hertfordshire was initially received with abhorrence, once she understood Darcy was to return as well, her consent was rapidly attained; but Caroline Bingley was hardly eager to leave London.
A trip to Bond Street was arranged so she could visit her modiste.
There were also evenings to be passed with friends at the theatre, the opera, previous invitations to dinners and card parties, to say nothing of the mornings devoted to leave-taking, for Miss Bingley’s acquaintance in town was by no means insignificant.
By the end of the seventh day, Darcy’s nerves were frayed and his patience worn thin.
Knowing there would be no reprieve from more of the same attentions once they arrived in Hertfordshire, Darcy declined a third invitation to dine at the Hurst residence, opting instead to pass his final evening in London quietly at home.
All hope for a solitary evening was dashed when Colonel Fitzwilliam called and demanded Darcy’s company at the theatre.
Though he did not wish to go, Darcy’s fondness for his cousin persuaded him to acquiesce.
If all went well in Hertfordshire, he had no idea when they might meet again, especially if Lady Carlisle’s worst fears were realised and Fitzwilliam was sent to the Continent to face Bonaparte and his army.
The two gentlemen proceeded to Covent Garden in Darcy’s coach. London was a little thin this time of year, but the reticent master of Pemberley could find nothing to repine on that score. He was happy to forgo conversing with people whom he felt so little a desire to impress.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, took his time in the theatre’s lobby admiring the ladies who peered coyly at both gentlemen from behind their silk fans.
Eventually, they reached the sanctuary of Darcy’s private box.
Darcy wasted no time stepping inside. The rich fabric of the curtain fell soundlessly across the entrance like a protective shield and his stoic demeanour relaxed.
The two impeccably attired gentlemen painted a very agreeable picture.
While one of them was clearly gratified by the attention they drew, the other exuded an air of practiced indifference.
As the final bell sounded, indicating the performance would soon begin, the colonel nudged his pensive cousin in the ribs and directed his notice to a box situated across the theatre from their own.
Darcy stiffened as his eyes locked with those of Lady Harrow and her daughter, Lady Eliza, whose lips turned upward in a coy smile of recognition.
Unwilling to risk Lady Carlisle’s displeasure should she learn of their attendance from her friends, both gentlemen rose from their chairs and bowed gallantly.
The two ladies barely had time enough to incline their heads in acknowledgement before the orchestra began to play.
During the performance, Darcy was careful not to allow his gaze to wander.
He focused his attention solely upon the actors on stage.
Halfway through the first act Fitzwilliam leaned towards him, tilted his chin in the direction of Lady Harrow’s box, and whispered, “I do not suppose you would care to pay your respects?”
“Not if it can be avoided,” Darcy murmured. “I will not have half of London believing I intend to pay my addresses to Eliza Harrow. It is not widely known, but I leave for Hertfordshire tomorrow. You are a clever man. I trust you can deduce my intent on your own, if not the outcome.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “I am proud of you. It is about damned time.”
The two gentlemen chose to forgo refreshment during the first intermission, and so it was that the colonel happened to catch a glimpse of two familiar figures entering the box across the way.
“Dash it all,” he muttered. Darcy’s attention was caught, and Fitzwilliam nodded towards the Harrows, who were engaged in a flutter of activity. “My parents have joined their party.”
It was at that moment the earl happened to catch sight of his son and nephew across the way.
Darcy cursed under his breath as his uncle inclined his head to them.
Lord Carlisle’s gaze was pointed and steady.
“I suppose we cannot escape paying our respects now. Why did you have to insist on the theatre tonight, of all nights? Had you no idea of your parents’ intentions for the evening? ”
The colonel offered his perturbed cousin an apologetic look.
Darcy sighed irritably as he rose from his seat and followed him out of the box.
It was slow going as both gentlemen made their way through the fashionable crowd milling about the theatre.
They encountered countless acquaintances who wished to extend their greetings, though most seemed satisfied with a cordial nod or a quick bow as they passed, for which Darcy was thankful.
When at last they entered Lady Harrow’s box, it was nearly time for the second act to begin.
Darcy’s countenance had become stiff and unyielding, while Colonel Fitzwilliam wore a friendly, open look full of ease and good humour, despite any feelings he had to the contrary.
They were welcomed with much enthusiasm by the ladies.
Small talk ensued until the ringing of the second bell.
Darcy, anxious to extract himself from the sharp eyes of Lady Harrow and her eager daughter, began to make his excuses.
Lady Harrow, unwilling to see her guests depart so soon, offered Darcy a languorous smile. “There is no reason why you and Colonel Fitzwilliam should not join us for the remainder of the play. I daresay there is more than enough room for all of us.”
Darcy glanced at his uncle, whose dour expression foretold the lecture that would follow should his nephew decline. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he extended his gratitude to Lady Harrow.
The earl nodded his approval while Lady Carlisle rose with alacrity.
With the aplomb of a woman used to having her way, she neatly manoeuvred her nephew into a vacant seat beside Lady Eliza, who regarded him with a smile that bordered on provocative.
It was an arrangement that afforded Darcy no pleasure.
He felt the heavy gaze of the young lady upon him through the rest of the performance and, even more disconcerting, the brazen and repeated brush of her mother’s leg against his own from her place to his right.
When the curtain fell for the last time, signalling the end of the performance, he was the first to take his leave.