Chapter 17 #2
“I was very wrong to have done it.” He looked to Darcy. “You are a man of the world. Do you have nothing to say on the subject?”
“I will always have much to say on the subject of Miss Bennet, but I doubt I can say anything at this juncture you have not already said to yourself.”
A knock sounded upon the door then and Mr Bennet bade the person enter. It was his butler. Mr Bennet handed him Darcy’s letter. “Make sure this express is sent to London at once, Hill.”
Not wishing to remain any longer in Mr Bennet’s company when he longed to be in Elizabeth’s, Darcy excused himself and made his way to the drawing room where the ladies were gathered.
Though he knew he would likely have no time alone with her, he felt a pressing urge to let her know, by whatever means were within his power, that she was not only loved, but valued.
He entered the crowded room and spied her sitting on the other side of it, nestled in a cushioned alcove with Bingley’s aunt.
The pale, winter sun shone through the window behind her, bathing her profile in soft, muted light.
Mrs Lawrence tilted her head towards Elizabeth’s and spoke to her, making her laugh.
Darcy could not repress his smile. He had always loved her laughter.
It was rich and dulcet, genuine; nothing like the insincere tittering of so many of the young ladies he knew in town.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Lawrence, Miss Bennet,” he said as he stood before them. “I was hoping you would permit me to join you.”
He could not help but notice Elizabeth’s blush as she inclined her head to him with a small, private turn of her lips. “Of course, sir. We would be honoured.”
As there was not room enough for him beside Elizabeth, Darcy claimed a seat beside Bingley’s aunt. “The honour is mine, Miss Bennet.”
“Mr Darcy,” Mrs Lawrence said without preamble. “You failed to return with the rest of the gentlemen, and I was wondering what had become of you. According to Miss Bennet, you are far too clever to have become lost.”
Darcy raised a brow at her statement and watched as Elizabeth turned aside her head, her lips lifting in a smile as she took a sip of her tea. “I should hope not,” he said to her. “I was speaking with Mr Bennet. Our conversation was of some duration.”
“Of a matter most urgent, I suppose?” Mrs Lawrence grinned. “You appear to be a man not prone to procrastination, I see. Good. Very good. Have you ever been sea bathing, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth choked on a mouthful of tea.
“I hear it is a wonderful experience and most vigorous,” Mrs Lawrence continued, ignoring her friend’s distress.
“The rush of the tide, the rolling waves, the zealous exertion in the bathing machines—it is all so exciting, do not you think?” She raised her teacup to her mouth and looked at Darcy, who noticed her eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief.
“I would imagine it is most invigorating,” he agreed, then cast a concerned glance at Elizabeth. “Are you well, Miss Bennet?”
“Perfectly well,” Elizabeth answered. She dabbed her lips with her handkerchief and looked pointedly at Bingley’s aunt, who smiled serenely back at her.
“That is a lovely handkerchief, Mr Darcy,” said Mrs Lawrence conversationally. “The embroidery is a credit to the lady who made it, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what the ‘G’ stands for, sir. I do hope it is not Gregor. My sister’s second husband was named Gregor and I detested him.”
It was then Darcy noticed the handkerchief in Elizabeth’s possession was not hers, but one of his own.
His initials, FGD, were prominently stitched in the corner.
He recalled when Georgiana had given it to him as easily as he recalled pressing it into Elizabeth’s hand the previous evening.
He looked to Elizabeth to see how she fared and saw her cover her face with her hands.
Darcy was alarmed to see her shoulders shook. “Miss Bennet,” he said to her.
She would not answer him and as they were in company, he dared not offer her the comfort he had the evening before.
He looked to Mrs Lawrence for assistance, but the elder lady only appeared diverted by her friend’s behaviour.
Confounded, Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth and gently touched the back of her hand.
It was then he realised she was not in fact weeping but making a concerted effort to hold in laughter.
After several moments Elizabeth’s laughter waned and she appeared mistress of herself once more. Wiping her eyes, she turned to Mrs Lawrence and fixed her with a look of mock indignation. “You, Mrs Lawrence, are incorrigible.”
“My husband, Lord bless him, said much the same to me throughout our forty years of marriage. I believe it is my constant teasing of him that kept things lively. What say you, Mr Darcy? Surely, a man such as you would not want a dull wife?” She raised one brow as though issuing a challenge.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she regarded him expectantly. A slow grin spread across his face. “Certainly not, madam. There is something to be said of impertinence. Miss Bennet’s has been my dear companion for many months.”
At this, Mrs Lawrence laughed merrily. She extended her hand towards Darcy and patted his arm. “You will do nicely for my friend, sir. Quite nicely indeed.”