Chapter 5 #4
The conversation shifted to safer topics, but Elizabeth remained aware of Caroline’s calculating gaze throughout the meal. It was during the removal of the main course that she struck again.
“One hears the most extraordinary rumors,” Caroline remarked to the table at large. “Lady Hartford was telling me only yesterday of a hasty wedding occasioned by a most compromising situation. A gentleman of good family forced into marriage with a young lady of questionable virtue.”
The table fell silent. Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face as the deliberate parallel became clear to everyone present.
Before she could formulate a response, Darcy’s voice cut through the silence, cold and precise. “Gossip is the refuge of empty minds, Miss Bingley. I had thought better of you.”
Caroline paled beneath her rouge. “I merely repeated what I heard, Mr. Darcy. I intended no specific application.”
“Of course not,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected.
“Just as we would never specifically apply the label ‘malicious’ to anyone at this table. Speaking of virtue, Mrs. Darcy, I understand you walked regularly in Hertfordshire. I find that admirable. Too few young ladies appreciate the benefits of physical exercise.”
The deliberate change of subject, coupled with the clear message that both Darcy men stood firmly with Elizabeth, effectively silenced Caroline for the remainder of the dinner.
When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room afterward, she maintained a sullen silence while Lady Ashton engaged Elizabeth in conversation about her family and upbringing.
When the gentlemen joined them later, Darcy immediately sought Elizabeth’s side, his posture protective. Did he believe she needed shielding from the likes of Caroline Bingley?
“Are you well?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching her face. “Miss Bingley’s comments were inexcusable.”
“I am perfectly comfortable,” Elizabeth assured him. “Your cousin has been most attentive, and Lady Ashton is delightful company.”
“Fitzwilliam has always been charming with the ladies,” Darcy said, a hint of something that might almost be jealousy coloring his tone.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “An admirable quality in a gentleman, would you not agree?”
“When sincere, certainly.” Darcy’s gaze shifted to where the Colonel conversed animatedly with Lady Ashton. “My cousin’s charm, fortunately, is genuine.”
“Unlike some,” Elizabeth murmured, with a discreet glance toward Caroline, who was attempting to engage Charles Bingley in what appeared to be an argument.
A ghost of a smile touched Darcy’s lips. “Precisely.”
This moment of shared understanding warmed Elizabeth. For all his reserve, Darcy was proving himself a steadfast ally in public, whatever might exist between them in private.
The evening concluded pleasantly, with Colonel Fitzwilliam extracting a promise from Elizabeth to call on him again soon. “Darcy has been selfish in keeping you all to himself,” he declared as they prepared to depart. “I insist on knowing my new cousin better.”
“You are most kind,” Elizabeth replied sincerely. “I greatly enjoyed this evening.”
As their carriage pulled away from the Colonel’s residence, Elizabeth found herself reflecting on the complexity of London society, where barbed comments might be disguised as innocent observations, and where her husband—reserved, awkward Darcy—had emerged as her most reliable defender.
“Your cousin is charming,” she observed as they traveled through darkened streets toward home. “I see why you value his friendship.”
“Fitzwilliam sees the best in people,” Darcy replied. “A trait I sometimes lack.”
“You were quick enough to counter Miss Bingley’s tactics.”
Darcy’s expression hardened. “Caroline has long harbored ambitions that I never encouraged. Her disappointment does not excuse her behavior toward you.”
“Was she truly in love with you, do you think?” Elizabeth asked, curious despite herself. “Or merely with Pemberley and the Darcy name?”
“The latter, undoubtedly.” Darcy’s tone was dismissive. “Caroline Bingley calculates advantage in every relationship—utterly unlike her brother, who feels genuine affection too easily and too often.”
The reference to Mr. Bingley reminded Elizabeth of her earlier suspicions regarding her sister. “She seems quite determined to control her brother’s associations,” she observed. “I wonder if she influenced his departure from Netherfield.”
Darcy’s posture stiffened slightly. “Mr. Bingley makes his own decisions.”
“With occasional guidance from those he trusts,” Elizabeth countered, watching his face carefully.
Their carriage turned onto their street before he could respond, bringing their conversation to a natural end. As they entered the house, welcomed by the butler and relieved of their outer garments, Elizabeth sensed a tension in Darcy that had not been present during the evening.
They paused at the foot of the stairs, the moment of parting for their separate chambers upon them once again. Elizabeth found herself strangely reluctant to end the evening, despite the undercurrent of unresolved questions between them.
“You represented the family admirably tonight,” Darcy said suddenly, his voice low enough that the departing butler could not hear. “I was... proud to have you by my side.”
The unexpected praise warmed Elizabeth deeply. “Even when I was being impertinent to your cousin?”
“Especially then,” Mr. Darcy replied, and this time his smile was genuine. “Fitzwilliam sees too many women who laugh at his jokes simply because he is the son of an earl. Your honesty refreshes him.”
He took her hand then, his larger one engulfing her smaller fingers with gentle pressure. “Will you permit me to join you tonight?” he asked quietly, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that sent heat coursing through her.
“Yes,” she said simply, her own honesty matching his. “I would like that.”
As they ascended the stairs together, Elizabeth reflected that perhaps this was where they might find their truest connection—not in the drawing rooms of London society, where pretense often overshadowed sincerity, but in the private moments where honesty could exist between them, even if only of the physical kind.
For now, it was enough to feel wanted, to be defended against malice, to share something genuine with the man she had married. Understanding might come later; tonight, she would settle for desire.
Their chamber door closed behind them, shutting out the world with all its complications and leaving them alone together.
Behind her, Darcy’s hands came to rest on her shoulders. “In this room,” he said, “we need not be Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of London society. We are simply ourselves.”
Elizabeth turned to face him. “And who are we, when we are simply ourselves?”
His eyes darkened as he drew her closer. “Let me show you,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers.