Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Haye Park
Darcy
In the days leading up to Christmas Eve at Haye Park, Darcy saw Elizabeth almost daily.
Bingley, an attentive suitor, called upon Miss Bennet whenever he was able.
On occasion, business matters kept the gentlemen at Netherfield, but they called at Longbourn at least four times each week.
Evenings were spent either in the calm of Netherfield’s library or in company at one of the neighboring estates.
Darcy soon came to know the four-and-twenty families very well, and he found himself pleased with the acquaintances both made and deepened.
Darcy noticed a difference in Elizabeth’s manner toward him; she was still not entirely easy, yet no longer marked by resistance.
Her arch glances and pert opinions remained, much to his relief, but the subtle antagonism she had once directed at him seemed to have vanished.
Their conversations remained stimulating and lively—at least in his estimation.
The evening at Haye Park promised to be agreeable.
Darcy had it directly from Mr. Long that there would be dancing and party games as part of the entertainment.
While he had avoided such activities in the past, he longed to ask Elizabeth to stand up with him.
Their dance at the Netherfield Ball had not unfolded at all how he had imagined, and he wished for more pleasant memories on which to dwell.
“I have never attended a soiree on Christmas Eve.” Bingley strolled into the library where Darcy sat waiting for him.
His cravat was tied in an elaborate knot, and his garnet pin caught the light from both fire and candle.
“If it proves enjoyable, perhaps I shall make it a tradition in my own household.” His attire was impeccable, more formal and carefully arranged than Darcy recalled ever seeing him wear.
Darcy’s own ensemble, fashioned by one of London’s finest tailors, appeared subdued by comparison.
“With Miss Bennet, I presume?” he asked. “Tell me, Bingley, have you proposed to her yet? After every gathering, I half expect to hear you have done it, yet there is no word.” His lips curved with dry amusement before he rose to pour a glass of port from the decanter.
“I am more certain of my path than ever, Darcy. She is an angel—truly! I intend to propose tonight if I can steal her away for a private word. Will you help me?” Bingley turned imploring eyes on him, and Darcy was quick to accede to his wish.
“Yes, of course. I dare say there will be ample opportunities throughout the evening.”
Their carriage was soon ready, and both gentlemen prepared to depart.
Darcy gave himself a final critical look in the mirror as he donned his coat and hat and nodded once, satisfied with his appearance.
His valet had starched and folded his cravat in the Mathematical, a tight, structured and exacting knot.
Symmetrical and stiff, it required proper starch to achieve correctly.
The knot conveyed precision, intellect, and formality.
He briefly wondered if he ought to have requested the Ballroom knot instead.
That one was more pliant, tied looser and therefore ideal for dancing, with graceful folds and trailing ends, suggesting ease and charm.
The Mathematical knot certainly suited his nature, but perhaps he should begin to appear better relaxed in company.
He was no dandy to chase the fashions of the day, preferring practicality to ornament, but he took care that his attire reflected credit upon his name and station.
He longed to know what Elizabeth thought of him—whether her opinion had improved. How was one to discover if it was so? Could her friend, Miss Lucas, offer him some insight? To ask her outright would be most awkward, however, for he had but a slight acquaintance with her.
I need a Christmas miracle, he thought, rather dismally, as he climbed into the carriage. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself this evening.
The journey to Haye Park was brief, and soon Darcy and Bingley were ushered into the warmth of the drawing room.
The Bennets had already arrived and were scattered about.
Miss Bennet welcomed her suitor as he greeted her with an ebullient smile.
Miss Mary, the middle sister, was seated at the pianoforte, playing tender arrangements of Christmas carols.
The two youngest, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, were whispering in a corner with Miss Maria Lucas, erupting in frequent giggles as they typically did.
Desperately, he scanned the company, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.
Darcy’s spirits dipped, but he resolved to make his rounds and greet the other guests. Surely, she would appear before long. He made his way through the room, offering polite greetings to everyone until he came upon Miss Lucas.
“Good evening,” he said, nodding with civility. “How do you do, Miss Lucas?”
“Very well, sir,” she replied. “My mother has, gratefully, ceased her talk of wedding preparations in favor of enjoying the evening. I may now take some pleasure in the festive atmosphere.”
“Wedding preparations? Forgive me. I had not heard that congratulations were in order.”
“Oh, I had quite forgotten that you and Mr. Bingley were still in London when it occurred. Mr. Collins proposed to me before returning to Kent, and I accepted.” Miss Lucas beamed, her smile lending her ordinarily plain features a measure of warmth and animation.
Darcy thought back, recalling the awkward parson who had introduced himself at the Netherfield ball. Miss Lucas seemed far too intelligent for such a specimen, but who was he to protest?
“I wish you well,” he said, rather than voice his thoughts. “My aunt is…very attentive to the needs of those she considers within her sphere of influence.”
“Do you seek to warn me, sir?” Miss Lucas’s shrewd observation took him by surprise.
“You surmise correctly,” he admitted. “My aunt is officious and expects to be pleased by all who interact with her.”
“Ah, I see.” Miss Lucas pursed her lips.
“As evidenced by Mr. Collins’s character.
Do not apologize, sir. I am well aware of my betrothed’s deficiencies.
I shall manage.” Her eyes flicked away. “Though it is further proof of Elizabeth’s presence of mind in refusing his offer.
She would never bear the yoke of another’s will. ”
“Miss Elizabeth—” he choked, “refused Mr. Collins? Refused what? Surely not an offer of marriage!”
The very notion of his Elizabeth marrying someone so ill-suited as Collins was abhorrent.
Her intelligence, wit, and spirit would be quelled beneath Lady Catherine’s strong opinions, and more intolerably still, by Collins’s unthinking deference to them.
Elizabeth could never hold respect for a husband who would so readily place another’s judgment before his, nor her own.
He drew a steadying breath, reminding himself that she had refused to marry her cousin. No—it was the possibility that she might have married another that had momentarily crushed him. He turned his focus back to Miss Lucas as she went on.
“Yes, she did. My friend could not abide the idea of a marriage of convenience. She desires more from her future than a—let me see, how did she put it? Oh, yes, ‘A cold, unfeeling union for security.’ Elizabeth is quite the romantic.” Miss Lucas’s expression was all too knowing, and Darcy wondered what she suspected.
He cleared his throat. “I cannot disagree with her sentiments,” he said slowly. “It speaks well of her fortitude to refuse her father’s heir.”
“But in doing so, Mr. Darcy, her family would have been left to face genteel poverty upon her father’s death…
if not for Mr. Bingley, that is.” She hesitated.
“If he proposes. Alas, she and Jane have never viewed marriage in practical terms. Both have vowed to marry only where love and affection are mutual.” Miss Lucas quirked a brow at him, her gaze speculative.
“Jane has found it. I cannot help but wonder if Elizabeth’s good fortune in that regard is not far off. ”
She knows. Or at least she suspects. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
“If I may be bold,” he said, measuredly, “will you tell me Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of…me?”
He could feel the heat rise to his ears even as he had begun to speak the words. They were likely red. How fitting, for he was deeply embarrassed to be inquiring after the object of his affections.
Miss Lucas regarded him with a look of understanding. “I am afraid you have much to atone for in Elizabeth’s eyes,” she said sympathetically. “But I do not believe all is lost. She has spoken of you less sharply these last few weeks.”
“Of what does she accuse me?” he asked. “I shall make amends.” He clasped his hands behind his back, grateful for the relative privacy their position afforded.
“Your first offense occurred at the Meryton assembly. Your exact words were: ‘She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”
Darcy groaned and closed his eyes in mortification. “I am grieved. My behavior was not above reproach. What else?”
“Your sins of pride and aloofness have largely been absolved.” Miss Lucas gave him a small grin and, surprisingly, a wink.
“However, the tales of a certain militia officer continue to cloud her opinion of you. Mr. Wickham did not hesitate to spread falsehoods once he knew you had quit the county. He stays away now not only because of your presence, but because he has begun to court Miss Mary King, a charming young lady who has recently inherited ten thousand pounds.”
“No heiress is safe from him.” Darcy glowered, though his expression lightened at once when he noted Elizabeth’s entrance into the room. “Miss Lucas, I thank you for your candid replies. One last question: is there any hope for me?”