Chapter 2 A Torrid Affair
“He is in love with you!”
That the Lucases and Bennets should meet and talk over a ball was absolutely necessary, and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn for a morning of gossip. But on this occasion, Miss Lucas appeared to have left her sense at home.
“Do not be ridiculous, Charlotte, we have only just met. How can one fall in love with someone after a mere four-hour acquaintance,” Elizabeth contradicted despite the delicious sensation the assertion had provoked.
“I am certain Mr Darcy is courting dozens of beautiful ladies in town.” Elizabeth giggled but Charlotte was not amused.
Instead, her jest prompted all colour to drain from her friend’s face.
“I am not,” a stentorian voice refuted from behind.
Elizabeth leapt to her feet, turned, and stood facing none other than Mr Darcy. Her cheeks caught on fire, and she covered them with her cold hands. How much of the mortifying conversation had he heard?
Yet he did not appear displeased—quite the contrary. The corners of his mouth twitched as he brought a bouquet from behind his back and offered it to her with an exaggerated bow.
“Miss Elizabeth. These reminded me of you,” Mr Darcy said. “Please accept these flowers as a token of my gratitude for making a dull event into a splendid evening.”
Elizabeth accepted the bouquet of lavender roses with an obliging curtsey.
“Thank you! They are lovely.” She lifted the bouquet to her nose and sniffed. “The scent is simply divine.”
In the whirlwind of events that followed, the roses were put in a vase, tea was served, and biscuits were eaten, but Elizabeth only had eyes for Mr Darcy, and he was scarcely less attentive to her.
Not a word was said between them after the greeting, but more could hardly be expected in the company of Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas.
The allotted fifteen minutes passed quickly, with Elizabeth every so often drawing a breath preparatory to enquiring after Mr Darcy’s health, family, or even raising the trivial topic of the current weather.
Anything to begin a tête-à-tête. But before she could utter a word, the conversation was repeatedly usurped by one of the matrons.
Mr Darcy rose and kissed her hand before reminding Mr Bingley of the time.
As all-consuming as the presence of Mr Darcy was, the quarter of an hour had passed without Elizabeth even noticing that Mr Bingley had accompanied his friend.
He was currently occupied in an intimate conversation with a blushing Jane and rose with slow deliberation followed by whispered murmurs only her sister could hear.
She too followed the gentlemen into the entrance hall, where Mrs Hill paused the endless task of keeping the floor swept to find the gentlemen’s hats.
Elizabeth waved until the carriage disappeared round the bend; only then did she allow a shiver from the cold to rack her body.
It was unfortunate that the Lucases had remained through the Netherfield gentlemen’s call because Charlotte could be counted on to tease her mercilessly for the rest of the morning.
Elizabeth had never seen so many mirthful faces at once as those that greeted her when she re-entered the parlour.
And so little talking… Everyone faced the sisters’ flickering eyes with eager anticipation.
“Are you familiar with the language of roses?” Charlotte questioned.
Elizabeth chuckled, trying valiantly to fight the heat threatening to suffuse her face whilst shaking her head in denial.
“You may laugh all you want, but lavender roses mean enchantment, splendour, and love at first sight…” Charlotte remarked knowingly. “I shall be surprised if he has not proposed before the festive season commences.”
“I am certain they were the only ones attainable in Netherfield’s orangery,” Elizabeth countered.
“I assure you that is not the case because Mr Bingley gave Jane a bouquet with a mixture of pink, red, and yellow roses, so there were other flowers to be had.”
“Mr Darcy may not know the language of flowers,” Elizabeth suggested.
Charlotte, in a moment of selective deafness, prattled on. “It was only a matter of time before a gentleman fell deeply and irrevocably in love with you, my dear friend. Who can withstand such beauty of countenance and tenderness of heart?”
“Just about every gentleman I have ever encountered,” Elizabeth muttered wryly. She was almost certain there was nothing to it but a polite call after a pleasant evening.
Despite her vehement protests, she was joyous until the next morning, when Kitty hastened to the window at the sound of approaching carriage wheels. “It is Mr Bingley and his pompous friend from yesterday.”
This information burst a dam amongst the Bennet sisters. A great uproar of shouted agreement and dissent followed until Longbourn’s parlour was yet again presentable to the exalted guests. The voices faded, and a lull ensued until the callers were announced by Mrs Hill.
What a fortunate event that Mrs Bennet was visiting Mrs Phillips.
Elizabeth’s mother had made a good impression the previous day, curbed by the presence of Lady Lucas, but in the absence of her calming grandmother Bennet, her easily excitable mother would not fail to embarrass.
She smoothed her skirts in expectation that Mr Darcy would single her out to the exclusion of all others as he had done before, and true enough, he was walking directly towards her when something about Mary caught his attention.
“Miss Mary, is that Fordyce’s Sermons you are reading?”
“It is,” Mary, who prided herself upon the solidity of her reflections, confirmed with an element of self-importance at being thus consulted.
“My sister, Georgiana, is but sixteen, and I was wondering whether you would recommend it to a young girl with an impressible mind?”
“Most certainly,” Mary hastened to approve and opened the book on a well-worn page. “‘For the soul, says Solomon. To be without knowledge is not good. Of so great a defect do we not see every day the unhappy consequences in both sexes?’
“It is vital to improve one’s mind by extensive reading,” Mary continued.
Mr Darcy agreed with an expression of great seriousness, quite the opposite of what Elizabeth had become accustomed to regarding the gentleman.
Mary took his silent agreement as an invitation to continue her lecture, and Elizabeth had not the heart to interfere when she regarded the unmitigated expression of pleasure that spread across her sister’s countenance.
She read very well and her voice was pleasant.
“‘With regard to yours, my beloved sisters, I am willing to impute much of the folly and misery that involve multitudes of women, not to their being altogether unacquainted with the main outlines of their duty, traced by the hand of God on every heart a little more or a little less clearly; but to their want of that relish for knowledge, and of those attainments in it, which certainly tend to exclude many temptations, and to fortify against the influence of others. On this account, I must again and again prompt the culture of your minds. Your virtue, your sobriety is intimately concerned in it. That shall be my first argument: its connexion with your dignity or figure in life shall be my second; and my third shall turn on its usefulness to promote your comfort and felicity. Considerations surely that merit your attention. I pray God bless them for your improvement.’”
After this long speech, Elizabeth could no longer pay attention to Mary, who prattled on about something of the advantage of accomplishments and the danger of pleasure and amusements.
She was hoping that her sister would soon tire of preaching and allow Mr Darcy to greet the rest of the family—her to be exact.
“I declare the weather is uncommonly pleasing,” Mr Bingley remarked when Mary paused her oration to turn the page.
Elizabeth looked out of the window at the overcast sky before smirking at Mr Bingley, who continued, “Is it not a charming prospect to take a stroll in the garden?”
Elizabeth agreed with alacrity, Jane nodded her consent, and Mr Darcy made his excuses to Mary with a promise to resume their conversation at the next opportunity.
After donning warm attire, the two couples naturally separated; Mr Bingley and Jane walked in eager exuberance, whilst Mr Darcy and Elizabeth strolled leisurely, falling farther and farther behind.
“I cannot help but notice the marked attention you have bestowed upon us poor Bennets these last three days.”
“You intrigue me,” Mr Darcy admitted whilst looking slightly amused and darkly pleased, seeming to speak in earnest.
Elizabeth’s feet were as light as feathers.
She rejoiced at being thus singled out as she studied Mr Darcy’s strong profile.
When he suddenly turned, she was caught ogling and lowered her head to conceal her blush.
They continued in silence for half a circuit about the house, but the quietude was by no means uncomfortable.
“Tell me about your sister,” Elizabeth asked after being reminded of her existence by Mary glancing out of the parlour window.
“Georgiana is more than ten years my junior and turned sixteen in January. She is very accomplished and plays the pianoforte particularly well, but she is also shy and prefers not to perform before those she is not intimately acquainted with.”
A quick calculation revealed that Mr Darcy was upwards of seven-and-twenty, and at a marriageable age.
“It sounds like Miss Darcy only needs a bit of liveliness in her life, and a slight measure of fortitude can do no harm.”
Mr Darcy looked at her and smiled. “I suppose not, though not so much as to make her wilful.”
By what he had related about Miss Darcy, it did not sound as if she was in any danger of becoming too headstrong, but as she did not know the girl, she chose to change the subject.
“Are you attending the Lucases’ dinner party tomorrow?”