Chapter 18
CARDS AND PETARDS
The plan that Darcy had formed back in London, to slowly and steadily woo Elizabeth through dances and walks and conversation, seemed woefully inadequate in the face of his competition.
The image of her dancing with Sir James, her face aglow and her eyes sparkling, would not leave his mind.
I beg your pardon, Aesop, he mused, but slow and steady will not win this race.
Sir James had made his admiration plain.
He had teased Elizabeth, complimented her, laughed with her.
Darcy would do no less, no matter how awkward and unnatural it might feel to him.
The card party at Ashworth would be his time, he decided, no matter that Sir James was a guest of the house.
He had no notion of how to do it and could only pray he would not make a hash of it.
The housekeeper at Ashworth greeted the trio from Netherfield Park with more warmth than might have been anticipated and led them through the vestibule to a commodious music room directly across.
Sunlight beamed through paned glass doors, turning everything within a golden hue—including Elizabeth.
Darcy paused a moment, regarding her loveliness, which was spoilt only by Sir James, close by her side.
The two were engaged in a private tête-à-tête on a settee whose position in the room suggested a desire for seclusion.
Darcy resolved to join them immediately.
A rustling on his arm reminded him that Miss Bingley had attached herself to him as they had exited the carriage. She attempted to move him away, but he was firm, very nearly dragging her over to the settee.
“Sir James, may I introduce Miss Caroline Bingley to you? Miss Bingley is sister to Mr Bingley.” Darcy smiled brightly and spoke loudly.
Sir James jumped slightly but recovered his shock at once. He rose, the picture of amiability, and bowed to Miss Bingley. Thankfully, Miss Bingley’s interest seemed to be sufficiently piqued by Sir James’s title that she managed to behave graciously.
The tables had already been set for whist, and as Mrs Goddard rose to encourage the younger people to take their seats, Miss Bingley smiled. “Pray excuse us—”
“I believe we have our table of four right here,” Darcy interrupted her. “Unless, Miss Bingley, you wished to be at a table with your brother? I am sure we can find another to take your place.”
“Of course not.” Miss Bingley maintained her smile, but it had begun to resemble more of a snarl.
Sir James directed them all to a table nearby, and they all sat down together. Miss Bingley immediately claimed Darcy for her partner, which suited him well as it both put her across from him and Sir James across from Elizabeth.
As play began, Darcy asked Sir James about his estate, a subject that made any gentleman wax eloquent.
Sir James was no exception, and his recitation had the unexpected benefit of rousing Miss Bingley’s interest in him.
Darcy watched with amusement as Miss Bingley tried with increasing vigour to flatter and cajole Sir James without neglecting to fawn over Darcy himself.
At one time, she declared on one hand that Hadleigh Hall sounded as if it were beyond compare, then on the other, proclaimed that Pemberley was without equal.
He was diverted by it until—after some particularly fulsome minutes—Sir James cast Elizabeth a surreptitious, though unmistakable, roll of his eyes.
Elizabeth fixed her eyes on her cards, lips pursed, as though she were trying not to laugh.
Darcy loathed any sort of secretive communication between them and the intimacy such an exchange suggested.
Very well, man, then do something for it!
He leant towards her, intent on complimenting her. “Miss Elizabeth, you look particularly lovely this evening—your um…um, your shawl suits you very well.”
“My shawl?” Elizabeth glanced down at her arms where a perfectly unremarkable lace shawl was draped. She appeared puzzled but thanked him just in time to laugh aloud at some joke from Sir James.
Determined to pull her attention away from Sir James, Darcy said, in a slightly louder voice, “Miss Elizabeth?”
She turned her head towards him. “Sir?”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam asked me to send you his regards before I left London.”
She smiled. “How kind. Pray send mine to him as well, when next you write to him.”
Darcy inclined his head to show that he would.
“Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “Such a charming man and so brave! But how did you meet him, Eliza? I was unaware that he had been in this part of the country.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Darcy was quick to speak instead, knowing Elizabeth would never offer the little rebuke that was deserved.
“I should imagine that Fitzwilliam has been in a great many places without your knowledge, Miss Bingley. However, he, as well as my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had the good fortune to become intimate with Miss Elizabeth during time she spent recently with all of us in Kent. I do not exaggerate when I say she has become quite the favourite of Lady Catherine.”
When he looked at Elizabeth, he saw her colour had risen and her mouth was open in a perfect, small ‘O’. Her surprise kept her silent for a moment and thus did Darcy continue. “In fact, Lady Catherine also wanted me to send you her greetings. She would be quite put out that I nearly forgot.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Pray give her and Miss de Bourgh my warmest regards as well.”
Sir James smiled agreeably to all, evidently completely insensible to the various undercurrents that Darcy perceived. He made some benign and polite enquiry of Darcy as to his cousin’s current military occupation, and then the subject was left.
How odd that he should be so forward!
Elizabeth could not imagine what had possessed Mr Darcy to behave as he had at the card table. Another sort of lady might have developed expectations of him for such attention.
Casting her eye towards Miss Bingley, however, Elizabeth thought she understood it. He was alone at Netherfield with Mr Bingley and his sister, and no doubt Miss Bingley believed it was for her that he came. Likely he wished to show her that she ought not to have designs on him.
His actions on the conclusion of their card game could only confirm this. While Miss Bingley was in conversation with Sir James, Mr Darcy rose, saying, “Miss Elizabeth, would you allow me to retrieve a drink for you?”
She nodded and rose as well, and they moved towards the refreshment table.
“They seem to get along very well,” he said as they went.
“Miss Bingley and Sir James?” Elizabeth considered that a moment. “Perhaps so.”
Sir James needed a wealthy bride—he had mentioned planned renovations of his country house which would be helped along by a wife’s dowry—but he was such a kind man, she could not bear to see him attached to a lady who was…not. Perhaps Miss Bingley’s disposition will improve once she is married.
Mrs Goddard came to Elizabeth almost as soon as she put a glass of wine to her lips. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe I must entreat you with a request for some music this evening.”
“There are so many here far more talented than I am.” Elizabeth smiled at the lady. “And for a certainty, they are all better practised.”
“But I have thought nearly incessantly of the song you sang so beautifully last week when you were here—was it Thursday?—and I would so love to hear it again.”
“I do not believe I rightly remember what I sang.” Elizabeth smiled again, this time more apologetically, hoping that her hostess would have someone else perform.
Mrs Goddard laughed lightly and addressed Mr Darcy.
“I am fortunate that Miss Elizabeth does not begin to refuse invitations to my parties. With so little in the way of musical talent here, we are unrelenting in our demands of her. That is likely why she is unable to determine exactly which song I mean—we have imposed upon her so often, there are quite a few possibilities.”
“Miss Elizabeth is a charming performer,” Mr Darcy replied. “I have rarely heard anything which gave me greater pleasure than it does to hear her.”
Discomfiture burst out of her in a bubbling laugh. “After such flattery, sir, I can do nothing but disappoint!”
“You could never disappoint me,” he replied with quiet ardour. It made her cease laughing at once, though a prickling hot blush rose in its stead. He held a steady, dark gaze on her, and she was powerless for a moment, locked within it.
Clearing her throat, she turned to Mrs Goddard and began humming little pieces of songs she knew, hoping to discover which the lady most desired to hear.
As they spoke, Mr Darcy refilled her wine for her.
He seemed disinclined to leave, which further discomposed her.
My playing will be worse than ever if this continues.
The song having been identified, Mrs Goddard moved away and Elizabeth thanked Mr Darcy for the wine, turning in the direction of the instrument. He further surprised her then, saying, “I will turn the pages for you.”
“That is unneeded,” she said. “They do not have the music here, but happily it is a song I know by heart.”
“But they will undoubtedly prevail upon you to play another, and in that case, I will be ready to assist you.”
With a nod she assented. What choice did she have, really? Mr Darcy truly was behaving so very oddly! It seemed he was going to great lengths to keep Miss Bingley at bay.
Elizabeth settled herself on the small stool. Someone had already tugged a chair from nearby, and Mr Darcy sat in that one. She despised how her hands trembled; it already unnerved her to play in front of so many; to be in front of Mr Darcy was tenfold worse.