Chapter 1.5 #3
The ride to Longbourn was silent. Neither Darcy nor Bingley seemed inclined to polite conversation.
However, while Bingley was easy and joyful, Darcy’s demeanour was less certain.
Despite Mr Bennet’s politeness and Elizabeth’s changed attitude, he could not be sure of his reception.
After discovering Elizabeth’s previous opinion of him, he could not put aside the regret for his formerly rude behaviour, nor could he chase away the fear that Elizabeth’s opinion of him was beyond repair.
The thought troubled him, and unconsciously he pulled on his neck cloth in an attempt to loosen it; the gesture only constricted it more.
His other neck cloth was safe, locked away in a drawer. He had dried it but had hidden it so it would not be laundered or even touched by anyone else. He wanted to keep unaltered Elizabeth’s touch, her scent, and the trace of her hands and skin.
He remembered her expressions of surprise, embarrassment, and vulnerability when he handed the fabric to her.
Her reluctance to wipe her face with it and her attempt to turn her back to him—as though hiding some improper gesture—had melted his heart.
He had needed all his strength at that moment to fight a desire to clean her face himself—first with the soft, wet fabric, then slowly with his fingers, and finally with his lips dropping light kisses over her eyes and cheeks, and then lowering to her slender neck before returning to her lips.
Those lips, which could smile in a thousand ways, would surrender, trembling, soft and delicious, under his caress.
Irrationally, he felt himself jealous, envying that small piece of linen, the first thing that had ever touched both his bare skin and hers.
However, he also felt contentment, for he did touch, hold, and caress her hands.
He could feel them—and her whole body—shivering, warming, and responding keenly to his closeness.
Even more, he vividly remembered her tightening the grip on his hand when they reached her house.
Was it possible that she experienced the same sense of loss when they had to unclasp their entwined hands?
After all, she insisted he remain and have breakfast with her family.
Was she merely being polite? Did the new light he saw in her eyes when they glanced at each other mean something more?
He was roused from his reverie by Bingley’s voice the moment they arrived at Longbourn.
They noticed the Bennet ladies walking in the garden in the company of some officers, but while Bingley hurried towards Jane, Darcy remained behind, searching for the lady he wanted to see.
Elizabeth was not among them, and he presumed she had remained indoors.
He approached the main entrance, anticipating the pleasure of seeing her again.
This happy thought was dashed at the shocking sight of Elizabeth appearing around the corner of the house on Wickham’s arm, separated from the others and talking privately, her shy smiles directed towards the officer.
The distress he felt threw him into despair.
All his hopes were in vain; he had misunderstood her once again.
She had been polite to him the previous day, but her preference for Wickham remained unmoved.
Though he was rational enough to notice her distress and embarrassment when they faced each other, it was small consolation for his disappointment!
He saw her tentative smile directed at him and heard her words.
“Mr Darcy! What a pleasant surprise!
Darcy was grateful for a lifetime of education and self-control, which saved him from completely exposing himself to ridicule.
He succeeded in keeping his countenance and bowed in her direction, acknowledging Wickham with only a slight nod of his head.
Elizabeth continued to speak and offer an explanation in an obvious attempt to ease the situation.
“Mr Wickham, Mr Denny, and Mr Sanderson were kind enough to call on us after finding out about my little adventure yesterday.”
She looked into his eyes, but Darcy was too affected to react properly; his face remained stern, his pained countenance betrayed only by his eyes.
Growing more embarrassed and diverting her gaze before returning it to him, she spoke further. “We were taking a stroll in the garden before Mr Wickham’s departure. Would you care to join us?”
“No thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I came with Mr Bingley, and we shall stay only a few moments. I am very pleased to see you are well.”
“I am. Thank you.”
The situation was intolerable. Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham did not speak to each other, and neither looked at the other.
Elizabeth was still holding Wickham’s arm, and Darcy’s gaze was repeatedly attracted to that spot. She was holding my arm only yesterday. Her hand was in mine a few hours ago.
Darcy’s only desire was to pull her away from Wickham.
He knew he could not do that. He had no right to command with whom she could and could not walk or talk, or whose arm she could hold.
He felt desperately helpless—trapped with no way out.
He stood there, knowing that he should depart and attempt to retain some dignity, but he could not leave her with that man.
He was overwhelmed by a desire to protect her, though he knew she was in her own garden, surrounded by her family.
The grief that pierced his heart was so powerful that it made him falter.
He was incredulous as he watched her continue to accept and seemingly enjoy Wickham’s company after all he had told her.
Unfortunately, Darcy knew too well that women more experienced than Elizabeth had done the same and fallen for Wickham’s charms. Still, he had hoped Elizabeth would react differently. Suddenly, Wickham broke the silence.
“Well, Miss Elizabeth, it is time for me to go, but before that, may I ask a personal favour of you?”
Saying this, he took Elizabeth’s hand in his, kissed it, and then spoke in a tone that expected no refusal.
“I would be very happy if you would reserve two sets for me at the ball tomorrow! Perhaps the first and the supper set?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks became dark red, not from pleasure, as Mr Wickham seemed inclined to believe, but from the deepest embarrassment.
The last few minutes had been the most unpleasant and difficult she could remember.
From her position, she could see both Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.
While the former was smiling in delight and awaiting her answer, the latter was very much as she had seen him in the cottage when they had argued about Georgiana.
She was mortified by the liberties Mr Wickham had taken, not just in front of Mr Darcy but also in full view of the house. She could swear she saw her father watching from the window and was angrier with herself than with Mr Wickham for letting him believe she would welcome such behaviour.
She recollected herself and slowly began to withdraw her hand from Mr Wickham’s. “Your request honours me, Mr Wickham; unfortunately, I am in no position to accept it. My cousin Mr Collins has reserved the first set.”
“Then the last set will be acceptable,” he interrupted her confidently.
Really? Acceptable, indeed! Well, you are too hasty, sir, she thought, angry at his presumption.
“Mr Wickham, I shall be happy to secure you the second set, if that is acceptable to you! As for another…well, I know there are many young ladies desirous of having the pleasure of dancing with you. So let us remain with only one set for the present.” She smiled so pleasantly that Mr Wickham could do nothing but accept her offer.
Content with herself, she dared a glance in Mr Darcy’s direction, expecting to see an amused and pleased expression on his face. Instead, she saw only the same grief and sadness, his jaw clenching and his eyes even darker. She did not know what to do next.
Why is he acting like this? He should be pleased with the way I refused Mr Wickham those dances, keeping them available for…someone else. Perhaps I was mistaken, and he has no interest in this matter after all.
The only thing Darcy understood was that Elizabeth already had most of her dances secured and thus she could not oblige Wickham’s requests.
The rage and pain he felt clouded his mind; moreover, as her hand was still held by Wickham, a completely new sense of jealousy arose within him.
He suddenly made an excuse, pretending he wanted to pay his respects to the rest of the Bennet family. When he was about to enter the house, Elizabeth’s determined voice stopped him.
“Mr Darcy!” He turned to her, waiting. “Sir, I wanted to thank you again for the advice you gave me yesterday. Be assured that I did not forget and I am trying to follow it.”
He looked at her, incredulous at his incapacity to understand her correctly. Slowly, he began to take control of his temper and apprehend her meaning. Relief instantly spread over his face, lightening his countenance; the trace of a smile raised the corner of his mouth.
If he still had any doubts, they vanished when her open smile parted her lips and her right eyebrow rose in a well-known gesture. Though Wickham was still present, Darcy forgot about him.
He felt like a fool in front of Elizabeth, he admitted to himself with inner happiness and admiration for her brightness. “I should have known you would do no less, Miss Elizabeth. I must apologise for failing to see that immediately.”
Perhaps you are not as perceptive as Miss Bingley thought you to be, after all, Elizabeth teased him silently.
With another bow and a smile lingering over his lips, Darcy entered the house, leaving Elizabeth in the company of Wickham, this time without fear, knowing she could fend for herself.
I am such a ridiculous fool. He smiled to himself at the otherwise unpleasant thought. He allowed himself the pleasure to act foolish in front of her.