Chapter 23 #2
At least, not aloud. What his actions might say was something else entirely.
Wickham swallowed hard, then nodded. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But I hope I will prove myself to you before then.”
There was little enough chance of that, though Darcy did not choose to say so.
Two years was a suitable period for a man to prove his mettle.
Wickham would either rise to the occasion and become the man Georgiana deserved, or he would not.
Darcy would not allow him to seize control of the entire fortune his father had laid aside for Georgiana until he saw his character proven.
Wickham raised his glass, his eyes wide with sarcasm. “To two years, then. After such time, I hope you will keep your promise and give Georgiana what is rightfully hers.” Wickham raised his glass in a toast, then drank the rest down in one gulp.
“To two years, and to Georgiana,” Darcy replied, joining in the toast. He, too, hoped that he would have grounds to release the money in two years. Perhaps Wickham could so far reform his character, with Georgiana by his side, and such an incentive in front of him.
Perhaps, but Darcy did not intend to hold his breath.
The gentlemen finished their drinks in relative silence, then repaired to the drawing room to join the ladies.
As soon as he came through the doorway, he saw Elizabeth’s head snap up, and a brilliant smile spread across her face.
His heart skipped a beat. She seemed so genuinely, artlessly pleased to see him.
Could it mean that she might truly care for him?
He joined the ladies, all of them gathered around the pianoforte as Georgiana regaled them with a lively rendition of “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.”
Stopping next to Elizabeth, he spoke softly in her ear. “I am glad to rejoin you. Have you spent the time pleasantly without us?”
She laughed. “Very pleasantly, but I, too, am glad you have rejoined the party.”
“And Lady Catherine is behaving herself?” he teased in a whisper. Though, as she was seated on the far side of the pianoforte, there was not much risk of his aunt overhearing them.
“Yes, for the most part,” Elizabeth said wryly. “She is not used to having to share.”
Darcy chuckled. “No, she is not. You manage her wonderfully well.”
She looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. “Why, I thank you.”
“It is I who must thank you, Elizabeth,” he told her. “This winter would not have been half so pleasant without your influence. Indeed, we would not have this merry party gathered here at all.”
“And you do not miss your solitude?” Elizabeth asked him.
“No,” he told her. “When I can be surrounded by such joy instead, I do not miss it at all.”
Elizabeth seemed to take the compliment to heart, even as much as he might have wished. But before she could answer, the song ended.
“Oh, I have had such a delightful idea!” Georgiana exclaimed. “Why do you not dance while I play? Would that not be pleasant?”
Lady Catherine scoffed at the idea. “What can you be thinking of, Georgiana? Have you no sense of formality, of elegance, to propose so informal a dance? In any case, my dancing days are long over, and Anne is not well enough to dance.”
Darcy watched his cousin’s face sour. Then, suddenly and unmistakably, a spark of determination entered her gaze. “I am well enough,” she said quietly, but with real resolve behind her words. He thought his aunt would fall out of her chair in her shock.
Anne did not let her mother’s sputtered protests stop her. She rose elegantly from her chair, if a little hesitantly. “I would be happy to stand up, if one of the gentlemen does not mind having a partner who is out of practice.”
Fitzwilliam moved to her at once with a broad smile. “I would be honoured if you would be my partner, Cousin,” he said.
Darcy glanced at his wife. The temptation was irresistible. He stepped up beside her and reached for her hand, claiming her before them all. “And I would be honoured if you would stand up with me.”
“I would be delighted,” Elizabeth replied at once. With only a brief pause, the footmen moved a little of the furniture and rolled up the carpet, and the impromptu dance could begin.
Lady Catherine had not been entirely wrong.
A dance of only two couples meant that the choice of songs and forms must be severely limited.
Then, too, the drawing room was not intended for a dance floor.
Darcy had never attended so informal an affair before, and certainly he had never meditated hosting one himself.
Yet for all that, he thought he had never enjoyed himself more at a dance.
Elizabeth’s delight in the lively amusement was obvious, heightening his own enjoyment of the dance until he found himself laughing aloud from sheer pleasure.
As they moved carefully past Anne and Fitzwilliam in the narrow space, Darcy could hear them enjoying themselves just as much — and, casting a glance at the other couple, he could see that Anne moved with surprising grace for having had so little practice.
Georgiana played with more vigour than ever, obviously delighted that her suggestion had been taken up despite her aunt’s objections.
“Our first ball together at Pemberley is a rather small affair, perhaps, but I like it all the same,” Elizabeth remarked gaily. Darcy looked at her in surprise, for she had nearly echoed his own thoughts.
“As do I,” he replied. “But perhaps we might hold a larger and someone less spontaneous amusement for our neighbours in the spring. Should you enjoy that, do you think?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Indeed I would. Very much so, in fact.”
“Then so it must be,” Darcy said.
“And here I was led to believe that you were a private person, with an aversion to large, boisterous parties. Was I mistaken when we first met?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps, your good nature has changed me,” Darcy replied. She waved away the compliment with a smile.
All too soon, the music came to an end. Considerate as always, Elizabeth insisted she play the next song so Georgiana could dance.
Darcy half-expected his sister to express reluctance.
Shy as she was, surely Georgiana had wished to play rather than to dance herself.
But here, too, he was surprised. She accepted her husband’s hand with a quickness that spoke of real eagerness, and danced as happily with Fitzwilliam in the next.
Georgiana, breathless and glowing, then begged off any more dances. “I am undone,” she said. “Allow me to play, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth deferred to her with easy grace.
“Ah, what a delightful opportunity to express my appreciation for your hospitality, as well as your other graces,” Wickham said to Elizabeth with a low, theatrical bow. “You will allow me the pleasure of dancing with you, will you not, Mrs Darcy?”
“Certainly, let us dance,” Elizabeth replied. Darcy told himself firmly that there was nothing more than simple politeness in her tone, and that it was absurd of him to feel either concern or jealousy.
Unfortunately, one cannot become less absurd simply by knowing that one’s feelings are illogical. Darcy therefore resolved to take more positive action and asked Anne to join him in the dance.
“Perhaps something a little slower, if you could,” Anne asked Georgiana apologetically. “This is such fun, but I confess I am growing a little weary.”
“Ought you to sit down?” Darcy asked her, a little concerned. “You must not push yourself beyond what is suitable for your health.”
She shook her head. “Only after this dance. For now, I am enjoying myself entirely too much.”
“I shall play something a little slower and more restful,” Georgiana declared, and with that, she began to play the first bars of a waltz.
Darcy had to stop himself from dropping Anne’s hand at once and going to Elizabeth, declaring that Wickham must not dance with her. How ridiculous to feel such jealousy! There was nothing unsuitable nor dangerous in Elizabeth dancing a waltz with him.
Darcy knew that. Only, it did not stop him from wanting to howl aloud that she must not dance so intimately with anyone but him, and certainly not with Wickham.
“Something troubles you, Cousin?” Anne asked.
“Not at all,” Darcy said, tearing his gaze away from Elizabeth with difficulty. He smiled and tried to find some tolerable degree of conversation. “I am impressed by your lightness of foot, Cousin. I did not think you danced.”
“There are a great many things I would do, if only given the chance,” she said softly. She shot a glance at her mother, who was dozing in her chair near the hearth.
Darcy swallowed hard. He had always wondered how much of Anne’s maladies were inevitable, and how much was due to Lady Catherine’s belief that Anne was weak and sickly. Perhaps Anne was beginning to wonder, too.
“While you are here, why do you not do some of those things? What did you have in mind?” he asked.
“I have never been riding before. Perhaps your wife would be so good as to teach me?”
He laughed. “As she does not yet know how to ride herself, she may not be up for the task. But I might teach you, or Fitzwilliam. Or even Georgiana, for that matter. Though we must wait for a day when it is not snowing, nor yet too icy.”
“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said. “Mama could not object, as long as I was with you and Fitzwilliam.” She gave a nervous laugh. “No one could object, as you would not let anything befall me.”
“No, indeed, we would not,” Darcy agreed.
His eyes wandered over to his wife again. He frowned. Was not Wickham holding her rather too closely? Georgiana did not seem to object or even to notice — but then, she was wholly engrossed in the music.
Darcy cleared his throat, forcing his feet to keep time with the steps. He must keep control of himself, for certainly there was no need to worry. He would not stoop to behaving like a jealous husband when there was no reason. He was being ridiculous.
The dance soon ended, and Wickham brought Elizabeth back to his side, handing over her hand to his waiting arm. “Your wife is a charming dancer. She not only plays the pianoforte with passion, but dances with it as well.”
Elizabeth looked surprised, and not a little embarrassed. “Nonsense,” she said briskly. “You are too kind, Mr Wickham.”
Wickham bowed, his eyes dancing with mischief. “I speak only the truth, Mrs Darcy. I thank you for allowing me a chance to stand up with you.”
He backed away, returning to Georgiana. Darcy turned away before he might say anything that he would regret. As always, Wickham was charming — too charming. Exactly what did he mean by turning that charm on Elizabeth?