Chapter 7 #3
“I confess I was one of those who considered Mr Wickham a friend, and I was inclined to think highly of him. However, for a couple of months now I have understood that I was completely wrong in my initial estimation. I assure you, Miss Bingley, I consider Mr Wickham’s departure more a relief than a loss, and my opinion is not singular in Meryton. ”
She ended her little speech in a relative hurry, afraid that emotion and embarrassment would transfigure her voice.
The public admittance of her own folly and the memory of how badly she had maligned Mr Darcy’s reputation and defended Mr Wickham in front of all Meryton—and in front of Mr Darcy himself—threw her into a pit of shame and mortification, and she was unable to keep her countenance.
“Ah, Miss Bingley, now I understand why you seem not to be fond of Miss Bennet. It is about an old rivalry between two ladies for a gentleman’s attentions.
” Lady Cassandra’s reply stunned the others in the party.
Elizabeth stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief at such impropriety, and Miss Bingley became livid, her mouth trying in vain to attempt an answer.
Lady Cassandra continued with a smile that proved her delight with the reaction she provoked.
“I am talking about Mr Wickham, of course.”
Elizabeth dared to look at Mr Darcy’s scowling expression; their eyes met for a moment, and she thought his countenance softened a little. He rose and moved to where the ladies were sitting; when he spoke, his voice was neither kind nor amused, and his tone admitted no contradiction.
“There has been more than enough talk of Mr Wickham in this house for at least a year, so I will have no more of it. I do not find the subject amusing nor even tolerable, so let us move forward, shall we? Mrs Hurst, would you indulge us with some music, please?”
Mrs Hurst was surprised to be addressed directly; she took her place at the pianoforte with some urgency and began performing.
Elizabeth startled when she heard Lady Cassandra whisper to her.
“Miss Bennet, I am sorry if I upset you by insisting on the subject of Mr Wickham, but I simply cannot control my temper with Miss Bingley. She knew she should not broach that subject in this house, yet she did not care—not to mention her rudeness to you.”
Elizabeth looked at her ladyship for a long moment. “Lady Cassandra, you did not upset me; there is no need for apologies. In fact, I confess I was quite amused by your little revenge against Miss Bingley.”
“I am happy to hear it. I had the impression that you looked distressed at one point, but it appears I was wrong.”
“No, your ladyship was not wrong—I was and still am distressed, but not for me. I am afraid that neither of us acted much better than Miss Bingley, and we offended our host as much as she did.”
Lady Cassandra’s eyebrow rose in displeasure at such a censuring statement. “I am afraid I do not follow you, Miss Bennet.”
“I apologise for speaking so freely, Lady Cassandra—but that is my opinion. Though Miss Bingley showed no consideration for Mr Darcy and brought up the subject of Mr Wickham just to attack me, your ladyship did the same with Miss Bingley without any regard for Mr Darcy’s feelings; I then followed you into the conversation until Mr Darcy was forced to scold us openly.
I truly do not know how I can ever apologise to him. ”
“There is no need to apologise, Miss Bennet.” Darcy’s voice near her shoulder surprised Elizabeth so utterly that her arm brushed against his when she turned around.
She felt her cheeks burning—as much from the embarrassment of her earlier behaviour as from being overheard or from his unexpected closeness—and, when her eyes met his from such a short distance, any reply was lost. Their gazes held, both of them ignoring the presence of Lady Cassandra; his countenance was soft and light, and his eyes showed nothing but warmth.
“Well, apparently you will not have to apologise,” said Lady Cassandra, a mischievous smile on her lips as she left them and moved toward the couch, but neither of them heard her.
“Mr Darcy, I would like to—
“Miss Bennet, I—
“Oh, forgive me, please continue—
“No, no, please, I am sorry for interrupting you. Pray go on.”
“I wanted to tell you, sir, how sorry I am for the entire incident earlier.”
“Miss Bennet, this time I must interrupt you. As I said, no apologies are necessary, even more so as you were not at fault. Quite the contrary, I want to thank you for your kindness toward Georgiana, she—
“Mr Darcy, now I absolutely must interrupt you! And to tell you the truth, I am surprised at how rude both of us have become lately, continually interrupting each other.” She smiled, and her lips twisted teasingly; his face lit completely, and his eyes moved slowly lower to her mouth, and for a moment, she felt his gaze drying her lips.
She struggled to continue, despite the sudden lump in her throat.
“I would suggest finding a subject that will allow us to finish the conversation in a more proper manner.”
“You are correct, of course, Miss Bennet,” he whispered, leaning toward her so she could hear him.
She shivered again. “I trust you, Miss Bennet, to find a topic to your liking, and I will try to be a diligent partner in the conversation. In the meantime, would you like to sit down and enjoy Mrs Hurst’s performance? ”
They sat together a little apart from the others, apparently listening with great attention, yet neither aware of anything in the room except the other.
Miss Bingley’s angry glares in their direction remained completely unnoticed.
From time to time, Elizabeth’s eyes moved toward Lady Cassandra; she could not tell for sure whether her ladyship was displeased or approving of their obvious intimacy—yet she refused to give the question much consideration. Their host was her only interest.
As soon as Mrs Hurst finished at the instrument, Mr Hurst proposed playing cards; his wife indulged him as did Mr Bingley and Lady Cassandra.
Darcy declared that he and Miss Bennet were in the middle of an interesting conversation, and he would rather not stop.
Miss Bingley also refused to play, walking around the room, attempting to move closer to where Darcy and Elizabeth were sitting and to overhear their tête-à-tête.
In truth, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy talked about everything and nothing in particular.
She rejoiced in the pleasure of being the recipient of his particular attention in the middle of a room filled with his friends.
His preference for her could no longer be doubted by anyone—not even herself.
With crimson cheeks and a racing heart, she listened to him talk about many small, yet private, things: his library, which was his favourite place in the house, his parents’ and Georgiana’s favourite rooms, and the room that was offered to her.
He asked her if she would rather move to a guest apartment, which was more spacious and offered her all the accommodations; she hurried to answer—too passionately in her own estimation—that she was more than pleased with the current arrangements.
He then took the opportunity to tell her that, despite the danger she and Georgiana had to face, he was happy the storm kept her at Pemberley for the night.
At this, she knew not what to answer; she only allowed her eyes—captured by his—to speak for her.
Mr Darcy enjoyed his relatively private time with Elizabeth.
He could not believe his good fortune as she obviously accepted his attentions with pleasure and did not leave his side for more than an hour.
She seemed interested in everything he said, her eyes barely moving from his, blushing charmingly from time to time, smiling at him—only at him—as he had wished and dreamed so many times in the past. Her behaviour toward him was everything and more than he had dared to hope a few days before, and for a moment, a wild idea crossed his mind: he should take the opportunity to propose to her that very evening!
But the next instant his reason took control over his impetuosity.
He would court her properly; he would show her and everyone else his feelings for her; he would be patient.
He would consider only her feelings and desires this time.
As for his, he knew them only too well. His second proposal would not come until he could be certain that this was what she wished and anticipated.
While deep in his own thoughts, he noticed her wondering glance searching his face.
He recovered quickly and asked her if she wanted something to drink.
Elizabeth accepted; Lady Cassandra asked for one too, and he indulged her.
Then Miss Bingley asked for the same favour, and he complied again.
After that, he took two glasses and moved back near Elizabeth, indifferently and quite impolitely returning his attentions only to her.
Elizabeth was tired—more tired than usual for that hour—yet she refused to consider that the evening might come to an end.
She felt happier than ever and grew increasingly certain of her feelings for Mr Darcy.
Though she knew it was unwise and dangerously presumptuous, her imagination—filled with hopes and desires—made her believe that his feelings for her were as strong as they were two months earlier and that he was not far from declaring himself again.
Of course, her sensible voice advised her to remain rational, yet her heart spoke considerably louder and with more determination—so it was to her heart that Elizabeth listened.
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