CHAPTER 23 Dinner Party
It was the night of Lady Catherine’s dinner party and Darcy was sitting in the drawing room with Diana, the two having gotten dressed much earlier than the rest of their companions. He had questioned her at length about her meeting with Elizabeth but his cousin was remarkably close.
“But what did you speak of?” he asked for about the tenth time.
“Various things. The Season. Hertfordshire. The characteristics of certain people.”
She grinned at him and he realised that this was something she had not mentioned before.
“What people?”
“Oh, various acquaintances.”
“Such as?”
But instead of answering, Diana asked a question of her own. “Darcy, have you developed a tendre for Elizabeth?”
Despite being reserved like himself, Diana was also somewhat of a busybody, at least with people she knew well.
So he did not know if he should mention anything about his attachment.
True, he had already mentioned it to Charlotte, Anne, Richard, Lady Catherine, and just about everyone else he knew.
Elizabeth must know by now that he was in love with her.
He did, after all, propose. But still, sitting alone with Diana, it seemed more extreme that he should confess his feelings for Elizabeth.
For she would surely question him in great detail about it.
“She is just a friend, at present,” he finally said. “Though we have argued at times. In any case, I just wish to know how she feels about me...”
Just a friend? thought Diana. Bloody unlikely. But she kept such thoughts to herself, not wishing to give her cousin any more reason to be secretive.
“Well, I liked her,” she said instead, an idea coming to mind. “She is very pretty, do you not think? Her eyes, in particular?”
“Yes,” agreed Darcy, rather dreamily, “her eyes are quite fine.”
“Any man would be happy to have her. Quite fortunate, in fact.”
“Yes, I think so too.”
Diana sighed. “But it is not likely, is it, for her to meet someone in such a small community as where she comes from.” She did not actually know if Elizabeth's community was small, but she thought it likely that it was.
She tapped her forefinger to her lips and added, “Perhaps I shall ask her to accompany me to London.”
“London! Why?”
She shrugged. “I do not have many close friends, most of the ladies of the ton being extremely boring. But Elizabeth has something about her. A certain Je ne sais quoi, don’t you know. Yes, I think I shall ask her to London.”
“And what, pray tell, do you plan on doing with her while in London?”
“I shall make it my mission to find her a husband.”
Darcy began to choke on his glass of sherry. “Are you mad?”
“Mad? Why should you think so?”
“I simply do not think…” said Darcy, his voice trailing off.
“Yes, Darcy? What is it?”
“Miss Elizabeth is not some pawn you can manipulate and move about like a chess piece!”
“I shall not manipulate her, Darcy. I am just attempting to help her. I am a highly sought after lady, after all, and to be seen about town with me shall bolster Elizabeth’s popularity to no end! Why, she shall have more suitors than she will know what to do with.”
“Diana, this is madness. You hardly know her…”
“I know her well enough to know I like her. The thing is, Darcy, that there is an honesty to Elizabeth that I appreciate, that sets her apart from other ladies of the ton. And I am certain many gentlemen will appreciate it, despite her lack of dowry.”
“And how do you know about her lack of dowry?”
“Richard told me.”
“Nevertheless, I forbid you to take her to London!”
“Forbid me! And who are you to forbid me anything, Darcy?”
Darcy blinked but could not think of a response. Thus, he simply continued to glare at her.
Eventually Diana laughed and finished off her own sherry, thinking she had teased Darcy enough. “Do not worry, Darcy, I shall not take her to London. I think she has enough marital prospects right here in Kent. Do you not think so?”
Darcy stared at her, then grudgingly smiled. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”
That night, during dinner, Darcy kept stealing glances at Elizabeth.
She wore a cream-coloured dress that he had not seen before and was lovelier than ever.
Somehow, her pallor, slim form and dark eyes were made more striking by her recent illness.
Unfortunately, they could not converse in private as she was sitting across the table from him.
However, when their eyes did meet, she always gave him a small smile which gladdened his heart tremendously. Perhaps all would be well between them.
*****
Elizabeth was pleased by the fact that Darcy did not appear angry anymore.
In fact, he was perfectly polite and occasionally smiled at her.
She decided that - if given the opportunity - she would speak to him of her changed opinion.
Would tell him, in fact, that she no longer trusted Wickham.
She smiled to herself at the appellation that Darcy had given him a few days earlier.
Smarmy cad. It was actually quite apt, when she thought about it.
For Wickham was rather too smooth in his speech, and perhaps too free with his compliments.
She wished she had seen it before, but was relieved that she finally did.
It was during the separation of the sexes that she learned more about Darcy. And why he was always so serious. She sat in a group with Diana, her mother and Lady Matlock, while across the room, Lady Catherine, Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, Jane and Charlotte formed their own group.
“Darcy’s mother died when he was twelve, you know,” said Lady Matlock to Mrs. Bennet after her mother had suggested that Darcy was more taciturn than most men.
“I never knew it,” murmured her mother.
“Yes, indeed. Lady Anne was a good friend of mine; we came out the same year. It was also during that year that I met Henry and she met George Darcy. He was tall, devastatingly handsome, and sought after by all the ladies. His son, Fitzwilliam, is remarkably like him.”
“Tell us more about it, Mother,” said Diana, apparently as fascinated by Lady Matlock’s recollections as Elizabeth was.
“We met frequently during events of the Season, and George would always seek out Anne who herself was quite lovely. Her daughter, my niece Georgiana, looks very much like her as they both have light hair and fine features.”
Elizabeth imagined the handsome George Darcy with the beautiful Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, dancing at a ball together - turning the heads of members of the ton, but having no eyes for anyone but each other.
It seemed so far away - this gathering of rich and well-connected people.
So far removed from the country assemblies she was used to attending.
She once thought that Darcy was her equal, as he was a gentleman and she was a gentleman’s daughter. But she could not have been more wrong.
“Does she?” asked Mrs. Bennet, surprisingly well-behaved and demure that night. Perhaps their recent conversation about respectability had changed her for the better.
“Indeed,” said Lady Matlock, taking a sip of her sherry. “In any event, Anne married George six months later and they began their life at Pemberley. We often visited them and had grand times there during the summer. House parties and the like.
“Unfortunately, after Fitzwilliam was born, Anne became rather sickly. But she loved that boy so much - him being her only child for many years. She took him with her wherever she went. Particularly, to her beloved rose garden. And, though she was much weaker than before, she often took him riding, the two roaming the hills of Pemberley together.”
“No wonder Darcy was such a good rider even when he was young,” commented Diana.
Her mother nodded. “In any event, he was twelve years old when Georgiana was born. Unfortunately, the second birth took its toll on Anne, and she became even weaker afterwards. Three months later, she died.”
“How tragic,” murmured Mrs. Bennet.
“Poor George never recovered. He still ran the estate, of course, but it took its toll on him. Weighed down by his grief, he simply had nothing left to give the children. Or perhaps they reminded him too much of what he had lost. Regardless, they were left to be raised mostly by the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds. I came to Pemberley as much as I could and so did Catherine; but we had our own children to raise and could only do so much. Fitzwilliam suffered the most, I think. For it was almost as if he’d lost his mother and his father at the same time. ”
Elizabeth felt incredibly sad, thinking about the loneliness that Darcy must have felt during those years, and at so young an age.
“The poor boy,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“Indeed,” said Lady Matlock, “his childhood was certainly not what you would call a happy one.
“No, not at all,” whispered Mrs. Bennet.
Lady Matlock continued, “When his father eventually did die ten years later, Darcy was only two and twenty. He had been in his final year at Cambridge when he received word from Pemberley that his father had been in a riding accident. He rushed back home, but George died within hours of his arrival. Can you imagine how distraught he must have felt?”
“Yes, I can imagine,” said Elizabeth quietly, earning a look of curiosity from Lady Matlock.
“Henry and I came, of course. And we naturally expected to see Fitzwilliam at his wit’s end, attempting to cope with his father’s death, while making funeral arrangements and generally going from being a university student to master of a great estate.
Hundreds of people depended on him now, you see, in addition to his ten year old sister.
But he was not in the least bit fazed. No, Fitzwilliam simply became more serious after that.
His sense of responsibility was so great that he pushed aside his own grief in order to address all the concerns that were now his to shoulder. ”
Elizabeth suddenly felt tearful. That she could have been so cruel to such a man. And to have told him that she did not even like him! How repugnant her behaviour seemed to her then.
“No wonder he was always so solemn,” she heard Diana say.
Elizabeth, not wishing for anyone to see her so discomposed, suddenly stood up and went to the window.
She did not think she could face him - not after everything she had heard.
Her trust of Wickham seemed hardly significant anymore, in light of all of Darcy’s tribulations.
That smarmy cad, she thought bitterly to herself.
And then she heard something that made her blood run cold.
“But now that Anne is engaged to Richard,” said Lady Matlock to Mrs. Bennet, “it may be time for Darcy to get engaged to Diana.”
“What? No, mother, Darcy and I are just friends.”
“But that is where you are wrong, my dear,” said Lady Matlock, patting her daughter on the hand. “What better wife could there be for Darcy than yourself? You do admire him, do you not?”
“Of course I do, for he is an admirable man.”
“Then you belong as his wife. You know him and understand him. And you have seen how many ladies have pursued him over the years, including - I might add - Bingley’s unfortunate sister.
But you are different from them. You and Darcy share a common upbringing and a sense of responsibility.
You are both intelligent and…even reserved.
But, fortunately, not with one another. In fact, you are closer to Darcy than any lady has ever been. ”
“That does not mean that we should marry, Mother.”
Though Diana spoke as if she were not interested, there was something in the tone of her voice that made Elizabeth think that she would actually consider marrying him.
Who wouldn’t, after all? Her mother’s words were compelling, actually convincing.
And, when she thought about it, Diana and Darcy were perfectly matched.
“Speak to him tomorrow, Diana,” continued Lady Matlock. “And show him that you would be willing.”
“Willing to do what, Mother?”
“Why, accept his proposal of marriage, of course.”
It was then that the gentlemen entered the room.