Chapter 1.28 #2
A wide smile lit Elizabeth’s face as her back straightened and she took a step closer.
“Lady Stafford, please allow me to clarify any remaining misunderstanding. I know the entire past history between you and my husband. Everything in the smallest detail, starting with the private month you spent in Ramsgate and ending with little Tommy.”
Lady Stafford paled and took a step backward.
“I also know that you ordered a dress similar to mine and intended to create some sort of a scandal at the Twelfth Night ball. You keep chasing my husband, and I do understand you. I imagine it must be difficult to have enjoyed even a short amount of time with him then to lose him forever. And since I spend every night and most of the day in his arms, I understand even more clearly your desire to win him back. But you must understand: this will not happen, ever. You have brought him such distress that he was forced to compare your wit to that of his dog! How does that make you feel? You cannot go on in this manner!”
“You have no right to speak to me like this!” Annabelle Stafford blurted.
“I shall do whatever I please. Nobody can stop me or force me to do otherwise! You may hate me, you may be scared of me, you may wish to get rid of me, but it will never happen! And I know Darcy once loved me. If it were not for you, he would have returned to me.”
“No, he would not.” Elizabeth’s voice softened, and she felt nothing but compassion for the spiteful woman in front of her.
“He told me that, even if he was not married and all the other women were to suddenly disappear, he still would not have been interested in you. I know this to be true, and I am sure you know it too, but you attempt to deceive yourself. And Lady Stafford—I do not hate you, and I am certainly not scared of you. I only pity you—deeply. I feel sorry for you, and I wonder that such a beautiful woman who now has means, position, and wealth, refuses to enjoy life and instead prefers to make a fool of herself and expose herself to ridicule and the censure of the world. People consider you an annoyance, Lady Stafford, not a menace!”
Lady Annabelle Stafford became as pale as the white silk damask-covered wall against which she searched for support. Though her mouth opened wide, no words came out. Elizabeth continued to look at Annabelle, her compassionate smile unchanged, while the lady made another attempt to speak.
Only then did both notice that their conversation had been witnessed by the unexpected approach of Lady Isabella, Lady Mary, Lady Maryanne—and Mr Darcy!
Lady Stafford’s pallor turned into a deep flush, and she almost ran away, seeking escape from the gazes that seemed to illustrate exactly what Elizabeth had told her. Elizabeth was troubled by the conversation and sought shelter on the arm of her husband.
The ladies smiled with certain embarrassment, and Lady Isabella apologised for any inconvenience Elizabeth had to bear. A minute later, a footman discreetly informed the host that Lady Annabelle Stafford was unwell and had left the ball unexpectedly.
The second set began, and all the ladies were claimed by their partners.
Darcy remained near the wall, employing his time in admiration of his wife as she danced with his cousin Robert.
Exceptionally beautiful, indeed—in this, “the idiot” Clayton had been right.
She was also keenly bright, generous, loving, and passionate—but all these things only he knew and was eager to enjoy again soon.
The way she spoke to Annabelle—her perfect calm and her elegant, yet harsh reasoning were truly admirable, and he noticed the same admiration in the ladies who unwillingly witnessed the scene.
When he had observed Elizabeth—and Annabelle approaching her—he hastened to them, being certain that the latter would do something to trouble Elizabeth.
He intended to save her, but there was no need.
Just as she told him a week ago—was it truly only a week ago?
—as soon as she knew the whole truth, she was able to bear and handle anything.
Darcy startled when his thoughts were disturbed by his Cousin James’s voice from nearby.
“I want to know whether you have considered what I asked you. Will you help me?”
“James, I would rescue you from yet another troublesome situation but only if you tell me the details. And I need a paper to testify to whom I am giving the money.”
“I will sign any paper you want. I must insist on this—these are my funds, and I can give them to whomever I please.”
“I see. James, I am rapidly losing my patience now. Have the wisdom to speak again tomorrow, although I can hardly see a reasonable resolution to this.”
“Tomorrow afternoon, I will call on you.”
“Such a joyful moment,” Darcy concluded as he took a glass of brandy, allowing his eyes and his anger to calm under the lovely image of Elizabeth dancing.
The rest of the ball progressed reasonably well. Elizabeth danced every set, including with Lord Clayton and James Darcy, but she skilfully avoided any disturbing subjects.
Darcy danced once with Lady Isabella, once with his cousin Maryanne, and the last again with his wife. More than one disapproving opinion was shared about his poor manners—especially since several unmarried ladies were without partners. However, Mr Darcy seemed oblivious to anything but his wife.