Chapter 9 #3
That, in combination with the love ballad she was singing, caused him to slip into a bit of a daydream, imagining her playing the song just for him.
What might it be like to be alone with her in the music room at Pemberley as she played such a song?
His mind went to the fainting couch in that room, and he imagined carrying her from the bench and laying her down upon the couch.
It was the sudden realisation of his burgeoning desire that pulled him from the scandalous turn his thoughts had taken.
He flushed and glanced about, relieved to see that no one appeared to notice.
He frowned at himself severely, shocked that he would have such lascivious thoughts of a pure country girl whom he could never claim as his own.
Yet I dally with her, if only in my mind.
At the pianoforte, Elizabeth stumbled through a passage, discomfited to see Mr Darcy’s stare again focused upon her.
When he scowled at her error, she was embarrassed.
Do you think I wish to exhibit? I was compelled to play by my friend, our host’s daughter, and nothing more drew me onto this bench.
I claim no great talent or accomplishment in music.
Her ire was further fuelled when, at the end of her song, Mr Darcy rose abruptly and left the room as though he could not bear to hear more. Hateful man.
Alone in his chamber that night, Darcy seriously pondered his growing fascination with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He realised that his actions were such as to risk raising her expectations—expectations he could not, and would not, fulfil.
The conversation on the carriage ride from Lucas Lodge to Netherfield had centred on that lady’s family, and though mostly aimed at Bingley, a few darts lodged in Darcy’s conscience as well.
“The nothingness of that family, yet how they perceive themselves! Quite insupportable, do you not agree Mr Darcy?” Miss Bingley was clearly prepared to be merciless on the Bennets.
“Caroline,” Bingley warned, “I will not have you saying such things about Miss Bennet’s family. She is a beautiful, kind lady who has done you no wrong.”
Miss Bingley quickly interjected, “Jane Bennet is a dear, sweet girl, and I anticipate continuing our friendship while we are in Hertfordshire. However, Charles, you surely have no notion of furthering the acquaintance. Sweet as she is, she would be laughed at in London.”
“I disagree,” Charles replied stubbornly while Darcy looked at him with alarm.
Perhaps his friend’s infatuation with Miss Bennet had progressed further than any of them had realised.
“What I see is that I am a man with a fortune from trade, living at a leased estate, whose position could only be improved by marriage to a gentleman’s daughter. ”
Miss Bingley was nearly apoplectic in her reply. “Marriage? Charles! I forbid you to fall in love with some unimportant country miss! Think of what you do to me! We would not be received!”
Darcy interjected with a quiet, “Charles, she is correct, you know.”
His gentle rebuke startled both Bingley and his sister out of their squabble, and the darkened carriage was silent for several long moments.
Darcy continued a few moments later. “Your position, as well as that of your sister, could be materially damaged by marriage to anyone outside of the ton. With your fortune, you could unite with someone more prominent, and it would raise the prospects of Miss Bingley and your future children. Marriage to a poor country miss from nowhere will affect not only you but also generations after you. You must consider that in your selection of a bride.”
Darcy pondered his words and considered them with regard to Miss Elizabeth.
True, his fortune and his heritage made his position in society more solid than Bingley’s, so he was less worried about being received or the effect on Georgiana’s marriage.
In reality, no matter what he did, Georgiana’s dowry alone would ensure her more offers than she would ever desire.
No, in Darcy’s case, it was not his position that concerned him; it was the possibility for ridicule.
And ridicule him they would if he did marry a penniless country miss with no connexions.
The kinder among the ton would laugh at him for being taken in by a fortune hunter while those who were tasteless would make lewd comments about a marriage contracted in accordance with his baser desires.
The speculation would be rampant that he had been forced to marry her.
He could already see the gentlemen at his club and their repugnant, sly winks and hear their comments about Miss Elizabeth’s beauty and comely figure.
And for the more brazen, there would be wonderment that he had not simply taken her as his mistress.
He had seen it occur before when gentlemen of good standing married actresses, governesses, or any lady from the outside.
They generally retained few of their old connexions, received few invitations, and, worst of all, attracted mockery and derision.
Blast! Darcy thought later that night as he struggled to find sleep, tossing violently in the bed. How is it that I can see her worth and others would not?
At once, Georgiana’s face came into his mind. What would he do if Georgiana announced she wished to make such a poor alliance? A gentleman of modest means—someone like the son of Mr Goulding, perhaps, or that of Sir William Lucas?
I would tell her absolutely not. I would ascribe her desires to youthful misperception or infatuation and tell her it could not be borne. Yet if I did something of the like, how could I rightly deny her without being a hypocrite?
He spoke aloud in the room to emphasise the point to his own wilful heart. “You must marry in accordance with your station. It cannot be her. It simply cannot. You will put her aside. You will do as you must.”