Chapter Thirteen
“ R emind me, Bingley, why are we here?” Mindful of the people nearby, Hurst added at a quieter volume, “Insipid sort of affair, if you ask me. We had better go to the club.”
Charles Bingley fiddled with the cuff of his blue jacket and shook his head at the servant who approached with a tray of wine glasses. “Mrs. Lambeth sent an invitation, Hurst. She has never issued us one before and Caroline thought it a marked honour. It is possible that Mrs. Houghton spoke well of us to Mrs. Lambeth. ”
“And yet Caroline and Louisa went to the opera instead?” Hurst helped himself to a dainty glass of ratafia with all the disgust of a man who has no other options. Perhaps Bingley could be persuaded to leave a little early and they might go somewhere with a touch more excitement. Louisa need not hear of it — they could honestly state that they had spent the evening at Mrs. Lambeth's after all.
Bingley sighed. "Caroline had an engagement that she had already accepted. Lady Briarcliffe invited her to share her box and my sister could hardly brush her off. They may well call in later after the opera is done. It may be Gluck; I do not know. If it is something new, they will not be able to leave so quickly.”
Grudgingly Mr. Hurst sipped at his drink. “I suppose it is better to be here than listening to all that wailing with Caroline pretending to enjoy it. It does not follow that we could not be somewhere a little more interesting, however, and never mind Caroline.”
Bingley spoke with all his customary patience to his brother-in-law. “Caroline felt that Mrs. Lambeth's invitation merited the presence of some members of the family, lest she take offence.”
“Aye, she is the sort to take offence at something ridiculous like that. Tedious way to spend an evening — we may as well head to the card tables now. I certainly do not mean to lead Mrs. Lambeth out. Never met a prosier woman in my life.” Hurst looked critically at the couples dancing. “Sutton is here, Bingley. It is just as well Caroline did not come after all. She might not be to his taste but her fortune might be.”
“Knowing Caroline, she would not dance with him,” countered his brother-in-law, the corners of his lips turning up a little, “even if did ask her.” It occurred to Hurst that his wife's ordinarily cheerful brother did not smile so broadly as he once had .
“She would ; the ladies always do, you know. He has a way about him. Take the young chit he's dancing with now — I'd lay you a wager she'll be head over heels for him after an evening of his charm.” He suddenly laid a hand on Mr. Bingley's arm. “I say, is that Miss Bennet he is partnering with, Bingley?”
“ What ?” cried the young man, astonished to hear the name that scarcely left his thoughts. He searched the floor for the pale hair he had not forgotten, but could not see it.
“No, no,” Hurst murmured after a moment. “I am mistaken — it is Miss Elizabeth . Wondered if I might encounter them again after I saw them in the park, you know.” Hurst continued conversationally. “Perhaps I would take back that wager if it is Miss Elizabeth. Sutton may have met his match there. I heard from Fitzroy she…”
Bingley interrupted him, speaking with more animation than he had for some time. “My dear Hurst, what can you mean? When did you see Miss Elizabeth? Is she alone? I see her now — it is she.” Immediately his eyes left her and searched the rest of the room, hunting for her sister and wondering if he looked in vain .
Hurst appeared surprised. “Of course, she is not alone , man! Daresay her aunt is with her and the pretty sister too. I met them in the park when I was out with Eckworth and Johnson. Louisa said they'd called a while back as well. Daresay it slipped Caroline's mind to inform you; mind you, she returned the call a few days ago. Last I heard from m'friends, they are making a bit of a splash.” Mr. Hurst was feeling distinctly out of charity with his sister-in-law. Not only had she caused him to attend Mrs. Lambeth's dull soiree but she had harangued his wife into pretended illness in order to avoid meeting the Bennets at the Henning chit's little party. He had not any desire to attend a coming-out ball himself, but Louisa had, and it was not a good thing that she was so cowed by her sister. Furthermore, Hurst rather liked Miss Elizabeth — she had some spirit in her, and even better, Caroline disliked her. It was a good enough reason to stir up a little trouble in her scheming if he possibly could.
Mr. Darcy, who had just finished greeting Mrs. Lambeth, joined them. “I wondered if you might have gone to the opera tonight, Bingley. My sister mentioned that your sisters meant to attend the performance. Good evening, Hurst. I trust that Mrs. Hurst is feeling better.” Hurst gave a shrug of affirmation and Darcy appeared satisfied. He noticed his friend eagerly scanning the room. “For whom do you look, Bingley?”
Bingley answered distractedly, so intent was he upon searching the crowd. His brother-in-law slowly answered for him. “He has just learned that Miss Bennet is here tonight — cannot see her myself. Perhaps she is in the card room. Fitzroy tells me she is lauded as a very fine player and is increasingly sought out as an opponent. Half the young cubs are in love with her, y'know, and she thrashes them so sweetly that not one of them minds if she brings them close to dun territory. It looks to become a badge of honour in some sets. You will be in fashionable company if you reveal that she has already beaten you at Netherfield, Bingley.”
Bingley turned to look at Hurst. There was a blank look in his eyes; he had not fully understood above half of what had been said to him. “You said to me that my…that Miss Bennet is in London and that Caroline…that both of my sisters knew of it and did not tell me?” There was a note of betrayal in his voice that caused Mr. Darcy to shift uncomfortably on his feet.
“Bingley, perhaps it might be wiser to move to a less conspicuous part of the room,” Mr. Darcy quietly advised, fully expecting his friend to nod in his agreeable way and do so.
To his surprise, the advice was rejected, and Bingley shook his head for emphasis. “I think I had far better find Miss Bennet and explain that I had no knowledge of her being nearby. Darcy, what must she think of me? If she has been here and…I will head to the card room. Perhaps if she is in there we might have some conversation. It will be quieter there. Do you not think that is a good idea? I will go now.”
He did not wait for his oldest friend's sage counsel but moved off quickly, making his way through the crush to the card room door .
Darcy looked to Hurst, a slight frown on his brow. “He is not in a calm frame of mind. I sincerely hope he does not act rashly.” He pondered following him but decided against it — no good could be done in a crowded card room. At any rate, if Miss Bennet was playing cards she might well pay little attention to his friend. Perhaps she had moved on to a better prospect.
“To my thinking, he lost all calmness when he thought Miss Bennet was dancing with Anton Sutton of all people — fortunate that it was not so or I do not know what he might have done. A veritable rogue, that one. He's had many a duel thrust on him from a jealous suitor.”
“Quite,” answered Mr. Darcy coolly, with a disapproving frown. People of Sutton's ilk thrived on attention and he would therefore direct his own gaze elsewhere to rob him of the satisfaction. Mrs. Lambeth's painting collection was a more worthy object of his notice.
Mr. Hurst took a long drink from his cup. “Very good thing it was only Miss Elizabeth Bennet dancing with Sutton; daresay Bingley might have made a scene otherwise.”
Mr. Darcy, who had just that moment set his eyes indifferently on the large coronation portraits of King George and Queen Charlotte on the wall behind Hurst, swung round so rapidly to face the dancers that Hurst jolted in surprise and had to regain his grip on his drink.
“Steady now, Darcy — nearly spilled my drink! Mrs. Lambeth is stinting with the stuff so waste not. What is it?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here,” stated Mr. Darcy, discomposed, then having quickly spotted her, “and is dancing with one of the most notable…the most notable rake in the country.”
“Aye, but at least it is not her sister or m'brother-in-law would be doing far more than dashing off to the card room at a tilt.”
Mr. Darcy's frown deepened to something resembling a scowl. “She ought not be dancing with a man of that calibre. Where are her chaperones? They appear to be singularly inadequate. Someone ought to be watching over her — she cannot understand what sort of man he is.”
“Judging by the way he is smirking at her, they're getting along famously. Do you not think we ought to follow Bingley?” Hurst noted that Darcy's eyes were fixed intently upon the girl in white. It was a familiar stare — he had seen it at Netherfield often enough. Small wonder Caroline turned into a jealous little harpy .
“I think Miss Elizabeth is in dire need of advice, Hurst.” Mr. Darcy drew himself up, mastered his expression with some effort, and spoke with deliberate calmness. “Bingley can manage his own affairs — he is a grown man, after all.” The music ended and Darcy barely waited for Sutton to make his bow before cutting through the dancers to stand before Elizabeth Bennet .
Their eyes met and hers widened. He had not forgotten how unusual her eyes were, nor had he misremembered the powerful effect that her presence had upon him. Astonishment suffused Elizabeth's voice. “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, her brows rising as he reached for her hand to bow over it.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Is it? I…” she paused and recollected herself, dropping a curtsey. “Forgive me, Mr. Sutton — thank you for the dance, sir.”
“Mr. Sutton,” clipped Darcy, nodding fractionally and releasing her hand reluctantly.
Mr. Sutton bowed elegantly with the insouciance for which he was famed. “Mr. Darcy.” He turned a charming smile to his companion. “Must I take you back to your aunt now, fair ghost?”
“That sounds like the proper thing to do, Mr. Sutton. Please excuse us, Mr. Darcy.”
“May I have the next dance, Miss Elizabeth? I will return you to your chaperone afterwards.”
She faltered. “I do not think…Mr. Darcy, the next dance is a waltz and I…”
Mr. Sutton affected a sigh, and laughingly said, “I still remember the first waltz you danced with me, Miss Elizabeth.”
She was amused rather than flattered, and nodded. “Given it was but a few days ago, Mr. Sutton, I am relieved to hear that your memory is not impaired. You ought to take my advice now and watch my sister play cards, sir. You will then see I am right.” Lizzy smiled impishly at him and he responded in kind, evidently struck by the humour in her tone.
Rather tersely, Mr. Darcy stepped forward to take Miss Elizabeth's hand again. He felt the warmth of it through their gloves. “Then there can be no objection to dancing the next with me. Excuse us, sir. ”
The musicians struck up their instruments and he gently coaxed her to stand a little nearer to him. It mattered not that the sight of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley dancing a waltz in public would set tongues wagging, neither did it signify that his friend was somewhere in the house seeking out an unsuitable woman. Darcy placed a hand at Miss Elizabeth's waist and watched a flush creep up her neck. She said nothing, however — only fixed her eyes on his shoulder where she lightly rested her fingers until he began to lead her about the room. After a few moments of indulging himself in her nearness, he broke their silence .
The urge to admonish her immediately for keeping unwise company was strong, but instead he said, “I had not known that you were in London, Miss Elizabeth. ”
She answered him with familiar archness, “I had not expected you to know it, Mr. Darcy. My sister and I called upon Miss Bingley, of course, but we have been rather busy.”
He glanced across to the retreating figure of Mr. Sutton, who was making his way to the card room, and frowned .
“You said your aunt was here?”
“Yes, she was with Mrs. Houghton when I last saw her. Perhaps she has gone to find Jane.” Miss Elizabeth's distracted answers suggested that she was either flustered by the closeness of the dance or annoyed. It was more likely the former — he himself did not feel so composed as he would have liked. Perhaps it had been the sight of her laughing with Sutton that had disconcerted him, a man whose reputation made Wickham appear comparable to a parson. It had been enough to make him forget every argument he had made to himself regarding this woman in his arms.
Plainly, Miss Bingley had deliberately deceived him, lied even, so that he had not known Elizabeth Bennet was in Town. Had he been properly informed he might have been better able to strengthen his defences against her, to greet her in an unconcerned manner regardless of the disorder she brought to his heart and mind. Against his better judgement, which was curiously silent at present, Darcy wished that she would look at him. She had given Sutton her attention as they danced, after all — why should she not meet his own eye?
There was a powerful feeling stirring within him, urging him to bring her closer to himself and then to keep her there forever. Jealousy warred with his rational mind, and Fitzwilliam Darcy did not consider his words before uttering them. “You should not keep company with Mr. Sutton, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her head lifted quickly at that, a peculiar light in her eyes .
“And you should not offer unsolicited advice to young ladies you have no connection with, sir. Mr. Sutton is no danger to me — I know very well what sort of reputation he has.”
Her naivete was pitiable but alarming. “I very much doubt you know the whole. Neither can your chaperone — your aunt, I understand.”
“My aunt knows me very well, sir, and is sensible enough to realise that very little harm can come to me on a dance floor in the view of a hundred or so other people.”
“It could do harm enough to your reputation. If you will not care for that, then your aunt ought to. To see a scoundrel flirting with you in front of those hundred other people is surely enough to cause gossip, Miss Elizabeth. If she will not warn you against a dangerous man, then I must. We are, after all…”
“We are, after all, barely acquainted, Mr. Darcy,” interrupted the young lady, now evidently much annoyed. “I suppose you think that Mrs. Lambeth's judgement is at fault also, that she should invite such a dangerous man to her home — it surprises me that you should deign to attend this evening. Besides which, Mr. Sutton was not flirting with me nor I with him. I want him to play cards with my sister and nothing more. If he has friends that wish to do the same, so much the better. So you see how unnecessary your officious interference is.”
His eyes narrowed and he adjusted the hand at her waist to hold her a little more firmly. “You would encourage men like that to associate with your sister? What are you about, Miss Elizabeth? It is foolishness. Do you seek her ruin and your own by extension?”
“It is not foolishness , Mr. Darcy. I am helping Jane and she is helping our family. It is far better than for her to stay at home and be the object of pity since your gentlemanly friend exited the neighbourhood without a backward glance.” She drew a deep breath and added with heavy sarcasm, “Your concern for gossip is commendable, sir. What a pity it is that you did not advise Mr. Bingley that Jane would be subject to it after he had paid her such attentions in the autumn and then departed the neighbourhood so suddenly. Surely more damage was done to reputation in Hertfordshire than here in London.”