Chapter Nine
London
Jane had never thought as ill of Mr. Darcy as her sister did.
Like herself, the man had enough gregarious friends and relations that he had not outgrown a natural shyness in society, though he had been very civil to her and her sister the previous evening.
And he was proving to be a splendid dancer.
“My cousin Phillip, the Viscount Bellamy, is here tonight. He has requested an introduction to you; he has met your sister already.”
Jane smiled, hoping she had concealed her surprise. “That is very kind of him.”
There was a period of silence as they made the next figures of the dance, and then he said, “I have quarreled with your sister.”
“Recently?”
He let out a bitter laugh. “While we were dancing.”
“Oh, dear – not again,” Jane said with a sigh. She cast her gaze about the room and found Elizabeth speaking with great animation to their aunt – venting her spleen, no doubt. “And what did you debate on this occasion?”
“Debate,” he sighed. “We have fallen out, I think.”
Jane chewed her lip. “Has it anything to do with Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes.”
Jane closed her eyes, moving through the next steps by memory, and then she made herself look up at Mr. Darcy.
“I received a letter from Mamma this morning, sent express. She wrote that there have been rumors about Mr. Bingley’s expected return to Netherfield; she heard confirmation of it just yesterday. ”
“What? You knew?”
“Yes, but Lizzy does not. We were distracted by some distressing news that has to do with our cousin, and in truth, I did not know what to say to her. It occurred to me that she may be more vexed than I am that his sisters concealed the specifics of his travels, and the fact that he had not yet departed. I knew she would rail at the viciousness of their actions.”
Mr. Darcy regarded her with amazement. “She was not best pleased with me, either. But are you not distressed yourself?”
“Mr. Darcy, I was so upset by Caroline and Louisa that I nearly stepped in front of a carriage! My own sisters are… not always as gentle as I should desire, but they have never driven me to such madness.”
“And you wonder if you could bear his sisters becoming your own?”
“No, for there is no uncertainty in my mind, beyond the question of whether they would punish me for not being Miss Darcy, or if they would fawn over my inheritance. Either way, I think it best not to discover the answer.”
He nodded approvingly. “To speak candidly, you are not the first young lady he admired, who was driven away by his sisters and their aspirations.”
Jane smiled sadly. “Well, it is something, to know that he did admire me.”
Mr. Darcy looked skeptically at Jane as he spun her in time with the music. “So you are resolved to give him up?”
“Sir, he gave me up six weeks ago, but I have lately learnt to accept that it is for the best. I am sorry that it should have turned out as it did, but the day Caroline Bingley decides to spend her inevitable spinsterhood at Longbourn is the day I burn it to the ground.” Jane smiled cheerfully at Mr. Darcy, beginning to understand why Elizabeth delighted in discomposing the man.
He sputtered with astonished laughter. “I have felt the same way about ever making her mistress of Pemberley, but let us keep these arsonist impulses between us. I admire your resilience, Miss Bennet. In the spirit of honesty, I must tell you that I have advised Bingley to remain at Netherfield for some time and devote himself to learning of estate matters. Or, rather, I have written to my cousins in Meryton, and asked them to do so. I have not done it with the intention of injuring you; I had thought that it would be a testament to your mutual affection, if it were to endure the separation.”
“If it does for him, then I am very sorry for it. I have lately seen my cousins, whom as you know are also in Meryton, endure devastating heartbreaks of their own, and I cannot say that what I feel is anything equal to their despair. Removed from the expectations of the neighborhood and the lamentations of my mother, there is at last space for my own reflections, and his sisters have certainly taught me a lesson.”
“And – if you will pardon my candor….”
“Of course.”
He nodded his head, but hesitated as they went down the dance. When they began the next figure of steps, he said, “I will only say that I shall be the first to wish you every felicity, should there be a gentleman of your acquaintance here in London who proves worthy of you.”
“That is very kind, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. And I entirely reciprocate your good wishes – or I shall if there is any lady here who is handsome enough to tempt you.” A turn of the dance separated them, and Jane gasped at her own bold guess, but she was sure there was something in it, for when they came back together, his cheeks looked quite pink.
“Your sister despises me…. You might tell her that we are in perfect accord.”
Mr. Darcy looked as if he might say more, but Jane became distracted as murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowded ballroom.
Those not dancing had begun to observe an altercation, and even some of the dancers had been lured away by the spectacle.
Mr. Darcy also turned for a better look. “Elizabeth….”
Jane gasped. “Mr. W!” Her mysterious hero was here…
and Elizabeth was verbally eviscerating him in front of his mother, their aunt, and half the ton.
Jane hastened to her sister’s side, but some of the false snow had been tracked onto the dance floor, and she stumbled, her ankle flinching from the pain.
Mr. Darcy reacted swiftly and steadied her, and she looked up at him in alarm. “I must go to Lizzy.”
“Of course – allow me to assist you.” He offered her his arm and walked apace with her even as she began to limp. When she reached her sister, Elizabeth was still giving Jane’s admirer a comprehensive dressing down.
“You deliberately concealed your identity from us; how can you deny it? You did not approach Mrs. Jennings’s house yesterday, for if you had, she would have exposed you as the villain who abandoned my cousin!
” Elizabeth snapped her head to Jane, and she clenched her jaw as she spoke.
“Sister, allow me to properly introduce you to John Willoughby of Combe Magna.”
Jane was utterly speechless. She looked over at the man, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Marianne’s Willoughby?”
“He is Miss Grey’s Willoughby, and he will not expose her to further ridicule,” declared a haughty old woman who approached them with her chin impossibly high and her walking stick extended in a pose of grandeur.
“Aunt….” Mr. Willoughby looked from the woman to Jane and let out a heavy sigh. “I can explain.”
“I think you must,” Mrs. Jennings cried.
“Yes, astonish us,” Elizabeth drawled.
“You will explain nothing to these people, Nephew. Miss Grey and Mrs. Ellison demand you return to them,” the old woman said sternly.
“Lady Allen, please,” Mrs. Hatchard said, her lips pressed into a taut line.
“I will not,” Mr. Willoughby said. “I wish to explain to the Miss Bennets that you published this news of my supposed engagement without my permission. I have not proposed marriage to Miss Grey, nor have I ever intended to.”
“Certainly you shall, if you wish me to leave you Allenham,” Lady Allen hissed.
“And there you have it,” he said, scowling at Elizabeth before turning a beseeching gaze at Jane. “I am sorry to have caused you distress, Miss Bennet.”
As Jane shrank back and clung to Mr. Darcy’s arm, Elizabeth stepped forward to berate Mr. Willoughby further. “And what of Marianne’s distress? You trifled with her affections, and then behaved as you did to my sister. Even if you are not to wed Miss Grey…..”
“Oh, he certainly is to wed Miss Grey,” Lady Allen cried. The young lady in question now stalked over to them, followed by a solicitous older woman.
“Willoughby, Lady Allen, what is the meaning of this?” The older woman scowled at all the combatants.
“My aunt has been premature in managing my affairs, as I have attempted to hint to you already, Mrs. Ellison,” he said with exasperation.
“But we thought it was all quite settled between you and Sophia,” Mrs. Ellison said.
Elizabeth scoffed at the woman. “What could possibly be settled between them when he was courting another lady three months ago? And dallying with another a few months before that?”
“Dallying?” Mr. Willoughby looked at Elizabeth with confusion. “I allowed myself to be carried away by my feelings for Marianne, but there was no dalliance! I would not do her the dishonor!”
“I speak of Miss Eliza Williams.”
“Who?” Mr. Willoughby next appealed to Jane. “Miss Bennet, I must apologize for not making my identity known directly; in the aftermath of your injury, I simply forgot. As to Miss Grey, there is no understanding. And Marianne….”
Lady Allen gestured at Jane. “And I suppose this is another insignificant chit who has captivated you with her arts and allurements, causing you to shirk your duty?”
“She is not insignificant,” Mr. Willoughby snapped, and then he looked back at Jane. “Who is Eliza Williams?”
“She is Colonel Brandon’s ward,” Jane said, studying Mr. Willoughby’s face. There was such a look of sincerity about him, and she dearly wished to believe there had been some great misunderstanding.
“She is the young woman who is soon to bear you child,” Elizabeth hissed. “We met her just after Christmas, and she told us of it herself.”
“That is impossible,” Mrs. Hatchard cried.
Mr. Willoughby shook his head, his expression still pleading with Jane. “I do not understand. I do not know this person. There must be some great misunderstanding – Miss Bennet….”