Chapter 11
The following week was both hectic and boring: hectic because every gentleman who had danced with Elizabeth at the assembly came calling at Longbourn at some point and boring because they said nothing of interest to her and simultaneously prevented her from doing anything that was actually interesting.
By the end of that week, she was ready to scream. She had to take many long walks and some hours of solitude to prevent herself from taking her frustration and annoyance out on her family.
What made it even worse was that the one man she was actually curious to know more of was the one man she did not see: Mr. Darcy. While there had been a couple of parties that week, they were small affairs that the residents of Netherfield hadn’t been invited to.
It wasn’t that she found him fascinating or even handsome. In fact, she didn’t even know exactly what he looked like, since she had only seen him in deep shadow. It was more that he was a very mysterious figure.
The fact that she had spoken with him yet still did not know what he looked like was one thing that contributed to his mysteriousness, but another was the mere existence of her wish.
What impact would this man have on her that would make it so that she would frequently wish to know what he was thinking in the future?
Her curiosity was only increased when she heard rumors that he was proud and unfeeling.
The way he had caught her and had worried about her didn’t seem unfeeling, but she could hardly defend his character using that example.
How could she possibly explain that her information came from his thoughts which she could somehow hear?
She tried not to fret or think on the subject too deeply. If she truly was meant to know him better, she would see him again.
Elizabeth finally did see him again at a party at Lucas Lodge ten days after the assembly. She noticed the moment he walked into the room about ten minutes after her own arrival. He was easy to recognize, after all, simply because he was the only one of his party who was more than six feet tall.
His face was handsome, with sharp features and deep brown eyes. His figure was trim but strong. Elizabeth could well imagine that many ladies would fall for him at first sight, especially if they knew of his fortune ahead of time.
For a fortune he certainly had. Elizabeth felt extremely wealthy with her four thousand pounds per annum, but Mr. Darcy’s income was more than double that.
His estate in Derbyshire, Pemberley, was said to earn more than ten thousand per year, and a man of that kind of wealth was certain to have ample investments to bolster such an income.
Elizabeth had heard all of this alongside the rumors of his pride with her neighbors using his wealth to explain the man’s pride and unsociability.
Every time Elizabeth heard such claims and complaints, she remembered the very first of his thoughts that she had heard: “I wish I was home.” She wondered if, perhaps, his “pride” was rather more discomfort, but without being able to see him again, it was impossible to know.
Now, however, they were once again in proximity, and Elizabeth had high hopes that she would catch some glimpse of insight from his thoughts. Unfortunately, her attention was taken up with Jacob Smith at the moment, who was regaling her with stories of his hunting prowess and his dogs.
Elizabeth tried to be interested in what Jacob was saying. She had known him all her life, after all, so it would not do to be dismissive. However, she had never had much interest in hunting, and she actively disliked dogs, even the adorable lap dogs that some ladies fancied.
Only moments after Mr. Darcy entered the room, she heard his voice in her mind quite clearly. If he had been speaking out loud, it would have been difficult to distinguish his words from the noise around her, but since his thoughts were projected directly to her, there was nothing to impede them.
Such noise, such chaos, he thought.
Elizabeth could understand his feelings. While she had never felt that way, since she was surrounded by people she was familiar with, she had heard Mary complain of the discomfort she felt when she was in such settings.
His next thought, however, snapped her out of her sympathy. Such a small space for entertaining.
Lucas Lodge had the third largest drawing rooms in the neighborhood.
Only Longbourn and Haye Park were larger.
She supposed she should count Netherfield, which of course had the largest drawing rooms as well as a dedicated ballroom, but since it was so frequently vacant, Elizabeth felt as though it didn’t count.
The point was that if these drawing rooms were considered small, Mr. Darcy was likely going to be disappointed and unhappy for the entire duration of his visit in Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth tried to tune him out and forget what she had heard. She tried to focus on John’s conversation, boring and uninteresting as it was. After all, it was only polite.
Fortunately, Mr. Darcy made his way to the far side of the room, and he was soon out of range of her ability to hear his thoughts.
Jacob didn’t monopolize her attention for much longer, but the moment he drifted away he was replaced by John Lucas, who was later replaced by someone else, and so on.
Hours drifted by in this way, and not once did Elizabeth have a moment to breathe or even choose her own conversation partner.
She did occasionally look around her at the risk of being rude, but she felt it was worth it simply to be able to see her sister, Jane, thoroughly enjoying her conversation with Mr. Bingley.
Throughout those hours of tedious conversation, Elizabeth lost track of where Mr. Darcy was standing, but she could tell when he was near, for she would occasionally catch whisps of thought from him.
Such beautiful and expressive eyes.
What loud and uncouth manners.
I wish I was at home or at Netherfield or even riding my horse. Anywhere but here.
That was a clever expression.
Ugh. So annoying.
The confusing mix of admiration and complaints made it so that Elizabeth could not make him out.
Since she could not see him, she could not tell who it was he admired or who in particular annoyed him.
She did know, however, that he mingled very little.
He had the good manners to greet and chat with both his host and hostess, but he spoke little to anyone else as far as Elizabeth was able to tell.
One of the gentlemen who monopolized Elizabeth’s attention later in the evening was Colonel Forster, the colonel of a regiment of militia which would be wintering in Meryton. He and his captain were the only members of the regiment present, but the rest would be arriving within a week.
After suffering through a plethora of insincere compliments from the colonel, Elizabeth was even further annoyed when the man said, “You know, a regiment of militia does not see a ready welcome everywhere we go. Here, however, it seems to be quite the opposite. Sir William has kindly told me that we officers are likely to be invited to almost every party of note. I do look forward to the opportunity of being in your company frequently, Miss Elizabeth.”
She practically cringed at the note of familiarity he managed to include when he said her name. My word, the man is a complete stranger, she thought.
She was shocked when she heard her own thoughts practically mimicked by Mr. Darcy, who she had not noticed was standing particularly nearby. Good God! What business has he of using her name in that tone? He is a complete stranger!
For the first time that evening, it was particularly difficult to ignore Mr. Darcy’s thoughts, but she did her best to not show her surprise at his internal defense of her.
She quickly turned her head back to Colonel Forster.
Ignoring his implied intention of getting to know her better, she said, “If you are concerned about the regiment’s reception here, I can think of no better gesture of goodwill than for you to throw a ball.
The assembly rooms in Meryton are often available to be rented out for such private parties. ”
Unfortunately, Colonel Forster took her efforts to shift the conversation in an altogether unexpected and unpleasant direction. He said, “And if I do go to such trouble, would I be graced with the opportunity to dance with you?”
“Colonel Forster, you must allow me to decline to respond to such a request, for it is impossible to give any sort of reasonable answer. If I agree and you decide not to host it, that leaves you open to claim a promised dance at any time convenient to you whether it is convenient to me or not. If I decline, however, it gives you a rather unpleasant impression of my agreeableness. In either case, my reputation will suffer. Therefore, if you throw a ball, you make ask for a dance at that time.”
She tried her best to keep a pleasant smile on her face as she spoke, and she was fairly certain she succeeded, for Colonel Forster seemed to take no offence at her refusal. Instead, he changed the subject once again.
Elizabeth, however, found it difficult to follow because, once again, Mr. Darcy’s voice entered her mind, and this time it truly startled her.
Brava, Miss Elizabeth. Brava.
She looked around to see what expression was on his face, but he was walking away from her.