Chapter 4
FOUR
“Brother!” Miss Darcy took his hand and bussed his cheek. “I hope all went well on your excursion.”
“Forgive me for my intrusion, Georgiana,” Mr Darcy replied in low tones. “I did not wish to disturb your guests. I heard only that our aunt had called.”
“And it is well you came up to see me, Darcy, for you left Rosings with hardly a proper leave,” Lady Catherine scolded.
“Forgive me,” Mr Darcy said, bowing. When he straightened, his eyes darted to find Maria Lucas’s face—and then, with a widening expression of recognition, Elizabeth’s.
Coldness washed over Elizabeth, then heat in her cheeks answered it.
She was capable of meeting his eye only for as long a moment as she could withstand, until she felt she must direct her gaze downward again to her folded hands that were now wringing themselves in acute agitation.
His eyes had looked dark and troubled, evincing as much surprised distress as she felt within herself.
He recovered first and bowed. “Miss Lucas, Miss Elizabeth. I hope your journey from Kent has been satisfactory.”
A beat of tense silence followed as Elizabeth struggled to find her voice and respond. Maria, dazed as always in the presence of Mr Darcy, made no answer for her. Instead, it fell to Lady Catherine to reply, “But of course! They came into town with me in my own barouche.”
“How very kind of you, Aunt,” he replied mechanically.
“Yes, very kind,” put in his sister boldly. “I am also grateful to Lady Catherine for forming my new acquaintance with these young ladies. We have had a lovely time today.”
Here was one commonality certain to bring peace into the tempest of this most unexpected reunion.
Elizabeth found composure enough to meet Mr Darcy’s gaze and say sincerely, “Miss Darcy has been a charming hostess, sir. The praise for her talent has not been exaggerated. I feel privileged to have heard her exhibit for us.”
Mr Darcy said nothing for a moment; then he managed to offer a brief nod.
“Thank you,” said Miss Darcy, biting her lip and glancing uncertainly between them before she continued. “I find myself more easy and able to play my best when my audience is as encouraging as you have been. I never seem to play well for strangers.”
The similarity of these words to some of the same spoken by Mr Darcy himself could hardly avoid notice; now, however, they struck Elizabeth wholly differently than before.
“I once believed that the sole responsibility for improvement in such cases must lie with the performer—that they must take the trouble of practising before strangers to cure themselves of this vulnerability,” said Elizabeth slowly, daring to raise her eyes if only a little to Mr Darcy’s face.
“I have since learned that the receptivity of one’s audience weighs greatly in a performer’s success.
If the audience is of a beneficent mind and gives charity to the performer without prejudice, the performance must always satisfy. ”
Here, she turned to Miss Darcy with a wan smile. “I have decided to practise such charity far more often, for I fear I have not always done so in the past. In your case, your gift with music presents its own merit and must inspire warm regard, regardless of your audience.”
She kept her smile for Miss Darcy, for although Elizabeth had borrowed what familiar remarks she could from their conversation at Rosings in hopes of catching Mr Darcy’s ear, she was still afraid to catch his eye.
Eagerness to please Miss Darcy weighed in balance with her wish to avoid giving greater offence to Mr Darcy than she had at their previous interview.
So she accepted Miss Darcy’s warm smile, even as she shifted nervously in anticipation of what Mr Darcy, now so still and silent, might do or say next.
“Gracious,” said Maria with a laugh, “how you do preach and teach! You sound like your sister Mary!”
Elizabeth turned to her in surprise. “Do I? I aimed to speak from self-censure. I assure you it was not my intention to school the room with such notions. I am poor enough of a student; I ought never position myself as a teacher.”
“On the contrary,” said Mr Darcy with a suddenness that nearly made her start, “I have always learnt a great deal from you.”
Confusion immediately washed over Elizabeth at this inscrutable remark. Had he meant to compliment her? Or had he meant to rebuke her with a subtle judgment about his own lesson, hard earned, in so foolishly offering for her? He would not look at her. It was impossible to know.
Lady Catherine spoke staunchly into the silence. “Young women ought never put themselves forward as teachers, except to children. I am certain my nephew will hold to greater wisdom.”
Mr Darcy kept silent. His sister—perhaps seeing him, as Elizabeth did, made rigid either by unbending restraint or paralysing uncertainty—bit her lip and offered to play again.
Maria immediately encouraged their hostess’s return to the instrument, and the occupants of the room began to sort themselves once more.
Mr Darcy took himself to the bookshelf behind his sister, ready to step in to turn her pages.
Elizabeth moved back to her former place on a delicate chair beside the dowager, and Miss Darcy began to play.
Elizabeth had caught just enough of the theme of the song to begin to anticipate the movements of the piece, to follow and feel with it, when she felt Mr Darcy’s eye upon her.
She gave him the merest glance of timid curiosity, fully expecting to find something censorious in his returning look.
Instead, she found it a mirror of her own. She held his gaze as long as she dared.
“I must have a word, Miss Bennet, if you will accompany me to the salon,” murmured Lady Catherine suddenly, leaning towards Elizabeth over the tufted arm of her chair.
The request had been spoken softly, but there was so much sternness in her look that Elizabeth dared not refuse. She curtseyed and followed immediately, too hasty and unsettled to spare more than a backwards glance at Mr Darcy and his sister.
Lady Catherine led her on a little ways down the hall towards a room made cheerful with lavender paper and pale furnishings. Once Elizabeth had gained the room with her, Lady Catherine pulled the door closed and turned back towards Elizabeth in abrupt displeasure.
“Miss Bennet, you ought to know I am not to be trifled with! I have eyes as keen as any, and I have seen how yours seek out my nephew. I have never seen such artful provocation, and such low deceit—to stoop to baiting your snares with praise of his own sister! I now regret bringing you to pay this call.”
Elizabeth’s amazement gave way to greater feelings of offence. “Lady Catherine, if I sought Mr Darcy’s attention, it was for reasons you cannot presume to understand at a glance. You have widely mistaken my character, ma’am, if you think me here to ensnare him.”
“But of course, you should seek to deny it. I am ashamed of you! Such an appearance of innocence as you have may fool a lesser mind, but you will find me wise to your arts and allurements. I think it best that you and Miss Lucas are removed from the house immediately.”
“You will not find me unwilling,” replied Elizabeth, rising immediately to go.
“Not so hasty,” hissed her ladyship. “I have by no means done. It is clear to me that by some contrivance or manipulation you have placed a considerable hold upon my nephew. I have never seen him less composed in the presence of any young woman. I intend to know all before it becomes a matter of gossip. Tell me, then, Miss Bennet—have you had an assignation with him?”
Elizabeth stood stock-still, white-lipped, until the molten outrage which had filled her spirit left her.
“Your assumptions and your accusations, your ladyship, are as pernicious as they are ill-judged. You impugn my honour as much as his with such a question. What your nephew might say, had he heard you utter such an enquiry, I might only guess. You certainly have insulted me by every possible method. I must beg to take my leave of this house.” She turned swiftly again to go.
Lady Catherine’s arm shot out to bar her way, and she raised her voice to exclaim, “You will hear me out! It is for Darcy’s own honour that I detain you.
I care nothing for yours. So far there has been no scandal, and no falsehood has spread.
So it must remain. Do I make myself clear on this matter? ”
The door to the salon suddenly opened with a bang as it twisted back forcefully on its hinges, and Mr Darcy’s voice immediately filled the shocked silence.
“This is beyond bearing! How can you so slander Miss Bennet, and then dare to speak of my honour? Have you no sense to know when matters cease to concern you? This interview ends—now!”
Lady Catherine reared back and hissed, “How dare I? How dare you! For now I see it clearly. You have debased yourself, Nephew!”
Mr Darcy went white with anger, and Elizabeth flinched, both at her ladyship’s insult and her anticipation of a volatile response from the gentleman.
But when Mr Darcy spoke again, his voice rolled with the threat of a storm over a sea of calm.
“You understand nothing. There is no debasement here but yours, and all from your slanderous tongue.”
Lady Catherine gasped at his words, but, contrary to her nature, kept her silence.
Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth and made her an irresistible offer. “You have suffered a grievous and unforgivable injustice. Please allow me to take you home.”