Chapter Five
The events of the ball continued to echo through Elizabeth’s mind during the following days, which was not at all surprising. It is not every day that one embarks on a false engagement.
Mr. Darcy appeared honorable and clever, but also reserved and high in the instep.
How much discourse about her “inferior connections” could she withstand?
He had apologized and seemed determined to improve, but she was not particularly sanguine.
She wondered if their “secret understanding” could last to the end of the Season.
However, she was happy to know someone who would converse with her at the Portlands’ garden party. She was acquainted with few people in London, and pansies were notoriously poor conversational partners.
***
The Portlands were blessed with a perfect warm and sunny spring day for their garden party.
The soirée took place on a large flagstone terrace at the rear of the Portlands’ house, which was situated on the edge of London.
The sweeping grounds led to a pond in one direction and formal gardens in another.
As it was still early when Elizabeth arrived with Jane and Lady Sterling, only a few other guests ambled around the terrace. Unfortunately, one of those guests was Viscount Harwood, scowling at the lawn as if the hedges offended him. Once he saw Elizabeth, he strode purposefully toward her.
Elizabeth’s chest tightened, and her stomach began to churn. Would he renew his addresses? She produced a smile for him but was certain it appeared insincere.
“Ladies”—he bowed—“Miss Elizabeth, would you allow me to show you Lady Portland’s tulips? They are quite spectacular.”
If Elizabeth objected, he might reveal her “engagement” to the others. Jane shot her an anxious look, but Elizabeth gave a slight shake of the head. She needed to manage this alone. She took his proffered arm while remaining as far from his body as possible.
They strolled into the immaculately tended par terre gardens. The tulips were a riot of color that Elizabeth would have appreciated under other circumstances. But her eyes darted about, unable to rest on any single bloom.
Would the viscount risk incurring Mr. Darcy’s wrath by engaging in improper conduct? Would he threaten her family?
They halted in a clearing near a little stone bench. Elizabeth declined to sit, as it would have allowed the man to loom over her. He was already looming sufficiently as far as she was concerned.
The viscount surveyed their surroundings to ensure they were alone. “I must congratulate you on your conquest of Fitzwilliam Darcy’s heart….Or whichever part of him you have conquered,” he drawled.
Elizabeth ignored the insult. The man frequently said outrageous things to provoke her.
“I did not even know you were acquainted with Mr. Darcy.” He watched her intently.
“We met at a ball two years ago when I was in London visiting my aunt and uncle.” She endeavored to keep her voice steady.
“And you fell instantly in love?” The viscount’s words were laced with mockery.
Elizabeth stared at him stonily. “I do not need to account to you. Thank you for this enlightening conversation, Lord Harwood. I should like to see if Mr. Darcy has arrived.” She turned to go, but he grabbed her elbow.
“Last night, I intended to make a proposal of my own to you,” he hissed into her ear.
“I regret disappointing you, my lord.” She knew she sounded rather short on contrition.
“Did I say it was a proposal of marriage?” He chuckled. “It was an invitation to my bed.”
Elizabeth shuddered and pulled away from him. “I have heard enough!”
She had only taken two steps away when the viscount spoke in a low voice. “Your father owes me ten thousand pounds. I have the voucher written and signed in his hand.”
Elizabeth gasped. She knew her father owed the viscount money from an ill-fated evening of drinking and gambling but never imagined such an amount. She whirled to face him. “It cannot possibly be so great a sum!”
“I assure you it is. And he has been…slow to repay the debt.” An unpleasant smile spread over his face. “I have come to doubt if he actually has the funds….”
Her father did not possess nearly that amount, and the viscount knew it. He stalked closer. “However, if you and I could come to a satisfactory arrangement, I might forgive the debt entirely.” He smirked.
Elizabeth froze, horrified. What would he consider a satisfactory arrangement? “But, Mr. Darcy….”
The viscount tapped his chin pensively. “Yes, so unfortunate you formed an attachment to Darcy. No doubt you can account for your loss of purity before the wedding night….”
Elizabeth flushed at the insult but said nothing, trying not to rise to his provocation.
“You should throw him over.” He leaned in and whispered, “I will require your company for quite some time. But there are compensations. I am certainly much more accomplished in bed than he is.”
Every bone in Elizabeth’s body wanted to flee the man and the garden, but she held herself in place by an effort of will.
She wanted to tell him she would not consider his bed if he were the last man in the world.
But what if that provoked him to call in the debt immediately?
It would ruin her father—her whole family.
They could not sell the entailed estate, but they might be forced to sell everything else: the furniture, china, clothing, jewelry. The shame would be unbearable.
“You cannot expect— I am a respectable lady.” Elizabeth hated how vulnerable she sounded.
He moved closer, his breath hot in her ear. “Unfortunately for you, I am not a respectable man. As long as I hold your father’s voucher, I will be satisfied by nothing less than your complete surrender.”
Elizabeth blinked rapidly in an effort to hold back tears.
The viscount’s smile was predatory. “I will grant you a week to consider my proposition. But if you do not come to me at the end of the week, I will immediately take action on the debt. It would be most devastating for your family.” He pointed at her.
“And do not dare whisper a word of this to Darcy. You would not like the consequences.”
The man sauntered away, leaving Elizabeth to sink onto the stone bench as suppressed tears flowed down her cheeks. What could she possibly do?
***
During the days following the ball, Darcy’s life proceeded so normally that he wondered if he had imagined encountering Miss Elizabeth.
But when he saw her on the terrace at the garden party, he vividly recalled the events at the ball.
She stood with Lady Portland and Lady Sterling on the far side of the terrace and had not noticed his arrival.
Fate had been kind in assigning him a false fiancée.
She was lively, witty, and quite pleasing.
Her white linen gown made her almost glow in the afternoon sun.
Her eyes were fringed by sinfully long lashes.
Her sweet mouth appeared fashioned for smiling.
It would not be a hardship to keep company with her.
What a tragedy. If her family had greater standing, Darcy might be tempted to court her.
But…had something disturbed her? Her eyes were red, and that smile he admired was subdued.
He had noticed Harwood leaving the soirée.
Had the man distressed her? Anger surged through Darcy’s veins.
Of course, it was not on Miss Elizabeth’s behalf; he barely knew the woman.
But he hated to witness Harwood manipulating an innocent woman.
Heads turned and eyebrows raised as he strode onto the terrace.
He could only tolerate attending a limited number of ton events, so it was a bit of a sensation.
If there was a Hell, at least one level consisted of exchanging civilities with people who were either hoping to marry him or gossip about him.
As Darcy progressed across the terrace, one woman batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at him while another fanned herself suggestively. He ignored them.
Darcy took care to speak with several other guests before approaching Miss Elizabeth.
With the viscount gone and Aunt Catherine not yet arrived, he need not make an ostentatious display of affection.
He managed to avoid Miss Bingley, who would cling tenaciously to every conversation with him as if her life depended upon it.
Bingley already monopolized Miss Jane Bennet’s attention on a settee near the house.
Darcy had warned his friend that he would be well served to marry a woman with a substantial dowry and high social standing.
Though Bingley agreed with Darcy’s wisdom, he said he intended to court Miss Bennet anyway because she was the most amiable woman of his acquaintance.
When Darcy approached Miss Elizabeth and Lady Sterling, he kissed Miss Elizabeth’s gloved hand.
“Excellent doting! Well done,” she said under her breath, making him smile.
Miss Elizabeth introduced him to Lady Sterling, who remarked, “I once had a passing acquaintance with your father.”
“Indeed? A pleasure to meet you, Lady Sterling.”
“No doubt it is.” Then she chuckled. “You should see your expression, young man! Nobody expects old ladies to be impolite.”
Miss Elizabeth regarded the other woman with fond exasperation. “Behave yourself. Not everyone appreciates your levity.” Well, Miss Elizabeth certainly enjoyed a curious relationship with Lady Sterling. Was she habitually impertinent with the aristocracy?
When Miss Bingley and the Hursts joined Darcy, he performed introductions. “This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I first met her two years ago at a ball. Was it Lord and Lady Stoddards’ squeeze or the Earl of Covington? I cannot recall now.”
“It was a ball given by the Harrisons,” Miss Elizabeth said quite casually. Miss Bingley appeared to have bitten something very sour.
“Ah, yes.”