Chapter Five #3
Her cousin allowed her to vent her spleen at him, and she grew heated as she expressed her frustration with the unaccountable distance that had formed between her and the man who had been so determined to please her only the week before.
Richard listened and bore all her superlative exclamations of exasperation with a tranquil smile. When she finally exhausted her complaints, he gave a rueful laugh and tapped her on the nose.
“Lizzy, you shall run quite mad, and all for naught! Do you not recall what I told you at the Hursts’ horrid little party?
Darcy does well enough amongst a party of intimates, but he is lousy in a great crush of people.
You shall see for yourself this evening; he will be entirely mortified, stupid, and silent.
He will brood out the window and lurk awkwardly about the periphery of the room looking as if he wished to become a tree or a side table.
I have always found it rather amusing, and I would have thought you would find it endearing. ”
“Well… I….” Elizabeth stammered, throwing up her hands.
“I should like to see him exert himself a little, to please me, for Heaven’s sake!
I suppose it did affect me a little, the way he stared at me at the opera – I had imagined a bit of yearning on his part – but I vastly prefer actual conversation… flirtation… something!”
“I shall find some opportunity after supper to inform him of the fact,” Richard said drily.
“After supper?” Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her chest and bristled with dissatisfaction.
“He is hardly likely to be seated near you at dinner, anyhow – there will be three dozen people at least! Have some patience, Lizzy.”
“I do not want to have patience – I want to have a good time,” Elizabeth huffed, though her energetic rage had cooled.
“That will hardly be possible if you continue to vex yourself.” Richard gave her a tender pat on the arm and a knowing look. “Take heart, cousin. Darcy has not spoken a word to me of his affection for you, which is how I know that it must be quite serious.”
Elizabeth had to content herself with her cousin’s assurances until that evening when their large and boisterous party dined together.
Lady Anne cried off, afflicted by a megrim, but she sent Georgiana along with Lady Findlay.
Elizabeth’s spirits were buoyed by her cousin’s shy enthusiasm for so much activity and so many new acquaintance to be met with.
When Georgiana was finally introduced to Mr. Darcy, she gave Elizabeth a look that said she was very well pleased with him. “What a pleasure to finally meet you! Mamma and I were beginning to doubt your existence!”
Mr. Darcy made a very civil apology for not attending Lady Findlay’s party, and engaged Georgiana on her favorite subject, which was presently novels.
He offered Elizabeth a great many mirthful looks as he admitted to reading some of the most outlandish romances Georgiana could name, his posture and playful smirk silently daring her to tease him.
This was enough to sustain Elizabeth, despite being seated at considerable move from Mr. Darcy at dinner.
She was placed between Sir John Dawson and Lord Douglas, with Sir Rolland Moore seated across from her.
All three of the gentlemen were eager to recommend themselves to her, and it was impossible that Elizabeth should not enjoy so much attention and absurdity amidst these companions.
Sir John was determined to woo her with pretty, poetic phrases, Lord Douglas spoke to her a great deal about her elegant attire and his enthusiasm for finely tailored garments, and Sir Rolland observed the unfolding frivolity with wry appreciation, interjecting the occasional quip of his own.
Elizabeth could barely see Mr. Darcy, so far away was he seated, but still she could not resist the occasional glance, and was often willing him to look back at her.
He was seated between Miss Bingley, who ignored him in favor of laughing at all Rupert’s undoubtedly bawdy jests, and Lady Rebecca, whom Elizabeth could only wish was speaking well of her.
At the very least, she hoped her cousin was not being too terribly wicked to Mr. Darcy.
He looked miserable, just as Richard had predicted.
Her anger had been thoroughly spent, and Elizabeth felt a pang of sympathy for him.
Even so, she found it unaccountable that anybody could be so uneasy in such delightful circumstances.
She thrived on society, good conversations, and fascinating personalities to observe and privately laugh at.
There was a great deal of everything she liked best to keep her agreeably engaged until the party broke up after dessert.
When the ladies withdrew, they all sorted themselves out into smaller groups in the parlor while the young ladies took turns on the pianoforte and the old matrons played cards.
The gentlemen did not tarry long; Rupert burst into the room with his usual drunken exuberance and declared he was mad to see the sight of so much feminine beauty.
Only Miss Bingley seemed pleased by this, but the inebriated earl chose to direct his leering attentions to Jane on this occasion, for Lady Catherine was too distracted to discourage him.
Richard approached Elizabeth as she concluded her turn of playing some cheerful music for her inattentive, chattering companions. “Well, Lizzy, an interesting notion has occurred to me.”
“Are you going to stuff a handkerchief in your brother’s mouth and tie him up in a closet, perchance?”
“No,” he tutted with a wistful shake of his head. “Last time I did that, he was discovered by a maid who was nearly carried off from apoplexy. But it is Rupert who has gotten me thinking of your predicament.”
“Good Lord, I hope you are not going to suggest that I get Mr. Darcy drunk in order to receive his amorous addresses!”
“Well, let us not discount that particular piece of wisdom, though I shall own I had a different scheme in mind. You see, cousin, the sight of Rupert so determined to dazzle Jane has rendered me wild with envy for her attention, and I am presently going to intervene, and toss him off the balcony if necessary.” His eyes flicked to Darcy, and then to the several gentlemen who were making their way to speak with Elizabeth. “Think on that, if you will.”
She comprehended him at once, but she only wrinkled her nose at the paltry scheme of making Mr. Darcy jealous.
It was not her way to employ such arts; she wished that her company was motivation enough to draw him to her.
And yet, it did occur to her that though Mr. Darcy seemed to have no wish to enjoy the party, she certainly wished to do so.
It would not be wrong to relish the company of so many interesting characters for observation, if she could manage to put her disappointment in Mr. Darcy from her mind.
It was easy enough for Elizabeth to make merry, once she was resolved.
Perhaps she glanced at Mr. Darcy a great deal, and observed him behaving just as Richard promised, brooding and sulking, but Elizabeth reasoned that he was a grown man in possession of reasonable intelligence, and he might content himself to whatever extent he chose.
She had little difficulty occupying herself quite agreeably.
She spoke for quite some time with Sir Rolland and his intended, Miss Darrow. The impudent gentleman bandied a great many jests and japes at his lady, as he was wont to do with Elizabeth and even Rebecca, but poor Miss Darrow remained in a perpetual state of panic at his style of address.
When Sir Rolland was called over to settle a boisterous dispute between Richard and Rebecca, Elizabeth was left alone with the timid Miss Darrow.
The young lady, who was thin and pale, with every appearance of fragility, seemed to have a personality to match her frail exterior.
She offered Elizabeth a feeble smile and asked if she would like to take a turn about the room together.
Elizabeth agreed, for it had struck her as she spoke with Mr. Wickham the previous evening that she had, by her own admission, no female friends who were not relations.
Miss Darrow was a delicate creature, but there was kindness and intelligence in her gaze, and Elizabeth resolved to know her better.
For a few minutes they spoke of idle things, and then Miss Darrow cleared her throat with a cough.
“Miss Elizabeth, you seem most amazingly adept at catching my dear Rolland’s tone of raillery.
I find myself always seeming rather stupid when he carries on as he does, though I often think of some clever repartee hours later, and lament that I cannot be so quick, in the moment.
He has told me you are partial to one of his friends, and that you are aware of our engagement, so I hope I may freely ask you to advise me. I am very fond of him, you see.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly at her new friend, impressed by Miss Darrow’s bravery in expressing such sentiments. “Have you not considered that Sir Rolland likes you well indeed, just as you are?”
Miss Darrow laughed gently. “Perhaps he does, but I am not satisfied. I ask for myself, Miss Elizabeth. Can you not teach me to be a wit, or how does one learn such an art?”
“I have learnt through extensive reading, I suppose. Do you read much, Miss Darrow?”
“Oh, you may call me Del, or DeeDee, everybody does – Delphinia really is too much name for a girl like me! But no, I do not – Mamma says it will rot my mind.”
“Oh, no! Reading will improve it, DeeDee. Written words are like spoken words; you might catch the writer’s tone just as if they were speaking aloud to you, and pick up on their expressions and jests.”
Miss Darrow frowned. “Is there no other way?”
“Well, if you can put aside any fear of saying the wrong thing, and speak with confidence, you might say anything that comes into your head. It is what most people in London do, I believe.”