Chapter Five #4
“Oh dear, the first thing that generally comes to my mind is seldom clever.”
“Sir Rolland’s sense of humor is very like mine, and I suppose the root of it is a study of character, observing those around you and rendering their worst qualities absurdly enjoyable.
He speaks to shock, but often speaks the truth.
To banter with him, you might simply agree to all his nonsense with even bolder statements of your own.
If I may be so bold, you may consider for inspiration making the sort of comments that would give your mother apoplexy. ”
“A thought I must admit I have considered sometimes,” Miss Darrow said meekly.
“There you are – a jest already! I shall make a bargain with you, DeeDee. Do you see that lady in orange, the one with an entire flock of birds nesting in her elegant coiffure? Go and acquaint yourself with her, and think of what Sir Rolland might have to say about the lady. Then, come and tell me your impressions, and I will do likewise.” Elizabeth gave a cheeky wag of her brow, a promise of wickedness and shared jokes.
Miss Darrow thanked her and set out to do as she was bid, and Elizabeth was left to find some new source of diversion.
She was entreated to perform a duet with her cousin Rose, and subsequently subjected to a lengthy discussion with Sir John Dawson of the poetic sentiments aroused by a stirring Italian aria.
Lord Douglas, the Marquess of Queensberry, spoke to her at length of his recent visit to Paris, which was genuinely captivating, though he spared no detail, even when he might have omitted his more rakish pastimes abroad.
Elizabeth could not escape the overtures of Miss Bingley; she found herself in such fine form of indulging in sketching her companions’ characters that she did not entirely wish to avoid the grasping harpy.
Miss Bingley again volleyed several simpering compliments at Elizabeth in rapid succession before she began inquiring about Richard and Rupert.
Sipping at a glass of wine that was one more than what was wise for her to consume, Elizabeth smiled brightly at Miss Bingley.
“You might perhaps defer your decision, regarding which of my cousins you prefer. They are likely to come to blows over Jane; if the losing party survives the brawl, you shall have your answer.”
Miss Bingley looked supremely offended, and held her head high as she sniffed at Elizabeth.
“You mistake me, Miss Eliza. I have no interest in competing for a gentleman who prefers another. I only meant to ascertain whether you had heard if your cousins return my sentiments of friendly curiosity; I should like to further any acquaintance with my brother’s dear friends. ”
“He is speaking with Sir John Dawson at present – no doubt of poetry and lyrical beauty – perhaps you may have more to say of such things than your brother.” Elizabeth grinned as Miss Bingley set her sights on the babbling baronet with a look of interest.
Elizabeth did not mind at all that Miss Bingley moved away without a parting word, and instantly began preening before Sir John.
Satisfied with her mischief, she sought out Rebecca to share a laugh about it, and then she looked about for her sister.
She spied Jane at the edge of the room, speaking to Richard with uncommon animation.
Elizabeth moved that way, but the pair were heading away from her, toward the narrow double doors that led to the balcony.
It was warm with so many people in the large set of rooms; Elizabeth resolved to follow them and enjoy a little familial banter about their party in the cool night air.
However, as she stepped out of the house, her eyes had scarcely adjusted to the dim light of the waxing moon when she perceived Jane and Richard locked in a passionate embrace.
Stunned, she stood silently observing for a minute before her embarrassment took hold and she fled without making a sound.
Heat flushed her body and she felt strangely envious of her sister’s brazen activities. Her instinct was to tell Mr. Darcy what she had seen, hoping they might at last share a few laughs and perhaps a flirtatious exchange – or better still, they might take a turn alone on the balcony.
Her path to him was not a direct one, for she was several times hailed by one of her companions and drawn into conversation.
She spoke again with Miss Darrow, who managed to make her laugh heartily at her assessment of Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth encouraged her new friend to go forth and delight her betrothed with these delightful remarks.
Elizabeth made a gradual progress across the room to where Mr. Darcy lingered, his countenance forlorn. This might have been because Miss Bingley had just approached him with a haughty sneer; he did not look at all pleased by whatever she was saying to him.
Neither of the pair saw her from the direction of her approach, and Elizabeth was able to hear them before she was close enough to make herself known.
Miss Bingley gave a trill of laughter at something she said to him, and after a moment of silence she assaulted him with another attempt to be clever.
“But I think Miss Eliza must be a little half-sprung, for she was vastly insolent to me! It is shocking that her mother puts up with such impertinence, but then I suppose Lady Catherine is not really her mother. They were foundlings, from what I hear – can you imagine anything so shocking! I believe her natural parents must have been very ill-bred; her uncle, I have learned, resided until recently in Cheapside – in sight of his own warehouses!”
“I should find her candor refreshing if she had uncles to fill all of Cheapside, madam,” Mr. Darcy said coldly.
“It is a rare thing to meet anybody so genuine and without guile, particularly in town, amongst such a set as this. I am sorry to hear that her charming style of wit and high spirits is not a quality you find you can relate to. Perhaps you would do better to attach yourself to your brother, who is always well-pleased with everybody.”
Elizabeth wished to jump up on her toes and cheer as she listened to the wonderful man defend her so boldly to the sneering social-climber. She might have hurled herself directly into his embrace if he had not stalked away, leaving Miss Bingley to ruminate in his rebuke.
Though she was afforded no great chance of speaking with him privately that evening, he began to stare at her from afar as he had been prone to do, and Elizabeth made sure to return his gaze with the full force of her ardor.
It was enough to sustain her through the evenings’ entertainment, which lasted into the small hours of the morning.
She had the further satisfaction of observing her cousin Richard speak to Mr. Darcy, and from the way the pair were looking her way, obliging her to pretend not to notice, she cherished a secret hope that her cousin would say whatever was required to put it all to rights.
The next morning – though it was barely still morning at all when the revelers of Matlock House finally bestirred themselves to go downstairs – Elizabeth was met with greater reason to hope the tension with Mr. Darcy had finally cleared.
A large arrangement of flowers was delivered, addressed to her.
There was a card shaped like a heart, embossed with pink and silver swirls, and Elizabeth could scarcely read the short note before her mother was snatching it away.
‘Warmest regards for a lady of wit and heart alike.’
“It is only signed with the letter D,” Lady Catherine said with a look of contemplation. “The flowers must have come from Sir John Dawson, or perhaps Lord Douglas – you charmed them both last evening, I am sure of it! Well done, my dear.”
But as pleased as her mother was with such notions, Elizabeth was doubly delighted by the possibility that Mr. Darcy had sent this offering of affection.
He gave no indication beyond a determination not to look at her as the flowers were admired by all the ladies of the house, but Elizabeth was struck by how much the wording of the note resembled his defense of her to Miss Bingley.
Yes, the flowers must have come from Mr. Darcy, which meant all would be well between them.