Chapter 17 Expectations
“Annie, you did not reserve a dance for the colonel.”
“I did not, Lizzy. He did not deserve it. You asked why gentlemen must always have their own way.”
“I did, but I did not intend you to turn from him entirely. Is it not your wish to marry him?”
Anne’s eyes filled, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “It is. It was. But I think I like Sir Gareth better. He has shown me great attention and has attended to every comfort. He secured three dances, brought us punch, and kept us well entertained.”
“He has, but you have not loved him since you were five years old.”
Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Georgiana came near, placed a handkerchief in her hand, and drew an arm about her shoulders.
“You have taught him a lesson, my dear. He was disconcerted when he learned Sir Gareth had stood up with you three times.”
Anne stopped crying and raised her head. “He did? How did he know? Was he watching me?”
“No. I brought it to his notice. I told him we expected Sir Gareth for tea tomorrow, and he turned and fixed his gaze upon you both. I believe you have given him much to consider, Annie.”
Miss de Bourgh’s eyes narrowed. “I am angry, Lizzy. I shall learn more about Sir Gareth tomorrow. What is a childhood dream? Perhaps I am better suited to this other gentleman.”
“Perhaps, but do not encourage him too far, lest you give him a mistaken impression. The very nature of your reaction to the colonel’s error shows you love him deeply, or you would not care at all that he failed to ask you for your first dance.
I only caution you not to act the simpleton and allow your resentment to turn you from the man you love in order to exact revenge. ”
Her friend fell silent in thought. “Very well, Lizzy. I shall take care. I will not encourage Sir Gareth. I shall only learn more of him.”
Elizabeth took her hand. “Good. That is all I ask. I hold the colonel in high regard, and I have observed how attentive he has been. I believe this was no more than a simple oversight, and he has already paid for it.”
“Cousin, shall I have Fitzwilliam give him a scold?”
Her earnest countenance drew laughter from the two older ladies. “No, my dear cousin, you must not involve your grave brother. I have heard Lizzy’s remonstrances, and I shall not cast off my cousin on account of my pique.”
The following day, Sir Gareth Beaumont presented himself in the drawing room, impeccably dressed. He was a handsome gentleman, and Elizabeth trembled for the colonel. If he did not take care, he might lose his cousin to another.
Elizabeth poured tea when Lady Catherine entered, her two nephews close behind.
“Anne, I did not know we had a caller. Why did you not inform me? I would have come down earlier.”
Anne lifted a brow toward Elizabeth, as if to say she preferred the gentleman not meet her mother so soon.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, lest she laugh and invite censure. The colonel halted upon sight of the visitor. He bowed, then made his way to his cousin’s side and took a seat beside her, near enough to invite notice. Lady Catherine’s attention settled upon them, her expression far from approving.
Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, engaged the young gentleman in conversation.
“Beaumont, you returned from France only recently, I believe?”
“Yes, I returned two weeks ago.”
“What can you tell us of the Battle of Albuera? I have read it was a brutal engagement with enormous casualties.”
“Yes. It was a victory, though whether such losses may be sustained remains a subject of much debate.”
All joined in the discussion. Darcy settled beside Elizabeth, a little too close for propriety as he and Beaumont spoke of the war. The nearness carried an air of intimacy, though he did not touch her, and Lady Catherine’s attention fixed upon them for several minutes.
Elizabeth kept her gaze upon Sir Gareth as he spoke with earnestness of the Peninsular War.
A silent prayer formed that Mr. Darcy would not look toward her or draw nearer.
If his aunt marked how often his gaze rested upon her, their attachment would be revealed, and Elizabeth felt certain she would be sent away to Hertfordshire.
She could not be sure the newly formed attachment would survive separation or censure.
Lady Catherine’s attention shifted from them to the colonel and her daughter. Her expression hardened as she observed how the colonel regarded his cousin. Anne maintained perfect propriety, her full attention devoted to Sir Gareth.
Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip to restrain laughter as her friend exacted her revenge with care, reserving all her notice for their engaging guest.
When the visit concluded, Anne accompanied her two cousins to see the gentleman out.
Elizabeth remained seated, aware of Lady Catherine’s disapproval and uncertain where to direct her attention.
She reached for a book upon a nearby table and opened it.
Warmth coursed through her as her gaze ran over the bold hand of Mr. Darcy written inside the front cover.
Her finger traced his name, and then she paged through his book.
So he favored Cicero’s De Officiis. The work had long been a favorite, one she had studied during many happy hours in her father’s library.
Perhaps her affection for it arose from those hours spent in his company.
“Miss Bennet, do you ignore me?”
Elizabeth straightened and lifted her gaze. “No, my lady. Pray forgive me. I was not attending.”
“I asked how you dare to ingratiate yourself with Anne’s betrothed. How dare you sit in such intimacy beside my nephew, as if he were your husband? Have you no regard for what is proper?”
“Your nephew chose to sit beside me, my Lady. You observed him leave Sir Gareth’s side and take his place upon this very couch.”
“Your arts and allurements have led him to forget what he owes to himself and to his family. You have drawn him in.”
“If I have, I shall be the last to confess it.”
“I am ashamed of you. Is this your gratitude for my attentions these past weeks? Is nothing owed to me on that account?”
“I am sorry, my lady, that you believe me disloyal to you and to Miss Anne, but I assure you I have not been.”
“Do not attempt to wheedle out of this. You have ensnared my nephew in a moment of infatuation, a feat no other woman has accomplished. You must have been very artful to succeed so well. You will take your meals in your bedchamber until I determine what is to be done. My daughter is much attached to you, and I must consider my next steps with care, for I will not disturb the progress she has made, yet I will not allow you to continue in the ensnarement of my nephew.” She fixed Elizabeth with a narrow gaze.
“I cannot endure the pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. The daughter of a mere country squire, who is far beneath the grandson of an earl. It shall not be borne.”
Elizabeth rose. “My lady, I require air.” She made her curtsy and left the room.
Voices sounded near the entrance, and she turned away. She hastened upstairs, exchanged her slippers for stout walking boots, drew on her pelisse, and then slipped down the servants’ stair, passed through the kitchen garden, and reached the meadow that bordered one side of the estate.
She followed the brook path she favored, Lady Catherine’s sharp words spinning in her mind.
Trouble with her Ladyship could place her brother’s position in peril.
Fear for her sister weighed heavily upon her, though Anne's repeated assurances eased her mind a little. Would Anne’s influence over her mother hold in regard to Mr. Collins and his preferment?
Her thoughts turned to Mr. Darcy.
If she were sent away now in humiliation and shame, whatever regard had grown between them must come to an abrupt end.
She began to cry. What would her mother say when she learned Elizabeth had brought trouble upon the family?
How could she endure the loss of Mr. Darcy?
His dear face rose in her mind, and she grieved.
She continued along the path without thought until she realized she had come upon a thickly wooded area.
She paused and looked about her. The landscape offered no familiarity.
She had come farther than was her habit, but she was not afraid, for she had only to turn and follow the brook back to Rosings.
Lady Catherine had not dismissed her from concern for Anne. Perhaps that alone would spare her the full force of her wrath.
She studied her surroundings. No houses, no lane, no mark to guide her. An old tower stood in the distance, a mile or so farther on, and stirred her curiosity.
As she advanced, the sky darkened, low clouds gathered, and the air became damp. A gust of wind caught her hair and swept her skirts, and the first drops of rain fell.