Chapter 3 #2
Elizabeth had the library to herself Tuesday morning whilst she wrote to Jane about her arrival at Woodcote Park.
She had omitted mentioning Darcy’s proposal to Jane weeks ago because she was undecided as to what she should communicate.
Repeating anything of his interference with Bingley would only grieve her sister.
Now that Bingley had returned—and with Darcy’s knowledge and consent—there was no reason not to confess it all.
But still she hesitated. Although it was flattering to have been the object of Darcy’s affections, she did not want to open him to criticism by mentioning her refusal and all the unfeeling things he said.
A week after his proposal, she would not have minded exposing him in such a way, if only to Jane, but after the way Darcy behaved last night, she was reluctant to embarrass him.
Even if he never knew that she told Jane about his failure, she would know.
It was an extraordinary thing that Darcy should be here, and even more extraordinary that he should speak kindly to her.
When he came down the stairs, all smiles and amiability, she was certain the shock of seeing him would stop her heart, and she wondered how they would survive the race week in the same house.
At first she could not tell whether he had felt pain on seeing her, but since he had asked her to dance and behaved so civilly, he must not despise her.
He had even inquired after her family. By the end of the dance, he had seemed pleased with her company.
How could a man refused and abused be happy to see the woman who wronged him?
Elizabeth’s heart beat fast, and she put away her writing things. Never had she seen Darcy’s manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. And he even recognised how offensive his proposal was.
Darcy said he wanted to be thought well of by her. Could she approve of him now?
She had considered him an ill-humoured, selfish, and proud man. But the man who danced with her last night, the one who sent Bingley back to Jane and who denounced Wickham, who apologised for how he proposed, was none of those things.
She was curious about this Darcy who recognised his faults and tried to change them, who spent the assembly asking every woman sitting down to dance.
One of the doors opened, and Lady Metcalfe and Julia entered. Elizabeth had knocked on Julia’s door this morning, but was told by her lady that she was still abed. Apparently, rising before breakfast was too much effort for such a grand woman on the hunt for a husband.
“There you are, Miss Bennet,” said Lady Metcalfe. “You can settle a dispute between us before breakfast on a matter of wealth versus rank.”
“I am not sure I am qualified to speak in regard to either, but I will share my opinion.”
“I do not need anyone’s opinion,” said Julia, who crossed her arms. “I have decided.”
“Perhaps Miss Bennet has seen enough of him to know if you have a reasonable chance.” Turning to Elizabeth, Lady Metcalfe said, “How fixed would you say the engagement is between Miss de Bourgh and Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth had trouble finding her voice, but Julia cried, “Why would he choose that sickly, pale creature when he could have this?” She gestured along the length of her body. “The Fitzwilliam family fortunes would not be enough to make a man able to draw breath tie himself to dull Anne de Bourgh.”
Lady Metcalfe ignored this rude speech and stared at her, and Elizabeth managed to say, “I, I thought you were set on Sir John. Do you mean to pursue Mr Darcy instead?”
“Of course. He has ten thousand a year.”
“And I say Sir John has a title, my dear Julia. I caught a baronet. I would hope at least as well for you.”
“Caught?” Julia threw her mother a side-eye. “Your marriage was arranged, and to a distant cousin. From how the story was told, you had no choice, either.”
Lady Metcalfe glared. “Regardless, Mr Darcy is promised to another.”
Julia flicked her hand. “Lady Catherine wants them to marry, but what does he want? He has not offered, and he is nearly thirty. Miss Bennet, you were there amongst just the family. What did you observe?”
How could she admit the only person Darcy had lately been thinking of marrying was her? But she also could not lie. “He did not act like a man engaged. I could not discern any symptom of love on either side.”
“There, Mamma,” cried Julia. “There is no reason not to settle on Mr Darcy instead.”
Lady Metcalfe frowned. “Sir John seems easier to catch, more inclined to have a liaison. Darcy seems clever and a far more serious man.”
Elizabeth began to fear both women would sanction something more than flirtation to secure Darcy. They could not mean for Julia to entice him into bed and then extort a proposal, could they? She may have misjudged Darcy, but he would never enter into a dalliance or allow himself to be entangled.
“What about Sir John or Henry?” she asked hurriedly. “Why fix on a man you know is wanted by all his family to marry elsewhere?”
“Henry is too young, and Sir John only has two thousand a year,” said Julia. “Mr Darcy has ten thousand, and furthermore he is handsome.”
“And Mr Travers? He will be a baron, and his appearance was not unpleasing.”
Julia looked as though her stomach turned over. “He is an absolute old bachelor.”
“Well, he is not too old,” said Lady Metcalfe, a little defensively, perhaps since they were of the same age.
Her daughter threw up her hands. “He is too blond. I need a dark-haired man, and a rich one. I would prefer rich to titled.”
Julia’s thoughts and feelings had all the depth of a puddle.
Unless she and her mother were making a joke of Julia’s marriage intentions—but that was equally distressing.
There was nothing so important as the character of the person you tied your life to.
And that brought to mind how Darcy had thought enough of her to want to spend the rest of his life with her.
Darcy’s character and manners were not as disagreeable to her as they were before Hunsford. But even if he was improved, even if he had an anxiety to please, and even though she had unfairly judged him, did it matter? No sensible man would offer his hand again to the woman who spurned him.
“Ladies?” Elizabeth started in her seat. “Mrs Tessier says breakfast will be served in the morning room.”
She spun round to see a maid closing a hidden door she had not known was there.
The door was hung with a matching set of shelves, disguising the door to appear to be another bookcase.
The library was opulently fitted up, with wall panels elaborately ornamented with gold designs.
Even the bookcases were richly gilt and ornamented, and so was the surface of the door.
“I did not know there was a jib-door behind me,” Elizabeth said, with a hand pressed against her chest and an embarrassed laugh.
“There is a staircase behind it that leads to a servants’ corridor,” said the maid before going out through another door.
The architect must not have wanted to interrupt the symmetry of the library by spoiling the pleasing line of the wall with a traditional door. Though it was likely the original builders did not want the servants in evidence more than necessary.
Lady Metcalfe and her daughter had seen the maid enter and paid her no further mind. They rose to leave.
“You had better be able to manage this,” Lady Metcalfe said to her daughter as they walked away. “You need a husband by summer.”
“I can have any man I want, and I have chosen Mr Darcy.”
“And what if you cannot secure him?”
They muttered indistinctly to themselves, but Elizabeth heard Darcy’s name, and it made her angry. She wanted better for Darcy than Julia Metcalfe. He deserved someone who wanted him for his own sake, not for his fortune or from some frantic need to marry first of all her sisters.
She wanted him to be happy with his chosen partner, but a small part of her heart wondered if, in spite of everything, that person could still be her. Shaking her head at her silliness, Elizabeth entered the breakfast room. She could not be secure of even his friendship after how she rebuked him.
The others were already at the table in the morning room, yet another ornate room with rococo wood-panelled walls, sculptures, and gilt everything. Mrs Tessier, who was bedecked with gems and matched her room, greeted them warmly.
Everyone said a general good morning to the group, but Darcy said to her, as she entered, “How do you do, Miss Bennet? I hear from Bingley that he dined at Longbourn two nights ago.”
She smiled to hear him speak favourably of the likely match between her sister and his friend. Maybe she would sit next to him to show that she had no ill will toward him. “He has become quite the fixture at my mother’s table.”
As she approached him, Julia rushed forward to take the open seat right beside Darcy.
He looked askance at Julia when she leant toward him with an alluring smile, and gave her a reserved greeting.
Darcy raised his eyes to her, and Elizabeth shared a bemused look with him over Julia’s head as Elizabeth went round the table to sit across from him instead.
“Are you weary from dancing last evening, Mr Darcy? I noticed you danced every set,” Julia said after she filled her plate.
“I am not tired. I went for a ride this morning with Mr Travers.”
“Is that where you went?” murmured Lady Metcalfe as an aside to Mr Travers. “I had thought to ride with you.”
“Did you? I did not know. Another time.” Mr Travers did not look up from his racing circular.
For such old friends, he had little interest in what she said.
“Mr Darcy rode early with me to some of the innyards to look at the horses stabled here for the week. I intend to win back my losses from the Chester race meeting.”
“Perhaps tomorrow, then?”
He nodded, turning the page and not lifting his eyes.