Chapter 19
Elizabeth did not want to cry.
She had held on as stoically as she could while she was still in the company of the Matlock ladies, putting on a brave face while feeling like disappearing through the floorboards, and then again in the carriage with Georgiana and him.
Once she was finally ensconced in her room she let the tears flow. She gave in to sobs as she had not done in many years.
She was mystified… Why did she allow Mr Darcy so much power over herself? Why did she feel so deeply every time a new insult from him came to the surface?
She thought she was done with letting him get the better of her.
On the other hand, she cared nothing for whatever Miss Bingley, that harpy, thought about her. The woman could not touch her despite her unrelenting abuse.
But him?
Oh yes, he could and did hurt her. Why that should be she did not understand and cared even less to find out. But the thought kept coming back… haunting her… why did the opinion of this man matter so much to her heart? The question tormented her.
Finally, exhausted, she slept.
Lady Anne found Elizabeth in a foetal position holding her pillow against her chest like a shield. The lady felt a surge of love towards the young woman as if she was somehow to play a pivotal role in her life.
The poor girl did not receive her fair share of love from her own mother; Lady Anne vowed she would not perpetuate this injustice in her own home.
She threw a coverlet over Elizabeth and gently stroked her hair.
Elizabeth moved and unconsciously laid her head on the lady’s lap, drawing on her warmth.
“Oh,” Lady Anne breathed deeply, “you poor dear.”
She saw the tear streaks on Elizabeth’s face and a new surge of anger towards her son took hold. She could not hate Miss Bingley more as the woman was beneath contempt, but William was a different story.
She wanted to shake him, to turn him over her lap and discipline him like she had hardly needed to do when he was a little lad. How could a quiet and biddable child become so arrogant and almost cruel as a man?
Was it her fault? Had she encouraged him to become so self-centred, so self-righteous? Certainly she had taught him what was right, but was he not taught to correct his temper? He was given good principals but was he left to follow them in pride and conceit?
As an only son, for many years an only child and the heir to the Darcy fortune and estates, he was spoiled by her and his father.
And in so doing they had allowed, almost encouraged him to become uncharitable and overbearing; to care nothing for those beyond his own family circle.
To think meanly of the rest of the world and to see them as less worthy than himself.
Was it all her fault or could she place some of the blame squarely on his own shoulders? William was no longer a child who needed to be led by the hand; he was his own man.
She could try and force him to see all this, or she could leave him to learn this precious lesson on his own. Somehow she was certain that Elizabeth would be the one, the one who would be instrumental to her son’s education.
She decided to let things develop naturally.
She gently stroked Elizabeth’s hair, “Elizabeth, my dear, it is time to wake up.”
Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes lazily. When they focused and she realised that she was resting her head on Lady Anne’s lap, she sat up abruptly, “oh, my lady… please forgive me,” she said mortified.
Lady Anne shook her head, “oh my dear, there is no need for apologies.”
Elizabeth tried desperately to look more dignified but Lady Anne touched her arm stopping her in her tracks, “we are to go to dinner at the Matlocks tonight, I hope you will agree to join us, Elizabeth.”
“Of course, my lady,” Elizabeth said uncomfortably.
“Georgiana mentioned briefly what happened this afternoon at Gunter’s and I give you leave to skin William alive.”
Elizabeth chuckled awkwardly, “there is no need, my lady. Mr Darcy is free to express his opinions... unhampered.”
“Humph…” Lady Anne snorted inelegantly, “I would not stop you if you were to box his ears.”
Elizabeth laughed, this time in earnest, “I will keep that in mind, my lady.”
“Very well then, we will see you downstairs looking gorgeous in one of your new dresses at seven. We will walk to the Matlocks, since they are only four doors from ours on the other side of the square.”
“Yes, my lady. I will do my best.”
“I have all confidence in you, my dear.” The lady then stroked her face lovingly and left to allow Elizabeth time to get ready.
***
Elizabeth was impressed by how pleasant the Matlocks all were while the lord and the lady of the house were politeness and amiability personified.
Lady Matlock pressed Elizabeth’s fingers and whispered, “I am glad to see you have recovered, Elizabeth. Good girl, keep your head high.”
The viscount was a real tease and Darcy seemed to be his favourite target.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was a flirt and talked with the ease of a man accustomed to be surrounded by people on all sides. His sister, Emily was the spitting image of him, but feminine. They almost looked like twins, but ten years apart.
And the Earl of Dundee, oh my, the man was so handsome that Elizabeth’s breath hitched when he turned his deep blue eyes on her.
“Miss Bennet, how do you do? I am honoured to meet you, madam.”
She loved his Scottish brogue already and she smiled almost timidly, “Lord Holton, the pleasure is all mine.”
Soon after introductions and some light banter between the cousins, dinner was announced and without any hesitation the young Earl offered his arm to Elizabeth.
They sat beside each other and he immediately started asking questions about her life in Hertfordshire. She answered them without awkwardness while making sure to involve the others sitting around them in the conversation.
However the Earl did not seem the least interested in talking to the other members of the party, rather he seemed to fix his eyes upon Elizabeth alone, seemingly blind to all others around him.
Darcy had been astonished at how well Elizabeth looked when she came downstairs from her bedchamber to meet them. He had expected her to look sad or even a bit irritated with him, but instead she smiled beautifully, although not at him.
She was wearing a new dinner dress that his mother had purchased for her and the light golden colour with green trimmings made her look luminous, like an angel.
She wore the same garnet cross that she wore in Hertfordshire and the same pearl hairpins that she wore at the Netherfield Ball. She was a vision of understated beauty.
Darcy gasped and tried to catch her eyes but she had no time for him. His heart squeezed and for the first time in his life he knew the meaning of the word regret.
At the table, Darcy was sitting as far away from Elizabeth as was possible. He did not enjoy being placed so distantly, but he figured his aunt thought he had shamed Elizabeth enough for one day. However his cousins crowded her, especially Duncan, who seemed entranced by her beauty.
Darcy swallowed his displeasure when Elizabeth laughed at whatever Duncan was saying, then again when Richard guffawed at some witty remarks she made.
He had no business feeling jealous; after all he had dismissed her most unpleasantly when he first met her. Yet here she was being honoured as she deserved and he found himself in purgatory… as he deserved.
When the ladies left the dining room, Duncan immediately asked Darcy, “Oh Darcy, where did your mother find that gem of a lady? I do not think I have seen her equal in both beauty and wit.”
Darcy felt like glaring at his cousin but instead he answered coolly, “We met Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire and as for beauty, you should see her sister, Bingley’s angel.”
Richard gasped exaggeratedly, “Are you saying that Miss Bennett is not the only beautiful woman to come from her little town in Hertfordshire? What are they putting in the water over there?” He waved his hand in front of himself as if to cool his heated face.
“No, I am saying that she is not the most beautiful, there is another who tops her.”
“What about wit?” Bradley asked, “Is Bingley’s angel as witty as the enchanting Elizabeth?”
Darcy did glare at the viscount, “it is Miss Bennet to you, punk.”
Richard laughed, “Ohhhh, I see trouble. I can tell there is someone who might claim the right to Miss Bennet, by precedence of seeing her first.”
Darcy shook his head, “You are mistaken, Richard, all I am saying is that Miss Bennet is under my protection and as such I will look out for her.”
Lord Matlock frowned, “She is under your mother’s protection, not yours.”
“And my mother and sister are under my protection; therefore, Miss Bennet is also.”
Duncan looked at Darcy and frowned, “Are you also saying that Miss Bennet is not free to make friends? Are you going to veto all men that come in contact with her? Do we need your permission?”
The conversation had taken a rather serious turn and Lord Matlock, recognising the young men were ripe for a fight intervened, “Miss Bennet is free to make friends under my roof anytime, since I see she is a genteel, well educated and well mannered young lady. Furthermore, I will myself secure a dance with her at Lady Kavanagh’s Ball on Friday.
As for the rest of you, I would only ask that you behave like gentlemen in front of the lady and if you have to fight for her attention, make sure you go to Jackson’s Boxing Salon and put on the gloves first.”
“I’m in,” Bradley said good-humouredly, “to Jackson’s we shall go and the last one standing gets Miss Bennet.”
“She has no dowry and has connections to trade.” Darcy blurted out.
“Ah… I see now what the problem is.” Richard said laughing, “The lady is poor, and that in itself disqualifies me. But I will ask her for the first set and leave you rich men to fight for the rest.”
Duncan squinted his eyes looking at Darcy as if studying his cousin closely. “I do not require more money and I did not think you did either, Darcy.”
Darcy did not take the bait, “what I require is my business, Holton, not yours.”
“Fair enough; in that case, I shall leave you be and I would thank you for the same courtesy.”
“Shall we join the ladies, gentlemen?” Lord Matlock said and stood up, drinking the last swallow of his port.
When the men entered the drawing room, Darcy accepted a cup of tea from his aunt and immediately took himself to the window, staring at it, seeing nothing but the reflection of Elizabeth at the pianoforte with Georgiana.
He did not want to see Elizabeth smiling into the eyes of his cousins who had not offended, insulted and disparaged her out of sheer stupidity.
The music was sweet, Georgiana played flawlessly while Elizabeth sang. Darcy turned and faced them, utterly entranced. He felt compelled, as if pulled by a string like a marionette.
Elizabeth was not only as beautiful and fresh as a rainbow after a summer storm, witty and sharp as a diamond, but she also sang like an angel. Had he ever seen any young lady from the Ton performing with such unaffected beauty, even once?
Elizabeth performed for herself, for the joy of it, rather than to gain admiration from her audience.
He remembered that he had admired her performance at the Lucas Lodge soirée.
In fact he remembered being just as entranced by her performance then.
How long had she been infiltrating his heart unnoticed?
How long had she accommodated herself so comfortably in that beating organ in his chest, while he simply dismissed it?
Darcy fought for control desperately, “You will not be the end of me, Miss Bennet; I shall conquer this. I shall!” He whispered, desperately trying to convince himself, turning his back on his laughing cousins and sister again.
“I curse Miss Bingley and her damned big mouth.” He whispered angrily… alone… in a room full of people.
The musical piece ended and Emily took over the pianoforte, although Elizabeth remained seated at the instrument to turn the pages for her new friend. They giggled and seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Darcy saw his three male cousins make their way to the instrument and join in the frivolities, but stayed stoically by the window on his own.
Elizabeth laughed freely as Emily played silly songs, while the men sang to accompany her ballads. The merriment grew while Darcy’s pleasure diminished.
At one point Elizabeth looked at him and her eyes seemed to challenge him: Do you see Mr Darcy? I may not be a beauty and my mother is definitely not a wit, but I can still be good company and you sir, are missing out.