Chapter Three #3
Lady Catherine then entered into a lengthy description of the superior ball she intended to give, moving from the flowers to the musicians and then to the precise arrangement of the rooms. As her monologue continued, the rest of the company seemed to retreat into their own thoughts.
Only Mr Collins remained closely attentive, punctuating each new pronouncement with little gasps of delight and murmured expressions of admiration.
Eventually Charlotte cleared her throat discreetly and glanced towards the clock. "I fear we have trespassed upon your kind hospitality for long enough, Lady Catherine."
Lady Catherine broke off halfway through an explanation of how the musicians must be arranged in the gallery.
"Have you? Yes, I suppose you have been here for some time.
Collins, you will ensure that everything at the parsonage is in order before the ball.
I cannot have any guest of Rosings passing your grounds and seeing a gate hanging crookedly or washing upon the line. "
Mr Collins rose so quickly that his knee struck the edge of the tea table and sent several spoons rattling in their saucers. "You may depend upon me, your ladyship. I shall personally inspect every inch of the property and ensure that nothing offends the eye."
Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed the room to offer Charlotte his arm, while Miss de Bourgh rose more slowly and came to say goodbye to Elizabeth. "I hope you will come to the ball," she said quietly.
Elizabeth hesitated. The prospect of returning to Rosings so soon, and of spending an entire evening beneath Mr Darcy’s gaze, held considerably less appeal than Miss de Bourgh seemed to imagine. "I have not yet decided whether I shall be equal to so grand an occasion."
Anne de Bourgh looked towards her mother, who was still instructing Mr Collins in several matters, before turning back to Elizabeth. "Then you must come for my sake. I should like one sensible lady to converse with and take my mind off being displayed before half of Kent."
The dry remark surprised a laugh from Elizabeth, and Miss de Bourgh’s expression softened. "Please," she added more quietly. "I think I should find the evening much easier with a friendly face nearby."
The admission did more to persuade Elizabeth than any amount of coaxing could have done. "Very well," she said. "I shall come, although I may persuade you to hide away in the retiring room with me for much of the evening. I am not accustomed to such grand company."
"I cannot imagine you being afraid of anything," Anne said, studying her closely. Her eyes flicked towards Mr Darcy for the briefest moment before returning to Elizabeth. "But I should have no objection to hiding with you. It may be the only way to survive the evening."
She gave Elizabeth’s hand the briefest squeeze before returning to her mother, who had begun to explain to Mr Collins why the hedges surrounding the parsonage ought to be trimmed with the utmost urgency.
Elizabeth watched her go with growing affection.
There was far more spirit beneath Anne’s quiet manner than she had suspected, and she found herself looking forward to speaking with her again, despite everything else the evening might involve.
Charlotte had already moved towards the door, and Elizabeth turned to follow her only to find Mr Darcy standing directly in her path.
He had placed his hat and gloves upon a nearby table and now held one hand out to her, apparently intending to assist her around the crowded arrangement of chairs.
It was the sort of ordinary courtesy she might have accepted from any other gentleman without thought, but nothing between them felt ordinary any longer.
For a moment, she considered pretending not to see his hand.
But such a refusal would be too deliberate, too revealing that he had affected her so greatly, and so she placed her fingers in his before she could reconsider.
His hand closed carefully around hers, and the warmth of it reached her even through the thin material of her glove.
The pressure of his fingers sent a rush of heat through her, but it lasted only until his words from the previous day echoed in her mind—the way he had spoken of her family and how he had caused injury to her dear Jane.
The image of her sister’s tear-stained face burned through the feeling at once, and Elizabeth lifted her eyes to his with all her indignation restored.
He returned her burning gaze with a troubled one of his own and Elizabeth felt the edge of a folded paper pressed against her palm. Elizabeth looked down sharply. Mr Darcy had concealed a letter between their joined hands, his body turned just enough to shield it from the rest of the room.
"What are you doing?" she hissed beneath her breath.
"Please take it." The urgency in his voice almost made her close her fingers around it, but resentment rose again before she could do so. "If this is another attempt to press your suit, I have already heard quite enough."
Pain moved across his face, though he did not release her hand.
"It is not an attempt to excuse the manner in which I addressed you.
" His jaw tightened. For one moment, she saw the proud Mr Darcy she knew so well return, but he mastered himself before answering.
"There are matters upon which you have been deceived.
You may continue to think as poorly of me as you wish, but you ought to know the truth. "
The words pricked her temper at once. "How generous of you to permit me my own opinion."
"I did not mean—" He stopped and drew a slow breath, visibly attempting to find the right words. "I ask only that you read it. What you decide afterwards is entirely your own affair."
Elizabeth ought to have refused. Accepting secret correspondence from him was wholly improper, but curiosity burned in her along with anger.
She took the letter. Their fingers brushed as it passed between them, and Mr Darcy’s grip tightened for the briefest moment before he let her go.
Elizabeth slipped the folded pages into the pocket hidden beneath her skirts and looked up to find his eyes still fixed upon her face.
"I make no promise that I shall believe you," she said, her tone clipped.
"I know," he said with a bow.
The stiffness of his reply irritated her to an irrational degree. "Then we understand one another perfectly."
Before either of them could speak again, Mr Collins called to her from the doorway, announcing that they must not trespass upon Lady Catherine’s hospitality for another moment. She stepped away from him, acutely aware of the letter resting against her leg.
"Good day, Mr Darcy."
He bowed, his face once more composed enough to reveal nothing. "Good day, Miss Bennet."