Chapter Two #2
The story of “Fair Ellender” Darcy knew too well. Ellender D’Arcy began the curse that plagued the Darcy family. Her love of Arawn Benning marked all the generations to follow, and Darcy fought the evil she brought on his family. Meanwhile, Elizabeth Bennet sang on:
“Oh, you are blind, Lord Thomas!” she said.
“Or can’t you very well see?
Oh, can’t you see my own heart’s blood
As it trickles down on thee?”
He took the Brown Girl by the hand
And led her across the hall.
He took off his sword and cut off her head
And threw it against the wall.
“Oh, Mother, oh, Mother, go dig my grave;
Go dig it both wide and deep,
And place Fair Ellender in my arms
And the Brown Girl at my feet.”
He placed his sword against the wall
The point against his breast,
Saying, “This is the end of three poor lovers
God take us all to rest.”
They buried Ellender in the old churchyard;
They buried Lord Thomas beside her.
Out of his grave grew a red, red rose,
And out of hers a briar.
They grew and grew up the old church wall
Till they could grow no higher,
And at the top twined a lover’s knot
The red rose and the briar.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Sir William cried, “you nearly brought me to tears. Such a song!”
Elizabeth dropped her eyes, looking away demurely. “I apologize, Sir William. I did not mean to place a cold sheet on your festivities.”
“Obviously, Miss Elizabeth, it was worth the silence to hear one of the traditional ballads done so well. So few these days remember them.”
Darcy prayed for another topic of conversation.
Engrossed in his thoughts, he took little note of Miss Mary Bennet succeeding Elizabeth at the pianoforte, nor did he approve of the younger sisters’ demand that Miss Mary perform Scottish airs rather than a concerto.
Bingley joined the group of dancers, yet Darcy still did not move—he could not.
His misery was too complete. He had permitted a pretty face to assault his guard.
When Sir William approached, yet another time, Darcy wanted no part of the man.
He wished to retreat to his quarters at Netherfield and sort out the chaos.
He wished to return to Pemberley or even to Darcy House, but the vast emptiness of each would drive him to madness.
Yet Sir William did not note Darcy’s lack of composure.
The knight rambled on about a house in Town.
How could the man expect anyone to maintain such an asinine conversation when Miss Elizabeth Bennet had exposed his soul to the world?
Moments ticked breathlessly away while Darcy remained silent until Elizabeth came into view again, and despite the desire either to throttle her or to run away from her or to question what she knew of him, his body betrayed him, and Darcy hungrily devoured her with his eyes.
Sir William summoned her, and Darcy silently moaned in despair. “My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am certain, when so much beauty is before you.”
If Darcy had bothered to look, he would have seen that Elizabeth was as miserable as he was. He did not think he could bear her touch. Everything he thought of her was turned upon its head.
“Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing,” she said as if she recognized that he wished to be anywhere but near her.
Her words returned Darcy to reality, and although he still did not know how she claimed a secret he meant to take to his grave, Elizabeth’s presence required him to react.
Unsettled by his spiraling desire, he placed his previous trepidation aside.
Like a moth compelled to follow the flame, he wished to hold her hand and to look upon her.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of this dance?” He offered her a proper bow.
“I appreciate your gallantry, Mr. Darcy, but without meaning offense, I will decline.” She walked away, but the spell she had cast on him remained. She was an enigma, one he desperately wished to solve.
Shortly afterwards, Caroline Bingley joined him along the wall.
Beyond what politeness required, he had managed to avoid her for several days.
Smiling, Miss Bingley laid one hand on his arm and spoke in a confidential tone: “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such poor society, and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and the noise—the nothingness—and yet the self-importance of all these people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them?”
Darcy knew how to send the woman away, and he exercised a practiced deflection. “Your conjecture is in error, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I meditated on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
“Who might credit such inspiration?” she cried coquettishly.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He smiled as he said Elizabeth’s name.
Miss Bingley took immediate offense, but Darcy was unmoved by the wound he had dealt to her vanity. Only his Elizabeth was of interest.
As she walked away, Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy’s eyes burning the back of her head.
She recognized what she thought was his interest, but she remained uncertain.
His reaction to her song still bothered her.
It was as if she had injured him somehow.
Where a few hours ago she might have thought him critical, she now believed he watched her for a different reason, and she took delight in his attention.
She had never expected this turn of events.
She tilted her chin determinedly. If he were besotted, she would use his interest for her own purposes. And soon.
For a sennight all was well until the evening Darcy and Bingley returned from a pleasant engagement with the militia officers to discover Miss Bennet unwell and recovering at Netherfield.
The lady had joined Bingley’s sisters for supper and had taken ill, the result of becoming soaked in a rainstorm.
Although Bingley’s sisters felt put upon, Darcy’s friend was quite pleased with the idea.
Meanwhile, Darcy found Mrs. Bennet’s maneuverings mildly amusing. He held no doubt the woman orchestrated her eldest daughter being sent out in the rain on horseback in order to claim Bingley’s mercy. What a perfect means to snare a husband.
“As there is nothing I can do to support Miss Bennet’s return to health,” he announced to his companions, “I will seek my bed.”
Alone in his quarters, his thoughts turned naturally to Miss Elizabeth.
“If Miss Bennet remains at Netherfield for several days, Miss Elizabeth will likely join her.” He audibly moaned.
He and Elizabeth would be in the same house.
On the one hand, the thought excited him.
And on the other, it threatened his sanity.
He easily recalled their encounter at Lucas Lodge.
He had wanted to dance with her—to walk about the room with Elizabeth on his arm.
Moreover, he wished to prevent her chronicle of the curse plaguing him by kissing her sweet lips.
Every time he thought upon the idea of a kiss, he imagined Elizabeth at the pianoforte singing his song and then standing slowly and walking into his embrace.
They would cling to each other. The kiss deepening.
It was one of his favorite dreams of late.
Now he and Elizabeth could create new dreams. Despite his resolve not to marry, Darcy could not deny his feelings for her.
Whether he admitted it aloud or not, the lady possessed part of his soul.
Elizabeth studied her sister’s note. Jane required her assistance.
Ironically, her sister’s sudden illness played to Elizabeth’s plan.
Jane was at Netherfield and so was Mr. Darcy.
She replayed the gentleman’s responses at Sir William’s party.
Admittedly, she enjoyed the way he looked upon her, but she could not be confident that what she thought she had observed was accurate.
At times, Mr. Darcy appeared so haughty.
At other times, she thought him unguarded and sincere.
“I cannot bear to think of Jane alone and unwell. I must go to her,” she told her parents.
Before she departed for Netherfield, Elizabeth penned a letter to her aunt in London.
24 October
Dear Aunt Gardiner,
This will be short, as I am required to tend our dear Jane, who has taken ill.
Do not fret; Jane’s illness is not serious.
When I tell you of Jane’s fate, you might find it amusing.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst invited my sister to supper.
As my mother hopes that Mr. Bingley prefers Jane to all others, Mrs. Bennet encouraged my sister to take advantage of the situation.
Unfortunately, the gentlemen dined out for the evening.
But Mama considered all contingencies. She denied Jane the use of Papa’s coach and sent my sister on horseback.
Because the skies were about to open when Jane left home, Mama’s plan worked perfectly.
Jane arrived at Netherfield soaked to the bone and now must remain with the Bingleys while she recovers. I will join her at Netherfield.
While sequestered there, I hope to observe more closely “your” Mr. Darcy.
I know you feel he holds some involvement in your friend Vivian’s murder, but to date I cannot see it.
True, he is withdrawn and sometimes utterly rude, but I view those qualities emanating from his upbringing rather than an obsession he wishes to disguise.
He shows no interest in any of the women who have flirted with him over the past few weeks.
If he is the rakish master of the estate that you suspect him to be, he hides it uncommonly well.