Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Charles had a six-week break from school at Christmas, and due to the family being in mourning, he would spend the whole of it at the Hursts’ home.
Elizabeth had by that time adjusted her schedule such that she was with Caroline and Mrs. Hurst for the better part of three days each week at their townhouse.
She arranged for her teachers to visit Gracechurch Street on the other days, aside from the painting master, and she took books and sheet music with her when she called on her friends.
“I am sorry for your loss, Charles,” Elizabeth said the first time she saw him in December.
“Thank you, Lizzy. And thank you for taking such good care of Caroline. I was sorry not to be able to see her, but I know you were of far more comfort to her than I would have been.”
Elizabeth noticed another man coming into the room, and she began to back away, not being out, when Charles must have noticed him, as well.
“Darcy!” he said. “Come meet Lizzy.”
As the man approached, Elizabeth saw he was a few years older than Charles and far more handsome. He was several inches taller and had thick, dark hair and dark eyes that appeared stormy as he grew nearer. Then she realized what Charles had called him.
“Darcy? Georgiana’s brother?” she blurted without thought.
“The same. Lizzy, meet Mr. Darcy. Darcy—”
“How dare you speak so informally of my sister! Who told you about her? And why do you not wear black to respect your father? You may not be out, but you are old enough for that.”
Elizabeth was shocked by his tone. He obviously thought she was a Bingley, but what right had he to chastise one of Charles’s sisters?
“Darce, what has you in such high dudgeon?” Charles asked.
Elizabeth did not remain to discover the source of this man’s mood, sweeping past him and out of the room without a word.
“She is not one of my sisters but their friend, so she is not in mourning,” she heard Charles say.
“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said hesitantly. “But why did she speak of my sister in such a way?”
“Perhaps I told Caro about her and she mentioned her…”
Elizabeth heard no more; she had returned to Caroline and told her she was leaving before the men had concluded their conversation.
When she was due to return to the Hursts’ home two days later, Elizabeth’s anger had not fully dissipated.
She had no desire to see Mr. Darcy again; if she did, she may forget her youth and say something she shouldn’t.
How dare he presume—No, she would control her temper.
But even if she felt she must speak, she was not so very young.
She would be sixteen in less than three months, and Jane had come out at that age.
As she had told Aunt Gardiner several months before, she was not interested in being courted yet, but she was also uninterested in being considered a child.
Especially by such a handsome man. She refused to acknowledge the thought.
He had been too disagreeable to be handsome.
As she could not yet wear her hair up, she asked Dinah to put it in a braid.
She knew why women wore their hair up. Caroline had said it was an intimacy for a man to see a woman’s hair down, and she had spoken of the type of novels that were the only books Uncle Bennet had not given her to read.
Caroline had once praised Elizabeth’s thick, dark curls when she and Mrs. Hurst giggled over the men in those novels.
Elizabeth had never cared if Charles saw her hair because he was like a brother to her, and she knew she should not care if Mr. Darcy saw it, either, as he would not think anything of it.
Still, she would not give him the opportunity.
Darcy paced his bedchamber at Darcy House.
He was ashamed of himself. He knew he needed to apologize to the girl he had met two days prior, but he could not seek her out.
He had mistaken her for someone else, berated her for not mourning properly, called her a child—she was a child but apparently near enough a woman that she had likely been offended—and, worst of all, he had accused her of disrespecting his sister.
When he had returned home that evening, he had asked Georgiana if she had ever heard of a Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Georgie could not stop talking about the older girl’s perfections.
She was the kindest girl she had ever met, could play the pianoforte as well as she could, had given her the book of histories Georgiana had been carrying around with her for five months, and to top it all off, she had spent the entire day comforting her while he had been racing to reach her after their father died.
This was the girl he had yelled at. Why had he not made the connection? Georgie talked often of “Lizzy.” Why had he not realized this “Lizzy” was his sister’s savior? He groaned. How could he possibly make amends now?
He departed his Berkeley Square townhouse and walked to the edge of the park at Davies Street, where he was meeting Bingley at half past one.
Darcy did not want to encounter anyone else he knew today.
They were both in mourning for their fathers, and he was not feeling sociable.
That was his primary excuse for his boorish behavior toward Miss Elizabeth.
He was devastated by his father’s loss, overwhelmed by the heavy responsibilities he now faced.
The morning of his unprecedented rudeness, he had met with his uncle, who had suggested he was not prepared to be his sister’s guardian.
He should have gone straight home, but instead he had accepted Bingley’s invitation to meet his new brother-in-law.
He had not expected to see any young girls not yet out.
But it had not been Miss Elizabeth’s fault. He was to blame for all of it.
“How was your appointment, Bingley?” he asked as they fell into step together for the short distance to Hurst’s home. A sharp wind picked up, so he pulled his greatcoat tighter, and they walked more quickly.
“Good, good. Merely another meeting with my father’s—with my solicitor.”
They walked in silence for some minutes until Darcy had to speak.
“Please accept my apologies again for being so rude to your guest on Monday,” he said.
Bingley chuckled. “I was surprised, but I imagine you were under duress.”
“Indeed, but that was no excuse. Will she…that is, does Miss Bennet visit your sister often?”
“Yes. We met her earlier this year, in May, and they became fast friends, but my sister has relied on her quite heavily since Louisa’s marriage and even more since our father died.
Lizzy arranged to have some of her lessons take place at the Hursts’ so Caroline could be included.
She is a first-rate girl.” Bingley sighed.
Darcy quirked his eyebrows. “You sound as though you have a romantic interest in her.”
“In Lizzy?” Bingley laughed nervously. “She is a pretty girl, and she is only three years younger than I am…”
“Is she sixteen?”
“Not yet. Not until the end of February,” Bingley said, sighing again. “No. I am not interested in her in that way. She is an admirable girl, but I cannot keep up with her.”
“What does that mean?”
“We spent a lot of time together when I was home for summer holidays—with my sisters, of course—and she always had something intelligent or humorous to say no matter the conversation topic. She has read far more books than I have. She has intricate flowers and birds embroidered onto each of her gowns, and she did it all herself. Lizzy plays the pianoforte almost as well as Caroline and sings far better.” Bingley shook his head.
“She sounds like a paragon.”
Once again, Bingley sighed, and Darcy chuckled. “Mayhap you have a reason to apply yourself more next term at Oxford.”
Bingley laughed. “I doubt I could ever catch up with Lizzy.”
“Do you think I could?”
Bingley turned to him, eyes wide, and then a smile overtook his face.
“That would be perfect. You are correct. You are far better suited to Lizzy than I am—”
“That is not at all what I meant!” Darcy said. “I only asked if I could catch up with her physically, not mentally, and I mean…will she be visiting your sister any time soon? I only wish to apologize, not…whatever you are thinking.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Bingley, I am three-and-twenty, far too old to be looking at a sixteen-year-old—”
“Fifteen until the end of February.”
“Exactly! And less than a month after her birthday, I will celebrate my twenty-fourth. Besides, I have no time for a wife yet. I have far too much to do at Pemberley. I wish my Aunt Catherine had not insisted the whole family gather in London for the festive season. I should have refused and stayed at Pemberley with my sister.”
“But you wanted her to have the support of your family this year, which was a good choice,” Bingley reminded him, suddenly more sober than was his wont. “Savor this time with your family before you hole up at Pemberley again. You have been away from London for too long, my friend.”
Bingley had not answered his question, but they were at the Hursts’ doorstep now.
They went in and spoke with Hurst for a few minutes, and then they all played billiards.
The clacking of the balls and men’s chatter relaxed Darcy a fraction, but he needed to know whether he was likely to encounter Miss Bennet in this house today.
Until he apologized, he would continue to think about her.
Between games, with the sounds of the balls gone, Darcy heard music. He went to the door and opened it slightly.
“Do you know who is playing, Bingley?”
“I am unsure; it does not sound like a piece Caro or Louisa have been playing this week since my return. Perhaps it is Lizzy,” Bingley ended with a smirk.
“I need to speak with her, Bingley, that is all.”
“I am sure you do.”
“Bingley! I need to apologize to her. She is not out, but I assume she is currently playing in a public room?”
“That she is. Shall we attempt your introduction one more time, Darce?”
Darcy sighed. “Yes, please. If you can control yourself.”
Bingley only laughed as he left the billiards room, but what choice did Darcy have but to follow?
He was frankly a little worried now to face the girl.
He had been concerned before due to the shame he felt, but now he was self-conscious in another way.
He had barely looked at her on their first meeting, but he had also not forgotten her fiery eyes or her thick, dark curls that had flowed around her shoulders and down her back.
He really had not thought anything of it, knowing she must be young.
Now he knew she was too young, and yet he had heard nothing but praise of her for days.
Combined with Bingley’s inappropriate innuendos, he was worried he would not see her for the fifteen-year-old she was.
He would think of her as his sister’s friend, he quickly decided.
His sister’s friend and nothing more. She would be like another sister to him.
Yes. Perfect. He could do that.
They were about to enter the music room when she joined her well-practiced notes with song.
Her voice! Just like a sister. That is all she would be to him.
When he entered the room behind Bingley, he was relieved that she abruptly stopped singing and stood.
He did not even mind that she glared at him.
“Lizzy,” he heard Bingley say, and he remembered why he was here. “Lizzy, may I properly present to you Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire?”
Miss Bennet came out from behind the instrument and curtsied, and Darcy bowed. Where had her hair gone? It had previously done a fine job of hiding her slight, graceful figure, but now it was pulled back in a braid, which fell over her shoulder when she curtsied.
“Darcy, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Bennet,” he said. “I apologize for my rudeness when we first met. I was out of sorts, but that is no excuse. I hope you will forgive me.”
The girl eyed him appraisingly, her nose scrunched adorably, and fisted her hands at her hips before replying. “I had been trying to decide between burning you in a bath house or burying you alive in a boat, but I thank you, and I accept your apology…if you truly mean it.”
“Lizzy!” Bingley laughed nervously.
Darcy narrowed his eyes at her. “You would not get me drunk and slaughter me during a feast?”
Miss Bennet gasped then smiled excitedly. “You are familiar with Princess Olga of Kiev? Was she not wonderful?”
“That is perhaps one word for her,” Darcy said drily.
“She should not have harmed the birds, though.”
Darcy wondered if this girl really thought all the woman’s other actions were acceptable retaliation on those responsible for killing her husband.
“Agreed. May I assume you will not employ any of her tactics on me? I do mean my apology. I am sorry for my words and for implying you should be in mourning.”
“My parents died when I was an infant, so I never had to wear black for them, but I know you mourn just as the Bingleys do. I am sorry for your loss, sir.”
“I…thank you. My sister reminded me of the great kindness you did her some months ago. I am in your debt.”
“She is a sweet girl. May I ask, if it is not too impertinent, how does your sister do?”
Darcy swallowed. “She is doing better. It is still difficult, of course, but she improves each day. She still cherishes the book you gave her. I, er, I have also read it, and it was a good choice and a generous gift for her.”
“It has long been one of my favorites, Mr. Darcy. It was fortunate I had brought it with me that day. I am satisfied to part with it for one who cares for the volume as I did.”
Darcy nodded. He reflected with an inward shudder that the book did not contain anything about Princess Olga.
His sister was too young for such ideas.
Only then did he look around the room to see Hurst’s wife, whom he had met on Monday, and another young girl, older than Miss Bennet but also clearly not out.
This girl looked at him in a far different way than Miss Bennet did.
Her dreamy gaze made him uncomfortable, and he began to retreat from the room.
“While you are here, Darcy, would you like to meet my youngest sister?”
“Of course,” he lied.
“This is Miss Caroline Bingley. Caroline, Mr. Darcy.”
Miss Bingley curtsied and smiled but remained silent.
As Miss Bennet should have done when they had first met, he thought.
But he found he was glad she had not. As Bingley had said, she was intriguing.
He was grateful she had befriended his sister.
Perhaps before they left London, they could call on her.
No. They would not call on her. If Georgiana wished to see Miss Bennet again, his aunt could take her.