Chapter XIII #2
“Perhaps we did. That does not alter my curiosity. Will you not answer my question?”
“By my recollection, we have discussed my tendency several times already. Does that not suffice?”
“We have,” agreed she. “But you have never explained the reasons for your reticence about the first sets in particular.”
Darcy could not suppress his chuckles. “I see you are determined, not that I would have expected anything else. Yes, Miss Elizabeth, I am not accustomed to dancing the first at any function. I learned quickly that many ladies in society see such a gesture as a sign of favor I have no intention or interest in making.”
“And you suppose I will not see it in that light?” asked she coyly.
“It matters little if you do,” said Darcy, his eloquent shrug calculated to ensure she saw what he wished. Darcy leaned a little closer and said, as if imparting a secret: “You would not gain any expectations I do not intend.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded, though she appeared distracted. “Please accept my apologies, Mr. Darcy, for this is all so new.”
“For you, it is, and I understand that,” said Darcy. “For me, however, it has been growing for weeks.”
With a sigh, Miss Elizabeth fixed him with a rueful smile. “As you are aware, my opinion of you was not positive when you were here in the autumn.”
Darcy regarded her, certain there was something she had not said. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but you do not strike me as a woman aggrieved because of an aloof demeanor. There must be something more to your feelings than my behavior.”
Comprehension shone in her eyes, though accompanied by more than a little reticence. For a moment, he thought she would deflect, say it did not matter. Then she sighed.
“This is a subject I am not certain we should discuss, Mr. Darcy,” said she at length. “Events have proven my conjecture incorrect. Should we not allow it to rest?”
“If you have something to resent, I should like the opportunity to rectify it,” insisted Darcy.
“It is not a matter to resolve, Mr. Darcy,” said she.
When Darcy did not relent, she sighed again. “It was the night I first made your acquaintance.”
Puzzled, Darcy regarded her, uncertain of her meaning. “As I recall, we did not speak more than a few words that night.”
“True,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “Yet your initial opinion was not so warm as it is now.”
Darcy tried to remember anything particular from that night, but he could recall nothing of any substance.
He had been in foul humor, unwilling to be pleased by anything or anyone.
Even his interest in Miss Elizabeth had not taken root until sometime later—the first time he could remember admiring her was the evening at Lucas Lodge, though he knew he had noticed her earlier than that.
“I see you do not recall the incident,” Miss Elizabeth’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “That is curious, Mr. Darcy, for it opens two potential interpretations of what you said.”
“Perhaps it is best that you inform me of what happened first,” suggested Darcy. “Then we can discuss your interpretations.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. It happened late in the evening. You were watching the dancing when Mr. Bingley approached you and insisted you dance.”
“That is not a singular occurrence, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, showing her a wry smile. “Bingley has often attempted to induce me to behave as he does.” Darcy paused and a premonition formed. “Can I suppose that I said something I should not have and you overheard it?”
“It was worse than that, Mr. Darcy,” said she. There was a lightness in her tone of humor, but Darcy suspected that at the time she had been quite offended. “Mr. Bingley suggested me as a partner worthy of you.”
“And I refused.”
“You did,” said she. “I do not recall your exact words, but you suggested I was not worthy of your attention and that you did not mean to save young ladies unable to attract the attention of other men.”
It was worse than Darcy expected, but he did not hasten to explain himself or offer an apology.
Miss Elizabeth had, he suspected, become philosophical about the incident, though she had not forgotten it.
In truth, Darcy thought she recalled the exact words he had used but was too polite to repeat them.
Darcy made a mental note to extract his words from her at another time.
“You suggested there were two plausible explanations for my behavior,” said Darcy.
Miss Elizabeth nodded. “The first is what I took as the truth for many weeks—that you saw nothing good in me and did not wish to sully yourself by paying attention to one unworthy of your consideration.”
“And the second?” asked Darcy, suppressing a wince at her blunt assessment.
“Is that the moment was inconsequential, that you perhaps did not even consider me so much as your desire for Mr. Bingley to leave you alone.”
Darcy allowed a faint smile. “Let no one suggest you are not perceptive, Miss Elizabeth.”
She lifted her chin just a little. “Then my conjecture is correct.”
“It is.”
With his characteristic seriousness, Darcy caught her hand in his and regarded her, displaying every ounce of his regard.
“While I understand why you thought the former, the truth is the latter.
I do not recall the event, beyond a vague recollection of Bingley approaching me as you describe—as that exact scene has played out several times, it does not stand out in my memory.
“What I can say is that I cannot imagine I lacked discernment sufficient to say such things if I truly looked at you.”
Miss Elizabeth’s regard was a sort of steady desire to understand him—it heartened Darcy to see. It was evidence that she was not inclined to dismiss him as a rude gentleman who had insulted her, and gave him hope for the future.
“You were not in good humor that evening.”
Darcy offered her a grin. “That is a rather significant understatement, Miss Elizabeth. There were certain matters that weighed on my mind.” For a moment, Darcy wondered how much to reveal, then said: “To own the truth, George Wickham was central to those concerns.”
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but she did not press. “Then when Mr. Bingley suggested me as a dance partner . . .”
“All I thought of was that Bingley was again asking me to dance when my humor did not allow it.”
“Then why did you attend?”
“Because I owed it to Bingley as his friend to support him.” Darcy shrugged, allowing a sardonic expression of mirth. “Perhaps I might have judged better, considering my mood, but I could not deny him.”
“If that be the case,” said Miss Elizabeth, “then you do not disdain us as I always thought.”
“I shall not lie to you, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. “My situation in life has given me all the reason in the world to look down on others, and the countrified manners of your neighbors were apparent from the first moment I moved among them.”
“But you also count Mr. Bingley as a friend,” said Miss Elizabeth shrewdly. “If you were so proud as to disdain my neighbors, Mr. Bingley, who is not even a gentleman, must also merit your derision.”
“You are not incorrect,” agreed Darcy, pleased she had found something to admire in his character.
“Bingley’s education and manners are above reproach, yet he is as at home in this society as in London.
He is my closest friend other than my cousin—there are some in society who deplore such an unfashionable connection, but I have never cared for their opinions. ”
Miss Elizabeth nodded. “That explains much, Mr. Darcy.” A mischievous glint entered her eyes as she added: “That does not absolve you of incivility, of course. I am still inclined to make you suffer for your temerity.”
Darcy returned her grin. “You will extract your pound of flesh with great proficiency, I am certain.”
Then Darcy deliberately raised her hand that he still held to his lips, noting the surprise in her eyes, which soon turned to something softer. It was not tenderness yet, he knew—she was not yet prepared for that. It did, however, give him hope.
“Now that I have assuaged your curiosity,” said he, squeezing her hand and dropping it as was proper, “I hope you will give credit to my interest.”
“It seems that I must,” replied she.
Quirking an eyebrow, Darcy said: “Is that all the encouragement I am to receive?”
Her answering smile was like the sun shining down after an extended storm. “Perhaps we should wait and see, Mr. Darcy.”
“Perhaps we shall,” agreed Darcy, knowing he had not failed to touch her. Where it would lead he could not say, but he was not displeased with the progress he had made.
“I WISH TO EXTEND MY gratitude, Mrs. Hurst,” said Mr. Darcy.
Louisa, who had not missed the gentleman’s close conversation with Miss Elizabeth, and the even more significant kiss on her hand, turned to regard him.
Georgiana had now taken Miss Elizabeth’s attention and was speaking with her—Mr. Darcy was not displeased with his sister’s esteem for Miss Elizabeth, though he might have regretted losing her sole attention.
“For what, Mr. Darcy?” asked Louisa, though she suspected she already knew what he would say.
“For returning to Netherfield and supporting your brother,” replied Mr. Darcy. “For helping Georgiana settle and restoring harmony.”
Louisa could not suppress the laughter that sprang to her lips. “That last is perhaps inaccurate, not with my sister still in residence.”
“If you will pardon me, I suspect she has seen the futility of further rancor.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” replied Louisa, regarding her sister who was in conversation with Charles and Jane. “That will not end her ill humor, I suspect, but I doubt she will continue to make open displays of disdain.”
“I cannot but suppose you are correct.”
As laughter rose between Georgiana and Elizabeth, Mary looking on with greater involvement than she could ever remember from the girl, Louisa turned to Mr. Darcy and studied him.
There was, she noted, a more open quality in his features than she had ever seen before, a consequence, no doubt, of Elizabeth’s influence.
The love of a good woman could work miracles in a man’s demeanor, and Elizabeth’s influence was marked, yet Mr. Darcy was not even courting her yet.
“Though I thank you for the sentiment,” said Louisa, “I do not suppose that I have done much.”
“I must respectfully disagree,” said Mr. Darcy. “Your actions have served as a catalyst for everything that has happened.”
The gentleman winked at her, a surprise since she had never thought him capable of such levity. “Mayhap I should take you to task for matchmaking, but I dare say it has all turned out well.”
“Matchmaking, Mr. Darcy?” demanded she, though she could not suppress her grin. “Nothing I did extended to matchmaking—rather, I allowed nature to take its course by providing the means by which it could.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes glittered, but he did not press the matter. “However it happened, I thank you, nonetheless.”
A feeling of such satisfaction welled up within her that Louisa had to look away lest it become obvious to the gentleman beside her.
Though events had proceeded in a manner she could not have foreseen, Louisa was not displeased with the outcome.
Caroline was displeased, but she would come around.
Perhaps she would even be better for the experience.
IT WAS THE UNDERSTANDING that everyone around her had moved forward, leaving Caroline behind that hit her more than anything.
Charles and Jane were happy, well on their way to an understanding, and, much though she wished otherwise, she could see how Mr. Darcy esteemed Miss Elizabeth, and how much she appeared to return the sentiment.
Georgiana approved of her brother’s choice, and even Louisa and Hurst appeared comfortable and content.
It left Caroline feeling isolated and not a little lost.
Three years wasted with nothing to show for it—that was the truth of Caroline’s pretensions.
Though she tried, she could not quite summon the corrosive hatred she had thought she would feel if Mr. Darcy rejected her for another woman.
Even his preference for Miss Elizabeth, who Caroline still saw as inferior, could not provoke her disdain.
Never had she felt so isolated, though surrounded by her family, the Darcys, and the loud and uncouth Bennets.
Caroline forced herself to look at them critically, and though she grimaced, she could not deny that she had been wrong about the Bennets.
They were not and could never be called fashionable, though Caroline knew Jane’s manners would excite no comment in London.
Mrs. Bennet was loud and could be difficult to endure, but for the first time, Caroline could see there was no harm in her.
The question was where that left her. Louisa had spoken the truth—there had been other men who had expressed interest in her.
None of them possessed Mr. Darcy’s prominence, but perhaps it was best to follow her sister’s advice and seek fulfillment rather than grasping for the highest she could obtain.
The presence of another at her side made her turn and regard Louisa, who had stepped beside her. Though Caroline thought, even at this late date, to abuse her sister for her betrayal, she could not quite do it. Louisa, she suspected, had seen far more clearly than Caroline had ever expected.
“You need not remain angry forever.”
Louisa patted her arm and moved away before Caroline could answer.
It was perhaps for the best. She did not know where she would go from here, but for the first time in many months, Caroline knew it would not involve expectations of Mr. Darcy.
It surprised her, but she found she did not regret it so much as she might have supposed.