Chapter Fifty
Mr. Darcy, who planned to depart for London with his cousin immediately after breakfast was quite surprised to learn that Reginald was not so keen to return to Town after all.
“I told her I would call today, you see,” he said, by way of explanation. He glanced at Mr. Darcy briefly as he spoke, and then returned his attention to his breakfast.
“Call on her? Call on who?” Mr. Bingley asked, turning pale.
Were his romantic plans to be challenged by a Viscount?
! He had feared competition from Mr. Darcy, but this Viscount was far more eligible even than Mr. Darcy!
Could it be that he was interested in Miss Elizabeth? Or, heaven forbid, Miss Bennet?
“Why, Miss Lucas,” Mr. Fitzwilliam said, as if it should have been obvious to everyone.
Mr. Bingley breathed a deep sigh of relief; Mr. Darcy looked puzzled; Miss Bingley looked angry. “Charlotte Lucas? The old maid at Lucas Lodge?” Her tone was venomous.
Mr. Bingley gasped. “Caroline, really!”
“Why, she must be all of seven and twenty!” Miss Bingley continued, eyes blazing. The Viscount was certainly odd, but he was still a Viscount. How was it that plain, old Charlotte Lucas had captured his interest while she, Miss Bingley, as young and fresh as a daisy, had been entirely ignored!
“I am five and thirty, Miss Bingley,” Mr. Fitzwilliam stated, fixing Miss Bingley with a basilisk glare. “I do not find seven and twenty particularly old.”
Miss Bingley rose, threw her napkin onto her plate, and swept out of the room.
“I suppose I have done something wrong,” Mr. Fitzwilliam sighed.
“No, not at all,” Mr. Bingley said. He had regained his colour. “She is simply unhappy that you are interested in someone other than herself.”
“Miss Bingley? Why on earth would I be interested in her?” Mr. Fitzwilliam wondered aloud.
Mr. Darcy cleared his throat.
Mr. Fitzwilliam said, “Oh, I have put my foot in it again. My apologies, Mr. Bingley; I intended no insult to your sister. If is only that – well, I find social situations difficult, and Miss Lucas went very much out of her way to put me at ease last night. When I asked her for a second dance, she told me that this would not be a good idea, but that I was welcome to call on her today. And I said I would. So there you have it, Darcy; this is why we cannot leave quite yet. But will you accompany me to Lucas Lodge?”
“I certainly will,” Mr. Darcy said. He was already mentally composing his letter to his Aunt Eleanor to tell her of this unexpected development.
“She said late morning or early afternoon. Is it too early now?” Mr. Fitzwilliam asked.
“Let us wait another hour,” Mr. Darcy suggested.
“Very well.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam wandered into the library and promptly wandered back out in order to lecture Mr. Bingley on the state of the library. Mr. Darcy took his cousin out on a walk, during which Mr. Fitzwilliam consulted his pocket watch with some frequency.
Finally, the hour was up, and Mr. Fitzwilliam pronounced himself ready to depart.
“We will take my carriage,” Mr. Darcy said.
“I thought we would just ride over,” Mr. Fitzwilliam objected. “It is not far.”
“No, but you do not wish to arrive smelling of horse and dust, do you?”
“Oh! No, certainly not. It is good that you think of these things, Darcy.”
“It is good, yes,” Mr. Darcy agreed, with a wry smile.
When they arrived at Lucas Lodge, Charlotte was sitting in the drawing room with her mother, her younger sister and – Mr. Darcy nearly gasped aloud – Miss Elizabeth!
The ladies rose as the gentlemen entered. Mr. Fitzwilliam went at once to sit beside Charlotte and the two murmured together in voices so low that they could not be overheard. Despite the impropriety, Lady Lucas could not help but beam at the two of them.
Mr. Darcy could scarce contain his happiness at seeing Miss Elizabeth. He knew he must leave her as soon as may be, but surely no harm could come from him having one last conversation with her!
He sat as near to her as manners would permit, though he knew he must address his hostess first. He thanked Lady Lucas for her hospitality the night before, adding, “I no longer wonder why the Lucas card parties are held in such high regard throughout Meryton.”
He could not have said anything that would have pleased Lady Lucas more.
She went on at some length about how delighted she was to provide entertainment for the neighbourhood, how important dancing was, and so on.
It was some time before Mr. Darcy felt that he could turn his attention to Miss Elizabeth.
“And you and your sisters had an enjoyable evening, I trust?” he asked her.
“We did. Kitty and Lydia behaved themselves, which was more than I had dared hope for.”
“Are they normally not well-behaved?”
“In all honesty, they are sometimes a little overloud. But – well, they are young, and so much may be forgiven them. Mr. Darcy…”
“Yes?”
She nodded toward Charlotte and Mr. Fitzwilliam. “Is my friend safe?”
“Safe?”
“I do not mean her person, of course. I mean her heart.”
“Her heart?” he repeated, dumbly.
“Yes.” She sounded impatient. “I would not want him to make her fall in love with him and then vanish.” Her voice faltered.
Mr. Darcy took a deep breath. “Miss Elizabeth, we are all in danger of that, are we not? When gentlemen and young ladies spend time together, there is always the possibility of love unrequited, is there not?”
“I suppose so,” she replied, looking at the floor.
Mr. Darcy continued, earnestly, “But I can tell you that my cousin would never do such a thing deliberately. He is a rather odd sort of man, frankly. He does not do well in social situations and lives rather like a hermit in Derbyshire at the Matlock estate, working on a massive writing project. I have never seen him speak to a young lady as he is now speaking with Miss Lucas. It is completely unprecedented. But what is in his mind and in his heart – well, I have no way of knowing.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I love Charlotte, Mr. Darcy, and anything that injures her will hurt me.”
“I will speak with Reginald. I do not think he understands the concept of raising expectations, but I will do my best to explain it to him.”
She smiled then. “Gentlemen must certainly beware of raising expectations!”
Was she speaking of Mr. Bingley? She must be! Oh, Lord, she wanted Bingley! It struck Mr. Darcy like an arrow in his heart. He looked at the clock on the mantel; they had been there for half an hour, twice the polite time for a call.
“Reggie!” he called.
His cousin did not look up from his conversation.
“Reggie! We must be off.”
“No, surely not!” Mr. Fitzwilliam protested, finally looking at his cousin. “Why, we have just arrived!”
“No, we have been here a full half hour. I apologise, Lady Lucas, the time just went by so quickly.”
“Oh, your cousin and my daughter are having such a lovely conversation; it seems wrong to interrupt them, does it not, Mr. Darcy?” Lady Lucas’ tone was coaxing.
“No, no, I am afraid we must go. Reggie!”
“Very well, Darcy. May I come again tomorrow, Miss Lucas?”
“Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” Charlotte rose, smiling, and curtsied.
Mr. Darcy murmured to Elizabeth, “Fear not, Miss Elizabeth; I will speak with my cousin.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam bowed low and then followed Mr. Darcy out the door, all the while asking his cousin why it was necessary to leave so very soon.