Chapter Eight #2
Elizabeth was not sure if Anne was hinting at her, or betraying her own feelings. “Perhaps it will be better to get it over with, for surely the first encounter will be the worst of it. But if we are slighted, perhaps Lady Blanche will cease her insinuations.”
“I doubt it,” Anne said bluntly. “The Goulding ladies expect both of us to end the party attached to the gentlemen we have each refused before. Lady Sophia has dropped as many hints to me as Lady Blanche has to you, and Miss Smith told me this afternoon that all four of our hostesses have placed bets amongst themselves – which couples will become engaged first, and the like.”
Elizabeth laughed in spite of her dismay. “That is just what they would do! How utterly horrid!”
“And mortifying!”
“If such a thing had befallen anybody but myself, I might be amused by the absurdity!”
Suddenly Colonel Fitzwilliam was before them, and he swept into a deep bow, looking mildly irreverent, just as she remembered him.
“Miss Elizabeth, I see you have not changed since last we met! Amused by absurdity, eh? You have summoned me, with such words. Tell me, what delights you? Your charming companion, perhaps?”
She introduced Anne to the colonel, who then expressed a wish to become acquainted with Elizabeth’s sister.
Anne was carried off by Colonel Brandon, who exchanged a pleasant, familiar greeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth led the latter to where Jane was speaking with Captain Wentworth, looking impatient for the dancing to commence.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was very gallant to Jane, and jovial to the captain, who towered over him.
Elizabeth glanced round at Mr. Bingley, unsurprised that he was still watching Jane and her fine looking beau.
Elizabeth half suspected the colonel was trying to get a reaction out of him, with all his admiration of Jane; she wondered if he had yet realized that her sister was the very lady his cousin had boasted of detaching from their friend Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth smiled a little as it occurred to her that Mr. Bingley was rather short, only a hands’ width taller than the diminutive woman who turned from Mr. Darcy to whisper something that made Mr. Bingley smile nervously.
The dark one met Elizabeth’s gaze with a feline grin and she stalked over, her hand lingering on Mr. Bingley’s arm as she abandoned him to his sulking sister.
“Richard, I must prevail upon your inexplicable popularity. Will you introduce me?”
The colonel rolled his eyes and screwed up his face, and his lips twisted into a matching grin as he presented the Bennet sisters and Captain Wentworth to Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam. His sister. Mr. Darcy’s cousin – poor Anne de Bourgh!
Elizabeth brought her fingers to her lips, though not in time to completely stifle a perverse laugh, which bubbled from her lips unbidden.
“Do I amuse you already, Miss Elizabeth? I have not yet said anything clever. I hope there is nothing amiss with my face.”
“Forgive me, Lady Rebecca. I was only thinking of your cousin at Rosings Park, with whom I recently became acquainted.”
“Good Lord! If you meant to allude to some family resemblance between us, I shall be quite disappointed, for I had every hope of us being friends.” Lady Rebecca gave the same brash laughter as before, the only thing about her that was not polished to perfection.
Elizabeth blinked in surprise that Lady Rebecca should wish to befriend her.
She knew fashionable society ladies sometimes feigned intimacy with perceived rivals, and Elizabeth wondered what Lady Rebecca knew of her dealings with Mr. Darcy.
But before she could steer the conversation toward better understanding the woman, Lady Sophia swept past, greeted them all, and carried Lady Rebecca off to become acquainted with Colonel Brandon.
Before poor Anne was obliged to endure the same mortification as Elizabeth, the music began, and eight merry couples made their way to the dance.
Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Elizabeth to stand up with him, and he seemed ready to make himself agreeable to her.
She had always liked him; she did not hold it against him that he made a joke of his cousin separating Jane and Mr. Bingley, though she was wary that he should have such an unsettling sister.
And sisters were just the topic of his chipper conversation. He made a few weak jests about Lady Rebecca being a satirical witch who would make sport of them all, having in common with Elizabeth a sportive disposition and penchant for laughing at everyone she met.
When Elizabeth made shorter, duller replies than he might have expected, he gave an exaggerated pout.
“Has your warm friendship cooled toward me since Kent, Miss Elizabeth? I do hope not, for you are a rare creature to like me better than Darcy, and I should have been vastly amused to keep it that way! But I can guess what you are thinking.”
“I should imagine not,” Elizabeth cried, hoping she had not made her immediate dislike of his sister so evident. It was not like her, and perhaps it was not right, either.
“I might wonder if it was something I said – but, of course, I know it was. I must beg your forgiveness for my comments in Kent, Miss Elizabeth. When I mentioned my cousin’s devotion to Bingley, I did not then know that it was your own sister….”
“From whom your friend cruelly detached his friend, a gentleman apparently incapable of making decisions for himself.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together before she could sink herself any further in the entire Fitzwilliam family’s estimation.
She was not accustomed to such churlishness, and she knew not how to dispel the ill humor.
The colonel merely raised his brows high, and Elizabeth sighed. “Forgive me. In truth, I am glad you spoke so freely.”
“I am not, as you may imagine. I was very sorry to later discover the disservice I had done my cousin, when my intention was quite the reverse.”
“Oh.” It dawned on Elizabeth that the colonel must have meant to present Mr. Darcy to advantage – which suggested that the colonel knew of his cousin’s intentions toward her.
“A sorry effort on my part! I was grateful indeed for my military training, when Darcy learned how far amiss were my efforts to help him along. I thought he would murder me! But I suppose it is fair that you should be glad to know the truth, only… only… as much as I am prone to laugh at Darcy’s folly, I could never rejoice in his heartbreak. ”
That word reverberated through Elizabeth.
Heartbreak. She had supposed he might be disappointed, certainly be embittered – she even feared Mr. Darcy would be angry at her.
But to be heartbroken… he would have had to truly have loved her.
It occurred to her only now that she had entirely disregarded the sentiments he claimed to feel, and she was thoroughly ashamed of herself.
The colonel studied her sullen reaction, and mercifully turned the subject.
He managed to draw her out through a series of teasing observations on the other members of their large party, and Elizabeth was grateful for the distraction, else she might have spent the entire set observing how miserable Mr. Darcy looked, dancing with Miss Bingley.
The lady looked equally unhappy, for she seemed keenly aware that Mr. Darcy’s gaze was fixed on Elizabeth.