Chapter Five
Darcy had been struck when he saw Elizabeth Bennet seated in a too-large gown borrowed from his sister in the drawing room at Netherfield. She had been indulging his daughter in the pretence of a tea party, and a sliver of bare leg above her poultice-wrapped ankle had been visible.
Miss Elizabeth had stuck in his mind more than any other person since he had come to Netherfield, and that frustrated him.
The leading belle of the neighbourhood, a lovely woman sufficiently aware of her ample attractions. She was confident, witty, and could speak easily in any gathering. Her fine eyes struck him each time their gazes met—which was too often for comfort.
All this reminded him of Mary.
He would think of her no more. It was unfortunate that the young woman had made a pet of Georgiana, but Darcy would not stand athwart of his sister’s pleasure without a better reason than the woman’s superficial similarity to the lady whose memory he loathed and grieved.
Or so he said to himself.
Yet, whether he would or not, the mind of a single man is always likely to be thinking about a single woman that he finds particularly beautiful, wondering what he might do to gain her affections and asking himself whether he wished to have those affections at all.
Though he did not say as much, when Darcy had suggested to Georgiana that she invite Elizabeth Bennet to keep her company while the gentlemen were out of the house, he had wished to know how Miss Elizabeth might behave around his daughter.
Of course, he suspected Miss Elizabeth’s motives in befriending Georgiana.
He had been taught that those from a lower station in life naturally sought every advantage when they began a friendship with one of superior rank. Any single woman would scheme to get his approval. They all desperately wished to impress him with how disinterested their interested intentions were.
He expected nothing less from Miss Elizabeth.
His parents had encouraged him to only trust in friendship with those who had wealth and station equal to his own—“do not seek to become the companion to a great noble above you, for you must not act with servility. You are a Darcy, you are the grandson of an earl, and you will behave with the dignity befitting your family. But also, do not become close with persons who can only benefit from the connection.”
“They cannot be trusted.”
His dear friend Bingley was barely of high enough station for his mother to have accepted him as a boon companion for her dear son.
Darcy now knew better.
No one could be trusted.
Wealthy women could be mercenary. And wealthy women oft betrayed their husbands for reasons mercurial rather than mercenary.
Georgiana never took easily to friends close to her in rank and consequence.
Darcy’s sister had been sent to a school for several years after their father died. She never spoke of the other girls there with anything but unhappiness, and she never exchanged any letters with them. Since she had been removed from the place, her mood had vastly improved.
He hoped that Miss Elizabeth would prove worthy of his sister’s regard and that the connection would turn out to be to her benefit.
It was not surprising at all that his daughter had taken easily to Miss Elizabeth.
In the way of little children, Emily became the dearest of friends with anyone willing to play games with her.
Still, Emily’s enthusiasm for ‘Miss Lizzy’ was more than she had displayed for any of the other young gentlewomen who doted upon the little heiress.
That night, the irritability that Darcy had often endured of late had not affected him, and he had participated in the conversation with pleasure.
Miss Elizabeth and Bingley had made everyone laugh, though by different means.
While Emily was in the drawing room, Miss Elizabeth had encouraged the girl to sit next to her, and she had smiled at her, employed a mix of funny and scary voices, adopted silly facial expressions, happily read books to the little creature, and served as the castle to which Emily fled when Georgiana and Darcy undertook the role of terrifying monsters.
When Emily had become too active and wild as she tired, Miss Elizabeth had firmly but kindly ordered her to not jump upon her while her side was injured.
Emily, being a tiny, undisciplined wild thing, had continued to do so, and Darcy had immediately picked her up.
The girl had burst into wild sobs. This had embarrassed him a little.
At three years of age, sufficiently rigorous discipline could make it so that a child would not misbehave in company.
And he felt a sort of shame, a weak echo of his feelings at suspecting that all his acquaintance knew he had been cuckolded, at his utter unwillingness to drag Emily to her room so he could spank her until she quieted.
His father had frequently done such things to him and Georgiana.
The duty of children is to be quiet and diligently learn their lessons.
Darcy had stepped out of the room, bouncing the girl on his shoulder.
When she had calmed, he had said again, “You are becoming quite strong, and you might hurt Miss Elizabeth. She was quite bruised by her fall from the horse. You must be gentler with people.”
Darcy had half expected the girl to burst into tears once more.
But Emily had nodded. “Don’t want to hurt Miss Lizzy.”
“She is very nice?”
“Very nice.”
“Do you wish to go up to the nursery for Rose to tell you some stories, or would you like to return to the drawing room for a few minutes more before you are sent up?”
“Miss Lizzy! Miss Lizzy!”
“If that is your preference.”
Darcy had returned them to the drawing room, where Emily had wriggled to be put down then run across the room to Miss Elizabeth. “I’m sorry!”
Miss Elizabeth had put an arm around the girl. Emily had tightly embraced her arm in return.
“I do not mind you jumping about me,” Miss Elizabeth had said, “only you must be cautious, and you were not. My ankle and elbow do hurt very much.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“All is well then—thank you Mr. Darcy.” As Miss Elizabeth had said this, her arms around little Emily. It had done something strange to his chest.
Befriending the child to appeal to the father was in fact a good stratagem.
Georgiana had soon encouraged Emily to join her at the pianoforte and to help her turn the pages as she played her niece’s favourite songs.
After another half an hour, Emily had been at last sent up with the nurse, and the party had become much quieter. Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana had spoken softly to each other, a conversation about music as far as Darcy could tell.
When Miss Elizabeth had yawned, it was decided to call the footman again to carry her to her bedroom.
Acting on an instinct which hated the idea of another man holding Miss Elizabeth, even if that man was merely a servant, Darcy had stepped up to her and asked whether she was ready to go to bed.
She had nodded, and he had simply picked her up and carried her.
She had been surprisingly light, and it had been sweet to carry her in such a way.
Darcy had not been physically close to a woman since many months before Mary died. While he had not had time to contemplate this as he carried Miss Elizabeth, the scent of her hair and neck, the feel of her in his arms, and the memory of her softness had lingered with him through the night.
The next day was sunny, but Darcy was unwilling to leave the house.
In the morning Miss Elizabeth was still unable to put any weight on her foot, and the injury to her elbow made it impossible for her to manage crutches or a heavy cane.
Darcy picked her up again and carried her to the drawing room once she had been dressed by Georgiana’s maid.
She blushed deeply when he put her down. “My apologies for being so difficult.”
“That you are injured is not a reason for any shame.”
“Ride your horse better! It is a matter of importance for every lady or gentleman,” Emily remarked.
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Darcy, it seems that your daughter thinks my failure as a horsewoman is a more shameful matter than you do.”
Her laugh was delightful to listen to, and Darcy was at some risk of thinking too much of her.
Yet, he could not seem to tear himself away from the domestic scene for the whole of the morning.