Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (13 page)

Having watched Elizabeth’s carriage until it was out of sight, Mr Darcy made his way back to Stuart Fielding’s house. He wanted to make sure that his friend was all right and that the injury to his back was not serious. He found Stuart lying on the floor.

‘Physician’s orders,’ said Stuart cheerfully. ‘I have to lie flat for the next few days.’

Mr Darcy was relieved that Stuart’s position did not mean he had had a relapse.. He was also glad to see that his friend was in such good spirits.

‘It will mean I cannot do my work, though,’ said Stuart ruefully.

‘Never mind. I can do most of it for you, and what I can’t do, I will find someone else to do,’ said Mr Darcy.

The easy friendship between them was born of their time spent together as boys. It meant there was no awkwardness about the matter. Mr Darcy offered his help and it was accepted as naturally as if the two had been social equals.

‘I only hope I am well enough to direct the carriages at the ball,’ said Stuart. ‘The grooms and coachmen are well enough, and they can manage if there are only a few carriages to direct, but they do not have the ability to make sure that so many carriages can proceed in a timely fashion. There is nothing worse than making guests wait in a queue of carriages that extends down the drive.’

The two men talked over the problem and between them they drew up a plan which the head coachman could follow, showing several different routes for the carriages that would alleviate the problem of queueing.

Then Mr Darcy said, ‘There is something I have to tell you.’

He proceeded to tell Stuart all about his meeting with the Gardiners and their niece, then finished by saying, ‘They took me for the steward and I did not enlighten them.’

Stuart grew more and more surprised as the story went on.

‘This is not like you, Darcy. Why did you waste your time on strangers? And why did you allow them to think you a servant? You are one of the proudest men I know. I cannot make you out. Unless . . . ’

Mr Darcy ran his hand through his dark hair, the action pulling his frilled white shirt across his powerful frame.

‘I am attracted to Miss Bent,’ he admitted.

‘Your father will be pleased. Is it serious? Do you think you could marry her?’

‘Yes. I believe I could. She is natural and unaffected. She is an affectionate niece and her conversation shows her to be an affectionate daughter and sister, too. She has a lively wit and her eyes have a bright sparkle that lights her up from the inside.’

Stuart was astonished.

‘I have never heard you speak of a woman in such glowing terms. You really are smitten.’

‘Yes,’ Mr Darcy admitted. ‘I believe I am. But there is a problem. When we meet at the ball, she will expect to find that I am a steward, instead of which she will find that I am the heir of Pemberley.’

‘Believe me, that is not a problem she will mind,’ said Stuart drily. ‘And her relatives will certainly not mind.’

‘But the deception,’ said Mr Darcy with a frown.

‘That is a difficulty, I admit,’ said Stuart. ‘But great men are often eccentric, and you must pass it off in that manner. If I am on my feet again by then —’

‘You must not think of attending the ball unless you are perfectly recovered,’ said Mr Darcy firmly.

‘But if I am, I can explain for you.’

‘Thank you, but I do not need a nursemaid,’ said Mr Darcy. He was suddenly haughty, very much Mr Darcy of Pemberley. ‘I can solve my own problems.’

‘I had better not venture to say it again when I am recovered, or else I can see I will have to defend myself!’ said Stuart. ‘You look as if you want to wrestle me, as you did when we were children.’

Mr Darcy laughed, his good humour restored. ‘I am perfectly capable of explaining myself, you know,’ he said.

Even so, he knew it would come as a surprise to Miss Bent, and he hoped she would forgive him.

Two days later, the rest of the Darcy family arrived at Pemberley. Their state coach travelled up the drive, went round the turning circle and drew to a halt in front of the door. The servants were all lined up to greet them. The staff looked very splendid in their uniforms and liveries. Mrs Reynolds was at the head of the servants, together with the butler, and standing at the top of the steps was Mr Darcy.

He greeted his parents as they emerged from the carriage, and he kissed his sister Georgiana on the cheek, then he offered her his arm and they all went inside.

After his family had refreshed themselves, tea was served in the drawing-room. His mother presided, pouring the hot beverage into china cups which were balanced on delicate saucers.

When they all had tea and seed cake in front of them, Mr Darcy’s father returned to his favourite topic, that of a wife for his heir.

Mr Darcy mentioned nothing of his meeting with Miss Bent, but he noticed his mother look at him thoughtfully once or twice. When his father had retired to his study and Georgiana had withdrawn to the music room, Mrs Darcy said to her son, ‘There is something you are not telling me.’

She had always been perceptive and he knew it was useless to deny it. He told her of his meeting with Miss Bent, although not all the details. His mother was a very proud woman and she would be horrified at the thought of him masquerading as a steward. He only hoped she would never learn of it.

‘Miss Bent,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I am surprised, but not displeased. She is not beautiful, of course —’

‘Not beautiful!’ he exclaimed. ‘She is one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance!’

His mother was startled, and he realised he had spoken too vehemently.

‘Such energy is unseemly when talking about a lady,’ she reproved him haughtily. ‘This is an alliance, Fitzwilliam, not a common match. Kindly express yourself with decorum. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course,’ she continued. ‘It is good that you find her beautiful. Ladies like their husbands to admire them. Her pedigree is excellent, she has a handsome dowry of fifty thousand pounds and she is an accomplished singer, pianist and painter. I like the match. Your father will be pleased with it, too.’

‘Please, Mamma, do not speak of it to him until the end of the ball. I do not want to raise any expectations too soon.’

She nodded regally and he was glad that she agreed with him, although she misunderstood his reason, as her next remark showed.

‘You are very wise,’ she said. ‘You might find someone you like better at the ball and you do not want to commit yourself too soon. But I am glad you have found someone you can marry, because your father is determined to announce your engagement at the ball and I would rather see you married to a woman of your own choosing. I will tell him that you have almost decided and that he will have your decision before the end of the ball. I am pleased. I did not say this before, but —’

The door opened and Georgiana returned from the music room.

‘I heard you talking about the ball,’ she said. ‘Am I allowed to go this year, Mamma?’

‘You are still too young, Georgiana,’ said her mother.

‘But I am sixteen,’ said Georgiana. ‘Other young ladies attend family balls at that age.’

‘You may attend next year,’ said her mother. Her tone of voice meant that Georgiana did not argue.

‘Come, Georgie, you and I shall dance,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘We will go into the ballroom now and practise together.’

‘Oh, yes, Fitzwilliam. Thank you!’ said Georgiana with a beaming smile.

Mr Darcy bowed to his mother and then led his sister into the ballroom.

‘I wish I could dance at the ball,’ said Georgiana wistfully, as she curtseyed to her brother.

He felt sorry for her. He knew how much young ladies loved to dance, and he knew how much his sister longed to join the grown-up world.

‘Perhaps you can,’ he said. ‘If you join me on the terrace before the guests arrive, we will dance together. I know a brother is a poor partner for a young lady —’

‘Oh, Fitzwilliam!
Thank
you!’ she said. ‘You are the best brother. On the terrace, no one will see us and I can experience the magic of the ball. I will wear my white silk gown and I will make Francesca dress my hair.’ Francesca was her very grand French lady’s maid.

‘But you must be good and go to your room again after one dance.’

‘I promise I will,’ she said.

And after that, I will be free to spend my evening with Miss Bent
, he thought.

Pemberley had looked splendid in the daytime, but it looked even more splendid at night. Elizabeth could not contain her excitement as she approached the grand house and saw it lit up with hundreds of flambeaux along the drive. She drove through the gates that marked the entrance to the courtyard and the light intensified, for not only was the courtyard lit with flambeaux but the candlelight flooding out of the windows added to the brightness. The sky was not absolutely dark, but it was dusk and the natural light was rapidly fading.

The carriage did not roll up to the front door, for the Gardiners were not guests. Instead, it took a side drive down to the stables and there Elizabeth climbed out of the carriage with her aunt. Her uncle had remained at the inn with a head cold. Elizabeth had offered to stay with him but he had told her not to be such a goose, he knew how much she was looking forward to it, and he said she must enjoy herself.

She went into the servants’ quarters with her aunt and they were quickly conducted to the housekeeper’s room. Mrs Reynolds was putting the last minute touches to her plan for the evening. She greeted them with heartfelt thanks.

‘It is very good of you,’ she said to Mrs Gardiner. ‘It has taken a load off my mind to know there is someone else to help with the organisation. We have had many balls at Pemberley, but none as grand as this one. They say that Mr Fitzwilliam is going to choose a bride tonight.’

‘My word!’ said Mrs Gardiner.

‘We will all be so happy to see him settle down, for never a better young man drew breath,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘There are some who say he is proud but I have never seen anything of it. He has always been affable to me and he is considerate and generous to the other servants. He will make an excellent husband and an excellent master, when the time comes.’

‘Do you know who the lucky young lady is to be?’ asked Mrs Gardiner.

‘Not yet. There are a number of young ladies coming tonight who are likely candidates but I do not believe he has made his final choice.’

‘You make it sound as if he is deciding what he would like for dessert!’ joked Elizabeth. ‘Surely the lady will have some say in the matter?’

Mrs Reynolds looked surprised.

‘What young lady would say no to Fitzwilliam Darcy?’ she asked. ‘He is good-natured, intelligent, tall, handsome, good looking and very wealthy, as well as being the heir to Pemberley. Any young lady would be fortunate to win his approval, and I am sure the young ladies on the list are all aware of it.’

‘There is a list?’ asked Elizabeth, raising her eyebrows.

‘Oh, yes, there has been a list since he was born,’ said Mrs Reynolds, looking at Elizabeth as if she should have known it. ‘It is the same for all men – and women – of rank. Their parents make a list of other children of a similar age and rank so they can spend some time together as children and young people. They are invited to the same social gatherings as they grow older so they can get to know each other and have a chance to fall in love. Most of the young ladies at the ball will be known to him. There will be a few who are new to him, however. One or two are debutantes and there is a young lady who has lived abroad with her parents until very recently.’

‘I heard some talk of him marrying his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh,’ said Mrs Gardiner.

‘There was talk of it, it is true,’ said Mrs Reynolds. ‘They were betrothed in their cradles by their mothers, but Miss de Bourgh does not enjoy good health and I am not sure they will marry. Perhaps, if he does not find anyone else . . . But there, we will know soon enough, I am sure. And now, I must not stand here gossiping. Let me take your cloaks and then I must get on.’

‘Will the steward be here this evening?’ asked Mrs Gardiner as she removed her cloak. ‘I would like to thank him for his attentions the other day. He made our tour of the grounds most agreeable.’

‘He should be out by the stables once the guests begin to arrive. That is, if he has recovered from his injury. He hurt his back a few days ago. But I believe it is better now.’

Mrs Gardiner removed her bonnet and tidied her hair, then set about helping her friend.

‘You will find the main rooms empty of guests at the moment,’ said Mrs Reynolds to Elizabeth. ‘The guests who are staying at the house have retired to their rooms to dress, and those who live nearby will not be arriving for an hour at the earliest. So if you would like to see Pemberley in all its glory, then now is the best time.’

Elizabeth needed no second bidding. She went upstairs, past busy footmen who were dressed in splendid livery and maids who were putting the finishing touches to the rooms.

She heard music coming from the ballroom, where the musicians were tuning their instruments, and she stepped inside. It was even more lovely than the last time she had seen it. The mirrors were sparkling and were reflecting the candlelight from the chandeliers. The windows were closed and the gold silk curtains were drawn, adding to the splendour of the room. The musicians were on a raised platform at one end of the room  . . . and at the other end of the room was the steward!

He was looking magnificent. She had never imagined he could look so much the gentleman. It was not just the clothes, although they were splendid enough. He was wearing a black tailcoat with silk knee breeches. He had a white shirt, which had a frill around the cuff, showing beneath the sleeve of his coat. It was fastened at the neck by a cravat which was tied in a dramatic style, and was fastened with a gold tie pin. His black hair was brushed back from his face, instead of being tousled by the wind.

He turned and saw her and the effect was magical. She felt as if the rest of the room faded and they were the only two people on earth. She was vaguely aware of the music playing but her eyes were locked on him as he crossed the room towards her and bowed.

‘I asked you once before to dance with me. Will you grant my request this time?’ She opened her mouth but he forestalled her protest, saying, ‘I have permission from Mr Darcy himself.’

He turned to the musicians and nodded. They stopped their tuning and began to play. He bowed to Elizabeth and she curtseyed, then they began to dance.

They passed and repassed each other as if in a dream. They had eyes for no one but each other. They both felt as if their entire lives had been spent waiting for this moment. They danced with elegance and grace, looking deeply into each others eyes. There was a connection between them that could not be explained, but it was there all the same. It existed on some deep level, binding them together.

But even such a deep connection had to come to an end at last. It was broken by the appearance of a footman who approached them quietly and gave a discreet cough.

Elizabeth was so bound up in the moment that she did not hear him at first.

He coughed again and she became aware of something outside her magical bubble.

Her partner, too, became aware of him. He turned to the footman and demanded irritably, ‘What is it?’

‘Mr Darcy sends his compliments, Sir. He wishes to speak to you in the drawing-room.’

Elizabeth saw her partner’s face changed and she said, ‘Oh dear! Mr Darcy is angry after all.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You do not understand.’

‘We should not have done it.’

‘It does not matter,’ he said. ‘Let me assure you it is all right. You see,
I
am Mr Darcy.’

‘You? But the footman just said —’

‘— that Mr Darcy wanted to see me. Yes. He meant my father.’

‘Do you mean to tell me you are
Fitzwilliam
Darcy?’ she asked in horror.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’ His eyes searched her own and he said with a frown, ‘You do not seem pleased.’

‘You lied to me!’ she said. ‘It must have been a joke to you, to make me believe you cared about me . . . Oh, how could you!’

She turned and ran from him.

‘No! Wait!’ he called, running after her.

She ran out of the ballroom. She heard him following her and then she heard an almighty crash. She looked round, and saw that he had collided with a footman who was carrying a tray of glasses. She ran out of the French windows onto the balcony and then ran down the steps leading to the terrace. There was no sound of pursuit. He was no longer following her. She paced up and down the terrace in agitation. She could not believe it. He was Mr Darcy, the heir to Pemberley? No! It could not be!

Was he lying about it, to try to impress her? Or did he claim to be Mr Darcy because he was mad?

She shook her head. She was sure he was not trying to impress her, and he seemed perfectly sane. Then that meant he really was Mr Darcy.

She had been dancing with the heir to Pemberley.