Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (15 page)

Bingley claimed Elizabeth’s second set and Colonel Fitzwilliam the third. Bingley spoke extensively of Jane’s merits, while the colonel apologized for his earlier maudlin. Yet, no matter where Elizabeth went or to whom she spoke, she felt Mr. Darcy’s eyes upon her. She found herself turning often, seeking his gaze when it was not offered. As if by their own accord, Elizabeth’s eyes would meet his. She would glance away, but each time she did, an urgency–a feeling of being bereft of Mr. Darcy’s closeness–would bring her back to the one countenance that provided Elizabeth peace and that wreaked havoc on her emotions at the same time. 

“Lizzy,” her mother tugged at Elizabeth’s arm. “Come with me.” In reluctance, she followed Mrs. Bennet to a nearby alcove.

“What is amiss, Mama?” Elizabeth asked with a glance over her shoulder to see to where Mr. Darcy had gotten.

Her mother reached up to pinch Elizabeth’s cheeks.

“You have an excellent opportunity to earn Colonel Fitzwilliam’s interest if you would ply a bit of flirtation.”

Mrs. Bennet followed the pinch with a tug of Elizabeth’s sleeve to set it aright.

“And why would I wish to draw the colonel’s attentions?” Elizabeth rubbed the spots her mother reddened.

Mrs. Bennet tutted her disapproval.

“He is a gentleman and the son of an earl,” her mother reasoned. “The colonel is the desire of every young lady in the room, but you have an advantage: you hold the longer acquaintance. Mr. Bennet says the colonel is the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and he was at Rosings Park when you were at Hunsford Cottage.”

“Mr. Darcy is also Lady Catherine’s nephew,” Elizabeth countered.

Her mother’s nose snarled in disappointment.

“Mr. Darcy is all that others say of him, but his father was not an earl.”

Elizabeth wished she never disparaged Mr. Darcy to her family. She wished she could speak to her mother of George Darcy’s heritage and of Lady Anne Fitzwilliam connection to the Matlocks–of Mr. Darcy’s steadfast interest in her, but putting the idea of Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth’s suitor into Mrs. Bennet’s head would spell disaster.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of Lord Matlock,” Elizabeth explained. “He has no fortune of his own, thus his service in the King’s army. Therefore, the colonel must choose a wife with a large dowry.”

“Nonsense!” her mother declared. “The Earl of Matlock would not leave his son destitute.”

“Pardon, Miss Elizabeth.” Elizabeth looked from her mother’s anxious features to Mr. Darcy, who stood some three feet removed. “I believe this is our set.”

Elizabeth glanced to her mother, who appeared displeased that Mr. Darcy interrupted her manipulations.

“I believe it is, Sir. I apologize. I did not realize the set was forming. We shall speak more at home, Mama,” Elizabeth said in parting.

Elizabeth placed her hand on Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm and walked with him toward the dance floor.

“You appear upset,” Mr. Darcy said softly.

“It is nothing,” Elizabeth assured.

Mr. Darcy led her upon a leisurely turn of the room before assuming their places in the line.

“When your hazel eyes change to a cross between dark honey and cinnamon, something is amiss.”

Elizabeth frowned, but a fissure of pleasure claimed a spot in her stomach.

“How is it you know me so well?”

Mr. Darcy smiled with satisfaction.

“I made a study of you.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose in dismay.

“I do not know whether that particular fact is a compliment or something of which I should know concern.”

“A compliment,” Mr. Darcy assured. “Now, speak to me of what troubles you.”

“You shall not be pleased,” Elizabeth warned.

“Yet, I would hear it, nonetheless.”

Elizabeth shrugged her resignation.

“Mrs. Bennet is as she always is: She fears my father will pass before all her daughters marry. Although I do not approve of her proposition, I understand my mother’s urgency.”

Mr. Darcy studied Elizabeth closely.

“I assume Mrs. Bennet chose a potential suitor for you.”

Glee claimed Elizabeth’s lips.

“Yes. Mrs. Bennet believes with a bit of effort on my part, I could become Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”

Mr. Darcy’s frown lines deepened.

“Mrs. Fitzwilliam…?” he probed.

“Nothing more,” Elizabeth teased. “Mrs. Bennet thinks your cousin a viable candidate.”

Mr. Darcy’s mouth formed a grim line.

“I do not find your mother’s persuasion to my liking.”

Elizabeth joined the other ladies in the line.

“Why does that fact not surprise me? You and Mrs. Bennet are both singular in your opinions.”

“Do not argue with Mr. Darcy,” her sister Jane admonished as she joined Elizabeth in the female line. “Charles and I require your good sense over supper. There are still many decisions to make for the wedding.”

“Supper?” Elizabeth’s voice squeaked in surprise. “This is the supper set?”

Jane patted Elizabeth’s arm good-naturedly.

“Certainly, it is the supper set.”

Elizabeth glanced to Mr. Darcy. Other than one set with Jane, Mr. Darcy had divided his attentions between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy, but the supper set was a different matter.

“I assumed you would see Miss Darcy to supper. If I realized, I would never have accepted your arm, Sir. Please think nothing of it if you must speak your regrets.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyebrow rose in challenge.

“I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, my name is on your dance card for this set, and as to Georgiana, I gave her permission to join your younger sisters and several of the young gentlemen for the meal. It will do Miss Darcy well to possess company of a like age. My sister knows my cautions in such matters.” The devastating smile Mr. Darcy so often hid escaped. “Did you not look at your card this evening?”

“Lizzy does not attend to such frivolities,” Jane teased. “My sister claims to possess a fine memory of all who request her attentions.”

Elizabeth laughed self-consciously.

“I am never as tolerable as you, dearest Jane.” She shot a knowing glance to Mr. Darcy, and the gentleman returned her look with one of bemusement.

“Not so,” Jane countered. “You are quite lovely, Lizzy.”

“The handsomest woman of my acquaintance,” Mr. Darcy declared before assuming his place in the line.

Darcy meant to have another private word with Elizabeth, but her sister whisked Elizabeth away before he and Miss Elizabeth could converse upon the possibility of their own happiness, rather than on the details of Bingley and Miss Bennet’s nuptials.

“At least the lady no longer avoids my company,” Darcy murmured as he watched Elizabeth and Miss Bennet with their heads together. “It appears I must risk it all to prove my affections true.” Darcy imagined such a state of affairs only last evening. “Then so be it. Embarrassment or success? Painful memories or delightful contentment? My future rests in Miss Elizabeth’s hands.”

* * *

“I am pleased to observe how well you and Mr. Darcy are getting on,” Jane hinted as they watched the after supper set forming. “Do you expect Mr. Darcy to renew his earlier proposal?”

Elizabeth found her eyes searching the room for Mr. Darcy’s familiar steady gaze. He stood up with his sister. Without realizing her expression relayed her very intimate feelings for the man, Elizabeth looked upon the scene with fondness.

“Mr. Darcy’s affections remain; the gentleman asked me to marry him,” she confessed.

It was time Elizabeth sought the counsel of another. Perhaps Jane could sway Elizabeth’s decision one way or another. In truth, Elizabeth would welcome the advice of another if it meant she would know her heart’s desire.

“And am I to wish you happy?” Jane asked in curiosity.

“Mr. Darcy says I must give him an answer this evening or he will withdraw from my company forever.” Elizabeth continued to watch the gentleman and his sister; she meant to claim every memory she could of him.

“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane pleaded. “Please tell me you did not refuse Mr. Darcy again. Your countenance betrays your attachment for the man.”

Elizabeth turned her gaze upon her sister.

“It is not as easy as permitting my heart to lead. I could not bear it if after we speak our vows that we become a poor imitation of a contended couple. Look at our parents. When Papa married Mrs. Bennet, he knew the passion of young love. How can I be certain not to make my dearest parent’s mistake?”

“You and Mr. Darcy hold nothing in common with our parents,” Jane countered. “Mama cannot compete with Mr. Bennet’s sharp wit and desire for knowledge, whereas you and Mr. Darcy are both intelligent beings, who would never permit only passion to rule your days.”

Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes.

“That is the part which frightens me. Mr. Darcy and I have flayed each other raw upon more than one occasion. Will our stubbornness destroy us?”

“Do not the majority of your arguments deal with your defense of Mr. Wickham?” Jane questioned. “Can you not place yourself in Mr. Darcy’s stead in regards to his former friend?”

“I hold no allegiance to Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth declared.

Jane’s features displayed her exasperation with the conversation, but Elizabeth clung to the hope that her sister would instruct Elizabeth to marry Mr. Darcy. Even so, she knew Jane would not go so far as to order Elizabeth to be happy: Marrying Mr. Darcy would be Elizabeth’s decision alone.

“I see.” Jane hesitated. “I cannot speak to what brought our parents together. Our previous conjectures all lead to Mr. Bennet being captivated by youth and beauty and the appearance of good humor, which youth and beauty generally gives. Certainly none of us experienced a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity, and as unfair as it is, the fact that mama did not deliver an heir for Longbourn must lay heavy between them. It would be an unspoken accusation never upon our father’s lips, but often within his mind.” Elizabeth thought of the scene with her mother in the garden and knew Jane’s speculations true. “Father’s line will end with him, and that fact must give Mr. Bennet pause, and Mama must know failure smartly. Yet, even with knowledge of the failure of our parents’ marriage, Mr. Bingley and I carve out a bit of happiness. Can you not do the same with Mr. Darcy? The man means to please you.”

“What if we never know accord?” Elizabeth could not admit, even to herself, that she feared failure as strongly as did her mother. “The gentleman claims his temper too little yielding and that he cannot forget the follies and vices of others nor their offenses against him.”

Jane’s frown lines deepened.

“You make Mr. Darcy appear the ogre. Do you not think Mr. Darcy was considering the actions of those of Mr. Wickham’s nature when he spoke thusly? Wickham, by your own accounts, betrayed every principle Mr. Darcy holds most dear. Look how Wickham displayed no regard for our futures when he seduced Lydia. It is only with Mr. Darcy’s allegiance that my dearest Charles and I reunited. And you cannot ignore how Mr. Darcy attended to your criticisms in Kent. You spoke quite elegantly of the changes you noted in the gentleman when you returned from London the first time. Surely in all these facts, you could find something about the man to please you.”

“Mr. Darcy pleases me quite well,” Elizabeth admitted. “The question remains whether I might please him.”

“Do you wish to please the gentleman, Lizzy?”

“Very much so,” Elizabeth whispered. “I do not go more than a few minutes of the day without thinking of the Master of Pemberley.”

Jane turned Elizabeth toward where their father watched the festivities with a bemused smirk upon his lips.

“Speak to Papa,” Jane encouraged. “Mr. Bennet soothed my qualms regarding Mr. Bingley’s return to Hertfordshire. As you are our father’s avowed favorite, Mr. Bennet will be sore to part with you and will not be left quaking by Mr. Darcy’s wealth; yet, if our father acts as I suspect he will, Mr. Bennet will encourage you to claim your happiness.”

With a nudge from Jane, Elizabeth set her steps and her mind to the task.

“Why the long face, Lizzy?” her father asked as she slid in beside him. “Do you bemoan the lack of a partner? Shall I demand that Mr. Darcy claim your hand for the next set?”

Elizabeth denied the idea of her father placing her in an embarrassing situation, but she would enjoy a third dance with Mr. Darcy. She missed the gentleman’s closeness.

“Mr. Darcy and I stood up together twice.”

Her father’s gaze remained upon the dancers, as did Elizabeth’s.

“I believe it is quite telling, Elizabeth, that you did not rebuke my tease with the mention of another gentleman. I expected my very clever Lizzy to suggest that Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Townsend would be equal to your liking as is Mr. Darcy.”

“No,” she said simply.

“So it is Mr. Darcy who claims your heart?”

Elizabeth smiled in rueful resignation.

“I am discovered as a fool.”

Although she did not look upon him, Elizabeth knew her father’s frown became a positive scowl.

“Why do you term yourself a fool, Lizzy? Do you doubt Mr. Darcy’s affections? I found your young man most persuasive.”

Although the impact of Mr. Bennet’s words took an elongated pause to register in Elizabeth’s mind, nonetheless, they had her turning to question her father. Annoyance claimed Elizabeth’s features.

“When did Mr. Darcy speak to you of me?”

Her father’s eyes abruptly softened when he looked upon her.

“You did not think I would permit any man to ruin your reputation, did you, Lizzy? Mr. Darcy wrote to me prior to the beginning of your correspondence. He explained what occurred between you and the gentleman expressed his fondness for my second daughter. Your young man asked my permission to woo you.”

“But you never spoke of Mr. Darcy’s intentions,” Elizabeth protested.

Mr. Bennet’s lips twisted in what appeared to be suppressed emotions.

“Mr. Darcy pleaded for my silence, but, in truth, I wished to observe with my own eyes your allegiance to the man. It spoke of the depth of your affections if you were willing to call upon Darcy’s bachelor household to learn more of his health, as well as your rushing to Pemberley to tend him.”

Elizabeth’s mouth thinned with displeasure.

“You knew of my escapades before you demanded a confession from me on the incidents?” she accused.

“Mr. Darcy was
kind
in describing how you set both of his households upon their heads,” her father declared with what appeared to be true respect. “The gentleman claims you will make a magnificent mistress for his properties–that many on his staff already hold you with great regard. Darcy claims you are cut from the same cloth as his late mother Lady Anne Darcy; needless to say, I prefer to think you are formed in the image of your Grandmother Bennet.”

“You approve of Mr. Darcy’s suit?” Elizabeth demanded in disbelief.

“I gave Darcy my consent to court you. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he condescended to ask.” Mr. Bennet shrugged, a hint of resignation in his manner. “What I wish to know, Elizabeth, is of your feelings. Are you resolved on having him?”

“I fear what will become of our joining,” Elizabeth admitted. “I could not bear…” She stifled her criticism of her father’s actions in dealing with the gap of understanding in her parents’ marriage.

“You could not bear to marry unless you truly esteemed your husband,” her father completed Elizabeth’s thoughts. “Unless you looked upon him as a superior. I understand your disposition, Lizzy. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage: you could scarcely escape discredit and misery.” Mr. Bennet gave a rueful shake of his head. “Child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. Yet, I do not believe it would be so with Mr. Darcy.”

With an effort Elizabeth gathered her composure.

“You do not?”

“From what I know Mr. Darcy’s affections are not the work of a day, but rather they have stood the test of many months’ suspense.”

“The man brings out my most shrewish tongue,” Elizabeth protested weakly, her resolve faltering.

A hint of regret rippled over her father’s expression.

“No marriage is without its disagreements. It is when a couple does not express their concerns that a marriage must end or it must take a different form.”

Elizabeth thought Mr. Bennet spoke of his relationship with Mrs. Bennet. Her father and mother never argued. Even when Mr. Bennet teased his wife unmercifully, they did not speak in harsh tones to each other. Her mother would reprimand Mr. Bennet to which Elizabeth’s father would offer another unbearable taunt.
Unbearable
, Elizabeth thought. Was it not better for her and Mr. Darcy to voice their differences and then consent to disagree than it was to pick at a sore, which never healed?

“Mr. Darcy would make me an exemplary husband.” For the first time in months, Elizabeth knew she spoke the truth.

“Well, my dear,” her father said softly, “if this be the case, Mr. Darcy deserves you. I could not part with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”

* * *

Acknowledging the fact she wished to claim Mr. Darcy’s affections, Elizabeth wished to do so immediately, but when she turned back to the ballroom the gentleman was no where to be found. She spotted Miss Darcy and the colonel upon the far side of the room, but as the night was soon to know an end, the crowded ballroom appeared unrelenting in the barrier it presented. Continuing to search for the tall, imposing figure of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth systematically made her way to where the colonel and Miss Darcy awaited the last dance of the evening.

Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy meant to stand up with another or whether he took her desertion after supper as her answer.

To her frustration, multiple friends and neighbors halted her progress to offer felicitations to her family upon Lydia’s and Jane’s joinings. With each, Elizabeth responded with civility, but her mind was elsewhere.

At length, she reached the colonel’s side.

“Pardon me, Colonel, Miss Darcy, but do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth attempted to sound nonchalant, but her fear of losing Mr. Darcy’s affections forever shook her to her core.

The colonel smiled with what appeared to be sympathetic humor.

“I believe my cousin meant to speak to his valet regarding Darcy’s travel plans.”

Elizabeth no longer bothered to disguise her agitation.

“Mr. Darcy means to leave?” Elizabeth’s voice squeaked as a flood of emotions washed over her.

“As is customary with my cousin, Darcy rarely consults me in such matters. I am frequently at his disposal.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted in dismay.

“But my business with Mr. Darcy is not complete,” she declared in growing anxiety. Elizabeth analyzed her options: She knew she could not storm the guests’ quarters to confront Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth also realized she committed more than her share of rule breaking in the past, which she had yet to ask God’s forgiveness. If Mr. Darcy meant to leave her, Elizabeth would not prostrate herself before him.

“What type of business?” A warm breath brushed the hairs along the back of Elizabeth’s neck, and she spun around to find a rather odd expression upon Mr. Darcy’s countenance.

She glanced to the engaging grins claiming the colonel’s and Miss Darcy’s lips. With an effort Elizabeth gathered her composure.