“You are,” Elizabeth insisted, smiling. “I am surprised you did not bring Emily.”
“I know her well enough to know that she would be bored at the cards. I would have spent the entire evening telling her to not grab everyone’s cards, and when someone inevitably wascharmed into giving her theirs, she would throw them wildly about.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, Emily?”
Darcy nodded seriously.
“And she always looks so peaceable.”
They did not speak much more while playing cards, except commonplaces upon the room and the situation.
Darcy knew that he ought to say something further about Mr. Sykes, even if Elizabeth insisted that she had no plan to marry the gentleman. But he could not say so much in front of the other girls.
Unfamiliar anxiety suffused him. He did not think he had felt so helpless since the time Emily had a hot fever. He could not help Elizabeth… should not help her.
But if he did not find a way to help her, he was not the gentleman he ought to be. Elizabeth’s whole family was dependent on the goodwill of Mr. Collins, and thus it would be no small thing for her to refuse to marry the man that Mr. Collins had invited to court Elizabeth as his third wife.
He could not expect Elizabeth to refuse that demand, not when it actually was made to her.
And… he absolutely could not allow Elizabeth to marry Mr. Sykes, no matter what it took to prevent it. Could not. Could not. Could not.
Darcy barely paid attention to his cards. They played for what seemed to him to be absurdly low stakes, and so Darcy only lost a few guineas before the cards were put away, and the promised hot supper was brought into the room.
When Lydia and Maria leapt from the table to get their early chance at acquiring the melted cheese on toast that Mrs. Phillips handed around, Elizabeth tapped Darcy’s arm and gestured for them to go to the corner by the fireplace.
He’d earlier overheard Mr. Collins comparing it to the mantelpiece in one of Lady Catherine’s secondary rooms.
“What has preoccupied you?”
Elizabeth’s eyes were soft, beautiful, and warm. He was so used to her flashing and laughing looks, that the sympathetic gaze startled him out of speaking for a few seconds.
She was so beautiful, and he now saw her beauty in new ways that he hadn’t already found.
He then recalled what she’d asked him and looked around the room. His eyes found Mr. Sykes who was engrossed in conversation with Miss Lucas, and who'd placed a hand on his arm for a second, before demurely flapping her fan.
Darcy felt a mild worry for Elizabeth’s friend, who he had a sudden suspicion hoped to use the gentleman’s wounded pride following Elizabeth’s refusal to gain a possible husband. “Mr. Sykes is known for his abominable treatment of women. I have heard from multiple persons tales of how he mistreated both of his previous wives. That is likely why he is seeking a wifehere, no woman aware of his reputation would be willing to marry him.”
“I see.” Elizabeth looked towards Mr. Sykes, with a deep frown of her own, and then she almost immediately looked down and away, and muttered, “I do not wish him to see me looking at him and decide that I hoped for his company.”
“No.”
“I thank you for the warning, but it is wholly unnecessary, I have told you that I am determined to only marry in a case of strong affection between both parties. I assure you, that does not subsist betwixt me and Mr. Sykes.”
“I know.” Darcy frowned, not sure how to say what he wanted to, how to not be a busybody. And worse than that, a useless busybody.
“But?” Elizabeth smiled upon him. “I dare say I have never seen you so at loss for words.”
“I am generally considered to be taciturn.”
“You often do not find anyone who you wish to speak to, and then you are taciturn, but once you have decided you like a conversation well enough to be part of it, you speak fluently.”
“When you are placed under pressure, I beg you to not forget your resolution.” Darcy swallowed. “You are dependent upon Mr. Collins, he may threaten your whole family to force you to marry. And in such a situation, it can be easy to forget… what you owe to yourself.”
“I will not.” Elizabeth smiled thinly. “I have already thought about the matter — and not because of Sykes. If necessary, I’ll… I might always become a governess. I have improved my playing on the piano, knowledge of drawing, and facility at Italian enormously since Papa’s death, with that thought in mind. I can gain independence from Mr. Collins if I must. And I delight in my heart when I think how much he would hate the shame of the thing.”
“No, you should not do that. There is very little independence in such a position.”
“Then what would you have me do?” Elizabeth’s voice was sharper than Darcy thought he’d ever heard from her. She vibrated with tension. “What other option would you give me?”
