“I am sorry ’tis with regret that you must return to Jane. Pray, do not allow our quarrel to come between you.”
His countenance turned serious, and he stepped closer, speaking in a hushed voice. “Lizzy, I am appalled by what she did to you. You are…and she…” His eyes flicked to her stomach, and then to the cheek Jane slapped. “I do not know that I can forgive her.”
“I beg you would. I have just endured an exceedingly trying visit with Darcy’s family, attempting to resolve the schism I caused there. Pray, do not require me to undergo the same unpleasantness with my own family.”
“Darcy said nothing of any difficulties at Rosings. What happened to you there?”
Saving her the bother of answering, two absurdly plumed ladieswalked past arm in arm, brazenly discussing Lady Catherine’s displeasure at the new mistress of Pemberley’s reputed ineptitude. Mr Bingley frowned after them and, shortly afterwards, at a young man dressed in regimentals, who could be heard telling his companions about a Lieutenant Wickham, who had attempted to murder Mrs Darcy upon discovering she had forsaken him for her new lover, Mr Greyson.
“You must admire their inventiveness,” Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow.
“Hardly. I know not how you bear it.”
“I pay it no mind, and I hope you will not either. Now, will you promise me you will forgive Jane? I should be far happier if I knew you were not at variance because of me.”
He smiled sadly. “For you, anything.”
Perceiving she had made him uneasy, Elizabeth thanked him and reinserted them both into conversation with the rest of their party.
Having concluded his brief aside to his wife and hearing Darcy’s acquaintance mention railways, a burgeoning interest of his own, Mr Gardiner eagerly engaged him on the subject. Their exchange was not energetic enough that he did not hear somewhere off to his right, Elizabeth’s name mentioned, followed by the tell-tale rumble of collective derision.
Mr Thatcher seemed not to have noticed, but Darcy bore it less well, withdrawing completely from the conversation and frowning furiously at the crowds. Mr Gardiner was vastly relieved when Elizabeth ceased running on at Mr Bingley and turned her attention to placating her husband. Just as she attached herself to his arm, however, Darcy abruptly bowed to his friend, obliging Elizabeth to relinquish it and, to all appearances, any imminent hope of appeasing him.
“It was a pleasure to see you, Thatcher,” he said with stiff formality, “but it is high time we all took our seats. I must bid you good evening.”
“Delighted to have run into you again, Darcy.” Mr Thatcher bowed and departed, revealing the woman standing directly behind him to be pointing at their group, her sneering lips curling disdainfully around the wordtrade.
“Shall we?” Darcy barely waited for Elizabeth before stalking off.
Considering the vast condescension his new nephew had shown in hosting them in his box, Mr Gardiner was not about to take umbrage if he found that the ensuing attention chafed somewhat. Elizabeth was evidently not nearly so ready to excuse her husband. Her expression as she marched after him was indignant.
“I believe that is our cue to go in,” he said to his remaining companions. He began edging his way through the crowd, envying Darcy his height, or perhaps his pique—whichever had enabled him to cut through at such a pace.
“The gossips are out in force this evening,” Bingley said worriedly. “I pityLizzy having to tolerate it.”
“Do not distress yourself on her behalf,” Mrs Gardiner replied. “She is a sensible girl. She can tolerate a few silly rumours very well. I am more inclined to worry for Mr Darcy.”
“Darcy? Why?”
Mr Gardiner chuckled and answered for his wife. “Because little though he may like tittle-tattle, unless he learns to better direct his affront, he will find himself with a very unhappy wife on his hands.” He left unsaid the glaringly obvious explanation that the only thing ever to come of an unhappy wife was an even unhappier husband, assured from what Mrs Gardiner told him that Bingley was already well aware of the fact. Sharing a knowing smile with his wife at the prospect of their vastly spirited niece giving her illustrious husband a dressing down for his ill temper, they nipped into the box ahead of Bingley and took their seats.
Bingley’s trips to this or any other theatre were sparingly few, and this one was doing naught to convince him he ought to change his habits. Whilst it was true that people gossiped with equal zeal at balls, at least there, one was never trapped in a blasted box, lit up by several thousand candles for every person present to scrutinise.
Elizabeth and her relatives gave all the appearance of being unaffected by the attention, though he did not believe they could not hear the whispers rippling through the surrounding boxes. Darcy sat in icy silence with his arms crossed, glaring fixedly at the stage and giving monosyllabic responses to every attempt at conversation.
“It is quite different to the adaptation we saw in Cheltenham, is it not?” Mrs Gardiner said, failing to completely muffle the suggestion from a gentleman in a box overhead that Mrs Darcy’s third lover, a soldier, was absent this evening only because Darcy had killed him in a duel.
“Aye, very different,” Mr Gardiner replied as cheerfully as if somebody had not just responded to the other gentleman that if Mr and Mrs Darcy were as miserable as they looked, he did not blame her for taking lovers and should very much like to know where he might join the queue.
Their endeavours to appear unaffected left Darcy unmoved. He continued to glare petulantly at the empty stage as though incensed that Act Four had the audacity not to have yet begun. Bingley shuffled to the edge of his seat and leant to speak quietly in his ear. “Darcy, this is absurd. If you are intent on being in such high dudgeon, you may as well admit defeat and go home.”
“I should like nothing more,” he muttered back, “but, though it may have escaped your notice, not even the first performance has yet ended.”
They had been speaking extremely quietly, but Elizabeth must have heard nonetheless. She leant close to Darcy. “If you wish to go, let us go. I have a headache anyway.” She twisted round to address Bingley. “Would you be so kind as to take my aunt and uncle home?”
Bingley assured her he would, and after the arrangements were agreed with the Gardiners, Darcy stood up, sullenly tugging his lapels straight. Elizabeth made to stand also, but he prevented her with a gruff instruction to remain seated. “I shall arrange for the carriage and come back for you. I would not have you standing about if you have a headache.”
A nice enough sentiment to be sure, though Bingley thought his surly tone rather belied his solicitude.
