“Perhaps spite gave her courage,” he answered with a shrug. “I am not unfamiliar with the emotion myself, and she has every reason to spite you, you know she does. It does not lessen her achievement—she has taken the great Fitzwilliam Darcy down a peg. If my aunt and uncle were still with us, what would they think of your treatment of her? For my part, I believe they would applaud her as I do.”
The image of how my gracious mother and impeccably courteous father would have reacted to learning of my public scorning of Miss Elizabeth deflated my fury. They would have been disappointed in me, saddened by my incivility and lack of consideration, would they not? Some of this uncertainty must have touched my expression, for Deane was now all sympathy.
“Next time you offend a lady,” he suggested, “try apologising first.”
“The request for a set was meant by way of an apology.”
“Ladies need words, Darcy. They are not like us.”
CHAPTER11
ELIZABETH BENNET
Lady Godfrey’s ball marked a slight change in my circumstances with regard to society. I had hardly set foot in the ballroom when Viscount Deane bowed before me, begging the pleasure of the supper set, to which I consented. Any number of people witnessed him putting his name to that important vacancy on my card and escorting me over to Miss Downing. I danced the second with Miss Downing’s brother, the fourth with Mr Bingley, and as the viscount escorted me to the floor, I blushed under the many eyes upon us.
He soon put me at ease, for he was a fine dancer and an easy conversationalist. We spoke freely of town and country, fashion and literature, and of Lady Deane, who was in London with him but, being in expectation of an interesting event soon, could not go about. He impressed me with his evident affection for his lady, and I realised with a start that he was the first man I had found in London–excluding my uncle, of course–who seemed to enjoy the married state.
He escorted me into supper, where we sat with Lord and Lady Matlock, his parents. The lady was a bit chilly in her manner, but his lordship was pleasant and welcoming. We continued our conversation over the meal, including the earl and his countess, and my genuine interest in the prodigious talents of the viscount’s two-year-old son seemed to effect something of a thaw in Lady Matlock’s demeanour.
Returning to the ballroom, I was introduced to Sir John Hatton, a baronet of about five and thirty who requested a set of me. He was handsome, well-dressed, and charming, and his presence across from me in the dance earned me more than one look of envy. He enquired about my father’s estate and spoke a little of his own, between and somewhat south of Bristol and Bath. Of the latter city we also spoke, for I was curious and he had visited many times, though he called the society there ‘stifling’.
At a dinner party a few days later, I encountered him once more, and was pleased to receive his attentions in the drawing room, after the meal, where we spoke of literature and theatre. At another ball, he danced with me twice and partnered me for supper, and after a fortnight during which we met often, I began to feel that my heart was in some danger despite the gulf in our ages and stations. He seemed equally smitten, so I did not worry over the rapidity of the attachment, instead drinking in his stories of his estate and his young son and daughter, privately wondering how they might react to a stepmother.
I continued to spend a great deal of time with my new friends. Miss Downing and Lady Julia, wallflowers due to physical defects rather than any lack in their families, taught me a great deal about how society truly worked, as opposed to how it presented itself. I longed to introduce Miss Prentice to my father, for her sardonic wit and wide knowledge of literature were very like his. Miss Walton was a dear soul who put me in mind of what Jane might have been, had she not possessed great beauty to lend her confidence.
Jane’s romance was coming along excellently well. She and Mr Bingley were a golden couple, attracting admiration and envy wherever they went. All wished to know them, it seemed, except perhaps his unmarried sister. She patently wished that he might court a lady of more prominence, but her brother was unmoved. He doted upon Jane, and when he learnt that there was an estate to let near Longbourn, spoke of taking it.
There was only one blight upon my happiness during this time, and it caught me entirely unawares. We attended a dinner held by Admiral Walton, an aged seaman long retired, who delighted in speaking with my uncle of all things nautical and naval. The subject of the current war and the ships which fought it featured heavily in their odd friendship, and so my aunt and Jane and I found ourselves surrounded by elderly men and their elderly wives, with only a few closer to our own age scattered among the company. One of those, unfortunately, was Mr Darcy, whose late father had some connexion to the Admiral.
I do not know why he came. He spoke to no one but his host, and to him very little. We were, fortunately, seated far enough apart that we could not be expected to converse, but amusingly, close enough together that I could overhear Lady Manningly sing the praises of her eldest granddaughter to him throughout the meal, a performance which only deepened his quotidian frown. Though I thought it a pity that such an insufferable man should be so handsome, it seemed fitting that he should display his ill-humour constantly, providing a warning to those who might otherwise think well of him for no reason but his descent and fine features.
In the drawing room Jane and I were pressed to perform, being the only ladies younger than my aunt in attendance. We obliged, and the ladies were kind enough to praise our efforts and insist upon encores until the gentlemen joined us and had an opportunity to hear a song also. When we were released from the instrument, I made it my business to keep at least half the room between myself and Mr Darcy. So intent was I on avoiding him that I, as our host would say, left my starboard quarter open for a volley.
I was cornered into an extended conversation with the ancient Earl of Telford, a hunched figure who insisted upon clasping my hand between his own damp palms as he greeted me, and professed to have greatly admired my performance at the pianoforte, and my contribution to the singing. He was curious about my life in the country, and questioned me minutely about my habit of walking Longbourn’s lands. I bore his inquisition patiently, believing him a harmless old man, and thinking his company as good a shield against Mr Darcy as anyone’s.
At last, he seemed satisfied with my answers, beaming at me in such a way as to display his few remaining tobacco-stained teeth, which themselves did not appear to be long for this world. “Ah, ah, excellent,” he said in a hushed tone. “You are lively and active. Your stamina is no doubt prodigious. You play and sing beautifully.” His eyes dropped to my bosom and lingered there as he continued, “I have a little house in Brompton, and within it a beautiful instrument which will delight you. There is a park across the road, where you may maintain your...vigour.”
I felt the heat of his breath upon my chest as he relished the word, and took a half-step backwards. “I have no notion of what you speak, my lord,” I said, though I rather feared that I did.
At last, he returned his gaze to my face, and in his rheumy eyes I saw a flavour of avarice that chilled me to my marrow. “Why, my dear girl, I will set you up there. You are perfect, exactly what I require. And having served me, you will find yourself much in demand when I am done with you. I am known for finding the best and finest new high fliers, and training them well. If you mind your pennies, you will be rich before you lose your bloom.”
I believe only the shock of the application prevented me causing a scene by flinging my drink at his face. Shock—and the knowledge that Mr Darcy would have yet more reason to look down upon me. I kept a hold of my cup instead, softly pronounced but one word—“Never”—and then pasted a smile on my face, stepped back, claimed in cheerful tones meant for other ears that I had taken too much of his time, and with an exactingly proper curtsey rid myself of his company and made for my aunt’s side, where I spent the rest of the evening pretending to enjoy myself.
That was made easy by the fact that my proper place as a young lady in aged company was to show interest, nod, and smile. This freed me to consider what had so unexpectedly passed in a respectable man’s drawing room, mere feet from his respectable guests.
I wish I could believe that such a disgusting suggestion was borne of senility, I thought,but now that I have been deemed unworthy of the ‘marriage mart’, is it possible I am considered fresh goods in a less salubrious market, by so-called gentlemen who are not unduly burdened with a moral conscience, and who do find me ‘handsome enough to tempt’ them?
CHAPTER12
FITZWILLIAM DARCY
I avoided all social engagements for a fortnight after the debacle at the Burnett-Bellingham ball, spending more time than I wished pondering Deane’s suggestion that my departed parents would be disappointed with how I have conducted myself, and coming to the lowering conclusion that it was certainly so.
That I had not intended to wound was immaterial; I had behaved badly, and contrary to the assumptions I drew from her happy manner, it appeared I had injured Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Upon reflection, I found much to admire in her response to her near-banishment from society. Rather than retreat to her country home or into silent humiliation, she had taken the opportunity to forge alliances with the other scorned ladies who lurked at the edges of ballrooms and parlours, and thereby to enjoy herself. It was clear that her new friendships were genuine, for the delight those ladies took in each other’s company was too vivid to be feigned. She had made the best of an uncomfortable situation, something I had rarely attempted and never carried off.
Certainly I had not tried to make the best of the evening we met. I despised dancing and the avarice with which I was so often regarded by my dance partners and their relations. Add to that the ever-present thoughts of my sister’s near-entrapment by a scoundrel, and I was in no humour to even attempt to enjoy myself. I understood that it was the duty of a gentleman in a ballroom to dance, but at some point, I knew not when, I had selfishly decided that such rules of proper behaviour did not apply to me. I found that I ignored the mores of society as it suited me, while remaining convinced that I was one of the better examples of gentlemanly comportment. My morals were certainly sound, more so than many of my acquaintance, but my manner was lacking, and I had not the least idea how to improve, for easiness in company had ever eluded me.
But, easy or not, plan in mind or not, I must do better. There was no other option, if I were to call myself a gentleman. And furthermore, I must make amends to Miss Elizabeth if such were possible. I must, at the very least, apologise. In words, as my cousin had so pointedly advised.
