“Of course.” She nodded and turned back to the door. Her hand twisted the handle and pushed the door open. He clung to the sight of her, holding onto it until she disappeared into the hallway and the maid shut the door behind her, leaving nothing but Miss Bennet’s scent behind.
Chapter 22
Ever since Mr. Darcy’s unexpected summons, Elizabeth had been in a state of shock, gripped by a strong sense of agitation. She struggled to make sense of what had happened. She did not understand how someone who had been so amiable lately could have turned so cold. She could not account for it, other than that Miss Bingley’s remarks had affected him, as they had done in Pemberley. But would he give so much weight to her statements? Was he under her sway? He had invited her to Pemberley, after all. Was it possible he cared for Miss Bingley?
The very possibility evoked a stinging sense of jealousy. She tried to think about it rationally. Why should she be jealous? While it was true that Miss Bingley had set her sights on Mr. Darcy and was employing every wile in the book to capture hisattention, Elizabeth had not seen any sign of affection on his part.
She desperately needed to talk to somebody. She thought of writing to Jane, but she worried about how her family would react if they read the letter. Jane was not in the habit of hiding her letters, and Elizabeth hesitated to put her feelings in writing. Besides, she was hoping she was wrong – that the terrible feeling of malaise that had settled on her would soon dissipate.
Then it occurred to her that shedidhave someone to talk to. Since she had come to London, she had not visited her aunt and uncle, not once. She had been too involved in settling into her new life to think of doing so, and besides, she did not know if Mr. Darcy would approve of her visiting her relations when she was here to spend time with Miss Darcy. He might be worried that the stench of Cheapside might extend to his sister as well, she thought bitterly.
Though to be fair, hehaddefended her against Miss Bingley’s insults. A warm glow had filled her afterwards. He had stood up for her and had deftly diverted the conversation into a different direction: the topic of Miss Darcy’s curtains, giving Miss Darcy a chance to defend Elizabeth as well.
The problem was, Miss Darcy had not just defended Elizabeth. She had taken it a step further and used the opportunity to insult Miss Bingley. Miss Darcy’s sly confrontation had certainly stripped away any illusion of the shy, proper Miss Darcy, revealing a far sharper edge to her than anyone might have expected. Most probably, Mr. Darcy had been appalled by his sister’s ill-mannered, disrespectful attitude. No doubt he had attributed it to Elizabeth’s influence, and had decided he had been too lenient with his sister.
It certainly explained a great deal. Elizabeth did not feel quite as devastated, now that she understood his reasons. She would not be surprised if he had a similar talk with his sister later,to bring her to heel, and to remind her to conduct herself as a proper young lady should.
Still, Elizabeth was not happy to be at the receiving end of his coldness. She would have preferred for him to chastise her directly, rather than utter vague instructions not to grow too attached to his sister. Though it was a useful reminder not to build castles in the air. He had made it abundantly clear that they were not friends, nor would they ever be.
It hurt, but at least he had kept up his end of the bargain by being brutally honest.
The moment Miss Bennet had walked out of the library, her back straight, her every movement indicating disapproval, Darcy cursed himself for his stupidity. It was uncharacteristic of him to give in to impulse, and this was an impulse he had immediately regretted. He heartily wished he had not been so hasty in speaking to her. What was the rush, after all? She would be leaving soon enough. He could have simply kept his guard up and maintained his distance. Instead, he had precipitated a crisis, which could only result in extreme awkwardness between them.
He should have waited. He should have enjoyed her company as long as he could. Made the best of it. This is what he told himself later at night, when her face appeared before him unbidden, just as he was about to fall asleep. Then, when daylight arrived after a long night full of remorse, common sense reasserted itself. He was in too much danger to waver. Putting a distance between them was crucial for his own protection. Under the circumstances, it would be best not to see her at all.
That is what he would do.
He kept his resolve for one day and paid the price dearly. His chest felt tight, his temper was uneven, and he existed in a state of wretchedness. By the evening, he had started to see that staying away from Cavendish Square was impossible. He could not neglect his sister just because he was growing too attached to Miss Bennet. Why should Georgiana suffer for it?
The key, then, was not to cut himself off completely, but to spend as little time as possible at his sister’s house. After much deliberation, he decided he would make a habit of dropping in briefly once a day, at the same time in the afternoon, and he would stay for a half hour at most.
It was a marginally better solution, and he was able to execute it well for the first two days. He congratulated himself on sticking well to his plan, until he noticed he was spending the rest of the days – and nights – eying his pocket watch and waiting for the time when he could walk into Georgiana’s parlor and set eyes on Miss Bennet. That half hour made the world a brighter place. The hours in between were gray intermissions, chiefly filled with a futile endeavor to dispel her from his mind.
He argued with himself. One part of him insisted that he was doing the right thing, that she was not worthy of being the wife of a Darcy, that his uncle was an earl and she was the daughter of an undistinguished country gentleman, that posterity would point the finger at him and call him the black sheep of the family. The other part told him that he was a fool to let her go, that the pursuit of happiness was a worthy cause, as long as he did not harm anyone else in the process. At times, he was overwhelmed by such a powerful desire to see her, he was consumed by it. Only the strongest exertion of his resolve kept him from ordering the carriage and going over to Cavendish Square at once.
His spirit was frayed and tattered, torn between the two extremes, exhausted by sleeplessness and indecision. He felt asif he was sleepwalking in a nightmare of his own making, and any moment now, he was going to fall flat on his face.
Two days later, he was at Cavendish Square, his senses straining for the sound of Miss Bennet’s melodic laughter. As he entered the parlor, his eyes settled on her face. He stared at her as a drowning man would look towards the shore in hope of being rescued.
He forced himself to look away, hoping no one had noticed.
“I am glad you came, Mr. Darcy,” she said.
The words were music to his ears.
“I would like to visit my aunt and uncle, but I was not sure you would approve of the request.” Miss Bennet’s voice was strained, and she did not meet his eye.
He was disappointed. Of course she was not actually glad to see him. She needed his permission for something. Darcy tried to answer her, but his mouth was too dry.
“Could I come with you, Miss Bennet?” said Georgiana.
His sister’s interruption gave him time to swallow, take a deep breath, and consider the situation.
Elizabeth looked surprised. “Of course, if you wish to. It depends on your brother, of course. Would you have any objection to having your sister being introduced to my uncle and aunt?”
An image appeared in his mind of the last time he had set eyes on her aunt and uncle. Wickham had been there. Darcy brushed the memory aside. He was absolutely certain that Miss Bennet did not have any bad intentions towards his sister. Despite her unconventional manners, she did not have a wicked bone in her body. He would be prepared to stake his life on it.
“Oh, may I, Brother? Please?” Georgiana turned beseeching eyes on him. “I would love to meet Elizabeth’s cousins. She has told me so much about them!”
