Elizabeth inclined her head in silence. Indeed, there was nothing more to be said between them.
He bowed without a word and withdrew, leaving her—much to her relief—with nearly ten minutes to recover herself before the arrival of the next young lady.
Yet peace had denied her, for Jane burst into the room.
“Mr Darcy? What was that man doing here?” Fortunately, her sister’s voice was low enough to prevent being overheard; even so, Elizabeth raised her finger to her lips, entreating silence.
“What was he doing here?” Jane repeated in a whisper.
“His sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, is one of the pupils,” Elizabeth answered softly, still glancing towards the door. “But how do you know?”
“I was on the point of leaving and saw him go out.”
“Oh,” sighed Elizabeth, “it was too fair to last perfectly.”
“Do not talk nonsense.” Jane’s voice was firm. “You need not see him—”
“But she is here.” Elizabeth smiled for the first time since beholding him. “And she resembles him astonishingly. I shall have to grow accustomed to it; yet for the present it is difficult.”
She drew a long breath and turned towards Mrs Robertson, who had just entered the room.
“Lady Suffolk and Lady Alice.”
Jane rose to depart, but Elizabeth caught her hand discreetly as she advanced to meet the two ladies; she still required her presence. Mr Clinton had often declared that Jane and Mary were ever welcome guests at the Academy. She meant to profit by it, for she needed her sister’s support now more than at any time before—whilst Jane, in thus assisting her, seemed to recover the very purpose of her own life.
∞∞∞
Darcy entered his carriage, overwhelmed by the scene he had just endured. He had possessed the strength to appear calm and reserved, though he was far from being so in truth. He was vexed with Mr Clinton for what seemed to him a piece of ill-judged comedy. Had the gentleman written in his letter that Elizabeth Bennet was the new head of the Academy, he would have sent Richard in his stead and been spared a meeting which had been anything but agreeable.
He felt an urgent need to speak with someone, and in a short while, he ascended to the colonel’s office at the War Office.
It was not his habit to make such visits, and the colonel received him first with surprise, then with immediate concern.
“Has something occurred?” The question escaped him with genuine alarm.
Darcy shook his head and sat down upon the single, rather uncomfortable chair before the writing-table. After a long silence, he began at last:
“In fact, something has occurred. I have taken Georgiana to the Academy today—”
“Is she well?” The colonel leaned forward, plainly anxious; for he thought, for some reason he could not explain, that Darcy, though disturbed, appeared frozen rather than moved.
“Speak, for Heaven’s sake,” he urged, for he had not seen his cousin in such a state since the previous summer; yet, after defeating Wickham’s scheme, Darcy had seemed somewhat recovered, and never so shaken as at present. His mind turned to the Academy; for an instant, he imagined fire or some other calamity—but it could not be so, since Darcy had only that morning conveyed Georgiana there, after they had supped together the previous evening.
“You know I received a letter requesting that I should attend and meet the new Principal—”
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“You will never guess who the new Principal is—”
“Miss Bennet.” The words slipped out before he was aware of them. Yet he must have guessed rightly, for Darcy nodded and at once appeared lifeless, as though all strength had been drained away by that meeting, which was not far from the truth.
“Good Heavens, what an unfortunate coincidence!” The colonel stared at him.
Darcy’s engagement had been received with delight by the Earl and Countess of Matlock. The Ashcombes were not only an ancient family but also of great wealth, and the two daughters were their sole heiresses. It was even rumoured that the Regent himself might consent to confer upon the elder the title ofBaronne Ashcombe at her father’s death, and Lady Elizabeth was the betrothed of Darcy.
Only the colonel knew that matters were not ideal, yet they appeared lately to move upon a proper course. Lady Elizabeth, newly arrived in London with her family, was timid but witty—less accomplished, perhaps, than the other Elizabeth, yet assuredly of the kind Darcy desired: a young lady who might become his companion, not one who would squander her fortune in London amusements.
“A prudent decision,” Lord Matlock had declared, and all London soon learnt of the engagement, which ruined the designs of several young ladies—among them Lady Amelia, who had long sought to entrap him.
