Elizabeth blushed, but Mary, absorbed in her own preparations and pleased with the compliments she had herself received since descending, observed nothing. Soon, the first carriages drew up before the steps, and the Margaret Clinton Academy Ball began.
Chapter 22
“You may yet remain behind,” said the colonel for the tenth time within the week, and at least the second time that afternoon.
“I do not know why you persist,” Darcy replied calmly, while tying his own cravat beneath the attentive eyes of his cousin and his valet. It was the one detail of his toilette upon which he set the greatest value—a ritual he always performed alone.
He stood before the mirror, his fingers steady upon the folds of his cravat. Each movement was deliberate, each pleat exact, until the fabric lay in perfect symmetry beneath his chin. The plain whiteness of it, contrasted with the dark blue of his coat, lent to his countenance an air at once severe and distinguished.
“I would never disappoint Georgiana merely to spare myself.”
“I shall be there also. I doubt she would feel disappointed,” returned the colonel.
“She would.” Darcy’s voice was quiet. “Mr Clinton mentioned that families are invited, and most young ladies will be accompanied by their mothers, fathers, brothers, or sisters. Georgiana might feel her situation rather singular, having at sixteen only a brother and a cousin for her entire family.”
The colonel lowered his head, moved. As usual in such moments, Darcy was right. He himself tended to view matters more lightly, sometimes overlooking the depth of another’s feelings. He jested, and the world about him was cheerful; yet he had never known real tragedy.
“I wondered whether you would invite Lady Elizabeth to accompany you,” he ventured.
Darcy turned sharply towards him and, at the same time, dismissed the valet with a slight motion of his hand.
“Have you lost your senses?” His voice was not angry but sad.
The colonel regarded him in astonishment; he had believed the worst was over and that his cousin was gradually recovering from his suffering. Yet Darcy’s voice and countenance revealed, for an instant, the truth—his love had not passed away.
“How could I go there with another woman? Perhaps between us nothing more is possible, but my care and affection for Elizabeth will remain unchanged throughout my life.”
“Forgive me.” The colonel was deeply affected by that outburst from a man who so seldom betrayed his emotions.
“Darcy…” He hesitated, yet at length resolved to speak. “An engagement is not a marriage. You have not even discussed Lady Elizabeth’s portion.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy continued the ritual of the cravat, though his hands, grown unsteady, no longer obeyed him fully. With one final glance at the mirror, he finished and seatedhimself in an armchair. They had nearly half an hour before departure.
“I mean that to break an engagement is neither impossible nor uncommon.”
“Cease,” Darcy said gently. “Say no more.” He pitied his cousin, for upon that usually lively face was written a look of grave concern.
“There can be no question of breaking the engagement—”
“Even though it should condemn you to a joyless life? You are not prepared to marry while your heart belongs to another. Give yourself time; I am certain you will one day meet a woman who loves you—and whom you, in turn, will regard with real affection. Joy is so important in one’s life.”
“It will not be joyless. You may depend upon that. It will be a life such as most couples share…”
“Without love,” insisted the colonel.
Darcy looked at him intently, perceiving that beneath those words lay something deeper—thoughts he could not utter. He felt a profound gratitude for such concern, for only anxiety could excuse his cousin’s persistence in a matter so private, knowing as he did how Darcy detested to bare his heart.
“I do not see why you insist. If I recall rightly, I once related to you how the proposal was made, and how decidedly she refused me, without the least appearance of affection.”
Darcy fell silent. When he could not speak the truth, silence was his only refuge. Elizabeth had not loved him then, in Kent—or perhaps anger had prevented her from revealing her feelings. But on the evening at the theatre, she had been unable to disguise them. Her eyes had revealed the most painful truth: the woman he loved with all his soul and body loved him in return…and that revelation had nearly driven him to madness. Had he not been so obstinate and wounded, had he allowed timeto soften those passions, he would this very night have gone to the ball to ask her to be his wife.
The pain that seized him was so sharp that he rose and went to the window, seeking to conceal and master his agitation. He thought of Georgiana, of the delight with which she had invited him to this ball—the first important one of her life. As he accompanied the colonel to the carriage, he felt that for his sister’s happiness, he could do anything, even meet Elizabeth once more, at a ball. Yet that was not entirely true…his soul yearned to see Elizabeth, and for the moment, he was unable to resist that impulse.
When he alighted and saw her beside Mr Clinton upon the steps of the house, he felt again that boundless love. She was magnificent—elegant, self-possessed, distinguished. And he thought that his love for her had changed him. Paradoxically, because of the woman he could not possess, he might yet become an affectionate and considerate husband to the other Elizabeth. She had transformed him, and he was grateful. Then, he was deeply content to see that she had found a place so admirable in which to live and work, her most cherished wish fulfilled. Though the thought pained him, he was certain that, surrounded by London’s most important families, she too would one day find a husband worthy of her.
He shook Mr Clinton’s hand warmly, grateful for the chance he had afforded Elizabeth. When Mr Clinton turned to greet the colonel, Darcy saw her hand extended towards him. He smiled into her eyes and took that hand into his own—a gesture which broke every rule of decorum. Yet neither of them cared. He understood that in that moment she bade him farewell. He raised her graceful hand, gloved in golden silk, and kissed it; and for one brief instant, they both forgot that they could never be together.
Another carriage arrived, and another family entered. When he stepped into the ballroom, Georgiana ran joyfully to his arms, and he knew he had done rightly to come.
