“It is,” he replied, his expression brightening.
Georgiana carefully returned the painting to the easel from which she had taken it, and then they followed Mr. Darcy into the corridor. Before they descended the stairs, he spoke.
“Miss Elizabeth, I understand that Caroline insulted you just now in the drawing room.”
Both women looked at him with surprise.
“Mrs. Hurst overheard it, and she took me aside to repeat what was said. She feared for Georgiana’s well-being.”
He glanced at his sister.
“It is not true that I have sought Miss Elizabeth’s acquaintance merely that she might serve as your companion. I introduced you because I believed there would be an affinity between you, a meeting of minds, and I find I was not mistaken.”
Then he addressed Elizabeth.
“I beg your pardon for Miss Bingley’s remark. She does not know our sentiments and cannot presume to speak for either of us. I regret that she attempted to corrupt an amiable association with a cruel remark.”
Both his voice and expression were earnest when he added, “I ask only that, when Miss Bingley speaks injuriously, you remember that she does so with malice, and not with truth. I shall have to inform Charles that I will no longer include Miss Bingley in any invitation that involves either myself or my sister, for this is now the second time she has behaved so improperly.”
Elizabeth acknowledged his apology, then said, “Let us put Miss Bingley from our minds, shall we? It is time for our adventure.”
Miss Bingley was handed into the Hursts’ carriage, and from the expression on her face, it was clear to Elizabeth that she was furious.
After Mr. Bingley handed Jane into the Darcy carriage and took his seat beside her, Mr. Darcy assisted his sister and then Elizabeth before settling himself between them. As they moved through the lamplit streets, Mr. Bingley leaned forward and, laughing, said, “You must not allow yourselves to be alarmedabout the play. Though it is a tragedy, the story is not so melancholy as to leave us miserable.”
Georgiana asked, “And who is Adelgitha?”
Darcy replied, “She is a lady of uncommon virtue, placed in circumstances of the greatest distress. There is a struggle between duty and passion, as there always must be in such cases.”
Elizabeth teased. “How very shocking, sir. I begin to fear I shall not survive the experience.”
Bingley laughed, saying, “Oh, you will survive, I promise you. Adelgitha is pursued, misunderstood, and yet she bears everything with admirable fortitude. There is a villain, of course, and a noble hero, and much lamentation.”
“A great deal of lamentation,” Darcy observed dryly.
“I am confused,” Georgiana said. “It is not meant to be laughed at, is it, Fitzwilliam? It is a tragedy, is it not?”
“Yes, it is,” Elizabeth answered. “But we shall endure it, while the gentlemen secretly find entertainment in the spectacle.”
The carriage turned into a broad street, and the noise of the city rose about them. Elizabeth looked out and saw the theater illuminated in the distance, its lights shining against the darkness of the evening.
Georgiana grew very excited. “I have never seen Covent Garden at night.”
“It is always magnificent,” Mr. Bingley replied, “but when a successful play is running, it becomes a world unto itself.”
Elizabeth found that she shared their anticipation. She felt almost restless within the carriage, eager to breathe the night air and be among the life of the city.
When at last they descended and moved into the press of theatergoers, Elizabeth upon Mr. Darcy’s arm, she began to understand how well known he was. Conversation seemed to pause as he passed, and heads inclined together in quiet discussion once he had gone by. He appeared untouched by it all, looking neither to the right nor to the left. His height carried his gaze above most of the crowd, and he proceeded with purpose.
Where others stopped to speak in little knots, he pressed forward with a single aim: to reach his box and be seated. Greetings were offered to him as he moved forward, and attempts were made to engage him in conversation, but he returned them with a nod and brief civility, never breaking his course.
They entered a narrow passage and at last arrived at his box. Mr. Darcy gestured for Elizabeth to enter through the small doorway that opened into it.
“Miss Elizabeth, take the seat upon the bench as far to the left as possible, that there may be room for the other ladies. I shall sit directly behind you in one of the chairs.”
Elizabeth complied. She seated herself upon the bench, richly upholstered in green baize, and looked about her. The gilded moldings, the painted paneling, and the crimson drapes were all illuminated by the warm glow of chandeliers and candles.
Mr. Darcy settled behind her, watching as she absorbed every detail. He leaned forward.
