It was a mixture of that and her husband’s admonitions that soured Mrs. Bennet’s heart. She was forced to lower her eyes from lofty prospects and settle upon an easier target. She would not have dreamed of offering her beautiful firstborn to a mererector a year before, but now she was both piqued and impatient. Mr. Collins visited the estate a week after Jane returned, and did not seem to notice the small, temporary flaws which her mother thought so indelible. Within a day, he was assured of the mother’s support in pursuing the match. Within a week, the offer was made.
Jane had yet to reply.
An onlooker at the Meryton Ball would have thought that Mr. Collins was indeed engaged to Miss Bennet, for they walked in together and he looked delighted to have her on his arm. Jane, likewise, was serene and pleasant to the other guests. They danced the first together, and then the second. Mrs. Bennet ensured that, standing beside her eldest daughter with fierce eyes and a forced smile.
Elizabeth longed to help her sister, but Mrs. Bennet had forbidden it. She had neglected her other daughters shamefully over the whole fiasco but spared enough of a thought to know when one of them might interfere. Lydia was not to be foolish and make Mr. Collins embarrassed. Mary was not allowed to distract him into talking about books. And Lizzie wasnotto interfere with Jane.
Sighing, Lizzie stood behind her plant and watched her poor sister struggling through the third dance. Mr. Collins looked like both of his shoes were too tight, and as if he was dancing to different music entirely to that which the string quartet were playing. He seemed to be performing some kind of rustic knees-up, while Jane was a graceful swan.
They were so unsuited! Yet, Mrs. Bennet would triumph. Jane was already crumbling, and it felt inevitable.
It hurt too much to watch. Lizzie shook her head and leaned against the wall. It was unladylike, but she couldn’t make herself care. She wished she could melt into the shadows and disappear from this room for good.
Her skin tingled. Someone was watching her.
Elizabeth looked up.
Oh, it was awful. There he was, tall, dark-haired and handsome: Mr. Darcy, staring at her with wide, unguarded eyes and an expression of utter disbelief.
Lizzie could not return the gaze! She could not even look in his direction. Her cheeks flared, and her heart pounded sickly in her throat.
With an aloof look which she hoped would break his trance, she emerged from her botanical sanctuary and hurried towards the doors. Not the main doors, of course. Her mother was watching Jane, but the sight of her second daughter escaping would not go unnoticed. It would have sent her into hysterics!
There was a second door at the back of the room which led into a modest courtyard. Elizabeth pushed through it and caught her breath.
This was not the place for romantic assignations. It was a simple paved square, matching the width of the Assembly Rooms and their understated elegance. There were a few doric columns, but such affectations were practically a necessity these days. They held up a gazebo with a wrought iron roof, which was covered in honeysuckle and errant bindweed. Lizzie went and sat within it, breathing in the calming scent.
Why did he stare at her so?
She had almost calmed herself when a shadow blocked the archway, and the scent of honeysuckle was replaced with bergamot and sage. Not alcohol, though. That surprised her, for Elizabeth knew that the silhouette must be Mr. Darcy.
“Excuse me.” she mumbled, standing up to leave.
“Wait - do not go.” he replied at once. Then he stepped back, one hand resting on the column as if for support. “That is to say, you may go if you wish. Certainly, I would not prevent it. But I would like to thank you, first.”
“Thank me?” Elizabeth still could not look up.
“Yes, for…” he gestured vaguely.
Lizzie felt her cheeks flaring. She made her voice light and breezy. “Oh,that!I had forgotten! Do not think of it, sir. It was only a…”
“Please desist.” the man’s voice was soft, but unspeakably raw. “I owe you a great deal, and I would have you take me seriously. That day made me realise…” he choked and then shook his head. So quietly that she could barely hear it, he managed to say: “You saved me, madam.”
“Do not… speak so.” she replied awkwardly. “Please, sir, I want to leave. You are making me uncomfortable.”
He stood back at once, giving her room to leave the tiny bower. She hurried through the gap, then turned and gave him a parting curtsey.
“Mr. Darcy.”
“Miss…” he hesitated, then smiled. Now that she could see his face, Elizabeth was surprised to see a slight smile. “I do not know your name.”
It was tempting not to tell him. She could take refuge in anonymity, at least. Of course, he could find out her name by other means. But, looking at Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth suspected that he would not resort to such underhanded means. He was askingherto tell him. If she chose not to, then he would accept it.
“Miss Bennet.” She said abruptly, and then winced. She had been so used to calling herself that! She hated to think of this man seeking out Jane. Her older sister had enough to contend with, without his interference. “Miss Elizabeth, I mean. Miss Bennet is my sister.”
“Miss Elizabeth.” he bowed, unconsciously showing off years of refinement, and then straightened with a steady look. “I shall not thank you again, madam. I am sorry it made you uncomfortable. But may I write to you, and explain?”
“I…” she scrambled for some excuse but could not find one. She was incredibly curious. The Netherfield Park group were infamously secretive, and she had always wondered…
