When Lady Hortensia came to judge them, she studied his drawing for rather longer than he liked. "An imaginary lady, Mr Darcy?"
"So the instructions required."
"Indeed."
Darcy accepted the judgement without protest. His drawing was technically competent, but it lacked the life and humour of Miss Lacey's. Nor was the lady beneath the tree imaginary, whatever he had claimed. The likeness was too clear, and the care he had taken over every feature only made it more so. He wondered whether she would ever allow him to speak to her again.
Among the gentlemen, the reaction was unmistakable. Mr Hadley looked from the drawing to Darcy and then quickly away, while Sir Geoffrey raised his brows and said nothing. The Blackwood brothers exchanged a glance which made it clear that none of them believed the lady beneath the tree to be imaginary,and even Mr Ashcombe had to turn a startled laugh into a hacking cough.
Richard waited until Lady Hortensia had moved on before leaning closer. "What have you done, Fitz?" he asked under his breath. "Jane is beside herself with worry, and now you have drawn her sister for half the room to recognise."
Darcy kept his eyes upon the page. "I am aware of it."
"Then I suggest you find some way to put matters right before Miss Elizabeth decides never to speak to you again."
The afternoon performance proved no more comfortable. Each team was given the same short scene concerning a traveller caught at an inn during a storm, though they were free to alter the characters and conclusion. Lady Frances organised the ladies with efficiency, while the gentlemen spent much of their preparation arguing over who ought to play whom and whether Richard's proposed ghost served any useful purpose.
Darcy was given the part of a stern magistrate summoned to investigate a missing jewel. He learnt his lines quickly and delivered them without error, but with so little feeling that even Sir Geoffrey looked disappointed. Twice he missed a cue because his attention had gone to the door, and by the final scene Mr Hadley was forced to repeat his line before Darcy realised everyone was waiting for him to speak. The audience laughed in the proper places, though most of the credit belonged toRichard, whose ghost appeared at the wrong moment and then refused to leave the stage.
The gentlemen's scene was not a complete failure. Hadley was amusing as the innkeeper and Richard's enthusiastic chain rattling drew much laughter. It lacked the coherence of the ladies' performance, however, and Lady Hortensia awarded two of the three points to their opponents.
Mr Pritchard entered the result in the ledger. "At the close of the third day, the ladies have ten points and the gentlemen eight."
The gentlemen's disappointment became obvious as soon as the performance ended. "A fine captain we have made of him," Mr Ashcombe said to the Blackwood brothers, not quite softly enough. "Moonstruck by a lady who has plainly rejected him and scarcely capable of remembering his own lines."
Darcy heard enough. He knew that Ashcombe meant to provoke him, but there was sufficient truth in the complaint to make a defence difficult. He had neglected the gentlemen's performance, contributed little to their preparation and spent most of the afternoon looking towards a door through which Elizabeth had not appeared. None of that mattered beside the sudden certainty that he could not endure another hour without attempting to speak to her.
He left the gallery before Lady Hortensia had completed her closing remarks and took the stairs two at a time. The propriety of approaching a lady's bedchamber did not trouble him until he reached the upper corridor and found a footman stationed near the entrance to the ladies' apartments. The servant straightened at once.
"Sir, I am afraid gentlemen are not permitted beyond this point."
"I need to speak to Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
The footman looked increasingly uncomfortable. "I could carry a message, sir."
Darcy had been raised to respect the order of a well-run household and would ordinarily have considered it beneath him to place a servant in such a position. That day, patience and propriety had both deserted him. "You may tell Lady Hortensia that I ignored you," he said, stepping past.
The footman followed for several paces, protesting in a low voice, but stopped when Darcy reached Elizabeth's door. Darcy raised his hand and knocked.
"Miss Elizabeth."
There was no answer.
He waited, then knocked again, more firmly. "Miss Elizabeth, I know you may not wish to see me, but I must speak to you."
Silence remained on the other side.
The footman hovered at the end of the passage, plainly uncertain whether to summon assistance. Darcy scarcely noticed him. He placed one hand against the door, lowering his voice. "I was wrong last night. I should not have spoken to you in anger, and I should never have allowed you to doubt my intentions. Please, give me the opportunity to explain."
Nothing moved within the room. Darcy stood there for several moments longer before the futility of it became impossible to ignore. Either she was not inside or she had heard every word and chosen not to answer. The second possibility was far more likely.
At last, he stepped away from the door. "Tell Miss Bennet I came," he said to the footman. "And that I shall wait for her whenever she is willing to speak to me."
The servant bowed, visibly relieved to see him turn back towards the stairs. Darcy descended more slowly than he had climbed them, aware that his conduct would soon be known throughout the house. He regretted the position in which he had placed the footman, but not that he had gone to her door.
???
Elizabeth knew she was being self-indulgent. She had admitted as much to herself several times during the day, usually just before refusing another of Jane's attempts to persuade her downstairs. The headache she had claimed at breakfast had become real by noon, brought on by a weeping fit which would have made even Lydia proud. Since then, she had ignored the trays sent up from the kitchen, answered Jane's questions with as few words as possible and spent much of the afternoon moving restlessly between the bed and the window.
