Page 115 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“Yes, I am aware of that. I recollect her daughter and son-in-law passed away quite a few years ago. I am not sure if they were ill or whether it was a tragic accident. She does not have any family left, does she?”

“Only one grandson, Philip Russell, the Earl of Alveston. Nobody else. Thus, she has so much time for charity. But I doubt he will attend the ball,” Lady Catherine said. “In fact, I doubt he is in town at all. Nobody knows what has become of him.”

“It must be such a tragedy to lose your entire family,” Anne said.

“And even worse to have a single heir who is more of a burden and so unworthy of such an enormous legacy. The Kendals and the Russells have splendid fortunes,” Lady Catherine declared.

“Lady Kendal’s fortune is not our concern,” Darcy interjected sharply, bothered by his aunt’s lack of sensitivity. Both Georgiana and Anne looked distressed, so he continued even more coldly, “And it is not for us to judge any heir’s worthiness.”

“I may judge whomever I want,” Lady Catherine said.

“Of course you may.” Lord Matlock rolled his eyes. “So, are we going or not?”

“We are going, of course! We care little about the reason for the ball, but we cannot afford to miss it, regardless,” Lady Catherine said.

“Very well then, we should go now. If we must be there, let us at least be on time so we can leave promptly,” Darcy said, attempting to calm their spirits. But he failed.

“This is ridiculous,” Lady Catherine cried. “We have not even arrived, and you are already speaking of leaving? This is preposterous. You are quite disrespectful to us, you know!”

“I apologise if I sounded that way. It was not my intention. As far as I remember, neither you nor Anne, and certainly not Georgiana or me, are fond of parties and balls. Of course, we shall stay as long as you ladies wish.” Darcy altered his tone. He knew how unfair it was that his low spirits were affecting his relatives.

The carriages were waiting in front of the house. Although it was not far to Lady Kendal’s house, the ladies could not be expected to walk.

There was only one lady Darcy knew who enjoyed walking at any chance she got, and whose eyes, brightened by the exercise, became even more enchanting. The eyes that had haunted him for the last year and a half and had stripped him of his tranquillity so abruptly that he was unlikely to find it ever again.

Just as his life never had and never would be the same since the day he decided to propose to Elizabeth Bennet. He had gone to her with trust, hope, passion, adoration, and honesty, with his soul on a plate. And she had thrown it back at him, responding with blame, accusations, rejections, loathing, and disdain. For six months, from the day he met her until the day he proposed, she had been everything to him. And he had been nothing to her. A year later, the pain was still as sharp and torturous as on the day she had seeded it in his mind and in his heart. Perhaps even worse.

He had seen Elizabeth only once since he left Kent, ten months ago. To his astonishment, she had come to Derbyshire with the Bingleys and the Gardiners. He never expected to see her, as he was certain she was as desirous of avoiding him as he was her. It had appeared that she had been forced by her sister and uncle’s plans to be there, and, very likely, she loathed his presence as much as he dreaded hers.

Thus, he had abandoned his guests with Georgiana, her companion Mrs Annesley, and his cousins, Richard and Anne, and left for Oxfordshire. He left to allow her the comfort of enjoying Pemberley. And she did, from what Georgiana and Anne had related to him. They were both enchanted with Elizabeth and Jane, and friendships were made. Richard had praised Elizabeth again and again until Darcy could bear it no longer.

Her presence was so powerful at Pemberley—if only in his imagination—that his beloved house had become a cage of suffering. He kept envisioning her in every spot, every garden, every room, and such imaginings were too heavy to carry. So he had spent less time at Pemberley this year than any other year of his life, and he had become estranged from his home and from his family in an attempt to escape from Elizabeth.

His love had not diminished, nor the agony of knowing she despised him as much as he adored her. Bingley had written to him several times, telling him that he was missed and that Elizabeth wished to speak to him, but he hid from any such attempt. She likely intended to thank him for confessing his interference to Bingley and advising him to return to Netherfield. But Darcy did not need her gratitude. He was ashamed of his error in separating Bingley from Jane in the first place. His friend’s present marital bliss was down to Elizabeth, not to him. He had done no more than any man of common sense would have done.

Darcy hoped that Elizabeth had believed the contents of his letter concerning Wickham. Perhaps she now realised some of her accusations had been ill-grounded. What remained and could not be wiped from his mind was the disgust, the abhorrence, the aversion, that had shadowed her eyes and altered her bearing when she refused him. Her behaviour towards him might now be changed, she might apologise and try to be friendly, but her repulsion had been too strong to pass so easily. In that regard, there was nothing to be done. Only time could make it fade. A long time. A very long time. And distance. And his involvement in a delayed engagement to Anne.

Two weeks after Elizabeth had left Kent, Lady Catherine had called him back. Anne had taken to her bed, and her doctor of ten years was worried.

Darcy had suggested taking her to London, but Lady Catherine had denied him. Instead, she had accused him of distressing Anne with his refusal to marry her. She had demanded he declare whether he intended to marry another woman, and, if not, why Anne was not good enough. That question had tortured him for a few days while he waited for Anne to recover. If he could not have the only woman he desired, why not Anne? If he could not be happy, why not at least offer some comfort to his relatives? Anne and Georgiana would enjoy each other’s company; they would support each other. What harm could be done?

He had discussed this with Anne and had been honest with her. He had told her he intended to protect her, assure her well-being, and attend to her needs and wishes. He had confessed he felt affection and care for her but nothing of the passion a man should feel for the woman he married. He had asked her about her own feelings for him, and she had admitted the same—she would feel awkward sharing any intimacies with him. She had said she wanted to live—even if she only had a short time left—with some freedom. She did not want to marry him but wanted to be away from her mother. So their pact was made. He took Anne and her companion to London, then to the Matlock estate, and then to Pemberley. Doctors were brought to her, her treatment changed, and Anne’s state improved visibly. She gained in health and in trust. Her complexion looked better. She was obviously more at ease with Georgiana and with Richard than with him, but that did not bother him at all. Everyone seemed happier.

As for him, he ceased hoping for happiness. Instead, he prayed for tranquillity, but that had been denied him when Elizabeth had arrived at Pemberley. Ten months had passed since then, but he was still not at peace.

Darcy was aware that he would have to see Elizabeth at some point. But the further away that moment was the better. Perhaps by then, he might be able to master his feelings and face her with reasonable composure.

“The Kendal residence has always been exquisite,” Lady Matlock said, and Darcy startled.

They had already arrived in front of the impressive building, elegantly adorned for a celebration. Several carriages were stopped on the street and handsome, fashionable couples were entering. The sound of a violin drifted through the open windows.

They paused in the entrance hall, waiting in line while the announcements were made.

Taller than most of his companions, Darcy looked around indifferently. He wanted a drink, to make a brief appearance and return home, then leave town according to his plan.

His eyes skimmed over the heads of those assembled, noticing some familiar faces and avoiding anyone’s gaze. Then, a chill ran down his spine and a shiver weakened his knees. Through the open door he spotted Elizabeth standing with Lady Kendal, smiling with perfect self-confidence while somebody performed introductions.

Darcy’s first impulse was to turn and run, but his arms were trapped by both Georgiana and Anne. His cousins—the colonel and the viscount—were right behind him. He felt his feet moving forward, following the Matlocks and Lady Catherine. As he approached, Darcy glimpsed the Bingleys and the Gardiners in a corner, then Elizabeth’s eyes rose and met his. She paled, then coloured, blinked several times, and put her hand on her heart to calm the surprise.