Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T wo days later, Mr and Mrs Collins, Miss Lucas, and Elizabeth joined the party in Lady Catherine's largest, and in Darcy's mind, most garishly ugly, drawing room. His aunt received them civilly, but it was clear to him that their company was acceptable only because she scorned her closest neighbours and disliked those whose fortunes or taste might rival her own. In sum, nobody else was available for or would accept her invitation.

The hideous room could hold a hundred people, yet it felt suddenly small when the party from Hunsford entered. Elizabeth was clad in a pretty blue gown, a mirthful expression playing on her lips; her eyes briefly caught his own, and for several minutes afterwards, he found his breath was short. After their encounter in the woods—the most agreeable half an hour he had spent in months—Darcy had not had a moment to wander the paths between Rosings and the parsonage and seek her out. Instead, when he was supposed to be squaring Rosings's dwindling accounts, he had been preoccupied thinking of their conversation and how deeply gratified he felt hearing her thoughts and reassurances. His distraction was made worse by the memory of her smile and the feeling of her hand pressing on his arm. Innocently done—the briefest of contacts—but had a woman's touch ever ignited such feeling?

Conscious not to show true pleasure in Elizabeth's company when his aunt and Mr Collins were present, he watched as Richard moved quickly towards her and Miss Lucas. His cousin was clearly eager. Since he did not read and had no estate business with which to occupy himself, anything was a welcome relief to him at Rosings. It was unsurprising, then, that he seated himself by Elizabeth, and engaged her immediately in a lively discussion. Darcy, entrapped as he was by his aunt on one side and Anne on the other, covertly observed their conversation. He overheard bits relating to travel and music. Elizabeth appeared immensely entertained, and much to his annoyance, their conversation flowed with an alarming spirit.

It took little time for him to realise that she had captured his cousin's fancy. Richard was a serious man when it came to soldiering, but when with family, he preferred levity, and when at Rosings, he had a bent for the absurd. ‘It is the only method of survival under Lady Catherine's roof,' he claimed.

Was he now determined to have a flirtation with Elizabeth, who took similar enjoyment in examining the absurd and laughing at it? Darcy cursed inwardly. I had felt responsibility to watch Collins, but now my cousin as well?

Beyond recounting the overview of their acquaintance in Meryton, encompassing the days spent confined at Netherfield and the hours in the boat-house, Darcy had been careful in speaking of Elizabeth to his cousin. Richard enjoyed teasing him too much, particularly when it concerned a lady. Close as they were, it was not Richard to whom he would speak of any real interest in a woman. In fact, he would not reveal himself to anyone until his mind was made up, and he had yet to encounter any lady who piqued true interest, let alone intent.

At least, not until Elizabeth Bennet. He had been unable to sleep the previous night, tossing in his bed as he thought of her small smiles, the familiar expression on her countenance—teasing, amused, overly aware of the foibles of her company.

He spent dinner mired in frustration—discreetly watching Richard speaking amiably to Elizabeth—and disgust, listening to Collins exalt Lady Catherine's estimable steerage of Rosings. If only he knew how poorly she managed both her land and her coffers. When coffee was over, Richard, in a voice no one could ignore, reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play for him. When did she make him any promise? Darcy wondered resentfully. He watched as she moved directly to the instrument and began to play a light country air. Lady Catherine listened to less than half the song, and then began talking, as loudly as before, to him.

Mortified by her ill manners, he paid little attention to whatever aspersions she was undoubtedly casting, for he perceived that Richard, now seated beside Elizabeth, was leaning far too close to her—and had more than once grazed her arm. Jealousy flared within him. Having seen Collins attempt his suit was nothing to what he experienced now, and Darcy could feel the tight grip of control he usually maintained slipping away. He was on his feet and moving deliberately towards the pianoforte, stationing himself so that he clearly could see Elizabeth's countenance. Squaring his shoulders, he caught Richard's eye and narrowed his own. His cousin responded with a surprised expression and moved backwards slightly. Suddenly, Lady Catherine's voice rose through the cacophony of music and frustration rattling in his mind.

"What is happening there, that I am excluded? Miss Bennet, have you never learnt to play proper music rather than these rustic tunes?"

Never had Darcy been thankful for his aunt's poor manners, but at this moment, he blessed her.

Elizabeth finished her performance, rose, and smiled at Lady Catherine. "I was unprepared for the magnificence of Rosings's instrument. It is one that should be played only by the most talented, practised hands, and only the greatest compositions should flow forth from it. Alas, I am not assiduous in my practise nor naturally talented, so rather than attempt Pleyel or Schubert or Beethoven, I can only apply myself to those folk songs and country airs they arranged." She curtseyed and gave the lady a smile with as much sincerity as insouciance. "I hope you were not displeased."

Darcy could see that Collins was not displeased by Elizabeth's display of humility, but he was too stupid to glean even a hint of the teasing within it. Lady Catherine paused, as if taking her measure, before bemoaning the absence of Georgiana and the untested genius of Anne and requesting Elizabeth play a Scotch air. Darcy could scarcely look at Elizabeth or Richard for fear of bursting into laughter.

Later, hours after the Hunsford party had returned home, Darcy found his cousin on the terrace, his legs outstretched and boots resting on the stone rail. Richard greeted him happily and passed him a bottle of the brandy he always brought with him to Rosings. As Darcy listened, his cousin grew ever more rapturous about the jolly fun of Elizabeth's company. She had a quick wit and understood his jokes, plainly read the war news, and had a way of unsettling Lady Catherine that was politely subversive.

"She is amusing and pretty, and I must say, she fills a dress nicely."

Darcy tensed. "She is a lady. Do not speak of her in such a manner."

"Yes, well, I am a bit drunk. On bad wine, fine brandy, or love, I cannot say." He laughed loudly.

He was indeed foxed, which Darcy took as some excuse, and likely relishing the chance for conversation with a beautiful, witty woman outside the eyes of the ton . "You are not serious, then. Only drunk."

Richard sighed loudly. "If there was a way I could afford her as a wife, I would be tempted to pursue her. Imagine the next twenty years watching her flummox Lady Catherine."

I have, thought Darcy. "Set it aside. She has been courted enough by fools and unserious men. "

"Well then, I fit right into it, do I not?"

Yes, but you are dangerous in light of her father's ultimatum . More dangerous knowing of it or less, he could not be certain.

"Leave her be. You cannot have a true interest in her." Darcy turned away. It was a clear night, and every star in the sky seemed to wish to exhibit its bright glow. He felt Richard's eyes boring into him.

"Perhaps I only wish to enjoy my visit here, and she is amusing company. Easy on the eyes, as well. Unlike you , I can enjoy conversation with a lady without exciting society."

"Nor Anne or Lady Catherine." Darcy sat heavily on the stone wall. "I envy you that freedom, to talk, turn pages, enjoy a dance?—"

"Or a flirtation."

"Damnation, you must take care with her."

His cousin lowered his feet to the ground and straightened in his seat. He rose and adjusted his waistcoat before speaking in a measured, if still somewhat thick, voice. "Like you, I am a gentleman, not a rogue. Unlike you, I am brave enough to conduct a flirtation when both parties are amenable. If you mean to have Miss Elizabeth, declare yourself. To her , not to me. Else, I shall continue to monopolise her company and spare you the glares of an angry aunt and forsaken cousin."

Darcy watched him walk off, down the length of the terrace and through the furthest door into the house. His cousin had encouraged him to do as he should and act on his feelings for Elizabeth. What, exactly, those feelings were, however, was the question.