Chapter Eighteen

" Y ou all know your parts?" Lady Carlisle inquired again as they arrived at the theatre.

The girls nodded.

"I hope none of this is required," Jane said softly, but a sceptical glance from Lady Carlisle made her sigh. "I know it likely will be, I just wish it was not."

"There are many performances that occur in the theatre, Jane." Lady Carlisle adjusted one glove. "It is better to write your own lines than have them written for you."

"Yes, my lady."

Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. "I am ready, Lady Carlisle."

"Good. Amelia?"

"Ready, Aunt."

"The men should have arrived—ah, here they are," Lady Carlisle said as Lord Carlisle opened the door to the carriage himself to assist the ladies out.

"Good evening, ladies," Lord Carlisle said. His voice might be a little louder than usual, but not so much that anyone would think something amiss.

The Carlisles were soon joined by Mr. Darcy and the Fitzwilliam men. Lady Henrietta was not with them, and it was that, and not Mr. Darcy's presence, Elizabeth told herself, that gave her such relief. Lord Matlock was introduced to the Bennet ladies. Lord Carlisle took his wife's arm, and Lord Matlock offered his to Elizabeth. Resolute, she took it, noticing that Mr. Bingley had arrived to take Jane's arm and that Lord Milton was offering his to Amelia. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy took up the rear of their party, presumably to ensure they were not accosted by anyone they did not wish to see.

The fashionable crowd milled about them on the pavement as everyone made their way inside, eager for the evening's performance to commence. Inside, the air was electric with excitement. A decision had been reached—by whom, Elizabeth did not know—that they would all head to Mr. Darcy's box. Lord Carlisle and Lord Matlock had boxes in this theatre as well, but the boxes with actual doors and walls were reserved for those of titled families. Alas, privacy was not what was called for this evening. Mr. Darcy's box, situated at the railing and separated only by a half wall from the parties on either side and behind him, was the better option.

To the Darcy box they strolled, not in a hurry, but not stopping other than for the lords and lady to nod graciously at a few friends and acquaintances as they passed. Elizabeth would have found the almost royal procession amusing had she not been at the centre of it all.

At last they settled in their seats, Lord and Lady Carlisle and Lord Matlock sitting in the back row of chairs so that they were slightly elevated and their presence was easier to detect. Even so, Elizabeth began to hear a susurrus of whispers rippling through the surrounding boxes. She could not pretend that there were not more than a few pairs of eyes darting towards her and their party, some widening in recognition, others narrowing in speculation.

She squared her shoulders and attempted to appear unaffected, though her stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Is that not the same Miss Elizabeth Bennet whom Mr. Darcy was seen sweeping off her feet in the street?" The question came from a matron in the box immediately to their left, who sat in the row nearest the railing and therefore could not see the titled personages sitting just to her right and above her. Even amidst the buzz of many voices as the patrons took their seats, she was murmuring behind her fan loud enough for the occupants of several boxes around to hear. Perhaps she believed holding a fan before her mouth would disguise who was speaking?

It did not.

From the corner of her eye Elizabeth saw the occupants of the box on her right lean towards them, the ladies fluttering fans but no one there speaking. She wondered if those sitting directly behind would recognize the earls and Lady Carlisle and refrain, or whether the on-dit would be too tempting to resist.

"All due to his sister's fragile nerves," her female companion replied with a sniff, snapping her own fan open and waving it about. "Poor Mr. Darcy, to be saddled with the care of a girl so weak-headed that she flees into traffic at the slightest provocation. Perhaps that is the true reason he has yet to marry."

Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr. Loughty and Diana in the same box with the women who had spoken so cruelly, though as to the brother she could not be shocked. Poor Diana, forced to accompany her shallow brother if she ever wished to go out. Elizabeth could barely see her profile as she was hidden behind the rest of her party—but by the way Diana's hands were clasped so tightly on her lap, Elizabeth could see that her friend was very unhappy.

Mr. Loughty, who was also located in the front row though on the other side of the women, leaned forward with no attempt at disguise at all. "I must say that even her brother may not be enough to shield Miss Darcy from the consequences of her own instability. And as for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, well . . ." He trailed off with a meaningful smirk and a quick glance at Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth pretended not to notice, leaning away from Mr. Loughty's party to say something to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was seated between her and Jane. She further feigned a significant glance at Mr. Loughty and then she and the colonel both chuckled, which had the gratifying effect of making the man frown.

There was a lull as all those around them seemed to collectively hold their breath. Elizabeth's heart swelled with affection when Diana stood and moved to her brother's side to hiss, "Hold your tongue, Brother." Her voice carried and everyone about them listened in. "You speak of matters you know nothing about, and I will not stand for such uncharitable gossip. Miss Darcy is a lovely, amiable, accomplished young lady, which I know because I have actually spent time with her, unlike you. And Miss Elizabeth is my very good friend who put herself in danger's way to rescue Miss Darcy, something I am sure you would never do for me."

Despite knowing nothing of their plan, Diana had been willing to publicly defend her friends to her own brother.

A shocked silence descended as all eyes from the other nearby boxes turned toward the box in which the Loughtys sat. Before he could recover and muster some witty rejoinder, Mr. Darcy stood from his seat nearest Mr. Loughty, slowly unfolding his long frame to face the man.

Elizabeth had known that the man was tall, but she had not really thought about how advantageous that could be in such a case as this. She allowed herself a little smile when the colonel chuckled next to her.

"This ought to be good," he whispered to her as they both looked up at Mr. Darcy.

"Whatever it is, it is not in Lady Carlisle's script," she whispered back.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat before he began, his words stern and unyielding. "I would thank you, sir, to refrain from spreading baseless rumours about my sister and Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said coldly, his voice ringing out with authority.

The hissing sound of whispers burst into bloom all about them, and Mr. Darcy rather masterfully waited a beat for the noise to die down before he continued. "My sister's distress was no fault of her own, and Miss Elizabeth's actions were nothing short of heroic. I will not see either of them maligned, certainly not by the likes of you."

"Well said, Darcy," Lord Matlock called from his chair behind them. "You have the support of all your family in this."

It was rather amusing, as Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Darcy's uncle, to see nearly every head in the vicinity swivelling in the same direction. Mr. Loughty's head nearly snapped off his shoulders, so quickly did he turn, and Elizabeth was smugly satisfied as she watched his complexion blanch. It was clear many in the audience had somehow overlooked the peers sitting amongst them, just as Lady Carlisle had thought they might.

Lord Carlisle nodded his own emphatic agreement, his usually genial expression hard with disapproval. "Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are a credit to their family and to mine," he declared. "Anyone who suggests otherwise should be prepared to answer to me."

Now that Mr. Darcy had changed Lady Carlisle's plan, Elizabeth was unsure what to do—but she supposed it was her turn. She had not known it would be Mr. Loughty, but Lady Carlisle had been certain someone would gossip in their hearing as he had done. As much as she liked his sister, she would take pleasure in putting him in his place because she truly did not like him. Fortunately, neither did Diana.

Elizabeth played her part well—she held her head high, glanced at Mr. Loughty with disdain, and then turned her gaze back to her own party. It was not the cut direct, but it was nearly as effective. Lady Carlisle assured her that it signified he was not worthy enough even to warrant the insult. She was aware of Elizabeth's philosophy of not awarding too much importance to those who truly had none in her life and had applied it to their strategy. Clever, clever woman.

A frisson of unease swept through the gathered throng as the two earls made their positions unmistakably clear, and then the chatter began again. Mr. Loughty shrank back in his seat, his earlier bravado wilting under the weight of such censure.

"I had not noticed the earls sitting there," he mumbled to his friends, who were suddenly interested in a conversation taking place in the box on the other side of them.

"Mr. Bingley," Jane said sweetly, just on cue, "I have been looking forward to this performance all week. I do so enjoy a good"—and here she inclined her head in Mr. Loughty's direction— "comedy."

Elizabeth almost laughed, for it was so against Jane's character to imply such a thing and yet she had delivered the set down perfectly. She was growing quite accomplished at them after their visit to Miss Amberley's.

Mr. Loughty really was a petty little man. They had arrived with such ceremony she did not see how he could possibly have missed the presence of the earls. But Lady Carlisle had informed them never to wager against stupidity, and the man had been near to bursting—perhaps he simply could not contain himself long enough to determine who had accompanied them.

Diana stood and moved closer to the half-wall that marked the separation of Mr. Darcy's box from hers.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy inquired kindly, "would you prefer to sit here on the end so that you may speak with Miss Loughty?"

"I would, if it would not be inconvenient."

Mr. Darcy helped arrange them so that she was on the end within whispering distance of Diana, and then took Elizabeth's former place next to the colonel.

Diana held out her hand and Elizabeth grasped it briefly. "Are you much distressed, Diana?" she inquired.

"I meant to ask you the same," Diana said quietly. "But I see you have amassed an army of powerful gentlemen to defend you as well as Lady Carlisle, who I presume devised it all. Well done." She smiled mischievously. "Mr. Darcy nearly challenged my brother to a duel."

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, who was studiously facing forward until he leaned in to listen to something his uncle was saying. She turned back to Diana. "He is too much the gentleman to do such a thing."

"Well, I have no doubt that my idiot brother believes Mr. Darcy would, and as he is far too much a coward to do anything of the sort, I doubt you will have any further trouble from him."

"I think that might have as much to do with his own sister taking him to task in public. That was wonderfully done, and I thank you for it. I cannot think it will make your life easier at home."

Diana shook her head. "I will relay everything that happened here to my parents. I cannot be seen in his company anymore. It is too vexing, how he is single-handedly making us a laughingstock. "

"You may always join our party when we are out with the ladies, Miss Loughty," Mr. Darcy said from his position at Elizabeth's side. He had been listening, of course. "My sister counts you as one of her particular friends, and I know the Bennet ladies feel the same."

Diana smiled. "Georgiana is a delightful girl, Mr. Darcy, but I suppose you already know that. And such a gifted musician!"

"Thank you," he said sombrely, but Elizabeth could tell he was pleased with the compliment. He addressed Elizabeth. "I believe I may credit Miss Loughty for Georgiana's vigorous study of her Italian recently; however, she had high praise for all of you."

As the murmurs gradually subsided and some noises on stage signalled that the performance would begin shortly, Diana smiled warmly and turned her gaze away.

"Thank you for your kind words," Elizabeth said to Mr. Darcy. "They were more than I expected."

In the flickering glow of the candles, his eyes met hers in a long, charged look, a wealth of unspoken emotions passing between them. It made her heart speed into an almost painfully quick cadence.

"I meant every word," he said quietly. "I will not stand by and allow you or Georgiana to be the target of malicious gossip. Not while I have breath in my body."

"Well," Elizabeth replied with a smile, "I hardly think a battle to the death will be required of you this evening." She pretended to cock her head to one side and listen. "I think your spirited defence has silenced the crowd."

"They will still talk," he warned her. "But there will be a good deal less interest in making anything of it, now that they are aware that you and Georgiana are so well protected. I believe the proclamation of two earls is of more significance than my statement. No one will be foolhardy enough to make the same mistake Mr. Loughty did just now, though. I must say he was very useful in that regard."

Elizabeth felt a curious warmth bloom in her chest at his declaration, a sensation that had little to do with the crowded theatre or the anticipatory hush descending upon the audience, a hush she knew would last mere moments beyond the rising of the curtain. She glanced at his hand on the armrest between them but refrained from reaching out to lay her hand on his.

"Still, I must thank you again," she said softly. "Your support means more than I can properly express. I am . . ." She hesitated but finished her thought anyway. "I am not used to it."

His brows pinched together, but Elizabeth said nothing else. It was enough to feel certain that whatever trials lay ahead, she would not face them alone. She had gathered good friends around her, and Mr. Darcy had become a good friend in his own way. Elizabeth stole another glance at him as he turned his attention towards the stage. It was a foolish thing, to feel so connected to him now, only because he had helped her from the street, trusted her with his sister, and now, had spoken for her, particularly because they had all been warned not to deviate from Lady Carlisle's plan. Mr. Darcy had been protecting his sister as much as Elizabeth. But he had made his statement of admiration so strongly that it could not fail to send a little thrill through her heart.

"Oh!" Amelia exclaimed and lifted one gloved hand. "There is Lady Ashford!"

When Lady Ashford returned the wave by lifting her fan and smiling, the sound of gossip traveling faster than any mail coach burst into song around them.

As the performance drew to a close—Elizabeth would have found it difficult to recollect anything that had occurred on stage—their party rose from their seats and prepared to depart. As they made their way outside of the box and to the front of the theatre, they found themselves amidst a bustling crowd. To one side, resplendent in an elegant silk gown, was Lady Ashford holding court among a group of her friends.

Lord Milton was leading Elizabeth out, and as they passed the ladies, they heard snippets of the conversation.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth first met at my ball, you know," Lady Ashford said, bestowing a knowing smile on Elizabeth as they passed. Elizabeth nodded in recognition. "I imagine they will make a charming couple."

"She has not been on his arm at all this evening," one of her friends protested. "I think they are not as close as you believe, Lady Ashford."

"But did you not see that he sat next to Miss Elizabeth all night? Did you not hear him nearly challenge young Mr. Loughty to a duel?"

"And did you not see Mr. Loughty wilt like a hothouse flower taken out in the cold?" A husband of one of the women thought this very funny indeed, and soon they were all laughing.

"Indeed. Who is Mr. Loughty to think he can cast aspersions on anyone in the Carlisle household?"

"Presumptuous fop."

The gossip faded behind them.

They passed another group—Elizabeth caught Cordelia's eye as she regaled her father's friends with a tale of her own. "Indeed. Miss Elizabeth's bravery in saving Miss Darcy was absolutely daring. It is no wonder Mr. Darcy thinks so highly of her. And as you know, Papa, I very recently spent an afternoon with Miss Darcy at Carlisle House and found her to be quite an intelligent and charming creature."

"That is right, you did, you did," said her father, appearing far more dapper in his evening wear than when he and his friends had entered the falcon-inspired drawing room to inspect his daughter's company as they returned from hunting.

The other members of her coterie, four couples her father's age, nodded in agreement.

Lord Carlisle led the way with his wife, and Lord Matlock conversed amiably with them as though he was not watching everyone about him. The young women followed behind, Elizabeth next to Lord Milton, and Amelia and Jane strolling together on either side of Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam once again took up the rear. Elizabeth glanced back once to say something to Jane and noticed how the men's tall figures cut dashing silhouettes in the soft light.

"Mark my words," she heard someone whisper as she returned her attention to the viscount, "there is a special connection between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The way he looks at her . . . "

"And she at him . . ."

"I would not be surprised to read an announcement in the paper one of these days."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, concerned that she and Mr. Darcy might have landed themselves in some trouble there. In the end, though, Elizabeth simply allowed herself to feel relief, for they had done it. No one could doubt that Georgiana's reputation—and Elizabeth's own—would be strongly defended.

As they stepped out into the cold night air, their carriages were awaiting to convey them all to their respective homes. Lord Carlisle joined the ladies of his house in their carriage this time, and Mr. Darcy and the Fitzwilliams would ride home in their own.

Mr. Darcy approached Elizabeth with his hand outstretched to assist her into the Carlisle carriage. He must not have heard the talk.

"Mr. Darcy," she whispered, "be careful. We would not want to give rise to expectations."

"Miss Elizabeth," he told her, his deep voice making her tremble in a way that had little to do with the evening chill, "The only question is whether you wish to accept my hand"—he paused, then smiled teasingly—"to your carriage."

Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. She felt the warmth of his touch through the fabric of his glove, and for a moment, the world around them stilled. The spell was broken by the sound of Lord Carlisle clearing his throat, a gentle reminder of where they were.

Mr. Darcy steadied her as she stepped up.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said, and slipped into the coach. "And good evening."

As the carriage pulled away into the night, Elizabeth settled back against the plush seat, her heart racing with a curious mixture of exhilaration and contentment. The evening had been a triumph.

Thank goodness.