Chapter 15

Elizabeth did not confide her feelings to Jane. Why disrupt her sister’s happiness when there was nothing she could do to alter what she was experiencing? Somehow, she would convince herself to stop loving Mr Darcy, to forget her good impression of him and remember all the reasons she had not to admire him. Time would be her cure, and to assist it, she would avoid the gentleman as much as possible.

Not long after the dinner party, the Bingleys and Elizabeth attended a ball hosted by a young couple Bingley had known for some years, the Frys. They lived in a beautiful house in Berkeley Square, which, Mrs Fry told Elizabeth, had been completely renovated following their marriage two years ago. That accounted for the interior, which was done in the latest fashion. There were many guests crowding the rooms, and Elizabeth revelled in the busyness, immersing herself in activity and meeting new people.

Mrs Fry was a generous hostess, and she and Jane were clearly forming a friendship. Between the lady, her husband, and Bingley, they ensured Jane and Elizabeth were introduced to many of their friends. Elizabeth was asked to dance by several gentlemen, and before long, she was enjoying herself more than she had anticipated.

At the end of one set, her dance partner introduced her to a lady of about her own age named Miss Rebecca Reed. He explained that Elizabeth was new to town, soon leaving the ladies to themselves when he spotted one of his acquaintances.

“Have you been to town before? Why have you chosen to come this year?” Miss Reed asked. Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, I beg your pardon. That sounded terribly rude, did it not? I have a bad habit of blurting out whatever comes to mind.”

Elizabeth smiled. “My sister is lately married to Mr Charles Bingley, and they invited me to stay with them.”

Miss Reed’s eyes widened. “Mr Bingley?”

“Do you know him?”

“I met him several years ago. My cousin and he are friends. You might have heard Mr Bingley mention him. Mr Darcy, from Derbyshire.”

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. “Mr Darcy? Yes, he, um, that is to say we have met. He stayed at the estate Mr Bingley let in Hertfordshire, which is only a few miles from my home. It is where he and my sister met.”

The news struck the two ladies very differently. Elizabeth regretted that Miss Reed, who had seemed like a possible friend, was connected to Mr Darcy, but Miss Reed grinned and launched into a speech about coincidences.

Why should I not be friends with her, just because she and Mr Darcy are cousins?There was something enchanting about Miss Reed. She seemed guileless, and Elizabeth was drawn to her—perhaps because she still felt the sting of being deceived by Mr Darcy.

They were sharing information about Meryton and the region of Norfolk where Miss Reed’s father’s estate was located, when a handsome, well-dressed gentleman walked up to them.

“Miss Reed, how absolutely wonderful to see you this evening. You look especially captivating in that gown, as I believe I told you last month at the theatre.”

Miss Reed sighed, though Elizabeth thought it was exaggerated.

“You know I never believe a single one of your compliments. I do not know why you waste your breath saying them,” Miss Reed said.

He grinned. “I intend to convince you of my sincerity. It is all part of my plot. Do not ask what my goal is unless you are prepared for the truth. You ought to know, but I am sure you tell yourself you do not. Will you introduce me to your friend?”

Turning to Elizabeth, Miss Reed said, “I am so sorry! I have been neglecting you. It is this man. His nonsense is always so distracting. Miss Bennet, may I present Viscount Bramwell. Lord Bramwell, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She has only lately come to town. Her sister is Mr Bingley’s new wife. You know whom I mean. Darcy’s friend.”

Elizabeth curtseyed and was surprised by the speculative expression on the viscount’s face. His head was tilted to one side, and the air around them seemed to grow more serious. Even Miss Reed apparently noticed; she furrowed her brow and shifted her gaze from one to the other.

“You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” the viscount asked.

“I am. Do you know of me?” Elizabeth was certain she had heard his name but could not recall when. For some reason, she felt wary.

Viscount Bramwell cleared his throat and gave a low chuckle. “I do. My dearest Miss Reed failed to mention that, like her, I am cousin to Darcy.”

Elizabeth’s stomach fell to her shoes, suddenly remembering Mr Darcy mentioning him. “I see. You are Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother.”

“Unfortunately.” The viscount laughed merrily for several seconds. “I jest, but it is amusing to tease him, even when he is not present to hear it. You met him when he and Darcy had the grave misfortune of staying at Rosings last Easter, I believe.”

“You recall correctly.” She turned to Miss Reed. “It was lovely to meet you, but I must find my sister.”

“Oh, well, yes. She may be wondering where you are. Would she object if I called on you? I suppose I should ask whether you would object?” Miss Reed’s expression showed both disappointment and anticipation.

Elizabeth debated silently for a brief moment. “I would like that very much, and no, my sister would not mind at all. I shall try to introduce you this evening, but if I do not, I shall when you call.” To the viscount, she nodded and added, “My lord.”

With that, she left them.

Not long after arriving at the Frys’ ball, Darcy encountered the Bingleys. They spoke for several minutes, but even without his friend mentioning Elizabeth, Darcy knew she was present. The air was different in some undefinable way. He had experienced a similar sensation the day Georgiana and he had called at the Bingleys’ town house and when he had seen Elizabeth at a dinner party recently. Their eyes had met while she was at the pianoforte that evening, and every feeling of adoration and love he had experienced for her came rushing to the surface from the depths of his being where he had tried to bury it. He was certain Elizabeth knew what he felt and that she still cared for him.

He caught sight of her a short while after speaking to the Bingleys and found himself following her with his eyes. He attempted to approach her several times, but whenever he was within fifteen or twenty feet, she moved away, and he was afraid she was avoiding him.

And if she is? Whom do I have to blame but myself?

From what he could see, she was making new friends, and he did not doubt that she would have many admirers. If anyone deserved to be loved, it was Elizabeth, and he desired her happiness. Yet, selfishly, he also longed to spend even a few minutes in her company. Circumstance meant they could not be lovers, but might they be friends, or at least friendly acquaintances?

Immediately after supper, Darcy noticed her standing with a small group of young people and approached her. When he addressed her, she started, evidently unaware he was nearby.

“Miss Bennet, will you dance the next set with me?” He nodded and mumbled a few greetings to the other people present, all of whom he knew.

“Mr Darcy, how good to see you again,” one of the women said, adding to Elizabeth, “I ought not to be surprised you have met, given Mr Darcy and your brother are friends. I am glad you know enough gentlemen to keep you dancing all night. Enjoy yourselves!”

Perhaps because the lady had taken it as given that Elizabeth would accept his offer, she nodded and allowed him to escort her to the lines of dancers that were forming.

They said nothing for several minutes. Darcy was content just being near her. He took in every inch of her, attempting to commit her appearance to memory—the shade of ivory she wore, the pattern of stitching on the sleeves, the hint of pink in her cheeks, the slope of her nose, the brightness of her eyes, and bounce of her curls.

The pain and—if he was not mistaken—longing in her eyes as they remained fixed on his. The spark that passed between them when their fingers touched that left him breathless.

Do something! Say something to make this easier for her! he silently screamed. His mind took him back to their dance at Netherfield, when she had insisted a couple ought to have some conversation.

“Shall we not look stupid if we remain silent? I recall you expressing such an opinion.” He paused, hoping she might chuckle or smile. She did not, and he said, “Are you enjoying the party?”

“I am, thank you.” Her tone was stiff, and she looked around rather than at him. “Are you, sir? I had the impression you did not care for such gatherings.”

“Not usually, no, but one cannot always avoid them.” He swallowed nervously. “And it is an excellent way to ensure I see my friends.”

Her eyes flew back to his. He had emphasised the final part of his statement, in part wanting to see how she would respond and in part hoping she would like the notion of them being friends.

“You cannot be thinking of us,” she whispered.

“Is it so ludicrous? I miss?—”

“After you gave in to your family’s demand to forget me? Yes, it is.”

“Elizabeth, please, we must speak somewhere more private.” He would tell her of Georgiana’s illness. Although he did not know what difference it would make, he wanted her to know; at the very least, she would better understand the choice he had made.

The music stopped, signalling the end of their set. “There is no purpose when your family disapproves and you accept they have the right to interfere in your affairs.” Elizabeth shook her head, the gesture angry, then gave a bark of laughter. “Oddly, I met two of your cousins earlier, Miss Reed and Viscount Bramwell. They seem to have survived the encounter. Then again, neither of them knew who I was before we were introduced. Perhaps they will change their minds and have nothing to do with me in the future. A pity. I found them, like others in your family, rather agreeable.”

She dropped a shallow curtsey and walked away. Darcy recognised the implication in her final words; she meant to include him and impart the message that she no longer found him ‘agreeable’. He wondered whether she would ever know how much her words cut him.