Chapter 7

Seven

Darcy spent a minimum of a quarter of each day wondering why he had given in to Bingley's plea that he remain at Netherfield. But Darcy had wronged him when it had come to Miss Bennet, and as long as Bingley wished for his company, he was obligated to remain and offer his support. It was doubly important that he do so since Bingley's sisters were unremitting in their disapproval.

Recently, Bingley had begun speaking endlessly about proposing to Miss Bennet.

"Do you think it is too soon? I believe she cares for me. You do, too, do you not?" Bingley said, repeating himself over and over until Darcy wanted to strangle him.

He also spoke of what he would say, and Darcy had almost guffawed when Bingley asked his advice. After how he had insulted Elizabeth when he had proposed, he was the last man Bingley should ask.

The very faint hope Darcy had retained that he had mistaken Elizabeth's meaning during their walk was gone. Whenever they met, her manner towards him was cold. Indeed, she appeared more irritated by his presence at each meeting while, to his vexation, Mrs Bennet was evidently intent on explaining the excellence of her second daughter to him.

Darcy did his best not to force his company on Elizabeth, yet he could not stay away when the opportunity to see her arose. On Friday, he and Bingley had received an invitation to a card party from Mrs Philips; it would be Monday. Bingley had accepted without asking Darcy's opinion, which was neither a surprise nor a disappointment. Of course, Darcy would want to attend; Elizabeth would surely be there.

The necessity of attending to important letters—to his steward, solicitor, uncle, and sister—kept Darcy from joining Bingley when he called at Longbourn on Saturday, but he had the pleasure of seeing her at church on Sunday. He was certain he could hear her dulcet voice rise above all others when they sang.

After the service, he stood by himself, trying to be surreptitious in his observation of Elizabeth. She was speaking with Mrs Bennet, though it was only the matron who appeared to be talking. Then, in a movement so swift he had not time to prevent it, Mrs Bennet had pulled the evidently unwilling Elizabeth over to him.

"Oh, Mr Darcy, good morning." Mrs Bennet sounded surprised to see him, although her actions were too deliberate to make that believable.

Darcy greeted the ladies, his eyes lingering on Elizabeth, who only curtseyed.

"Is it not a lovely day? I was very disappointed to hear from Mr Bingley that you and he are engaged with the vicar and his wife this afternoon. Lizzy was terribly upset when I told her, were you not?"

Elizabeth managed a smile, but she looked like she wanted to flee the awkward scene. She might have, had her mother not been holding her arm.

"Mrs Carson will give you a good meal, but I am sure you would find the company at Longbourn more to your liking." Mrs Bennet tittered.

"Mrs Carson was kind to invite us."

"To be sure. I was consoling Lizzy by reminding her that we shall have the pleasure of seeing you tomorrow at my sister's. Young people do enjoy sitting down to a game of cards together. So many opportunities to talk to each other about, well, whatever they like to talk to each other about. That reminds me that I must say something to Jane. Lizzy, you stay here and keep Mr Darcy company. I cannot bear to see such a kind gentleman standing alone."

As Mrs Bennet walked away, Elizabeth's eyes closed briefly. When she opened them, she looked beyond his shoulder. She was pale, and Darcy attributed her discomfort to being forced to talk to him.

"I believe it will rain this afternoon," he said after an awkward silence that seemed to last half the morning.

She looked at the sky and then made a noise of agreement. "My mother spoke precipitously about today's weather."

Her eyes met his briefly before she again averted them. For his part, Darcy could not tear his gaze from her. In Derbyshire, he had come so close to winning the right to caress the soft curve of her cheek, to clasp her hand in his, brush his lips across hers. Not being able to do so created such a painful ache deep in his belly that he felt physically ill.

The sound of laughter drew their attention. It was Bingley, who stood with Mrs and Miss Bennet. The sight made Elizabeth smile.

"I hope my mother is not teasing him about accepting Mrs Carson's invitation. She truly was disappointed to learn of it when Mr Bingley called yesterday. She had hoped that you would spend the day at Longbourn."

And you? Were you saddened to hear we could not? Did you miss my company as I missed being able to see you?

Before he had time to think of what to say, Mr Bennet approached. He gave Darcy a perfunctory nod and said his name before turning to his daughter.

"Come, Lizzy, let us return home. I want my breakfast, and nothing short of us walking off will convince your mother to leave Mr Bingley alone. He and his friend will want to get on with their morning, just as I do mine."

Mr Bennet took Elizabeth's elbow to guide her. Darcy watched as they moved in the direction of Longbourn. It meant he saw when she looked over her shoulder at him. What did it signify? A desire to spend a few more moments with him? Regret at the circumstances that kept them apart? A plea for him to stay away because she found his presence difficult to tolerate?

He spent the rest of the day contemplating that look, going so far as to ignore Bingley all evening after their return to Netherfield.

Preparing for Mrs Philips's party, Darcy felt a tremor of anticipation deep in his belly. It was ridiculous, he knew, and he berated himself for being stupid, but that final look Elizabeth had given him in the churchyard had remained with him. Something in it gave him a sliver of hope that her heart was not as closed to him as he had believed. He begged the universe to allow him to see just a speck more of it that evening. If he did, he would tell her that his wishes for their future were unchanged, and he loved her even more than he had at Easter. She could have as much time as she needed to decide whether she could return his affection; as soon as she gave him a sign that she was prepared to hear it, he would propose again.

He saw nothing to justify his hope. Instead, the best way to describe her manner was arctic. As ever, she was polite, and when they first greeted each other, she even briefly met his eye. Thereafter, she would not look at him. Was he intent on torturing himself by expecting more? His situation was not made better by Mrs Bennet, Mrs Philips, and Mrs Goulding, to whom Darcy had said no more than a dozen words over the whole of their acquaintance. They were seemingly determined to speak to him of Elizabeth. It was as though he were being punished for every misstep he had ever taken. If he did not have relief from his misery soon, he might be tempted to throw himself into the River Lea.

"Now, Mr Darcy, you take a seat at this table. My dear niece will see that you are entertained, will you not?" said Mrs Philips.

She directed the question at Elizabeth, who appeared to clench her jaw. Her eyes flickered towards him but went no further than his shoulder.

"Of course," she said, sounding irritated.

"She is such a good girl. What a delight she is to our entire family. My sister always says she is the most fortunate woman in the world to have such a daughter. If Mr Philips and I had had children of our own, I would have wanted a daughter just like Lizzy. I know Mrs Bennet takes it very hard that her girls will marry and go away, but I always tell her, it is her own fault for having such charming, capable girls. Naturally, they will attract very fine husbands, which is what any loving parent wants for their child."

"I thank you for the flattering portrayal, Aunt. You are very good," Elizabeth interjected, a puzzled expression clouding her countenance.

Mrs Philips giggled—rather silly for a lady her age, in Darcy's opinion—and after patting her niece's shoulder and grinning at him, went away. Elizabeth sighed and bowed her head, but an instant later, she was engaged in light conversation with the couple who shared the table with them. Darcy played poorly; he was too intent on studying the lady by his side. Even when the game required her to speak to him, she would not look at him and kept her shoulders turned away just enough to be noticeable.

Later in the evening, he was talking to Mr Stuart, one of the local gentlemen, when Mrs Goulding all but pushed her way into the conversation. She ignored Mr Stuart, who soon went to find someone who appreciated his company, Darcy supposed.

"Such a pleasant evening, is it not, sir?"

Mrs Goulding was at least a foot shorter than him, and as she stood close, Darcy's chin nearly touched his chest as he tilted it to see her. He could not step back; there was a wall behind him. It was no wonder he felt trapped.

"It is, madam."

"We are very glad you and Mr Bingley returned to the neighbourhood—some of us more than others."

Her eyes flickered to the side, and she might have winked at the same time; Darcy was not certain. Looking in the direction her gaze indicated, he expected to see Bingley and Miss Bennet. Instead, it was Elizabeth, who was especially lovely in a yellow gown. Her mood had evidently improved once she was no longer required to keep him company. She was chatting easily with several young people.

"I am arranging a little dinner party and will send cards soon. I do hope you will accept, Mr Darcy. I am quite counting on it," Mrs Goulding said.

"Of-of course. I shall be delighted. Thank y?—"

"Mr Goulding and I recently procured a new pianoforte. I am absolutely wild to have Miss Lizzy perform. You have heard her sing, I believe?" She did not pause to let him respond, though he did nod. "Does she not have the most exquisite voice?"

Darcy could not keep his eyes from again seeking out Elizabeth. If he responded, he was not aware of it, but it mattered not. Mrs Goulding left him to his memories. He had heard Elizabeth sing a number of times, but the first stood out to him. It had been at Lucas Lodge the previous autumn, and Darcy had been entranced. That was also the evening he had noticed the unique beauty of her eyes. There was so much life and expression in them, and he would give just about anything to spend the rest of his years staring into them, doing what he could to make them dance in merriment, flash in interest, grow warm in love, and how, he wondered, would they look when she was full of passion?

That was not a thought he should be having in a crowded parlour, if at all.

Still later, Mrs Bennet approached him, a lacy handkerchief clutched in her hand. Darcy noticed it because she kept her arms folded by her chest, almost as though she were cold or anxious.

"Oh, Mr Darcy, is this not a delightful evening? Everyone adores my sister's card parties. I was very glad when she told me she would have one and invite you."

"It was kind of her."

"I just happened to notice you sat beside my darling Lizzy." The expression she gave him was one of satisfaction.

"I had that pleasure."

"Lizzy excels at cards, but then, she is very capable. If I can be forgiven for crowing about my own daughter, my dear girl is very clever. I dare say that is not a surprise to you. She is such a help to me. No one else has her head for figures, and ever since she was such a little thing, she has liked nothing quite so much as reading about this and that." She chuckled awkwardly and her cheeks flushed. "I admit, I do not understand half of what she says some days. I suppose many parents feel that about their grown children, yet how can one possibly like to say it? My Mary makes me feel the same way, but not my other daughters. Odd, is it not, how five girls could be so different despite having the same parents and upbringing?"

Her voice trailed off, and for just a moment, she was more contemplative than Darcy had ever seen her—and to an extent he never would have imagined possible. She shook herself.

"What was I saying? Oh, yes, my Lizzy. She looks very fine tonight, if I say so myself. Jane is acknowledged as the beauty of the family, but all my girls are pretty."

"They are, indeed, Mrs Bennet," Darcy replied when the matron paused and waited for him to speak.

"Lizzy has something…different about her, does she not? I always thought it must be because she takes after her father. They are both so quick-witted, but while Lizzy does love a laugh, she is kind and, and…"

"Admirable." Darcy had not intended to speak, but it had slipped out when Mrs Bennet could not find the word to explain herself.

A broad grin spread across her face, and Darcy felt her tap his arm. "Just so. Well, I shall leave you to your contemplations."

Mrs Bennet might have given him a half-wink, as he thought Mrs Goulding had done earlier in the evening, but he was unsure. She wandered into the crowd.

Darcy began to feel as though he were in some bizarre dream where everyone about him knew he loved Elizabeth and was tormenting him by reminding him that he was not good enough for her.

Either that or they were trying to interest him in her. With Miss Bennet on the point of being engaged, Mrs Bennet wanted to see Elizabeth settled, and Darcy was an eligible match.

If that is their purpose, they might as well save their breath to cool their porridge.

He recalled Elizabeth saying something similar to him once. It had been at Lucas Lodge, that night he had heard her sing for the first time, and his attachment to her had sparked to life. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped before Darcy could stop it.