Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

L ady Courtney had a fine house filled with company that Darcy knew, but he was not in the mood to make small talk. He never excelled at it in the first place, and with his thoughts still distracted by L's sudden rejection and Elizabeth's abhorrence of him, he was not willing to put forth a strong effort.

His cousin was dancing with Mrs Sullivan, and Darcy knew Fitzwilliam wanted him to dance with his friend this evening. The last time he had danced at a ball was with Elizabeth, and he could still recall the curious stares of her neighbours upon seeing them. If he danced among this company, it would not be as remarkable, but it would still bring attention to Mrs Sullivan. As much as he disliked dancing, if he wanted to be more gentlemanly, he would also ask any lady he knew who was sitting down to dance.

"Darcy," a voice called through the din. He turned to see Bingley waving at him from the other side of the room near to the door. He had dressed before him and left to accompany his sisters. They were with him, along with Mr Hurst, and Darcy resigned himself to having to dance with both ladies. After he greeted them, he added, "Why are you standing all the way over here?"

"He wants a view of the entrance hall," Mrs Hurst said. She shared a look with her sister, and they both lifted their eyes. "He sent his chaise to bring his friends from Cheapside."

"They are your friends as well," Bingley said. "At least Miss Bennet is your particular friend."

Darcy knew his sisters certainly were not, but there was no point in saying that aloud. It was better to never see an affront if one could help it. He would do better to show Miss Bennet all the politeness and respect she deserved as the chosen bride of one of his closest friends.

He made fashionable talk with Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst while Bingley waited for the woman he would soon ask to marry him. The chit-chat kept off serious subjects, but he could expect little better at a ball.

"There they are," cried Bingley soon after.

Darcy turned to see the Gardiners and their nieces approach. Miss Bennet was a beautiful woman and would be considered beautiful regardless of her character. Elizabeth was pretty, but it was her liveliness, the intelligence in her eyes, her playful manner that enhanced her beauty.

He kept his eyes fixed on Elizabeth too much because Miss Bingley whispered to him, "I wonder if they have ever been amongst such exalted company in all their lives?"

He typically resisted women who forced themselves into his friendship. If admitted, they were a snare or an incumbrance, but there was no avoiding his friend's sister. Before the other party reached them, he said to her under his breath, "The Bennets and Gardiners could soon become your family, and it is unbecoming to speak against them."

Miss Bingley stiffened beside him, but turned it into a quick curtsey as the others arrived.

"How do you do, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth added after she had greeted everyone in a general way.

It surprised him to be addressed, and he only bowed, trying to keep a pleasant affect while not showing her any notice. She could not want it, and Miss Bingley would tease him later and repeat something or other about his admiration of her fine eyes.

"Have you read anything of interest lately?" Elizabeth continued. When he hesitated she added, "I misspoke when I told you I could hardly talk of books in a ballroom, so I hope you will humour me tonight."

Talking with Elizabeth was a painful reminder of how little she liked him. It would take longer for his heart to move on with her sister likely to marry his friend. But not engaging her in conversation would be rude. He could not avoid Miss Bingley, however little he liked her, and he could not avoid Elizabeth, however much he admired her in vain.

"Why do you not tell me what you are reading?" Hopefully she would name a book, he could say he had not read it, and be done with the conversation.

"Something by one of the Porter sisters. I know you enjoy their works." She paled and said, in a much higher pitch, "I mean, I assume you do, since I hear you are always buying books. I ought not to presume, of course. I enjoyed Thaddeus of Warsaw ." She gave a nervous laugh. "Do you even read novels?"

"I do." Why was Elizabeth awkward? It was unlike her. "And I have read Thaddeus of Warsaw , although The Hungarian Brothers written by her sister is my favourite."

"I like Thaddeus of Warsaw very much, but I will read the other on your recommendation. I will be cross with you if I learn you led me astray," she said, meeting his eye and smiling. "I am prepared to argue my point that Thaddeus is better, so you must not hold back in debate even though I am a lady."

He bowed again, wondering why she was being pleasant and sporting to him.

"I always thought silence became a lady best," Miss Bingley said, moving near to stand by him and face Elizabeth.

"But one must guard oneself against a proud and insulting silence," she said archly before turning to give him a small smile. "Silence should result from one's prudence and not the consequence of their pride."

Darcy could not help but smile back. She effortlessly charmed him, and she did not know the power she held over his heart. She must have forgiven him for his selfishness and pride if she could tease him about it so mildly. But did she truly believe that he wanted to be a better friend and a more generous man?

"A model woman would not want to debate with a man, that is all I meant," Miss Bingley pressed. "A model woman is rather silent in company. Like Miss Darcy," she said, looking at him. "It is her countenance that shows her interest, as only an observing eye could discern."

"My sister is shy," Darcy said. With a quick look at Elizabeth, he added, "She could do with a little more polite conversation."

"And how are your skills? Are you a suitable model for her?" Elizabeth asked.

She looked earnest rather than ready to mock him. "No," he said honestly . "I do not have the talent of conversing easily with strangers."

"But you are not shy," she said, "like you say Miss Darcy is. I never thought your conversation was lacking or unpleasant," she said with a winning smile. "But you could take the trouble to practise talking to strangers."

"So could my sister, but I think a lively young lady would be a far better model than me."

Elizabeth blushed and turned her head, and Darcy cringed. What was he doing? He had at this moment hinted that Elizabeth would be a good friend to his sister. It was true, but he had just made her uncomfortable with his insinuation. She was only speaking to him because she was polite and their circles now overlapped.

"Yes, dear Miss Darcy is a lovely girl. Look, there is your cousin," Miss Bingley said, pulling on his arm. "Let us greet him."

Fitzwilliam had just left the dance with Mrs Sullivan, and Miss Bingley overcame her dislike of Mrs Sullivan purely to avoid Elizabeth. Miss Bingley could make no headway in his talk with Mrs Sullivan, either. His cousin's new friend was determined to talk to him, and Fitzwilliam encouraged their conversation—and Darcy suspected why. When the music began again, he asked Mrs Sullivan to dance, and Miss Bingley reluctantly dropped his arm.

"I was not even sitting down," Mrs Sullivan said to him after they began. "I am honoured."

"I noticed you were eager to talk with me, and I thought that was best done away from my cousin's hearing."

When the dance brought them together again, she asked him what he could mean.

"You either want to talk to me about Fitzwilliam because you have some concern I could assuage, or you want to talk with me because you know I am one of his closest friends and he values my opinion."

He had made the hint, and Mrs Sullivan was astute enough to take it. "I wanted you to form your own decision about me, and I hoped to talk with you enough to give you the chance. I suspect his lordship and the rest of Fitzwilliam's family will only note that I am past the years of danger and my money comes from banking, and that I was briefly married a long time ago. They will not care how fond I have grown of your cousin or how bright I see our future together."

"And if I liked you for your own merits, then perhaps I could take Fitzwilliam's side when he tells his father he wants to marry a stranger he met through a subscription office, who is over thirty, and whose father was in some line of business?"

She agreed as the dance separated them. Fitzwilliam had attached himself to a woman through the subscription, and even more quickly than L had attracted him. Fitzwilliam's hints about having a dozen correspondents and a notebook to keep them straight were all bluster. And now he had fixed on Mrs Sullivan, who was intelligent enough to know that his friends would struggle to accept their union.

"Well?" she asked when they stood at the bottom together. "What can I do to bring you to my side?" She said it with a smile, but her tone and manner showed her anxiety over his answer.

He thought it rather soon to commit themselves, for they had known one another a fortnight. Mrs Sullivan was older and not as well-connected or conventionally beautiful as the women Fitzwilliam typically flirted with. But her countenance was pleasing, and made more so when she smiled, which was pretty much all the time. If Clara Sullivan was what Fitzwilliam wanted, so be it. He would not make the same mistake he had made with Bingley.

"There is nothing you need to do to convince me, madam. If my cousin wants to marry you, and you show him all the loyalty and devotion a wife ought, you will have no better friend than me."

She grinned. "Then I do not have to spend the rest of this dance convincing you of my merits and my faithfulness. We can resume talking about thoroughbred bloodlines like we did at The Green Park, which, I assure you, is a more interesting topic than my good qualities."

He laughed. "You will find a better conversant on horses in your chosen partner, but I can indulge you."

The rest of the dance passed pleasantly, and Darcy hoped his cousin would be happy with his choice. The resentment of his family or the indignation of the world would not be enough to stop Mrs Sullivan, and not his cousin either. He brought Mrs Sullivan back to Fitzwilliam and their friends, and, sadly, Miss Bingley was still with them. He would have to ask her to dance.

Fitzwilliam gave him a steady look as he approached, and Darcy thought he seemed nervous. He realised how important his approval was to his cousin, and how much his approval would help when he announced whom he was marrying. He felt anew all the shame in interfering in Bingley's happiness. Darcy gave his cousin a quick nod, trying to express his acceptance and approval in the crowded room.

Fitzwilliam understood him. He smiled to himself and laid a hand on Mrs Sullivan's arm, but her attention was caught elsewhere.

"If you will excuse me, I see a young lady by herself."

Darcy turned and saw that Mrs Sullivan noticed Elizabeth sitting alone. Where had Mrs Hurst or the Gardiners gone? Bingley and Miss Bennet were dancing, and so were the Gardiners. Mr Hurst had likely gone to the card room, and he saw Mrs Hurst gossiping with another group farther away. He shook his head. Mrs Hurst had left Elizabeth there, in a room where she knew not a soul, and had not even bothered to introduce her to anyone.

He thought how disappointed Elizabeth had been by his rejection at the assembly, and how it had clouded her perception of him as a gentleman. He would ask her to dance, but he was now obliged to dance with Miss Bingley. It would be another half an hour before he could talk to Elizabeth. Even though she disliked him, he hoped his company would be preferable to being alone.

At the last ball she went to, Elizabeth wanted to dance all night with Wickham even though it would have come to nothing. And now she hoped for Darcy to see her as an eligible young lady who could make him happy. She wanted to dance with him, and deep down she wanted to conquer what remained unsubdued of his heart, which was arguably all of it.

And considering he might detest me for accusing him of being a horrible person, it could be a very long night.

Mrs Hurst could not abandon her fast enough once the others had joined the dance, and she had found a seat nearby to wait. Elizabeth then saw Darcy ask Mrs Sullivan to dance, and although he looked serious at the beginning, then he laughed and smiled at her through all the rest.

Elizabeth felt a twisting sickness in her stomach, watching him hold hands with Mrs Sullivan and look into her eyes.

Knowing how eager he had been to meet L, she knew she had a pre-engaged heart to attack, but seeing Darcy with another woman felt different. He might still mourn L's loss, but Elizabeth was L, so how hard could it be to convince Fitzwilliam Darcy that Elizabeth Bennet could answer for his lasting happiness? Remarkably harder than she expected if he was dancing and laughing with another lady.

When the dance finished, she watched them return to their friends, but immediately after, Mrs Sullivan broke away and approached her. After asking if Miss Elizabeth remembered her from The Green Park, she asked if she could sit by her side.

"I thought you could keep me company until my friends return," she added.

Mrs Sullivan was plainly choosing to keep her company, but was too polite to say so. It made it difficult to dislike her for dancing with Darcy when she was so considerate. It was a kind gesture, especially for someone she had just met. Elizabeth watched Darcy ask Miss Bingley to dance. That was done out of politeness, but had he asked Mrs Sullivan out of affection?

"You are welcome to join me," Elizabeth said, removing her eyes from Darcy, "but please do not let me keep you from your friends."

"I should be honest. They are Colonel Fitzwilliam's friends. I am relatively new in town, you know, and eager to make friends now that I am on my own."

"I am sorry for your loss. Has your mourning kept you at home and away from London?"

"Thank you. I nursed my father for years, you know, at the seaside. He had been in banking, quite successful. I was his only child, and he left me fifteen thousand pounds, and the house in Harley Street. But between my first husband's death and my father's long illness, I have been away from society since I was twenty-four."

Elizabeth could tell her new acquaintance did not want her pity, and so she tried not to show it. "How fortunate you are well-provided for. Have you become reacquainted with your former connexions?"

Mrs Sullivan made a face and shook her head. "I think too much time has passed for most of them. Now that my father is dead—and I miss him, certainly—but now that he has passed, I can make my own friends without his interference and opinion. I hope I can count you among them, Miss Bennet?" Her voice lifted hopefully.

"If you are able to visit Cheapside, you would be very welcome to call," she said. If Mrs Sullivan wanted to be her friend, she ought to know her connexions. "I am staying with my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street."

She waved a hand. "Oh, you cannot think a Harley Street direction has gone to my head. We started as a country bank, you know, before moving to town when I was a child, and our first bank was in Lombard Street. You have a friendly face and a dislike of some of the superior ladies—I can tell—so I hope you will not think me forward in saying I would be glad to call."

Elizabeth had assumed her to be a woman of fortune, and not less pleased with herself for having those fifteen thousand pounds and a wealth of life experience. In Mrs Sullivan's person, there was nothing remarkable, aside from a charming smile. After seeing her interest in Darcy, Elizabeth wanted her to have an excess of undeserved vanity, and with only the empty appearance of knowledge, but Mrs Sullivan was delightful. Mrs Sullivan might be too bold for polite society, but she was friendly, sincere, and likeable.

It was no wonder Darcy laughed and smiled while they danced.

As jealous as she felt, she was not about to forsake the possibility of a new friend. "You are very welcome to call," Elizabeth said. "I am in town until the first week of March when I leave to visit other friends, and then I return to my family in Hertfordshire in May. Have you any other family?"

"No near relation living. It is rather freeing, you know."

She thought this was a curious thing to say. "I am afraid that I do not. My family has their faults, to be sure, but they are all dear to me."

"Of course," Mrs Sullivan cried. "What I meant is that my family is dead. I am of age—by quite a lot, you know—and I can finally make choices for myself, without a father or another man to decide for me or influence my choice."

Elizabeth sighed over the truth of it. It was so difficult to be a woman sometimes. "I understand wanting more agency than men typically allow us."

"Can I tell you a secret?" she went on. "I know we just met, but I am simply bursting, and you have such a kind face. You are young, so you cannot know how I feel, but I am weary of the season already. Not being asked to dance anymore as I grow older made me realise?—"

"Mr Darcy asked you to dance," Elizabeth said quickly, hoping she did not sound jealous.

"He is a new friend, or rather, I hope he will become one. I like him already. But I am not asked to dance any longer. I am allowed to be out on my own on account of my age and my previous marriage, which is both liberating and lonely. I would like to marry again, but I know I am not beautiful, and it would be dreadful to marry a man who thinks my fortune is my sole recommendation."

"Yes, it would," she managed to say, still caught on hearing Mrs Sullivan say how much she liked Darcy. "I am surprised you did not remarry before your father became ill, when you were nearer to my age. You are very good-natured and had that fortune when you were young."

Mrs Sullivan blushed and shook her head sadly. "My first marriage was a foolish one, and one made too young, you know. I mourned him, but never truly missed him. My father insisted I was worthy of someone of greater consequence, given how he had raised himself and the circles we moved amongst, and after my first poor choice, I conceded to his wishes. He never approved of any gentleman. And then he became ill, and I had to care for him. And here I am, you know, at thirty-one with no family of my own. You want to marry, do you not? Although I would hate to assume."

Elizabeth smiled to herself. Mrs Sullivan did a great deal of assuming, but she still answered, "I do, someday, and I want to make my own choice."

"I as well, and have children, and be liked for myself and not my fortune, so do you know what I did?"

Elizabeth leant forward, intrigued. She could not help but like Mrs Sullivan and was curious to know what she had done.

"Miss Bennet?"

They both looked up to see Darcy standing in front of them. She had stopped watching the dance and had lost track of where he was.

"Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

Her heart beat an unsteady rhythm and her mouth gaped, but she recovered in what she hoped was enough time for Darcy to not believe she was reluctant. She was only excessively surprised that he asked her. "Yes, certainly." She rose and then looked back at Mrs Sullivan. "But I hate to leave Mrs Sullivan alone."

"Oh, do not mind me," she said. "I am old enough to be left all alone, single or not."

Darcy said something or other to Mrs Sullivan about where Colonel Fitzwilliam was, but Elizabeth could hardly listen. Her heart was pounding. She might not have another moment all night to have Darcy's undivided attention.

Darcy's heart might not be easily won, and not if his thoughts were with L or Mrs Sullivan, but she could encourage him. She thought of what to say, smiling at him while they took their place in the set. He looked at her curiously, and she stopped grinning and staring. He probably wondered why she was smiling at him so much when she had never even bothered to pay him any attention before.

"I thought you were not fond of dancing," she blurted. He looked at her askance, and she regretted that was what she thought to say. "I mean, thank you for asking me."

"I would not want to be selfish or ungentlemanly and ignore a lady sitting down at a ball." For a moment, she feared he was angry, but he smiled and gave her a knowing look. "I have learnt a valuable lesson."

After dancing a while in silence, she wondered if Darcy had ever had a true hope of marrying through the service or if it was done purely to appease his cousin. Maybe she could learn a little about what he was looking for in a wife.

"So, the matchmaking subscription is still in business, it seems." He nodded. "If, if you met someone through such a means"—she took a large breath—"what quality would you want to be certain your correspondent had?" He would describe some quality L had, and then she could make him see that Elizabeth Bennet shared the same characteristic.

"Honesty," he answered when the dance brought them back together.

"Honesty?" She could not hide her surprise. "Not humour or intelligence? What woman would even countenance lying to you while writing with the intention of marrying? It would all come out when you met in person."

"I do not purely mean honest in the sense of not lying, but in the sense that we could say anything to one another."

"You want an honest attachment, a true affection?" she asked, holding out hope that he might find that with her.

"Yes, but more than that. The truth is often painful, and nothing but strict truth can carry you through life with honour and credit. I would entrust my fortune and my happiness to another person if I marry, and I would only do that if we could be entirely honest with one another."

He looked a little embarrassed by what he admitted. Elizabeth's heart began pounding wildly. She had not been honest. Darcy was such a direct person, and his seriousness only amplified it. What would he think of her integrity if he learnt she was L all along and never admitted the truth?

When she could think of nothing to say that would prove her own honest character, he asked, "May I ask your opinion of my cousin's friend, Mrs Sullivan?"

Elizabeth's heart sank further to hear him ask about her. "She is a sprightly, chatty woman. I am inclined to like her."

He smiled and looked over the dancers to look at Mrs Sullivan, who had found Colonel Fitzwilliam. Was that fondness in his eyes as he looked at Mrs Sullivan? "She is eager to make friends. I am not sure if her manner and her connexions will win her many in London, however."

"There is a great sincerity behind her forwardness, I believe."

He agreed. "I do not mind it, although, as Miss Bingley hinted, most would say that a woman had better say too little in company than too much."

"True," she said. "My mother always told us that a forwardness to join in conversation with men when the topic rolled on politics, learning, or science would cause us to be thought pert."

"You never shy from sharing your opinions with me," he said, when the dance brought them together again.

"Maybe I ought to conceal the little learning I have, and some of my opinions too, but I think you are a man of genuine sense." She gave Darcy a warm smile and looked directly into his eyes. "So I know you won't look at me with a jealous or malignant eye if I share an informed opinion, even if it is contrary to yours."

She did not aim to flatter him, but Darcy was a sensible man, and sensible men seldom fell her way. She dearly hoped that she could show this one what he meant to her. She ignored the fact that she had not been honest enough for a man of Darcy's character. Surely, there was no real need for him to know that she was L?

"You are welcome to argue with me as you please," he said, but his attention seemed elsewhere.

"Mr Darcy, I might disagree with you, but you should know it is not out of spite, at least not any longer."

He nodded, but Elizabeth felt as though he did not truly hear her. Perhaps her defence of Wickham hurt him more than she realised. How could she have any chance of earning his respect if she never apologised? If she was afraid to be honest about being L, she could at least be honest in expressing her regret.

As they waited at the bottom, she said, "While I have this moment with you, please allow me to apologise."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "For what?"

It felt like she had a thousand things to apologise for. That she was sorry for being L, sorry for not showing up in the park and for the disappointment he felt, sorry for believing Wickham, and for all the unkindness she had shown Darcy.

Sorry for not having the courage to tell him she was L.

"For everything I said to you at Mrs Hurst's," she murmured. "I was wrong, and I am sorry that my foolish defence of that man hurt you. And I should never have said you were not a gentleman. I do not know you as well as I thought, and certainly not as well as I want to."

Darcy's gaze sharpened, as though seeing her for the first time. He looked her up and down, and she wondered if he approved or if he thought her a strange creature. She tried to show all the regret she felt as she met his eye, and all the hope that he might see her as a woman he would want to marry.

"Your accusation was ill-founded," he said slowly, "formed on mistaken premises, but I need to act in a more gentlemanly manner. There is nothing to forgive."

"I hope," she stammered, "I hope that, that we can move forward in friendship."

He bowed and held out an arm to escort her back to her friends. When they were nearly there he said quietly, "I am sorry I did not dance with you in Meryton, and am exceedingly sorry that I called you tolerable when you are in truth a handsome woman."

Darcy left her with the Gardiners and went to join another party before Elizabeth could reply to such a statement. She watched him talk to other friends before finding Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs Sullivan. Her heart sank as she saw Darcy ask Mrs Sullivan to dance the supper set. It was more notice than she had ever seen him give any woman, and even more gazes followed them as they took their place in the set.

Elizabeth felt wretched for the rest of the evening. He had said he found her handsome so honestly, but there was no warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, bowed, and left. When would Darcy look at her with the same yearning she felt for him?