Chapter Seven

The next morning began drizzly and grey, and proceeded to a full thunderstorm with rain pelting the windows, rattling gusts of wind, lightning threatening all the trees, and the housekeeper making dire pronouncements about flooding in the fields when she delivered steaming tea to the drawing room.

“From your early return,” Miss Bingley said to Darcy, not looking at him as she stirred the tea, “I see you did not find the company at Mrs. Phillips’s card party convivial. I warned you that you would not.”

Elizabeth had been justified in the annoyance that she had directed towards him.

When the conversation paused, Darcy realized that Miss Bingley studied him, waiting for a reply. “On the contrary, the company was all that was expected.”

Miss Bingley stared at him, and then she smiled at him, “All that was expected.” She laughed with a false tone to the sound. “That has never been our experience here. We had been informed that the Bennet sisters were all great beauties. But the report far outran the reality. Did it not? Miss Bennet especially, a great beauty? I would sooner call her mother a wit.”

“Mrs. Collins is an angel,” Bingley said. He had a quiet tone to his voice, rather than his usual jocularity. “I dare say she is the loveliest creature I have ever beheld.”

“Oh, Mrs. Collins!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “I do not speak of her . But Miss Bennet is no great beauty. She is too brown, too like a harridan, and too — there is something in her manner, in her tone of speaking, her air and way of expressing herself which cannot please a well-bred person.”

Darcy did not reply.

Emily slowly snacked her way through the biscuit which he’d given her, leaving crumbs over her clothes and the tablecloth.

“Mr. Darcy, I think you once found Miss Bennet handsome. But now that you have seen more of her, I cannot imagine you still think so.”

Darcy sharply pushed his chair back, the wood of its legs scratching loudly along the wood of the floor.

Emily looked up at him, surprised that he’d moved so fast, and after a second handed him her biscuit with a huge smile. “Pa-pa.”

“Yes, sweetling.” Darcy took the biscuit. “Do you wish me to eat it?” The girl pointed at Darcy’s mouth, and he replied, “I shall eat it.”

“Pa-pa!”

Darcy took a bite, and as he’d half expected, Emily squealed in frustration and grabbed the rest of the snack out of his hand, looking at him in a disappointed manner.

It made his heart feel lighter. He then looked once more at Miss Bingley, who still waited for his reply. “I do find Miss Bennet handsome,” Darcy said. “She is the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”

Bingley looked up from his tea with a surprised expression. “Hear, hear. Darcy expressing appreciation for a woman?”

Darcy grimaced.

Miss Bingley had a sort of struck look to her eyes. She frowned down at her tea, and when Emily smiled happily and pushed the last crumbs from her biscuit into the leg of Miss Bingley’s dress, the woman stood up suddenly, pushing Emily away, and crying, “Oh, leave me be, you beastly creature.”

She fled the room, and Emily started sobbing.

Filled with a sense of anger at Bingley’s sister, Darcy scooped his child up and held her to his shoulder. “There, there, my sweet. There, there.”

Emily calmed immediately, while Darcy’s anger with his host’s sister did not.

What had she been about treating Emily in such a way?

Upon looking once more around the room, Darcy saw that Bingley frowned, but in a somehow cheerful manner.

Mrs. Hurst had a pinched look when she looked at Darcy.

Bingley said, “Poor Caro, but perhaps she will at last realize that you’ve no interest in her.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Darcy, my dear fellow,” Mr. Bingley said, “even you cannot fail realize my sister had set her cap at you?”

“Charles!” Mrs. Hurst exclaimed. “Do not talk about our sister in such a vulgar way.”

Bingley shrugged. “I’d have been happy enough if you’d liked her, of course. Surprised, but happy.”

Oh.

Darcy still bounced Emily up and down. She settled against his chest and turned her head to watch the rain and the waving of the trees in the wind. “That gives her no cause to treat my child unkindly.”

“Hmph.” Mrs. Hurst rose to follow her sister out of the room. “You ought not foist her upon everyone, every day, as though we all enjoy the screaming of brats and their tricks and pranks.”

This left Darcy blinking.

Bingley laughed. “Do not take that serious. I like having Emily around all the time. She is darling, are you not, dear? You are darling. They are only upset.”

“I never gave your sister the slightest hint that I might marry her. In fact, I have firmly stated on all appropriate occasions that I would not marry again.”

“Doesn’t matter. The mind of a woman always makes a fantasy of the situation. They hope, even when cause for hope does not exist. Besides…”

“Yes,” Darcy bit off.

He let Emily down, so that she could run towards the sofa to climb on it, as she’d been practicing for the past week.

“I dare say that Caro takes the presence of a rival more seriously than a declaration of disinterest in marriage.”

“Miss Bennet is not her rival. Because I shall not marry Miss Bennet, because I shall not marry again. Miss Bennet knows this. I have told her that I shall not marry again.”

“Poor girl. It is a wonder she can tolerate you.” Bingley leaned back in the chair, stretched his legs out, and sighed.

“We are friends, and she has no expectations.”

“Upon my honour, it is a sad pity. You’d be happy, the two of you together.”

“That is not my concern.”

“It is a sad, sad pity. You might marry a woman you like very much, but do not because you are — no, not a fool. You are too… certain of yourself to be a fool. It is a pity.” A look of pain and sadness crossed Bingley’s face. “And then I — but it is no use mourning that which never could be.”

“What do you mean?”

Bingley waved that away. “Deuced unfortunate that it’s so cloudy. Dare say it will rain till tomorrow. So much for the planned fox hunt. Tally-no, instead of Tally-ho. I hope the roads will at least be dry enough to not scare anyone away from the ball on Tuesday.”

The next days were difficult for Darcy.

They were not wholly bad, of course; Miss Bingley’s obsequious treatment of him and Emily had been transformed into cold civility and tolerance.

The rain, as it alternated from drenching to drizzling kept them from hunting and riding, but the gentlemen enjoyed truly excellent rounds of snooker, bouts of fencing, and games of cards. A book upon the agriculture of Hertfordshire in the Netherfield library, which he had absently opened, was quite excellent, and it kept him wholly occupied for two evenings after Emily had been put to sleep.

But his mind refused to stop worrying that Elizabeth would marry Mr. Sykes.

Emily grew more difficult and rambunctious as the days of enforced confinement continued.

His daughter thrived on green and dirt, and she was not amused by her inability to go outside. During the second day of rain, Emily spent ten minutes in the hallway sobbing and pointing at the door.

Darcy at last bundled her up tightly, donned his own boots, and tramped about in the soaking rain for a half hour. It only took five minutes before she accepted that he would not put her down to roll about in the mud, soak herself to the bone, and jump up and down in the puddles.

Day by day Emily’s baby running stride was faster, more stable, and more volatile. She had also developed an improved ability to find fragile objects.

Emily usually did not break such objects, not having the temperament that took joy in tossing glass hard to the floor simply to observe the shattering. But it was nerve wracking to find her playing with a fine China cup that he’d put down on the table just thirty seconds before.

Due to this rain, Darcy did not see Elizabeth again before the day of the Netherfield ball.

Anything, any sort of disaster could have happened during this period. He did not like that she was resident in a house where Mr. Sykes also was present. He liked far less the idea that Mr. Sykes was the suitor chosen by her family. Did they not see, by intuition if nothing else, how ridiculous such a pairing was?

Thus, when the day of Bingley’s ball came, and the weather cleared, and the roads dried sufficiently for carriages to move about, Darcy awaited the arrival of the Bennet — or was it Collins? — party at the ball with anxiety.

The preparations for the ball delighted Emily all through the day, and she ran about in the main ballroom once it was opened and decorated, darting from one side of the room to the other, holding in one hand coloured silk ribbons from the stand that had been set up for the band, and in the other hand a flower stolen from a vase.

A bouncing, happy little creature, shrieking and smiling, and all delight with all the world.

Soon enough the crush would arrive, and Emily would need to be kept under close supervision. Emily’s nurse stayed downstairs watching her as the guests began to arrive. When the number of attendees became sufficiently large that a toddling child would be much underfoot, Nell would pick Emily up to keep her safe. However, Darcy had promised his daughter that if she did not cry, she could watch the first dance before being put up to bed.

It was quite possible that the young child had not understood any of that promise, and even if she had there was a decent chance she would drift to sleep in Nell’s arms, or his own, before the appointed time.

Shortly after the house had been opened for guests, the Bennets arrived.

Elizabeth looked much as she usually did, smiling, warmly pleased to see Darcy, and with a cheerful manner. He knew her manner might hide difficulties, but he also was warmed by it. Then Sykes came up to her and paraded her into the room on his arm. He could see from Elizabeth’s reaction that she found the gentleman annoying, but Darcy did not think that her manner showed any fear towards him, and there was no pretence of attachment on her part.

Hands were shaken with all of the party, and Darcy smiled at Elizabeth.

He could not ask her any of what he wished then. Not with Mr. Sykes next to her, and behind them Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet.

The Bennets passed in, and Darcy turned to the Goulds and shook their hands. He was tempted to excuse himself from the greeting line now that the only guest who he really had looked forward to seeing was present.

The determination to stay in place only lasted another minute, as it was not anchored in any strong sense of duty.

After Darcy shook hands with Mrs. Long and each of her nieces, and then bowed to them, he said to Bingley that he was going to retreat from the line.

Bingley laughed. “Hope to speak to Miss Bennet again? — no, no. You need not tell me again. You have no feelings at all for any woman, except the memory of Anne.”

Darcy flushed, and he was disconcerted to have had such a speech made to him, especially when some member of the neighbourhood had likely heard part of it.

Without replying he hurried into the ballroom.

Upon entering, his eyes immediately cast over the room, seeking Elizabeth.

He saw Emily running over to Elizabeth. Elizabeth squatted so she could smile and talk to the girl at her height, while Mr. Sykes spoke once more to Miss Lucas.

Smiling at seeing Elizabeth with his daughter, Darcy walked towards them. However, both Colonel Forster and Sir William intercepted him, and distracted Darcy from his course with the necessity of mouthing polite nothings.

Then Emily started crying, and Darcy had his excuse to hurry over.

Darcy felt no embarrassment about this. Young children cried, it was their nature. He was passably certain he had cried frequently at the same age. To deny the right for children to cry seemed to Darcy as adjacent to denying the right for humanity in general, and the offended person in particular, to exist.

He always tried to immediately comfort Emily when she cried, as he was not convinced by those theories claiming that leaving a child to cry sometimes was a necessity in developing their character.

Elizabeth picked Emily up and held her while murmuring something to the child. A little to Darcy’s surprise, Emily settled without protest.

“And there is Papa,” Elizabeth said to the girl as Darcy approached her.

Seeing him, Emily reached out her arms for Darcy to take her, and Elizabeth laughed. “I am not the favoured one.”

Darcy held Emily, kissed her on the top of her head, and asked, “Are you having a fine evening, Miss Em-Em?”

With her small ehn sounding grunt, Emily replied that she was. She then reached her arms back towards Elizabeth, and laughing, Darcy handed the girl back to her.

“I am not the favourite either.”

After this Emily demanded to be passed between them three times, before she finally settled in Elizabeth’s arms and pressed her head against her shoulder.

“Ha,” Elizabeth exclaimed when it was clear that Emily was done with the game. “Sweet victory.”

They made such a picture. Darcy felt a rush of affection for Elizabeth at seeing how well she managed with Emily.

“What is your present situation?” Darcy asked, his earlier anxiety about Mr. Sykes returning.

Elizabeth made a tiny shrug. Emily nestled closer against her and made a small sigh.

“Nothing of interest.”

“Nothing?” Darcy held her eyes.

Elizabeth glanced to see that Miss Lucas and Mr. Sykes were far enough away in their conversation that she could speak without being overheard. She then lowered her voice, “Lord! I have listened to the drunken ramblings of that man for five days straight. Barely any walk to break the monotony. Never has bad weather been so ill-timed. Though I wish to pretend that no such disaster shall ever befall, like as not he’ll ask me to marry before he and Collins return to Kent.”

“And…” Darcy began to ask, “What shall you do?”

“You know I shall not marry him,” Elizabeth replied snappishly. “Five days of this style of courting has only cemented the dislike. I’d happily have taken Collins over him.”

“I apologize for my presumption in asking,” Darcy replied, still studying her intently, and watching her expressions to see if there was anything wavering in them.

“You worry.” Elizabeth smiled at him warmly. “A mark of the friendship you feel towards me. I shall refuse to feel annoyed — we shall have a grand argument when the time comes. I hardly know how the whole shall go when Mr. Collins begins to insist — do not look at me with such anxiety. I have already begged and received an invitation from my aunt and uncle in London to retreat tither should my situation at home become untenable.”

“You have a sure route to escape, and as my military cousin would say, you have ensured the supplies along the route.” The tension in Darcy’s shoulders loosened. “The relations in trade? Are they good people?”

Emily had fallen asleep on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Seeing the comfort his daughter felt with Elizabeth made the warmness in his heart towards her burn white and hot.

“The relations in trade—” Elizabeth laughingly mimicked his voice. “You have a little snobbery. The best of persons. You would like them. Though Uncle Gardiner is my mother’s brother, he is far cleverer and more sensible than either of his sisters. He was a dear friend of my father, and his wife is one of my favourite persons in the whole world. It would be preferable if I never need to be a burden upon them, but I trust them to offer a pleasant home and situation.”

Mr. Sykes approached them. He had a jovial sneer. “Mr. Darcy, I demand my partner for the dance from you, and from the brat.”

Darcy frowned.

“I appreciated Miss Darcy’s earlier serenade of the crowd. Sobs in G minor was the piece, was it not? She was in fine form — but though they will be overshadowed by the memory of your spawn’s raucous shrieks, you can see that the professionals begin their music .”

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Sykes in a manner that put Darcy to mind of the time that he had looked at a very young puppy of Georgiana’s who had peed upon his favourite slippers. At last Elizabeth sighed and handed Emily carefully over to Darcy. “The dear creature has fallen asleep.”

“I shall go upstairs and put her to bed,” Darcy said. “Poor Emily, I’d promised she might see the first dance, but that was longer than she could last.”

Darcy carefully climbed the stairs holding Emily, with Nell following.

He did not wish to watch Elizabeth dancing with Mr. Sykes.

Even though she had a planned escape to London, she might be compelled to marry the gentleman. He could not be really confident about what she would do when faced directly with the consequences of defying the man upon whose goodwill her family depended.

Darcy took extra time placing Emily down and seeing that she was comfortably ensconced in the crib with her pillow and blankets. He watched his child with a warm smile.

The hollow feeling remained in his stomach.

Darcy only left when Nell said, “You’d best return to your entertainments, Mr. Darcy. The little one will sleep perfectly well, and I’ll be here if she wakes.”

Instead of heading directly back to the ballroom, Darcy took his way down a different set of stairs, and he walked by the library.

He needed quiet.

A strong emotion filled him. He could not describe it, and he hardly understood. It was about Elizabeth, it was about seeing her holding Emily until she fell asleep, and it was about watching her walk off to dance with another man.

He could not wish to give a name to the warmth that filled him when he thought about Elizabeth, nor the anger when he thought about Mr. Sykes.

He was not wholly under his own control.

Two horses, one straining towards the base, the earthly, and the vile, the other towards the heavens, and beauty, and the spiritual.

But which horse was which?

Darcy no longer knew.

Angry voices came up the hall. “You will do as I say. You will not antagonize my friend, and you will marry him if he is so kind as to still make you the offer.”

Mr. Collins pulled Elizabeth by the arm, while Mr. Sykes strolled behind, with a slight drunken stagger. He grinned like a cobra. Darcy stood in a dimmer corner and the group could not see him as they stopped.

Elizabeth stepped away from both gentlemen and glared without saying anything at the two.

“You will marry him,” cried Mr. Collins. “I am the senior man of your family, and I tell you to marry him.”

No reply from Elizabeth.

Mr. Collins added, “I promise you, I will have you thrown out. You will starve in the hedgerows. All your family as well. Is this how my generosity is to be repaid? Is this how my kindness is to be repaid? I did not need to marry your sister. I did not need to give you and your family a place to live. I still do not need to. And you defy me?”

“My hand in marriage is not yours to determine, but mine.”

“I am in the place of your father!” Then in a low tone, which attempted to menace, and which had echoes of Lady Catherine’s habitual tones, he said, “Cousin Elizabeth, I am most seriously displeased.”

Darcy stepped into the flickering light of the candelabra. He angrily interposed himself between Elizabeth and her cousin. “I am most seriously displeased as well. Have you taken leave of your senses, Collins?”

“Mr. Darcy, as much as I respect you as the honoured nephew of my benefactor, this is a family matter.”

“I am most deeply disappointed to find that someone who is so closely connected to the estate of my daughter acts as you do.” Mr. Darcy was filled with rage at him. “I promise you, I will not forget this.”

Mr. Collins paled. “Mr. Darcy, I do have respect for your opinions. But you are a father. Do you not agree that a daughter should show a filial respect and piety to the wishes of the man God has set above her, and—”

“ You are not Elizabeth’s father. And I would wish my daughter to show no respect at all to a fool who has not the slightest concern for her happiness or wellbeing.”

“Now, now. Mr. Darcy, surely you know about Lady Catherine’s opinions on how daughters are to be raised.”

Mr. Sykes watched Darcy with a tilted head.

Elizabeth looked between them all with wide eyes. She was trembling slightly, and her face was pale.

“As for you, Mr. Sykes.” Darcy stepped towards the man. He was quite prepared to slap him and demand satisfaction, though Darcy did not know for what insult.

Sykes backed up. He laughingly raised his hands. “No, no, no! Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet is a fine looking girl. Pretty and full of spirit. But I’m not fool enough to fight you over her. If you want to have her, you might enjoy her without anything said to the contrary by me . As great entertainment as it would have been to break her like a wild horse, I have ample sources for entertainment in other places.” Mr. Sykes bowed to Mr. Collins. “Apologies, old fellow, but I must remove myself from the lists. Darcy’s lance is too long and accurate. Hope he’ll come up to scratch for you, but even if he will not, I am done. I’ve more than one girl who has agreed to dance with me in the other room. Buh-bye.”

Collins looked in confusion between the two of them after Mr. Sykes left the hallway. “Surely not. Mr. Darcy, you know that you must build your life as a sacred shrine to the memory of the sainted Anne de Bourgh, and—”

“He does not mean to marry me,” Elizabeth said quietly. “He has after all promised himself to never marry, and he does not break his promises. You need not worry, nor hope.”

“What you ought to worry about,” Darcy said, “is that I will find a way to make your life difficult in Hunsford if I hear that you have made Miss Bennet’s life difficult, or that of her family, because she did not choose to marry as you ordered her to.”

“Mr. Darcy, you know that I am the loyal servant of your aunt. She hoped to see Mr. Sykes find a good wife. One who would not, perhaps, allow him to drink so much. And Miss Elizabeth lives under the pole of my tent. It is my place to dispose of her as I will—”

“I am determined to live in London with my aunt and uncle,” Elizabeth said clearly. “No more living under your Abrahamic authority. I shall return with them after they visit for Christmas.”

“Oh, oh. But…”

Darcy wanted to snarl at the gentleman.

Rather to his surprise Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm. “I am promised to dance this next with Mr. Darcy,” she said. “You two may continue this conversation, if you so wish, afterwards.”

“What, of course. Even though I am a clergyman, I am so far from objecting to dancing myself that I have already danced a set with my dear wife, and I mean to dance with each of my fair cousins in turn. Miss Elizabeth, would you dance with me after your dance with…”

Elizabeth pulled Darcy away from Mr. Collins. She smiled at him. “I would have preferred for you to not see such a scene of family bickering.”

“I cannot see you in trouble and not seek to help you.”

She looked down. “I promise. I would have managed without your help. It may have been better — the tempest will likely continue tomorrow. Mr. Collins and my mother will be most unhappy with me.”

“If they harm you… I will do anything in my power to ensure you are well.”

“Would you?” Elizabeth looked up at him sharply, they paused at the door into the ballroom. Her eyes studied him. Then she smiled slightly and shook her head, opening the door, and walking away. “I dare say you would not, but it is kind of you to say so much.”

“What do you mean?”

“To the dance line! To the dance line!” Elizabeth’s eyes did not meet his, and she forced a smile, but Darcy thought there was something else there. They walked up, and she surreptitiously pressed her fingers against her eyes once, as though pressing back tears.

“Elizabeth, I mean Miss Bennet, what is the matter?”

They stood across from each other, waiting for the music to start. “And now you call me Elizabeth?” She smiled at him. “You make it difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why? Why do you do such things?” She gave him that warm smile again. “You cannot mean them.”

The dance began, and Darcy followed the steps of the dance. He had been well trained, and he had always had an excellent physical instinct that let him catch the tone of these movements easily. It was also what made him so excellent at pool, fencing and hunting. His body simply did what it ought when at dance.

Elizabeth was beautiful. Her long neck, her hair done in a simple style without curls, but with several flowers woven through. The rouge gave an extra pink hue to her cheeks. Her white flashing teeth when she smiled at him. The bright promising eyes.

They did not speak for several minutes.

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked. “What have I been doing?”

She smiled at him, her eyes warm. “No, no. Let us discuss something else.”

“Books?”

She laughed, the sound merry. Her fingers were delicate yet strong. Her chest and collarbone were exposed by the ballgown. The glowing skin was whiter and less tanned than her neck, but effort had been made with cosmetic to smooth out any brown line. Her elegant foot, in a white dancing slipper. Elizabeth’s stocking-clad ankle.

The violin made a twisting tilting sound. The air was filled with the scent of wine and many bodies. Darcy’s heart beat hard.

“I cannot discuss books in a ballroom,” Elizabeth said. “My mind is always too full of something else.”

“If you cannot discuss books, you might satisfy my curiosity,” Darcy replied. He smiled, but he felt a paradoxical anxiousness at seeing how high her spirits were.

“You might satisfy my curiosity. Why are you so concerned with my welfare?”

Darcy was surprised at the question.

The dance separated them. They stepped through the figures. He was then back next to Elizabeth. They walked side by side, as the squares shifted. “I admire you. You strive to be happy. You are strong and willing to defend yourself. And… your cleverness.”

She brightened and looked at him in an odd way. A smile formed around her face.

Darcy added hurriedly, “Anyone would be concerned with the wellbeing of such a friend as I have found in you.”

She smiled back at him, but then looked down.

The dance ended.

Mr. Collins was standing by the wall with Mrs. Bennet, they watched him and Elizabeth. Mr. Sykes was happily nowhere to be seen. Bingley was on the dance floor once more with Elizabeth’s sister, Mrs. Collins. They were near eyeball to eyeball in how they looked at each other.

There was something like a great sadness in Darcy’s heart at the sight.

Elizabeth took his arm and led him to the punch bowl, and he gave her a glass and then poured one for himself. He had an odd awareness of how close she stood to him. She wore a light perfume that made him lightheaded.

His heart pounded. He did not know why. He did know why.

Elizabeth’s eyes. On him. That same mysterious smile played around her lips. She took a sip from her punch glass. “The air is far too hot and stuffy in here.”

He nodded.

Darcy’s stomach ached, like he’d been thrown from a careening carriage, or fallen from a great height.

They stepped out onto a balcony. Darcy leaned against the marble balustrade while Elizabeth sat on the bench and studied him.

She took a large swallow of her punch and then put it aside on the floor next to her. “Mr. Darcy, I…” She let out a long breath.

A sudden burst of anxiety.

Elizabeth looked down as she spoke. “When you say that you admire me, I suspect… wonder… if you mean something more.”

She darted a brief glance at him, and then looked down again, clasping her hands together.

He could not speak.

Ask her to marry you, you fool .

That voice in his head again. The one that wanted to seize happiness that he did not deserve.

He had been too obvious in his interest in her, he had aroused hopes and expectations. Did that mean that he had to marry her?

Darcy asked the question of himself with a burst of hope. He wanted to.

“And what did you mean… mean when you said that you would do anything in your power to protect me? You know that a gentleman cannot honourably give anything to a woman who he has no connection to… I am an unmarried woman. I cannot accept… I mean…”

“Do you hope that I will bend my principles and offer to marry you?” He spoke in a cold voice, whose tone wholly surprised himself. “I have always clearly stated my intention to never marry again. I do not believe that I have acted in a way that would give rise to any expectations to the contrary.”

“Oh.” Her voice wholly lacked any intonation. “I understand. I apologize.”

“Miss Bennet, if I have made you think otherwise, it was not my intention. I have valued our friendship greatly.”

Why are you saying this? Don’t be a fool.

She nodded. She smiled at him. “I was a fool.” She laughed a little. “Papa always said it did a girl good to be disappointed in love. Gives her distinction amongst her friends so…”

She pressed her hand against her mouth.

He felt awful and sick inside. When Darcy stepped closer to her, she held up a hand in a warding gesture to stop him.

Elizabeth continued with a bright, wholly fake smile. “In any case, I thank you kindly for the chance to brag of my own silliness to my friends.”

“Surely…” A curling snake had bitten the inside of his stomach, and it was pumping the venom directly into his intestines. Darcy exclaimed, “You could not have expected it! Even if I had an intention to marry again, surely you could not have expected me to marry you, with the situation of your family, your lack of any connections of worth, your uncle in trade, the lack of a dowry, and further the… vulgarity and small mindedness of your mother and the wildness of your youngest sisters.”

“I know.” She pressed her hands against her eyes. “Oh, damn. I do not mean to cry. You would not wish to marry a woman who knows that word either, would you? My Papa spoke it on occasion. You would not wish to — Oh, oh… just go.”

He of course could not.

Darcy put his hand on her shoulder, and she violently shoved it away. “I never expected you to marry me. Never. Except tonight… when you played the hero, and then when you told me you admired me… I… I hoped, a little.”

“I spoke incautiously,” Darcy replied stiffly. “And I did not consider the interpretations your mind might put upon it.”

“I have come too much to rely upon your friendship.” Elizabeth trembled. She pressed her hands against her face again, squeezing around the eyes.

“I too had forgotten to be cautious,” Darcy replied. “I know that my position is extremely eligible. That is why I always make clear to every woman I meet that I am not at liberty to marry again, and that—”

“I don’t care a tuppence for your position. Do not make the pretence that you are not at liberty to marry. You are at liberty to marry, you choose not to. I am not fooled by the difference, and you should not lie to yourself upon the matter.”

Those words stood between.

“Yes, I choose not to marry again,” Darcy said at last. He felt bitter and sick. “And that is my choice. But it is an honourable and just choice. And you cannot expect me to give up my scruples for one whose situation in life is so inferior to my own. You hoped to find in me someone who would rescue you from your present situation in life and raise you to the heights of wealth and station. I do not blame you for seeking to attach me, but—”

“How can you manage to become so hateful? Why must you say such things? I had not expected you to speak in such an ungentlemanly manner. I would not now marry you were you willing. Not after I have heard what you truly think of me, and of those who I love most dearly.”

“Would you have had me flatter your vanity?”

“Mr. Darcy, I am deeply grateful for your friendship, and your kindness. But I beg you, I beg you from my soul, leave me alone so that I might cry and be sad in peace.” She pulled out her handkerchief, wiped off the tears that covered her cheeks.

Darcy could not look at her, but he sat next to her on the cold stone balustrade.

He had never felt so awful in his life. Possibly not even when he had watched Anne die. And that was the unfairness that he’d always shown to Anne again, worrying about himself and his own feelings far more than her.

The stars twinkled, the sound of violins ached from within the ballroom.

Laughter and conversation. Loud raucous sounds. Voices, voices, voices. The air was chill and cold on their bodies. Elizabeth ought to go inside. It was unhealthy to sit on a stone bench as she did.

“I did not wish to hurt you,” Darcy said. “I did not think of how it would sound to another when I spoke to defend myself. I should not have spoken so slightingly of your position. Your family, or your motives.”

She shuffled so that she sat further from him.

“I value your friendship deeply,” Darcy added. “I… hope I have not destroyed it by my thoughtless words tonight.”

She turned to face him. In the moonlight her cheeks were shiny from the tears.

After a while she nodded.

“I truly do not…” Darcy stopped. He had no idea what he could say, and Elizabeth was clearly miserable. He should not defend himself.

The voice echoed in the back of his mind again: Ask her to marry you, you fool .

“Let me have your handkerchief,” Elizabeth said. She smiled at him. A tremulous smile, but a real one. “Mine own is sodden.”

Darcy gave her the piece of cloth, embroidered in gold by his sister with F.D., and watched her wipe off her face, and then put it in her pocket next to her own.

Darcy noted this without protest, he liked the idea that she could keep a token of his.

He felt a moment of uneasiness at the possibility that she could use it in a scheme intended to entrap him in marriage. He rejected the idea immediately. Elizabeth would not, unless he had wholly misjudged her character.

The two sat together, the cold seeping into them. But at least she did not hate him.

Why wasn’t he asking her to marry him?

He’d decided to never marry again, it was that simple. He only had never before thought he would be tempted.

Elizabeth shivered.

“We must go in, it is too cold,” Darcy said to her, worried. She was less warmly dressed than he was.

She did not move. After a minute she pressed her hands against her face once more.

“Eli—” Darcy cut himself off. He had no right to use her Christian name. “Please, I do not like to see you so cold.”

She turned to face him. Their eyes met and caught for a long time. Elizabeth then smiled a little. “You try to be kind.” She looked down at her hands, and then shivered again. She shook herself almost violently, like a dog shaking off water. “So cold.”

Then she rose, and without looking at him she went to step inside. But at the door she stopped, turned, and said, “No, no. We shall not be like this. We are friends. And we will be friends — come in yourself. And perhaps, though you hate the practice so much, we might dance a second time tonight.”

Darcy stared at Elizabeth, beautiful, lit from behind by the chandeliers, then he nodded and felt a deep confusion in himself.