Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

MR. FITZWILLIAM DARCY was thinking about quitting the country. He was a guest of a friend of Mr. Charles Bingley’s, a man named Sinterfield, who had invited a grand party of people to his home at the beginning of July.

They’d been here weeks at this point, playing yard games in the evening and card games in the afternoons.

Darcy was most welcome. He knew this. He and Sinterfield seemed to get on well, even if he had only been introduced when arriving at the house some weeks ago.

But the truth was that things between himself and Charles were a bit strained these days. And this was to say nothing of the fact that Charles’s sister, Caroline Bingley, rather hated him now.

He and Caroline might have been somewhat aligned back when she was asking him whether or not she should tell her brother that the eldest Miss Bennet was in London, and he was advising strenuously against such a revelation.

“Oh, yes,” she had said, smiling at him, “then we are of one mind about this. Those Bennet girls are an abomination.”

“Just so,” he’d said.

“And their mother,” she’d said, shivering with a theatrical effect.

“Just so,” he’d said again.

But that was then, and the situation had changed.

In May, he’d come to see Bingley and explained what he’d done, that Miss Jane Bennet had been in town at the same time as they all had and he and Caroline had determined to hide it from him.

“Why?” Bingley had said.

Darcy had felt at a loss for words.

But it had hardly mattered, because Bingley had chimed in with the answer, his tone hard. “I suppose it rather materially contradicted your claim that she was indifferent to me, didn’t it?”

“I may have misinterpreted her,” he had said.

Bingley had given him such a look.

He had apologized. He had thrown himself upon his sword with his apologies. Oh, how he had poured out the self-recrimination.

He suspected that Bingley forgave him just to get him to shut up about it.

They had not been together, then, for two months, and then the invitation to go to the country, Sinterfield’s house, and here he was.

But he was beginning to suspect the invitation had only been issued for the sake of politeness. Perhaps he was supposed to have realized that he was meant to say no, not yes. Perhaps it had not been a true invitation. Darcy had to admit that the ins and outs of social niceties sometimes escaped him.

Except he had said yes, and then Bingley was required to honor the invitation, and now Darcy was here, and everything was awkward between them.

Just then, it was mid-morning, and he was entering the breakfast parlor to find that only Bingley and Caroline were there. Bingley was lingering with a cup of tea, his plate empty, while Caroline was just tucking into a boiled egg.

They both looked up when he entered the room.

Then Caroline went back to the gossip sheet she was reading. It was likely a few weeks old. Sinterfield didn’t subscribe to the London gossip sheets, and they only made their way here through the means of others.

“Good morning,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Good morning,” said Bingley.

“Mmm,” said Caroline distractedly, engrossed as she read.

“I have been thinking that perhaps it’s time for me to go,” said Mr. Darcy.

“Oh, merciful heavens, it is those Bennets!” said Caroline.

The name cut through Mr. Darcy like a fierce icy wind, taking his breath away. He had not been the same since Miss Elizabeth Bennet had refused to marry him.

His cousin Richard had told him that it was good for him. “Now you know what it’s like for the rest of us. You could stand some humility,” his cousin had said.

Maybe he had been too proud, too assured of his success. He had been humbled, however. And it had hurt. It still hurt. Why wouldn’t the pain lessen?

Back in the breakfast parlor, Caroline was making loud exclamations as she read the gossip sheet. “Oh, it cannot be. It cannot.”

“What?” said Bingley blandly, sipping his tea.

Caroline let out a laugh, and then sat up straight, reading aloud, “‘It has come to the attention of this author that the Earl of Benlolk’s missing fortune has been found. Faithful followers of this column may remember that this author speculated on what might have become of Benlolk’s house in town and various other sundries. Well, it is now known, my good and faithful followers, that Benlolk left a significant portion of his money to a Mrs. Fanny Bennet, née Gardiner, with whom he seems to have been connected years ago in his youth.’”

Mr. Darcy sat down heavily. “You don’t mean…?”

“Oh, yes, it gets worse,” said Caroline, letting out a helpless laugh. “It seems that Mr . Bennet, the husband, is expressly forbidden from getting his hands on any bit of the money or the property. There are clauses that even in the event of his wife’s death, the inheritance must go to her daughters. It’s all quite convoluted. Everyone’s speculating that Mr. Bennet isn’t the father of those girls at all.”

Mr. Darcy snatched the gossip sheet away from Caroline.

“Excuse me!” Caroline huffed. “I was reading that.”

“Apologies,” he said absently, quickly scanning the paragraphs in question, confirming all that Caroline had said. He handed the paper back to her. “Everyone knows what’s printed in those scandal rags is all lies.”

“Oh, yes, all lies,” said Caroline, snickering. “Never a hint of truth in any of it.”

Mr. Darcy knew that she was right, of course. There was often at least a hint of truth contained within such tidbits of gossip.

“I’m confused,” said Bingley. “What’s all this?”

“They have money now,” said Caroline. “But it’s not respectable, not in the least. It’s all very suspect. And if they try to be accepted into polite society, they will be barred, I think. Even if it weren’t for this rumor, I can’t imagine Mrs. Bennet would ingratiate herself to anyone of consequence.” She shuddered.

“How much money?” said Bingley.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Caroline. “That must have been dealt with in another issue, when the discussion of Benlolk’s missing fortune was dealt with. But I think it might be a lot.”

Mr. Darcy thought of poor Elizabeth in the midst of this. How difficult it must have been for her, all this change thrust on her head, and now to be saddled with a hefty dowry and all the responsibilities and worries that came along with such things.

To say nothing of the fact that her family’s reputation was now in question. That must be devastating.

The poor girl.

How he wished he could console her through this difficult time. “They have the Benlolk town house?”

“Oh, yes,” said Caroline.

He could, then. He could go back to London and call upon her.

He considered the idea of it. Yes, why not?

And though she had refused him, though she had never wanted him, he could show her that he was above all that, that he didn’t hold a grudge, that he was simply willing to be her friend through this storm of life that she was attempting to weather.

He smiled, feeling satisfied.

“I think we should go back to London,” muttered Bingley.

“What?” said Caroline to him.

Bingley nodded at Darcy. “You were just saying you thought you might be leaving, yes?”

“Yes,” said Darcy.

“Good. We’ll travel together.”

“Are we going back to London to chase those Bennet girls?” said Caroline, glaring at the both of them.

“No,” said Mr. Darcy, who knew that Caroline had been utterly disgusted when she found out he’d proposed marriage to Elizabeth Bennet. He hadn’t told her, but Bingley had kept the confidence poorly. He supposed that Bingley was angry with him for having lied about Jane. Maybe he deserved it, in the end.

“No,” said Bingley.

Caroline sighed.

ELIZABETH BENNET HAD never worn a dress such as this one. It was white, edged in diaphanous lace. When she wore it, she felt as if she were floating, as if she were something angelic, something supernatural, perhaps a fairy or a sprite. A fairy princess, that was what she was in this dress.

She had never felt quite so beautiful.

She spent too much time spinning in front of the looking glass. Her mother was bellowing from below that she must make haste, that the carriage was leaving to take them all to the ball, and Elizabeth was twirling in front of the mirror, laughing softly to herself.

It was like a dream.

Perhaps this night would be wretched.

Perhaps all the other attendees of this ball would think awful things about them all, and perhaps they would be barred from ever attending another event.

But even if so, she thought it might have been worth it to have been allowed to wear this dress and to feel like this, like a fairy princess.

She had to admit, when she saw the rest of the members of her family that her sisters looked similarly beautiful in their new dresses as well. The modiste had done her job well.

Another thing that could not be overlooked was the fact that they each had a maid now. A maid of their own! All of them. Elizabeth’s maid was named Deborah and she had helped to dress Elizabeth and style her hair in a way that Elizabeth would never have been able to manage on her own. The intricacies of Elizabeth’s updo were stunning, and her sisters benefited from the individual attention as well.

Lydia and Kitty giggled with joy, and Jane beamed quietly, and Mary stood close to Elizabeth and said, “They’ll want us, don’t you think? They’ll see us and want us, and they won’t carry such awful tales.”

Elizabeth gripped Mary’s fingers with her own. “Let us hope that’s the case.”

But then, Elizabeth’s stomach sank. For, of course, everyone else at this ball had access to the same things the Bennets now had access to. They could hire the same modiste, and they all had maids of their own as well, and so what was there to really make them so wantable?

She didn’t know what to make of it, then, when they entered the ball and everyone grew quiet.

The music even faltered, just a quick break in sound before the musicians recovered.

The ballroom was empty of furniture for dancing, and the musicians sat in one corner. The were golden curtains at the windows and tasteful pictures on the walls.

All of the dancers in the room stopped to look at them, taking them all in with open curiosity.

Where was Colonel Fitzwilliam? They would need introductions, and without them, no one could speak to them. He was supposed to be here already, but Elizabeth thought they might have arrived too early. It was a delicate balance to arrive to a ball at the most beneficial time—not too late, but not too soon either. Fashionably late, as it were.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said a voice just behind her. And she knew the voice, knew the cadence and the depth and the timbre. Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest as she turned to look at the man who’d spoken.

“Mr. Darcy,” she choked.

“So good to see you, madam,” he said, inclining his head. He moved forward to greet her mother and father and sisters. He indicated they might go through to the room beyond the ballroom, where he would introduce them to everyone, he said.

He was as good as his word, graciously introducing them. He politely broke into conversations with ease, presenting them as his old friends the Bennet family, saying it was so good to see them again after a separation of many months.

Their dance cards filled immediately. Jane’s first, and then hers, though Mr. Darcy injected that he’d claimed her first two dances when a Mr. Gilsman asked her to dance, and she was left with little choice except to acquiesce.

By the time that Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, she had no more space on her dance card for any dances, and he wasn’t needed to introduce her family either. She barely had any time to convey this to the colonel, however, because she was wanted on the dance floor for the first of her two dances with Mr. Darcy.

She joined him there, and they bowed to each other before the dance began.

She stood on the side with the women, and he on the side with the men. The men stepped forward; the women stepped back. And then it went the other way.

They went through the entire first movement of the dance in absolute silence.

Was it going to be two dances like this, then? She felt her old irritation towards this man igniting, even though she had thought that she would be different around him when she saw him again. Perhaps he was infuriating. Perhaps she would never be able to stop being infuriated in his presence.

No, she must thank him. Yes, that was the right thing to do. He’d been good to her and her family tonight. What was wrong with her that she was infuriated instead of grateful? “It was good of you to do so many introductions this evening,” she said. “Everyone is much obliged, including my father, I am sure.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “I understand my cousin saw to your invitations. I cannot believe he was not on hand to assist you.”

“I think it was our own fault,” she said. “I think we came too early.”

“No, I think my cousin is simply not particularly responsible,” said Mr. Darcy, shaking his head.

“He has been quite kind to us,” she said.

“Has he.” Mr. Darcy sounded less than pleased. He looked over her shoulder as he performed his dance steps, seeking out the colonel in the room. “Well, I’m sorry he’s done that to you. For heaven’s sake, his behavior is appalling.”

“Excuse me?” She was confused. “I am sure he would have done much the same thing as you have done had he been here.”

“Yes, but he has an ulterior motive now, of course, and I don’t know if you are quite aware what it is to be a woman with a dowry as large as I hear yours is now. It’s nothing to me, of course, but there are men here who will be utter blackguards in pursuit of it.”

Nothing to him, he said. No, she was right before. Infuriating.

“Forgive me for my plain speech about this matter, Miss Bennet,” he said, “but I feel as if you—and your sisters, of course—are lacking in instruction when it comes to fortune hunting suitors. Now, my cousin the colonel is a good man, but he is not entirely scrupulous when it comes to finances. You would do well to make sure that any of your sisters who are pursued by him are wary. Of course, there are worse options. There are men here who could decimate your newfound fortune frighteningly quickly, men for whom money goes through their fingers like water.”

“Well,” she said, “thank goodness you’re here to instruct me, then, Mr. Darcy.” She was only faintly sarcastic.

“Of course,” he said, giving her a self-satisfied smile. “You might think I hold some ill will toward you because of our history, but I do not. At all.”

“Thank heaven for that,” she said, her tone sharper.

He still didn’t notice. “I am here simply to offer my services, you see.”

“Yes,” she said, sniffing, “because otherwise I might get the idea that I could be at all tempting. If it weren’t for you, I might think I were more than tolerably pretty or that someone might want me for some other reason than my dowry. But no, you are here, to set me straight and let me see just how little I am worth. Thank you ever so, sir.”

He flinched when she said the word ‘tolerably.’ She had never revealed that she’d overheard that, had she? When she said she was worth little, he grimaced. He opened his mouth to speak, looked up at met her gaze, and then stopped, shutting his mouth and shaking his head.

“Nothing to say to that?”

“You have reasons to be angry with me, I suppose,” he said. “I had sought to make things clear with the missive I sent you, but I realize I only assumed you would believe what I wrote in it. We have had no communication of any kind since then, and you seem bound and determined to think the worst of me, so I have no notion why I’m even surprised.”

She glared at him. “Why both dances, sir?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” he said.

“No, it isn’t, not when the first thing out of your mouth is nothing but insults.”

“Insults? One wonders if you’ve ever heard a true insult, Miss Bennet,” he said darkly. “Let me assure you, nothing I’ve said to you counts as insult.”

“Or perhaps you have considered yourself above such things your entire life, as the great and mighty Mr. Darcy of Pemberley,” she said. “Perhaps you’ve been insulting everyone all along, and I’m the only person who’s ever had the bravery to point it out to you.”

He broke off dancing entirely, taking a step back.

She took a step back, too.

“Well, why I do this to myself, I haven’t any idea,” he said. “I must enjoy the way you punish me, mustn’t I?” He turned and walked off the dance floor.

She gaped after him.

And Colonel Fitzwilliam was there, all smiles, seamlessly taking his cousin’s place in the dance. “Apologies,” he said. “We shall work on erasing all of that from the gossips.”

“It looks dreadful, doesn’t it?” she said, feeling panicked. “He simply walked off.”

“Well, now I get to dance with you, so I can’t say I mind,” said the colonel.

“I didn’t mean to lose my temper,” she said. “I don’t know why I get so sharp and sarcastic with him.”

“I only wish I could have been close enough to overhear,” said the colonel, laughing. “Someone needs to put that man in his place, truly.”