Page 16 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 16

D arcy stood between Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet, in agony, his thoughts far from cordial. Not only had Bingley danced again with Miss Bennet, thus furthering expectations that a proposal was imminent, but Bingley had been the one to send Darcy to his blasted study and create this whole mess!

And did the man for a moment suspect his involvement? Not at all! His smiles were genuine, his felicitations sincere. Darcy had been perilously close to thrashing his friend and found it imperative to take his leave before he said or did something a lovelorn gentleman pleased with his fate would not do. How was he supposed to pretend to be enamored of a female who only married him because she had no other option?

Had Darcy been in possession of his full wits, he would have extracted himself from Mrs. Bennet’s company. But Darcy was not, and so he endured her boasts until he could conjure a means to dismiss himself politely, which, given his present mood, was easier said than done.

“We shall celebrate two weddings at Longbourn before the end of the year! What a blessing Mr. Bingley’s arrival has been for my girls!” Mrs. Bennet blinked up at Darcy. “I do not suppose he intends to invite any more of his gentlemen friends?”

Darcy was still reeling over her assumption that there would be two weddings. He shook his head and looked longingly at Elizabeth, who seemed to be enjoying a rational conversation with her father and her uncle Philips. Their eyes met, she shook her head with a smile, and with a nod in his direction, said something to her father. She probably took diabolical delight seeing Darcy stuck beside her mother. This could be a test.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy steeled his resolve and smiled at Mrs. Bennet. “If Bingley intends to invite more guests to Netherfield, I am unaware of it.”

“No matter,” Mrs. Bennet tittered, smacking her fan against his arm, the champagne she held in her other hand sloshing over the brim of her glass. “I daresay two weddings are more than enough for one year.”

Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty ran in a circle around a group of officers, squealing and making a spectacle of themselves.

“Jane and Lizzy will do their duty by their sisters and put my youngest in the way of other rich gentlemen.” Mrs. Bennet accented her lofty claim with a hiccup.

Not if Darcy had anything to do with it. He was more determined than ever to prevent Bingley from attaching himself to such a family before he had gained more command over himself and his household.

“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bennet took his wife’s glass. “Shall I fetch you a glass of punch? It is rather hot in here.”

“Thank you, my dear, but if there is more champagne, I would much rather have that.”

“I believe punch is in order, and perhaps a plate of sandwiches.”

“Oh, I do love a cucumber sandwich!”

“Then it is settled. Lady Lucas, may I fetch anything for you?”

The lady declined, using the opportunity to take her leave. While she had attempted to brag about her eldest son at university—the handsomest young man in all of Hertfordshire, according to Mrs. Bennet—Lady Lucas’ daughters were unattached and therefore of no consequence to Mrs. Bennet.

Turning to Darcy, Mr. Bennet added with a twinkle in his eye, “Perhaps you would be so good as to accompany me. Lizzy said she was rather parched, and I have not hands enough to fetch refreshments for both ladies.”

Darcy bowed his head. This was Elizabeth’s doing. He did not consider himself deserving of her assistance when, only seconds ago, he had credited her with a vengeful motive. She was more forgiving than he was, a trait he was grateful for, given his previous behavior toward her.

He accompanied Mr. Bennet to the refreshment table, gladly dismissing himself from Mrs. Bennet, who had no trouble attaching herself to a new cluster of females over which she could preside. All the while, Darcy pondered how much he had yet to learn about the lady he was to marry.

* * *

Appearing to be the enchanted maiden hurt Elizabeth’s cheeks, but she kept smiling. She peeked over at Mr. Darcy, watching him struggle to maintain his stoic expression and dignified posture. He had lasted much longer in her mother’s company than Elizabeth had expected. Then again, if his mind was as muddled as hers was, he was not fully aware of the conversation surrounding him. Still, she was not indifferent to his plight.

If Mr. Darcy could act like the attentive soon-to-be son-in-law of a woman he surely considered ridiculous, then Elizabeth would continue to smile. She would act like the understanding betrothed and spare him.

She whispered to her father, “I am certain Mr. Darcy would appreciate a reprieve. Perhaps you could offer to fetch Mama some refreshment and request his assistance?”

Papa complied, leaving her alone with Sir William, who was adept at carrying on a conversation with little help from her. Free to muse, Elizabeth reflected on what she had learned about Mr. Darcy.

She still could not believe he had bent down on one knee to propose. A real, proper proposal. Then, he had revealed his prior admission to Miss Bingley! Not only had he saved Elizabeth’s reputation and that of her family, but he had done so in such a way as to grant her a greater degree of dignity. First he knew how to be charming, and now he could be gallant?

Mr. Darcy had everything to offer a lady seeking security, comfort, and position, and he selflessly bestowed it upon Elizabeth when she had nothing to offer him. Was he truly so selfless? So heroic?

She would not have believed it, given Mr. Wickham’s tale of woe, but Mr. Darcy had poked gaping holes in the soldier’s claims. Elizabeth could no longer give the story much credence.

She clearly understood much less of Mr. Darcy’s character than she had thought. The gentleman she was engaged to was a stranger—a stranger with the surprising ability to make her stomach flutter.

Elizabeth had always dreamed of a deep and lasting love. She knew that, of all her sisters, she was the most difficult to please and would therefore be the least likely to marry. Her father might be proud of her strong mind, but it would not be praised by society. She was more likely to disagree with Mr. Darcy than not.

But she would make the best of their situation, as she always did. It gave Elizabeth hope to see that Mr. Darcy, at least for now, was trying to do the same.

Jane and Charlotte appeared at her side. “You will have a fine home, Lizzy,” said Charlotte.

Jane scooped Elizabeth’s hands into hers, her eyes searching. “But do you love him?” she asked softly. “I thought you did not even like him.”

While Elizabeth could not truthfully reply to Jane’s first question, she could address the second implication with confidence. “There is much more to Mr. Darcy than I previously gave him credit for.” She glanced at him. His tall frame made him easy to locate in a crowded room. Papa and Mr. King flanked his sides, perfectly content to philosophize without requiring his participation. When Mr. Darcy’s eyes met hers, she returned his smile. He looked down at the full glass in his hand, and she shook her head. Her thirst could wait to be quenched.

The exchange did not escape Charlotte, who looped her arm through Jane’s. “You have always professed you would marry for love, and I have always wished you success in your endeavor. It pleases me to see evidence that you have found what you sought. Mr. Darcy is an exceptional gentleman.”

Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “And he has exceptional taste to fall in love with Lizzy above all others. Oh, my dearest, I am so happy for you!”

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. If convincing her sister and closest friend was this easy, nobody else would dare doubt the truth of her and Mr. Darcy’s sudden engagement. His plan had worked. They would have to marry. There truly was no way out of it now.

Quick to consider the more pleasant consequences, Elizabeth focused on Jane. According to her mother, Mr. Bingley had danced with her again. If Elizabeth’s betrothal smoothed the path for Jane and Mr. Bingley to marry, she was content. It would be a much simpler matter to create opportunities to put them in each other’s company now that she was engaged to Mr. Darcy. They would still require chaperones, and who better than Mr. Bingley and Jane?

From the corner of her eye, she saw Kitty and Lydia approaching a band of officers. She did not wish to believe them so malicious that they would entrap her with Mr. Darcy. As much as she loved them, they were not clever enough to contrive a successful compromise. But she had to know.

Carefully phrasing her inquiry so as not to kindle curiosity, she asked Charlotte, “Have you made any astute observations worth sharing this evening?”

Charlotte smiled. “Your engagement eclipses all my observations. Although I cannot help but observe how dissatisfied Miss Bingley and her sister look. Also, Mr. Collins seems to have disappeared. I have not seen the gentleman in at least an hour.”

“Much to the relief of every lady’s toes! Is that all? You have learned nothing shocking to share with your dearest friends?”

“Nothing which you do not already know.”

Those scheming, lying, vengeful brats!

Another dance was beginning, and Elizabeth slipped away before she could be claimed. Cutting a direct path over to her sisters, she tugged them away from the officers with a sharp, “One moment, please.”

Pulling them to the dreaded edge of the ballroom where those in want of a partner sat, Elizabeth whisper-hissed over her sisters’ protests. “Charlotte never asked you to meet me.”

Kitty and Lydia unanimously pinched their lips shut. Oh, they were guilty. So guilty!

Elizabeth restrained herself from shaking them. “Why did you send me to the study?”

“We only wanted to dance with the officers, and that was the farthest room I could think of. It was Lydia’s idea.”

Lydia stomped on Kitty’s slippered foot. “Hush, you ninny!”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and forced her clenched fists to loosen. She never would have believed her youngest sisters capable of arranging a successful compromise, but she had to know for sure. “You will tell me the truth Lydia, or I will keep you from your dance partners.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “You would make me sit out a dance?”

“You would be in good company.” Elizabeth nodded at the older women and shelved ladies sitting along the wall.

“You would not dare!”

Crossing her arms, Elizabeth looked sternly at her sisters. “Do not provoke me.”

Jutting out her chin, Lydia finally replied, “I do not know why you are so cross. Who was I to know that you and Mr. Darcy had arranged a tryst?”

Elizabeth’s face flamed. She could not correct Lydia and risk casting doubt on the tale when her family’s honor hung in the balance.

“A secret engagement! How romantic!” swooned Kitty.

Elizabeth deeply wished to correct her. There was nothing romantic about her engagement.

“I only wanted to dance,” Lydia pouted. “Kitty was supposed to send you to the book room.”

“Book room, study, what is the difference? You said to get her away, and I did that, did I not?” Kitty plopped her fists on her hips, apparently having had her fill of Lydia’s criticisms.

“You forgot, and now Lizzy is engaged before me! If John Lucas were here, I could have secured an engagement before the end of the night. You ruined everything, Kitty!”

“You and your haughty designs!” Kitty flung back.

Lydia stood taller. “Two officers more, and I shall have danced with every uniformed gentleman in attendance! Who has Lizzy danced with tonight? I am far more desirable than she is!”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “A fine accomplishment!” More seriously, as though the thought had just occurred to her, she added, “Between you, Lizzy’s engagement, and Jane’s success with Mr. Bingley, Mama will not nag about my cough. She will be in raptures for days!”

Just like that, the two were allies again.

Lydia giggled. “The look on Miss Bingley’s face when we opened the door and saw Lizzy in Mr. Darcy’s embrace!” She turned from Kitty to Elizabeth. “I heard her call you a hoyden.”

Kitty patted Elizabeth’s arm consolingly. “Better a hoyden than a harridan.”

Her sisters fell into a fit of giggles, skipping away to join their partners.

They had no idea what they had done.

Had it all been one, dreadful accident? Was this to be how all Elizabeth’s efforts on behalf of her family were to be rewarded?

She shook her head. No, she would not dwell on despair. This was an opportunity to encourage Mr. Bingley’s attachment to Jane. There was no doubt that a union with one so lofty as Mr. Darcy would provide many advantages which Elizabeth could use to help others. She could pay for tutors for her sisters with her pin money.

The final couples scurried to take their places for the minuet. Mr. Darcy appeared, standing in front of her with a glass of punch. She took the drink. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

He bowed. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

He had a deep, soothing voice, and the intensity in his dark eyes made it difficult for Elizabeth to swallow her punch.

Leaning a touch closer to her, she saw a spark in his eye when he said, “I trust that a minuet is calm enough for your coiffure.”

Elizabeth grinned at the jest, reaching up to pat her hair gently with one hand and pressing against the strange fluttering in her stomach with the other. “You think of everything, Mr. Darcy.” Setting her empty glass on a tray, she took his arm, and they joined the other couples. Sighs and whispers of “fine eyes” and “So romantic!” swirled around Elizabeth with the stir of ladies’ fans.

Mr. Darcy danced gracefully, albeit silently. Several times he opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider and close it.

After witnessing yet another failed attempt, Elizabeth took pity on him. “Do you enjoy the minuet, Mr. Darcy?”

He answered when the dance required him to step closer. “Pray call me Fitzwilliam.”

Fitzwilliam , she tried in her mind, but she could not yet bring herself to say it aloud. Not yet. Once they were better acquainted, perhaps.

Mr. Darcy stepped back. “This dance is a favorite of my aunt Catherine. She appreciates its rigid formality.” The ice now broken, he continued, “You are an elegant dancer. Did you learn from a master?”

She laughed. “Observation and imitation have been my best teachers. If I perform well enough, nobody is the wiser.” He did not seem to know how to reply to that, so Elizabeth asked a question of her own. It concerned her how easily he was able to cover over their compromise. Was he much practiced in getting himself out of troublesome situations? “What is your opinion of disguise?”

“I abhor disguise of every sort,” he snapped.

His abrupt change of manner took Elizabeth aback. Did he refer to her comment about pretending to be a more knowledgeable dancer than she was?

Softer, he added, “By disguise, I refer not to a person’s sincere efforts to master a skill by their own initiative but to a person’s purposeful deceit with the aim of misleading others to their harm.” A deep breath. “It was a value my father upheld and by which I have attempted to live.” He winced, and Elizabeth imagined she knew the painful direction his thoughts had taken.

He confirmed it on the next step forward. “I fear I am failing my father miserably this evening.”

His understanding of her thoughts and revelation of personal history inspired Elizabeth to lighten his burden. “That depends. Was not your offer made sincerely, out of a desire to protect many from harm? That does not sound like the ‘disguise’ you described to me.”

“Then what is it?”

She thought. “Mm, I would call it initiative, or… dare I say, heroic.”

He barked a laugh, causing several heads turn in their direction. After a few minutes of bows and curtsies in the choreography, he said, “It is not my custom to wallow in misery or live with regrets. What is done is done. I hope you will join me in making the best of our situation.”

Hardly the words Elizabeth had expected Mr. Darcy to utter, but they soothed her. Making the best of her situation was what she did best. “I would like that very much.”

The rest of the minuet passed in such pleasant, easy conversation, Elizabeth began to believe she just might be capable of liking this Mr. Darcy.