Page 18 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)
CHAPTER 18
“‘T is a pity Hill did not misplace Mr. Darcy’s boots, or he would have stayed longer.” Mama sighed.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. How quickly an engagement altered her mother’s opinion of a gentleman she had once deemed disagreeable!
“He is serious and dull.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “I shall do much better.”
“All gentlemen should be so dignified and solemn.”
“Thank you, Mary.” As Lydia launched into an explanation of why regimental officers were far superior companions than Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth reflected upon her own changing opinion of the gentleman.
If Mr. Darcy was given to gravity, he certainly had reason for it. He had shared his sister’s sufferings, but had he not suffered too, and to a greater degree? He had been old enough to know and love his mother. He had understood his father’s grief, had no doubt admired him and counted on him for guidance, only to lose him too, and so shortly after reaching his majority.
Mr. Darcy had spoken of heartbreak, disappointment, betrayal—always in reference to his sister—but Elizabeth had felt the tension in his arm, heard the strain in his tone, and seen the hurt in his eyes. Whatever Mr. Wickham had done beyond squandering his inheritance and lying about it must be truly reprehensible. All the clues led Elizabeth to guess that Mr. Wickham had somehow deceived Miss Darcy. If her intuition was correct, he was truly vile to speak against the young lady, calling her spoiled and as haughty as her brother.
Elizabeth had taken an instant and undeserved liking to Mr. Wickham. She had also judged Mr. Darcy harshly. Yes, he was proud, and his discomfort in company could easily be mistaken for arrogance. But he had proved under great duress and on more than one occasion that he was perfectly capable of gentlemanly behavior. He had been nothing but kind to her despite the adversity of their unwanted compromise. Not once had he accused her or implied she had manipulated events to her favor, although it was plain that all the advantage was hers.
He must understand her personality better than she understood his, a rankling realization for one who prided herself on her ability to judge others accurately.
She would make up for the disparity and gain the upper hand over Mr. Darcy. She would exert herself to see him without the taint of her original prejudices. He said she could ask him anything, and she would take him up on that offer. When she finally met Miss Darcy, Elizabeth would treat her as dearly as she did her own sisters. She would—
“Lizzy? Why do you smile at the wall like that when you know that paper has caused me no end of suffering? It is horrible and ugly and should not be smiled at!” Lydia turned her attention to Mama. “You cannot expect an officer to propose in a room with such old, unfashionable paper.”
Elizabeth felt eyes on her and realized Jane was watching her. Had she truly been staring at the wall with a stupid grin? Jane’s knowing smile confirmed it. Elizabeth reveled in plotting how to best Mr. Darcy, but she had not thought her glee so visible.
“I am so happy for you, Lizzy,” Jane said.
Elizabeth bit her tongue to keep from correcting her sister. She was not in love with Mr. Darcy. He had improved from offensive to intriguing. It might be a promising start, but it was hardly love.
Now if only she could see Jane looking out windows starry-eyed for her Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy was distracting her attention, but she must not forget Jane!
How could Elizabeth be truly happy unless she knew her dearest sister was settled with the man she loved? Elizabeth must not lose sight of her aim, or she would risk missing the goal entirely.
* * *
The following morning began on a promising note in the form of a hastily scribbled message from Richard.
Darcy sipped coffee as he read.
“Can I not leave you unsupervised for an instant, Darcy? Certain remarks in your letters about a certain young lady had aroused my suspicions that your heart was not as untouched as you prefer everyone to believe, but it is clear that even I had underestimated the depth of your ardor.
You will be pleased to know that your joyous news was received with the appropriate jubilee from my mother and the adequate degree of skepticism from my father. He expects a visit from our aunt Catherine, which might explain his temperance.
Speaking of Her Imperial Ladyship, how wise of you to propose to a young lady unknown to Aunt Catherine and is not well known enough for her to use her connections to secure an introduction. Well done, Darcy! Should I marry below the expectations of our family, I shall trust you to advise me.
Pray take no offense at my remark, but allow me to express my heartfelt gratitude. Your willingness to bear the brunt of our family’s disapproval may provide me with the possibility of marrying for more than a fortune. I am indebted to this bewitching Miss Elizabeth.
Georgiana is as hale and happy as I have ever seen her. Between Serafina’s kittens and the news that she will shortly gain a sister, Georgie has emerged even more from her nervous shell. With Mother’s help, she has already written a letter to Mrs. Reynolds with instructions.
We shall start our journey on the morrow. It is taking longer to depart than I had hoped, however, I believe you will find the arrangements I have made satisfactory. Georgie is eager to meet your Miss Elizabeth. As am I.”
Darcy relaxed against the cushioned chair. Good, they were already on their way to Pemberley. It was one less worry when the dinner at Longbourn that evening would require all his concentration.
* * *
Darcy’s frustration mounted during dinner. The food was good, if not excellent. The furnishings in the dining and drawing rooms were no doubt relics of Mr. Bennet’s family, well made and well maintained. Their simple elegance was spoiled—no doubt, by Mrs. Bennet—as every surface was littered with trinkets and each upholstery was covered with lace. Such a mixture of quiet refinement and gaudy extravagance reflected the personalities of the lackadaisical squire and his nervous wife. What Mr. Bennet lacked in initiative, his wife supplied with an excess of enthusiasm.
Darcy imagined what it would have been like to have been brought up in such a household of extremes. He could only think more highly of the two eldest Bennet sisters for their even tempers and good sense. He could even sympathize with Miss Mary’s pious views. It would take a saint to live amidst such clashes of character.
Of the two youngest Bennets, Darcy found little to approve, though he found it difficult to imagine how they could be any other way under such guidance. Mrs. Bennet seemed to think that marriage was the solution to every question. One plus one? Marriage. What is the purpose of man? Marriage. How to restore peaceful relations between warring countries? Marriage.
She single-mindedly arranged the table to her purposes, despite Darcy’s and Miss Bingley’s best efforts. Had Richard been there, Darcy had no doubt that Mrs. Bennet would have sat him in the middle of her three youngest daughters.
Had the matron’s interference been the only obstacle Darcy had to deal with that evening, he could have bested her, but Elizabeth continued to be a powerful opponent. If conversation between Bingley and Miss Bennet faltered, she was quick to bring up a topic certain to guarantee several more minutes of agreeable discussion.
When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy immediately engaged Miss Bennet in conversation. He also drew Miss Mary into their debate to occupy the seating available in that corner of the room, thus preventing Bingley from making himself too comfortable at his “angel’s” side. Bingley had hovered around them like a vexed bee.
It was with some satisfaction that Darcy observed his small victory... until Elizabeth approached him. Her smile warmed him even though the glint in her eye made him wary. “Would you be so kind as to turn the pages of the music so I might play, Mr. Darcy?” She tilted her head toward the pianoforte.
He could not refuse without appearing contrary. Returning her smile, he reluctantly complied. He followed her to the instrument, where she settled on the bench and straightened the pages in front of her. Poising her fingers over the keys, she flashed a brilliant smile that Darcy understood as an expression of her self-congratulation. It made his heart trip in his chest all the same. She was not making this easy, but her feminine wiles would not divert him from his objective.
Darcy turned his attention to the pages, following along as Elizabeth brought the notes to life. When she added her voice to the melody, he sucked in a breath. Her song was velvety rich. Any want in her technique was overshadowed by the passion with which she threw herself into the music and the delight she stirred within her audience. He flipped a page and risked a glance at Elizabeth.
Her eyes were closed. They stayed closed.
Every note was played from memory, and Darcy would have admired her natural skill more had it not been at the detriment of his plans. He glanced over at Bingley and Miss Bennet. They sat beside each other, Bingley leaning as close to her as he dared.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley glowered from under the pile of music sheets Mrs. Bennet had piled on top of them with insistent pleas that they play next.
All the while, the calculating minx at Darcy’s side performed the piece she had selected with as much spirit as she possessed, which was a great deal. He had forgotten to turn the final page when she lifted her fingers from the keys. She raised her chin to smile at him once again with a knowing glint in her mischievous eye.
He bowed his defeat. For now.
Had they not been at such cross-purposes, Darcy would have admired Elizabeth’s skill more. But she stood in the way of his sister’s happiness, and for that, he must succeed. With Miss Bennet’s beauty, she would attract other gentlemen, gentlemen better suited to matrimony than Bingley.
Once Darcy and Elizabeth were wed, he would encourage her to invite Miss Bennet to London. She would not remain single through an entire season, Darcy would wager. If she lured the heart of a titled gentleman, she would be better off than with Bingley, anyway. Surely Elizabeth would prefer her sister to be accepted in the first circles to which she herself would belong. Darcy was doing her and her family a favor—or so he told himself.
Thus the evening proceeded, a dance of victory and defeat in which Darcy and Elizabeth took turns advancing and turning about like fencers at a competition.
Bingley’s obligation to entertain the Bennets ought to have ended. However, Mrs. Bennet hinted so pointedly at how lovely Netherfield Park’s drawing room must be and how favorable it was for hosting a party that he had seen fit to ignore his sisters’ discouraging comments and warning looks. He invited the Bennets for tea the following afternoon.
To her credit, Miss Bennet seemed troubled at the ease with which Bingley imposed upon his sisters. After all, it did not befall him to plan the afternoon’s menu and entertainments.
The pinched look Bingley’s sisters had focused on Mrs. Bennet for the greater part of the evening now turned in unison against their brother. Miss Bennet insisted that she would not dream of inconveniencing them so soon after they had hosted a ball, ignoring her mother and younger sisters, who made it plain that they held no such reservations.
Miss Bennet’s consideration and appreciative praise for hosting the most majestic ball of her lifetime put Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in a difficult position. They gobbled up her praise like hungry hounds while keeping their noses raised at the appropriate level of condescension.
Bingley, however, could see nothing beyond his desire to spend more time in Miss Bennet’s company. His interest was selfish. For that reason, Darcy took solace in his justification to keep them apart.