Page 27 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

She could not close her eyes at night without longing for Mr Darcy to forget what had passed at the Parsonage, to be moved only by the wish to approach her with the intent of winning her heart in the old, familiar way—beginning with glances exchanged from afar, and then, in a slow but steady rhythm, allowing true feelings to come to light.

That evening at the theatre, she finally understood Jane’s despair and her inability to move on from her love for Mr Bingley, even after more than five months of his absence.

But unlike Jane, the object of her love was in plain sight, in the same theatre, probably searching for a young lady to love and marry.

She had been in love for a brief time, but her heart now burned with a pain that grew sharper with each passing moment.

The words she had once offered Jane—that love would come again in time—now seemed hollow as she began to grasp how unlikely such a hope was, at least for a long time.

The elegant and proud man who had assisted her from the carriage was the love of her life, and she could not imagine anyone else taking his place.

Unlike Jane, she had been on the cusp of becoming Mrs Darcy.

And she alone was responsible for rejecting his love.

She cast her gaze around the box and saw Jane engaged in lively conversation with Miss Darcy, while beside them, Miss de Bourgh seemed on the verge of sleep.

She caught Lady Oakham’s eyes as they shifted from her to Miss de Bourgh before returning to her as though silently entreating, “Smile!” Yet dispelling the sorrow from her face demanded far too great an effort.

“I am truly sorry, Miss Bennet,” the unfortunate colonel murmured as they stepped out of the box during the first interval.

She regarded him with the ghost of a smile, pitying him for his distress.

The man before her knew what had transpired at the Parsonage, and somehow, he believed her rejection to have been, in some way, his fault.

“No, I implore you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, do not feel that way. The matter is far more intricate, and I assure you that what you disclosed was not of the utmost consequence.”

Their conversation was curtailed when Mr Darcy finally arrived. Once more, her heart began beating uncontrollably, pounding with an intensity she could scarcely have imagined.

“What did he say?” the colonel asked impatiently.

“He is ready to sell!” Mr Darcy responded, addressing the colonel and Lady Oakham exclusively.

“I apologise,” Lady Oakham said to her guests with a gracious smile. “I want to purchase a horse for my husband, and Fitzwilliam is assisting me in this endeavour. It is for his birthday.”

“Even though he possesses at least five fine stallions already,” Miss Darcy declared warmly, taking her cousin’s arm with much affection.

“My dear, you could offer him the moon from the sky, and my husband would not be as happy as when receiving this horse. Darcy used all his negotiation skills.”

“He always does,” Miss Darcy replied, plainly showing her profound admiration for her brother.

Against her will, Elizabeth’s eyes found Darcy’s.

Despite the love that stirred within her soul, her eyes and her expression carried a hint of mockery that told him a different story.

Her gaze, filled with irony, seemed to dismiss his qualities as a negotiator, and she watched the last glimmer of joy in his eyes fade away.

Too late, Elizabeth regretted, once again, her instinctive response—how often she answered with jest the things that vexed or only puzzled her.

Yet in Kent, his behaviour had been far from that of a skilled negotiator.

“What is your line of trade, Mr Gardiner?” Mr Darcy asked, plunging Elizabeth into deep consternation. She had not expected him to remember her uncle’s name, let alone express interest in his business.

“I am a purveyor of steam engines of all varieties. I like to keep up with the changes around us,” Mr Gardiner replied. Elizabeth admired her uncle’s self-assuredness as he explained further.

“I find it intriguing,” Mr Darcy eventually remarked. “I am contemplating employing some innovations at Pemberley, bringing it in line with progress—as you said.”

“Gentlemen,” Miss Darcy lamented playfully. “We came here for Mr Shakespeare, and all we hear about is horses and engines.”

“You are right, little sister,” Mr Darcy said, smiling at Miss Darcy, obviously proud of her. “This is men’s talk.”

To Elizabeth’s despair, the gentlemen departed when they descended to the main saloon, where the ladies convened for refreshments.

Fortunately, Miss Darcy’s enthusiasm for the play led her to dominate most of the conversation.

Eventually, Elizabeth decided to enjoy that pleasant and amiable atmosphere, forgetting Mr Darcy as she delighted his sister with her deep knowledge of Shakespeare and his characters.

At the end of the interval, the two young ladies strolled ahead, engaged in animated conversation, already fast friends, while Jane tried in vain to initiate a conversation with Miss de Bourgh, who answered only yes or no to her questions.

Mrs Gardiner and Lady Oakham followed a short distance behind, eager to converse privately.

“I hope that Miss Elizabeth will not be disappointed by what has happened. In Darcy’s manner, I perceive nothing but a sort of restlessness meant to conceal the true nature of his feelings.”

“He seemed both angry and sorrowful to me. He scarcely looked at her,” murmured Mrs Gardiner with concern.

“For now, it cannot be otherwise, but I am glad that he does not suspect anyone of having arranged this meeting,” Lady Oakham said with a smile.

“I hope they will have a few minutes together.”

“You can tell her that my cousin was pleased to see her despite his rather severe bearing,” Lady Oakham whispered in Mrs Gardiner’s ear as they re-entered the box.

This sealed their friendship, united by their memories of a Derbyshire of the past and their determination to prevent the two young people from drifting apart.

During the next interval, it seemed that Lady Oakham and Mrs Gardiner’s common interests were not so far from fulfilment. Mr Darcy remained with them, discussing the play and their plans for the rest of the Season.

“I have taken a house in Bath for early June, before the full heat of summer begins,” Mr Gardiner said. “We shall stay there for at least a fortnight. My wife is fond of the waters, and my nieces enjoy the promenades and the balls,” he added with a smile towards Elizabeth and Jane.

“And then, at the end of July, we shall travel to the Lakes,” Mrs Gardiner continued, picking up the thread. “Ever since Mr William Wordsworth published his Guide to the Lakes , Elizabeth has been urging us to make the trip. And this year, we have resolved to do so.”

“But that would require a stop at Pemberley!” Miss Darcy exclaimed with warmth, looking at her brother not for approval but for confirmation, while he gazed at Elizabeth, his eyes lingering upon hers a moment longer than necessary.

Elizabeth smiled yet could not discern the true meaning behind his gaze; it was not hostile, perhaps slightly interested, and a glimmer of hope began to flicker within her.

He then seated himself directly behind her, and for half of the third act, she could sense his presence, rendering her unable to pay attention to the play.

However, an unexpected disaster struck when further guests arrived.

It took Elizabeth a moment to discern that the newcomer was a lady—and not just any lady but Lady Olivia, accompanied by a friend.

Elizabeth’s world and meagre hopes crumbled as she watched the radiant and beautiful woman exchange a few words with Mr Darcy before he rose and departed with only a murmured explanation to his sister.

And the evening that had begun with such promise, her hand resting in his, concluded in utter calamity.