Page 17 of Companions of Their Youth (Pride and Prejudice “What if?” Variations #9)
“More like you resemble it.” Darcy’s mouth quirked slightly, the barest hint of humor glinting through his reserve.
Elizabeth studied him more closely now. He was not just the stone-faced figure she had observed for the last hour. He looked tired. Defensive, perhaps—but not insincere.
The three men watched her. Waiting.
She let them wait a moment longer.
Then she said, “Very well. I will forgive the insult. But I will not forgive you for refusing to dance in a room with far too few gentlemen and more ladies than can ever hope to be asked. It gives the entire county the impression that its visitors think themselves above the company.”
Darcy grimaced slightly, then inclined his head. “I concede the point.” He took a breath. “May I have the honor of this next dance, Miss Elizabeth?”
“You have put me in an impossible bind, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice light but edged.
“If I accept, I shall force you into an obligation you clearly do not wish, making the experience onerous for the both of us. If I refuse, however, to spare us the loathsome activity, then I must sit out the remainder of the sets. That would be quite tragic, for I do dearly love to dance.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“So, do I suffer through two dances of a partner who wishes to be elsewhere,” she mused, “or do I gratify your comfort at the expense of my own enjoyment?”
“I…” Darcy looked at her blankly.
She quirked her lips and gave a small, theatrical sigh. “I propose a compromise, Mr. Darcy. I will grant you a reprieve—this time—if you promise not to take offense when I dance with others after refusing you.”
He let out a slow breath. “Agreed.”
She rose just as the music changed. Another gentleman approached to claim her hand, and she turned to the floor with a dazzling smile, skirts swirling around her ankles as she moved into place and began to skip and clap in time with the music.
Behind her, all three men stood watching, and though Mark and Bingley eventually went in search of partners, Darcy’s eyes never left her form for the remainder of the evening.
∞∞∞
The following afternoon brought the customary visit from the Lucases, as expected after such an assembly. The Lucas boys were all smiles and cheerful greetings as they settled in next to Mark, from whom they wished to hear all about his last term at school.
Lady Lucas, by contrast, carried herself with a certain air of wounded dignity as she removed her gloves and settled onto the settee beside Mrs. Bennet.
“I must say,” she began in a tone that was only lightly teasing, “you were quite close-lipped these last weeks, Mrs. Bennet. I had no idea your family was already acquainted with the Netherfield gentlemen.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a breathy laugh and waved her hand.
“Oh, it was not I, I assure you. It was only Mark. And he kept it a secret from us all! I did not know a thing until the morning before when he told us. The exasperating boy was not even going to tell us at all, but he intended to surprise us at the assembly itself.”
Lady Lucas glanced toward the corner where her younger sons were gathered with Mark, who was animatedly explaining something that sounded very much like Latin grammar. The boys looked rapt—though whether from interest or confusion, it was difficult to say.
“Well,” Lady Lucas said more kindly, “I suppose I should not be surprised. Boys can certainly be scamps, and your Mark has always had his father’s fondness for mischief.”
Meanwhile, Charlotte had drifted over to the fireside, where Jane and Elizabeth sat, their needlework all but forgotten in their laps.
“I saw you dance twice with Mr. Bingley,” Charlotte said to Jane with a small smile. “Did you enjoy it?”
Jane flushed prettily. “Yes. He is a very amiable gentleman. So pleasant. So obliging.”
“He seems to be all that is proper,” Charlotte agreed. “And he certainly looked at you with interest.”
Jane lowered her gaze, a faint smile curving her lips.
Elizabeth, observing them both, said nothing at first. She always felt a little out of step when they gathered this way—not because they were unkind, but simply because she had never sought their company until recently.
It was only in the last two years, when Mark went away to school, that she had begun to spend more time with Jane and Charlotte.
Even so, moments like these reminded her that she had been grafted onto a friendship already formed.
Charlotte turned to her now. “And what of you, Eliza? What did you make of Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth blinked. “I scarcely know. We did not even dance.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “But you were the only person he spoke to outside of his own party. That must mean something.”
“He daresay was forced into it by my brother,” Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Darcy said something a bit harsh regarding my appearance, and Mark took offense. I do not flatter myself that the gentleman has any true interest in my acquaintance.”
“But still,” Charlotte persisted, “he approached you. He barely looked at anyone else.”
Elizabeth gave a mock flourish of her hand. “Then we must have my father have the banns called at once!”
Jane and Charlotte exchanged a glance, and Charlotte said carefully, “You know that is not what I meant. It is simply that there have been so few gentlemen about. A new group of eligible men, especially with such fortunes—well, it is a remarkable opportunity.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “Ah yes. The universal truth once again. A single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
Charlotte chuckled, but Jane said earnestly, “It is not only the fortune, Lizzy. Though I will not pretend it is unimportant. But to meet a man who is pleasant and kind and not beholden to his parents for his income—that is rare. He would be able to support a wife. And she, in turn, would have the dignity of being mistress in her own home.”
Elizabeth stared at them. “Does neither of you wish to marry for love?”
Charlotte’s expression did not waver. “I do not think it wise to hope too much. I am not beautiful. No one has wanted me yet. If I may find a gentleman who is not vicious and not poor, I would count myself quite lucky to make a respectable home of my own.”
Jane hesitated. “I would prefer to marry for love. Of course I would. But I have seen too many women choose affection and then regret it bitterly.”
“Comfort, respect, and security are worth far more than love,” Charlotte added. “Romance fades, Eliza, but a warm home and independence endure.”
That struck home more than Elizabeth expected.
Her thoughts flew unbidden to her mother—Mrs. Bennet’s youthful romance with a handsome officer, the abandonment, the years of hidden shame.
Her mother was warm-hearted and loving, but even now, more than two decades later, still paled slightly at the sight of uniforms.
“Perhaps you are right,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Love alone cannot fill a belly with food.”
Charlotte looked mollified. Jane took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. As the two older girls shared a small laugh, Charlotte wrinkled her nose and giggled—just so—and Elizabeth felt a sudden jolt of recognition.
It was a gesture she had seen countless times from Kitty: that same scrunch of the nose, the same slightly breathless little laugh.
Her breath caught for the briefest moment, and her eyes flicked toward Charlotte’s profile. Could it be…?
She did not allow herself to finish the idea. It would be wrong—cruel, even—to let her mind wander down that particular path. Charlotte had always been good to her. And Kitty, though at times exasperating, was her sister in every way that mattered.
And if—if—her mother had once sought comfort from their neighbor, who was she to judge? Remember, Lizzy; leave it to God. You only need concern yourself with your own actions .
A noise from the far side of the room drew their attention—men’s laughter, their younger sisters giggling behind their hands, and Mrs. Bennet loudly asking Lady Lucas if she had noticed how charming Mr. Bingley’s sister’s gown had been.
Elizabeth smiled faintly and allowed herself to be drawn back into the conversation.
And so the afternoon passed, full of tea and talk, laughter and long glances between friends old and new. The Lucases lingered longer than they intended, as was often the case when speculation proved more delicious than the refreshments.
But eventually, the shadows lengthened, the sun dipping low and golden behind the hedgerows. One by one, coats were fetched, curtsies made, and farewells exchanged.
Elizabeth lingered at the window a moment longer, watching the Lucases retreat down the drive.
A breeze stirred the curtain at her shoulder.
She had not thought of Mr. Darcy again after that exchange before the fire—but now, as she stared out at the fading light, she found herself wondering if he, too, was watching the sun go down, and whether his thoughts had returned to her as hers so unexpectedly had returned to him.