Page 6 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Four

News of Darcy’s fortune soon spread, and before long, he could no longer remain at the edges of the room.

Ladies and gentlemen alike sought his attention.

The former simpered and batted their eyelashes, making calf’s eyes as they complimented his attire, intelligence, and wit.

It was nothing Darcy was not used to, though he missed the brief anonymity he had enjoyed upon his arrival in Hertfordshire.

Though they socialized several times a week, Darcy had not caught more than a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Others claimed his attention, and he was unable to break away.

His mother had effectively taught him polite and refined behavior; therefore, he could not bring himself to be rude.

His honor and character were everything to him, and he could not disgrace Lady Anne’s memory by behaving as anything less than a consummate gentleman.

Fortunes changed one evening when the Netherfield party dined at Lucas Lodge.

Darcy’s mood was not the best, having been subjected to Miss Bingley’s complaints for the entire carriage ride.

The lady lamented everything from the weather to the company they were to keep.

“Miss Bennet is, of course, the one exception,” she said haughtily.

“A rare beauty, that one,” Hurst agreed. “Bingley, you had best secure her before some other gentleman lures her away.”

“How can you say that, my dear?” Mrs. Hurst cried. “Miss Bennet may be a sweet, lovely girl, but what do we know of her family?” The lady’s gown rustled as she shifted, clearly agitated by her husband’s proclamation.

“We must discover what we can.” Miss Bingley spoke with confidence. “It would not do for my brother to marry someone unworthy.”

“You both had best stay out of my affairs,” Bingley warned, more severe than Darcy could ever recall hearing. “Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, which is more than either of you can claim.”

The ladies protested loudly, and Darcy turned to look out the window, wishing the carriage ride would soon end. His wish was granted, but Miss Bingley latched onto his arm as they went inside.

“Look at them, Mr. Darcy!” she said, her exclamation filled with false sweetness. “They act as though they are important, but truly they are nothing more than country nobodies. Do not you agree?”

“I would never dare contradict a lady,” he said neutrally. “I find the society much like that around Pemberley. In a way, Hertfordshire reminds me of my home.” Darcy struggled to maintain his polite expression. “I am sorry to hear you do not enjoy country life.”

“On the contrary!” Miss Bingley sounded panicked. “There is nothing I like better than spending time away from the busyness of town. I am sure the residents around Pemberley are more refined than those of Hertfordshire—that is all I meant.”

Darcy fought the smile that threatened to overtake his stoic expression.

He wondered what Miss Bingley would think of Argus Atkins, the old gentleman from the neighboring estate.

Mr. Atkins spoke loudly due to hearing loss, and no longer adhered to society’s expectations.

He spoke his mind and feared no consequences for doing so.

Then there was Mrs. Annabella Wilson—a notorious gossip with a shrewd wit.

It was an odd but lethal combination. She would cut Miss Bingley down to size, Darcy thought.

The image amused him, and he felt somewhat ashamed of it.

“Dear Jane!” Miss Bingley finally released his arm as she greeted Miss Bennet, taking both of her hands. “How do you do this evening? We have been looking forward to Sir William’s hospitality!”

Darcy saw his chance and backed slowly away.

He greeted others as he moved about the room in search of…

he did not know. The prospect of yet another evening mired in conversation with people who would not meet his gaze for more than a few seconds did not appeal to him.

Yet, he had come, for he knew that he might at least speak with Miss Lucas and Miss Elizabeth.

Both were engaging conversationalists, though he had not spoken to either more than briefly.

In truth, he most hoped to speak with Miss Elizabeth.

His thoughts must have summoned her, for they nearly collided as he left the parlor for the larger drawing room where the card tables were laid out.

“Forgive me,” he said, bowing crisply. “I was not attending.”

“Think nothing of it, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth’s smile was warm and inviting, and he grinned in response. “’Tis rather crowded in there, and I wished to escape.”

“May I accompany you?” he asked, dismayed by his desperate tone. “I confess I came this way in hopes of finding you.” He had not realized it until he spoke, but it was the truth.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not look disgusted or nervous.

Nothing for it now, he thought. I have searched long enough for someone like her.

He would not be shy about pursuing an acquaintance with Elizabeth Bennet.

Perhaps she is the one who will see me for myself and not for my fortune.

“I have no objections,” she replied, her warm smile never wavering.

“If you find my company tolerable, then who am I to say ‘nay?’ Follow me, sir, for I know what most guests do not. Sir William has opened another room for those who seek quieter pursuits.” She leaned closer.

“He does this for my father. ’Tis the only way Mr. Bennet can be tempted from Longbourn. ”

Darcy laughed lightly. “Is that so, Miss Elizabeth? Well, lead on! I am intrigued and wish to be introduced to your father.”

“Of course, sir. He has a rather singular disposition, however, so consider yourself forewarned! Still, he is never unjust.” Elizabeth led the way into the hall.

Directly across from the parlor was another, smaller chamber.

It appeared to be a private sitting room, comfortably appointed with chairs and a settee.

A fire danced in the grate. The drapes were drawn, but the space was bathed in the warm glow of many candles.

Work baskets were tucked neatly beneath chairs and tables, and a small stack of books rested on a low table beside a chair near the hearth.

“This is the family’s private sitting room,” Elizabeth said, confirming his thoughts. “Sir William is very obliging to open it during his soirées and card parties.”

“’Tis his way of pacifying me .” A voice from near the fire drew Darcy’s attention to a man sitting in an overstuffed armchair.

The gentleman peered around the high back of the chair, which faced away from the door.

“As you see, Sir William has provided me with books, port, and a warm fire. Others may join me if they please, but most prefer the distractions found across the hall.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Who is your companion, my dear?”

“Mr. Darcy, may I present my father, Mr. Thomas Bennet? Papa, this is Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley’s friend and guest.” Elizabeth spoke his name with pride, and Darcy saw the unmistakable affection shown in her eyes.

Mr. Bennet appeared to be a man of about fifty, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and a pair of spectacles perched upon his nose.

His countenance was both genial and inquisitive.

He gestured to the settee before rising and moving to a nearby chair.

Darcy complied, feeling unaccountably gratified when Elizabeth chose to sit beside him rather than take another seat.

“My Elizabeth told me she enjoyed your conversation at the assembly,” Mr. Bennet said. “That is a rare event, I assure you. More often, she comes home lamenting insipid dance partners and tiresome ladies.”

“He is in jest,” Elizabeth protested, turning to face Darcy. “I do enjoy balls and assemblies. ’Tis he who abhors socializing, not I.” Her feigned scowl, ruined by a mischievous wink, only made him laugh all the more.

“She knows me well,” Mr. Bennet acknowledged. “I am rather particular about which gatherings I attend. The demands of society wear on me.” He leaned back in his chair with a shake of the head. “But Sir William is a friend of long-standing, and thus I make the effort.”

Elizabeth sighed with familiar exasperation. “If you left the house more often, perhaps society would not seem so tiresome.”

“When you are old and beset with children as I am, you will better understand.” He turned once more to Darcy. “Tell me, sir, do you play chess?”

Darcy remained in conversation with Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet for some time before she suggested they return to the gathering and mingle. As they stood, Mr. Bennet thanked him warmly for the stimulating exchange.

“Do call on me, sir. We might play a game or two and speak further of books and estates. After hearing you describe your libraries, mine may appear rather modest, but I dare say we might find some common ground among its many volumes.”

“I shall, sir, thank you.” Darcy grinned and offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth. “May I escort you?”

“You may, sir.” She laid her hand gently upon his arm. Darcy could not help but compare her light, natural touch with Miss Bingley’s habitual, catlike grip. He much preferred Elizabeth’s manner.

“I believe you have given my father another reason to attend such events,” she remarked as they re-entered the parlor. “I have not seen him enjoy himself so thoroughly in quite some time.”

“I hope my company did not disappoint you,” he said, the words escaping him unbidden.

“Not at all, sir.” A touch of color rose in her cheeks; however, she appeared neither uncomfortable nor discomposed. “Though our acquaintance is yet new, you seem an intelligent man. I should be pleased to call you a friend.”

His heart gave a sudden, startled leap. “Thank you,” he said, suffusing his voice with warmth. “I intend to seek out Oakham Mount on the morrow. It lies between Netherfield Park and Longbourn, if I rightly recall.”