Page 5 of Mr Darcy Gets Angry
They found the other guests in the parlour, assembled before dinner to welcome the newcomers, Viscount Beaumont, Lord Matlock’s eldest son, and his lady.
“And where did you discover these rebellious ladies?” Lord Matlock asked Darcy in a manner so animated that his family and long-standing friends could scarcely recognise him.
Darcy smiled and returned the pleasantry. “They were concealed in the library, discoursing upon books.”
The company laughed, and Darcy took advantage of the moment to present Miss Elizabeth to the Viscount and his lady.
Elizabeth observed Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother with discreet curiosity, for she considered the colonel as a friend—one of the few gentlemen of her acquaintance who merited that appellation.
From their first meeting at Rosings, there had been a natural ease and pleasure in their conversation, and their friendship had advanced steadily.
The colonel was a man of unaffected frankness, unspoilt by birth or rank; he thought of himself more as a soldier than as a man of fashion, and this lent him a sincerity rarely found amongst his connections.
The Viscount Beaumont and his lady were of an entirely different stamp.
To them, their noble descent was of the first importance.
He scarcely bestowed a glance upon Elizabeth, and Lady Rowena soon withdrew to join her mother-in-law.
In that instant, Darcy perceived the sort of reception which Elizabeth Darcy might expect to encounter in London society.
A spark of indignation rose within him against his cousin, yet once more, he questioned whether he was prepared to endure such sentiments from his own family and friends.
To marry Elizabeth entirely must be to engage in an unceasing contest for her place beside him.
Even if he were willing to undertake such a struggle, it was by no means certain that Elizabeth would desire a future passed in continual contention with a disapproving assembly.
There were, indeed, men such as the colonel, open to acquaintance without prejudice, yet they were few; the greater part of London society resembled the Viscount Beaumont and his lady.
He had long admired Elizabeth for her understanding and her courage to be unlike others; yet, in truth, he did not know her wholly.
Nor was he certain that her sentiments towards him had undergone any alteration.
She appeared different, but it might be nothing more than the graceful civility of a well-bred woman, and not love or interest.
“Where is the colonel, and why does he not make one of this party?” Sir Rupert enquired.
Lady Matlock’s smile conveyed to Elizabeth a small secret: the colonel was her favourite child.
She loved the Viscount as any mother would, but her younger son was dearer to her heart.
Perhaps it was in part because the colonel was disadvantaged by those laws of inheritance which vested title and fortune in the elder son; but it was more than this.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was a man of warm affections, a dutiful son, and in her eyes, the better man.
“He has been engaged these several months in the service of Lord Bathurst, the Secretary of State for War and the Colonies,” she explained to the assembly, while Lord Matlock nodded in agreement.
“He is ever ready to depart for the front, to France, to fight; yet Lord Bathurst judges his service to be of far greater worth here in the country…
which, I confess, renders me exceedingly happy.
“He is greatly saddened to be prevented from fighting,” Lord Matlock said with evident pride.
“Indeed, he was,” continued Lady Matclock, “but of late he appears to enjoy working in London. We must attribute to this change his new attentions to Miss Henry, who, we all trust, will shortly become his betrothed.”
The room was at once animated with expressions of goodwill, for the colonel was generally beloved, and such news was regarded with pleasure. Lady Matlock, pressed with questions, allowed the earl to respond.
“It is not yet settled,” he said, with some annoyance at his lady’s disclosure, “and the young lady has requested that we be discreet.”
Even Darcy was surprised; he had but lately left London and the colonel, and no word of this had been spoken.
Perhaps he is as uncertain in his intentions as I am, Darcy thought.
Yet such a request seemed insufficient reason to withhold the matter from one who was to him as a brother.
He recalled their journey from Rosings to London, when he had confided to Richard all that had occurred at the Parsonage.
Such openness had existed between them from boyhood.
Falling in love was one thing; contracting a marriage was quite another.
Darcy was astonished, and not a little displeased, at his cousin’s reserve.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was merely curious.
She was eager to learn all that could be known concerning the lady.
For once, she was keen to find more even about her financial situation , for the colonel had often lamented—half in jest—that, being a second son, he must seek an heiress no less than a woman worthy of his affection.
Was Miss Henry wealthy, or had the colonel acted from inclination alone, with his new post under Lord Bathurst serving as a means to provide for his household?
The answer came from Mr Bingley, who at last succeeded in placing himself beside Elizabeth.
He was still intent upon learning more regarding a particular lady of Longbourn, and Elizabeth was his sole hope of obtaining it.
Observing her surprise at the news of the colonel, he judged that he might satisfy her curiosity, and in return, gain some intelligence respecting Miss Bennet.
“You are acquainted with Miss Henry,” he told her. “She was at Netherfield last year, though only for a few days.”
And, as Elizabeth appeared not to recall her, he added, “That handsome young lady with the auburn hair.”
Indeed, such was the common recollection of Miss Henry: hair of striking beauty, gathered with care into an elegant chignon.
She was of a somewhat unusual air, and the remembrance of her enabled Elizabeth to comprehend the colonel’s choice.
But was she possessed of a fortune, or was it indeed a match of pure attachment?
“But she was alone,” Elizabeth said, as Mr Bingley led her towards the table, glad at last to be seated near her without further contrivance.
“Yes, she was. Before visiting Netherfield, we had been at Brighton, where the colonel’s regiment was stationed a few miles distant.
To confess the truth, we liked the place less than formerly, for it was much overrun by soldiers.
I remember Darcy growing restless and desirous of leaving, and we all agreed that the war had robbed the city of its former charm.
We encountered Miss Henry there; she was with an aunt, and upon our inviting them to join us at Netherfield for the ball, they gladly accepted.
The colonel introduced her into our society, and he, too, was expected at the ball.
Still, his duties detained him at Brighton. ”
“Emmeline,” said Elizabeth, “her Christian name was Emmeline.” Mr Bingley assented.
“A rather uncommon name,” he observed. “Unfortunately, she departed from us in haste, being summoned by her mother.”
Elizabeth recalled her disappointment at Emmeline's absence from the ball. Of all the ladies at Netherfield, Miss Emmeline Henry had been the only one to engage her interest. The young lady’s education was considerable, and they had enjoyed a memorable conversation upon literature.
Her sudden departure had deprived Elizabeth of the pleasure of knowing her better.
Evidently, however, the colonel had been granted that opportunity, Elizabeth thought with a smile to herself.
Ever attired with elegance and adorned with exquisite jewels, Miss Henry might well possess, besides beauty, a fortune to share with the colonel.
Good for him, Elizabeth mused, casting an involuntary glance towards Mr Darcy at the head of the table, only to find his eyes fixed upon her.
Her heart gave a sudden pang, for he made no effort to disguise his regard.
Mr Darcy was indeed observing her, trying to discern the subject of her discourse with his friend. Bingley, at length repentant for having shown Miss Bennet so little delicacy, was seeking to obtain the goodwill of her sister.
In a few words, yet with sufficient plainness, during the morning sport, Darcy had expressed his regret for having interfered in Bingley’s designs respecting Miss Bennet.
The unfortunate gentleman had regarded him with such evident gratitude that, beyond the civil expressions they exchanged, Mr Darcy sincerely lamented his friend’s lost attachment.
Now that Miss Elizabeth was among them, there might yet be some hope of discerning Miss Bennet’s present sentiments.
Once more, in the stillness of the woods, he questioned within himself whether an offer to the other Miss Bennet was truly his desire.
His affection for her endured; yet at present it was moderated by the counsels of reason.
He took pleasure in witnessing Georgiana’s comfort in her society.
His sister’s opinion and disposition towards a future mistress of Pemberley were of consequence, though not, in this instance, decisive.
He could summon many arguments in favour of such a union.
Still, there were some against it, and these were not easily surmounted.
In Kent, he had been ready to make her his wife.
He remembered with perfect clarity her objections and her indignation.
A few of her grievances were no longer of present concern: Bingley deeply wanted to visit Longbourn, and the Gardiners, her close connections, were his guests, yet he doubted whether this would suffice to incline her towards him.
He often wanted to have a long discussion with her; yet, until he could be assured of his own resolution, he felt that he had no right to advance beyond the liberty of a lingering look.