Page 28

Elizabeth

T he Netherfield ballroom could rival London’s grandest balls with musicians stationed at one end, elaborate chalk drawings on the hardwood floor and the scent of roses and lavender covering those odours one might expect when crowds of people congregate in confined spaces.

A full two day had passed since the disastrous dinner at Longbourn, and in that time, Elizabeth had scarcely exchanged a dozen words with her husband.

He had slept in the dressing room adjoining her chamber, a circumstance that had left her tossing through the night, her thoughts in disarray.

She had risen with the firm intention of speaking to him, only to discover he had departed at first light to shoot with Mr Bingley.

They had stayed at a hunting cabin overnight, robbing hr of a chance to speak to him.

When he finally returned to Netherfield, it was merely to change his attire for the evening’s ball, allowing no opportunity for private conversation.

Now she was left to seek her husband out among the crowd, watching him converse with Sir William Lucas, his visage a mask of propriety and politeness.

“You appear deep in thought,” Jane said, joining her sister. “Is all well?”

Elizabeth summoned a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Merely observing the company.”

Jane’s gaze lingered on Elizabeth’s face. “You need not pretend with me, Lizzy. I know you too well to be deceived by false cheer.”

Elizabeth sighed, glancing towards Darcy once more before turning to her sister. “You are right, of course. Darcy and I find ourselves… at odds. The revelation of my acquaintance with Mr Wickham has created a breach between us that I know not how to mend.”

“I feared as much,” Jane said. “There was a coolness in your manner towards one another that spoke of discord. Has he been very severe in his displeasure?”

“There have been no harsh words, no recriminations. Indeed, that might be easier to bear than this careful politeness. It is as though the intimacy we had developed has been replaced by the formal courtesy one might extend to a mere acquaintance.”

Jane placed a gentle hand upon her sister’s arm. “Perhaps he requires time to reconcile himself to the matter. Men, I believe, often need solitude to order their thoughts.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth conceded. “Yet I cannot help but fear that I have shattered something precious through my silence. I ought to have told him of my connection to Wickham the moment I discovered their history.”

“Why did you not?” Jane asked, her tone free from judgement, though she had advised her sister to do just that.

“Fear. Fear of harsh judgement, fear of something changing between us. Alas, that has happened now anyway.”

“Have you explained your reasoning to him?”

“I attempted to last night, but my words seemed inadequate in the face of his disappointment. He believes I did not trust him enough to confide in him.”

“Then you must speak with him again,” Jane urged. “The truth, even when painful, is less destructive than omissions.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy again, wishing he would turn towards her but he did not. “You are right, as always. I shall seek a private moment with him this evening.”

The music concluded, and Elizabeth watched as Darcy excused himself from Bingley’s company and moved towards a side door. Here, she thought, might be her opportunity for private conversation.

She had taken but three steps in that direction when Mrs Bennet appeared before her, a determined gleam in her eye.

“Lizzy, I must speak with you,” Mrs Bennet declared, taking her daughter’s arm and steering her towards an alcove partially concealed by a large potted palm. “It is a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Mama, I was just on my way to—”

“This cannot wait,” Mrs Bennet insisted, drawing Elizabeth into the alcove. “I have been observing your Mr Darcy this evening, and I must say, he does not appear as attentive as a new husband ought to be. Is all well between you?”

“Perfectly well,” Elizabeth replied, though the words tasted false upon her tongue. “Mr Darcy is merely reserved in company, as you know.”

Mrs Bennet sniffed, clearly unconvinced. “Well, it signifies little, I suppose, so long as he maintains you in the style to which you have become accustomed at Pemberley. Speaking of which, I wished to discuss a matter of some delicacy.”

Elizabeth felt a prickle of unease at her mother’s tone. “What matter?”

“It concerns your sister Jane,” Mrs Bennet said, lowering her voice to a stage whisper that could likely be heard three feet away. “Mr Bingley appears most attentive, does he not? I have every expectation that he will make an offer before your visit concludes.”

“I would not presume to anticipate Mr Bingley’s intentions,” Elizabeth cautioned.

“Nonsense! A mother knows these things. And while Mr Bingley’s four or five thousand a year would be a most welcome connection for our family, it cannot compare to your Mr Darcy’s ten thousand. Jane’s marriage alone will not secure our future when your father is gone.”

Elizabeth felt a flicker of alarm. “Mama, surely this is not the moment—”

“When else am I to speak with you?” Mrs Bennet demanded.

“You return to Pemberley soon, and then who knows when we shall see you again? No, Lizzy, you must listen. Your Mr Darcy suggested some loan officer might assist with our financial difficulties, but such a notion is absurd when his own resources could resolve the matter with barely a thought. Besides, a loan officer will not help rid us from that wretched Franklin who breathes down out necks. It is quite stingy of him, I must say.”

“Mr Darcy has been nothing but generous,” Elizabeth protested, mortification flooding her cheeks with colour. “And I beg you would not speak of such matters here, where we might be overheard.”

“But we are quite private,” Mrs Bennet insisted, gesturing to the palm that concealed them from the main ballroom.

“And this is a matter of family survival. We cannot rely upon Mr Bingley alone, particularly as he has not yet proposed to Jane. Your Mr Darcy must be made to understand his duty to his wife’s family. ”

“He has no such duty,” Elizabeth said. “And I will not importune him for money.”

“How can you be so selfish?” Mrs Bennet’s voice rose. “After all we have done for you, to see you now refuse to assist your own mother and sisters when a word from you could secure our comfort!”

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, struggling to maintain her composure. “Mama, I have not refused to assist you. I have refused to treat my marriage as a transaction. There is a distinction.”

“A fine distinction when we are all thrown to the hedgerows upon your father’s death!” Mrs Bennet retorted.

“That will not happen,” Elizabeth said. “Uncle Gardiner and Uncle Phillips have already extended loans to stabilise Longbourn’s finances.

There is no immediate danger. Besides, Mr Franklin may never throw us out, and if he does, we will find a way then.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley would certainly help us in that situation. They would provide.”

“Oh, would they?” Mrs Bennet scoffed. “And why would they not do so now? Why would Mr Darcy not use his influence now? As for your uncles, what are a few hundred pounds from them compared to what Mr Darcy might provide? It is your duty as a daughter to secure your family’s welfare now that you have the means to do so.

Instead of tending to us, you have your head in the clouds with this foolish scribbling of yours. ”

“It is not foolish scribbling. I am meeting with a publisher. I told you, that is why Mr Darcy and I are here,” she replied, heat rising in her.

“Ah, so he will assist you with that but not with keeping your family from the poorhouse. So he has some use, at least to you.”

Her mother’s voice had risen to a level that might well carry beyond their alcove. “I will discuss this no further, Mama. Please excuse me.”

She stepped around her mother, relief flooding her as she escaped the alcove. Her cheeks burned with mortification at the thought that someone might have overheard such vulgar considerations.