Page 32 of Penned by Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #3)

Elizabeth

T he events immediately after the confrontation were something of a blur.

Elizabeth remembered Jane taking her arm and leading her to sit down, and a glass of brandy being placed in her hand.

She had not been sure why her sister had been so concerned, but when Elizabeth tried to raise the glass to her lips, her arm was trembling so violently the brandy sloshed over the side.

The constable had been called and Wickham taken away.

Elizabeth had glimpsed a large purse being handed to the constable by Mr Darcy, no doubt the payment to keep what had occurred here silent.

If word escaped Netherfield, it would do far worse things for her reputation than the rumour of a clandestine embrace in the woods.

Without another word from Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley saw them home in his carriage. He sat outside with the driver, leaving Elizabeth and Jane alone inside the cab.

“I do not understand what has happened,” Jane said for the tenth time, utterly shocked. “Lizzy, you must tell me something.”

“It is over now,” Elizabeth said simply, sagging back against her chair. “Promise me that you will not breathe a word of this to our family. Nobody can know what has happened.”

“I swear it.”

They returned to the house, bidding Mr Bingley to stay where he was lest their mother waylay him. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than silence and peace, for her muscles ached and her mind would not settle. Jane saw that she had both, tucking her into bed with claims of a cold.

“You are very brave, Lizzy,” Jane whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Mr Darcy told us what you did.”

“I did nothing. Mr Darcy took the gun from him.”

“Still. I believe it takes great courage to stand before an armed man and not be afraid.”

“I was afraid,” Lizzy yawned. “But I was angry, more than anything. Such people that exist in the world, Jane. I am glad that we have not been exposed to wider society, if that is what it harbours.”

“I am sure Mr Wickham is nothing but an anomaly. Mr Darcy was very worried about you, you know.”

“Was he?”

“He could not stop looking at you. He worried only for your welfare, and our reputation. He gave the constable a great deal of money, you know.”

“I know.”

“He loves you very much, Lizzy.”

“I think I know that too,” she whispered.

∞∞∞

The day of the ball arrived, and Elizabeth felt lighter than she had in weeks.

There was no burden to carry, only the promise of joy.

She was not sure when her feelings for Mr Darcy had shifted so greatly; she was only certain that there had been a change.

When she thought of him now, she did so with fondness – and near constantly, for she found herself often distracted, consumed in the memory of her lips against his, the feeling of his hair beneath her fingertips, the pressure of his touch on her waist…

How pleasant that encounter had been before it had all fallen apart.

She wished to repeat such an embrace as often and as enthusiastically as she could.

Though, perhaps her wish was a foolish one.

She had not heard from Mr Darcy since the day of the terrible encounter with Mr Wickham.

She did not feel disappointed, for she understood he probably had much to occupy his mind.

She had been consumed by it, barely speaking to another soul for two days, before she had begun to recover herself.

Her greatest hope was that Mr Darcy had remained at Netherfield, and that he would be there tonight.

“Lizzy!”

She was jolted from her day dream with a sound shove and call of her name from Lydia. She blinked, brought back to reality. Lydia loomed in front of her, her hair pinned in rags.

“What?!” Lizzy asked irritably. “You do not need to scream at me so!”

“Apparently I do, for I have been calling your name for ages and you did not reply! Then I had to come all the way here, and you were in a terrible sort of…I don’t know, you weren’t blinking or moving! I thought for a moment you were dead!”

“Do not exaggerate. What is it that you needed me for so desperately?”

“You promised me your gloves.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll get them.”

“You never went, by the way.”

“I’m sorry?”

“To meet Wickham. I was going to follow you, but you returned home from your outing with Jane and never left the house again. What was the point of the letter?”

“It was not needed in the end.”

“Will you ever tell me what all that was about?”

“Perhaps when you are older.”

Lydia sighed dramatically.

“I shall never be able to wait that long.”

“I am sure you will forget all about Mr Wickham soon enough. You won’t be seeing him again; he is gone from Hertfordshire.

“Oh well,” Lydia sighed, “Mr Denny is just as charming.”

Elizabeth tried not to laugh; she wondered at her sister sometimes. She did not even think to question why Mr Wickham would be leaving, nor why Elizabeth would be privy to this information. For one so inquisitive, she was very easily placated.

The Bennet house was always in upheaval before an event.

With five girls to ready for a public event, there was much to be done.

They had not attended such a grand ball as a family since the youngest two had made their debut, and their mother was even more on edge than she usually was.

As the time to depart neared, she pulled Lizzy aside.

“Now, Lizzy, you must pay particular attention to Mr Collins. He has taken a great deal of interest in you, and it is my suspicion that he may yet propose.”

“Propose?!” Lizzy said in horror. “What on earth would possess him to do such a thing?”

Her mother frowned.

“Have you not noticed that he has paid particular attention to you?”

She had scarcely noticed the man at all.

“Mother, I am sure you are quite wrong!”

“I am not! I know these things. Why, Lizzy, one would suppose you are not thrilled about the prospect!”

“No, I am not! You must put paid to this fanciful notion at once, Mama, or I shall tell him myself.”

“How dare you even joke of such a thing?!” Mrs Bennet said with horror. “Lizzy, what has gotten into you?”

“A joke? You are the one who must be joking! I will not marry Mr Collins! The very thought of it!”

“Well, Jane cannot! Mr Bingley will propose any day. Of that I am certain! As the second eldest, is you who must secure all of our futures, and keep Longbourn secure within our line. What will become of us otherwise when your father is dead?!”

“I will not entertain this, Mama. I will marry for love, or not at all.”

I will marry Mr Darcy.

The thought came to her unbidden – but it did not feel wrong. It felt entirely natural, for she had come to know him so intimately that to be his wife felt like an inevitability. She could not speak the words out loud, for she was sure it would sound absurd.

“Love! Love, indeed!”

Her mother left, muttering to herself.

Jane slipped her arm into Lizzy’s as they walked out to the carriage.

“You look very beautiful, Lizzy.”

“So do you.”

“I heard what you said to Mama. Have you someone in mind?”

“Hush, Jane. Teasing does not suit you.”

Jane simply smiled.

Netherfield was exquisite at night. Flaming torches lined the drive, their light glancing off the glossy sides of the waiting carriages.

The clipped ring of hooves and the murmur of well-dressed arrivals blended into a hum of anticipation.

The Bennets were late, it was true—entirely by Mrs. Bennet’s design.

To be early was unspeakably rude; to arrive in the middle of the stream, entirely forgettable.

No, the last to arrive were the ones remarked upon, their entrance just in time for the first strains of music.

By the time their carriage came to a halt before Netherfield’s grand steps, the night air was sharp and bracing. They shivered as they ascended the stone staircase, the golden spill of candlelight from the open doors beckoning them inside.

Mr Bingley and his sister stood as the receiving line. Mr Bingley was enthusiastically greeting each guest with a bright smile, whilst Caroline curtsied as little as she could. By the time the Bennets reached her, she barely moved at all.

“Good evening to you all.”

“Good evening. What a beautiful evening you have prepared, Mr Bingley. And I must thank you for extending the invitation to our guest, Mr Collins.”

“But of course. I do hope you all have a wonderful evening.”

Their mother moved ahead, leaving Jane and Lizzy to be greeted.

“Good evening, Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley.”

“Miss Bennet,” Caroline inclined her head slightly. “Miss Elizabeth.”

“You look wonderful,” Jane said. “Truly the height of fashion.”

It was true – as was everything Jane said. Miss Bingley was something out of a fashion plate, and Elizabeth was sure she had spent a great deal of time with the modiste in Meryton to even hope to obtain something so elaborate.

“Thank you,” Caroline replied, her eyes flicking over Jane and offering no such complement in return. “I do hope you enjoy this evening, Miss Bennet.”

They departed the line and entered the ballroom.

Lizzy looked around, searching for Mr Darcy. She had been surprised not to see him in the receiving line, for he was never far from Mr Bingley’s side.

“Champagne, Lizzy?” Jane asked.

“Yes, please.”

Jane wandered away towards the refreshment table – where Mr Bingley now lingered, his guests now all arrived. Lizzy turned away with a knowing smile, only to flinch when she saw Mr Collins standing behind her.

“I hope you will dance the first set with me, cousin Elizabeth.”

“I…”

Lizzy wanted nothing less, but if she were to refuse Mr Collins’ invitation, etiquette dictated that she would be unable to dance with another for the entirety of the ball.

Mr Darcy had not asked her for a certain set, and as she could not find him, she had little choice.

She inhaled, straightening her shoulders and accepting her fate.

“Yes, of course.”