Page 62 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
“And please choose the time of your future visits carefully. Mrs Darcy and I are fond of our privacy, and we only share our time with close friends. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: I wrote Charles a few days ago to apologise for my involvement in his leaving Hertfordshire. I recently realised my error, and I am now convinced that one must follow one’s own heart when it comes to personal matters.
Now please excuse us. My cousin is approaching. ”
Neither Miss Bingley nor Mrs Hurst recovered enough to speak, despite the colonel’s greeting, and they remained in dumbfounded silence until the Darcys departed.
A mere glance was enough for Elizabeth to share her deep satisfaction with her husband. Her cheeks were still coloured at his remark about their privacy.
They stopped near the group consisting of Thomas and Lady Maryanne, another couple—Mr George Hasting and his wife, Lady Mary—and her sister, Lady Isabella Simmons.
Introductions were performed, and Elizabeth felt less uncomfortable than she expected.
“I met Mrs Darcy at the ball two days ago, but I imagine she does not remember my name as she was introduced to fifty people that night,” said Lady Isabella with friendly politeness.
“I do remember meeting you, Lady Isabella. I am pleased to make your acquaintance again as I am happy to meet Mr Hasting and Lady Mary.”
The gentlemen offered their arms to the ladies.
In friendly conversation, they walked towards the Matlocks’ box, which—Elizabeth was told—was right beside Darcy’s.
The party stopped as, at a small distance, there were Lady Stafford, James, a few other ladies and gentlemen, and Lord Clayton—who greeted with much friendliness the new addition to their group.
Elizabeth found that Lord Clayton was first cousin to Lady Isabella and Lady Mary Hasting, and his manners proved their familiarity.
Darcy’s arms tensed, and she looked at him. His countenance was dark.
“Cousin, you seem to choose your company very poorly lately,” Lady Isabella said.
“Do not be rude, Isabella. I know you hate Lady Stafford, but it is not her fault that your uncle married her and left her his entire fortune. Well, at least not entirely her fault.”
“I am glad we are all in such cheerful moods. Now let us enter,” the colonel said impatiently.
A moment before they finally entered their box, Elizabeth was stunned to see Lady Stafford greet the group with a conceited and defiant smile.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, to everyone’s disbelief, “I wish to remind you about your promise to call on me soon. Your help is invaluable in a matter of great importance to me.”
Darcy’s astonishment at Annabelle’s impertinent words made him so furious that he could not breathe. Had the woman completely lost her mind? What was to be done with her? Was she unaware that she appeared ridiculous? Did she have no shame?
The struggle to control himself was so strenuous that his head seemed cut by a thousand knives. He felt Elizabeth’s hand entwining his fingers then looked at the people around them. There was no longer a chance to ensure privacy.
He tightened the grip of his fingers against Elizabeth’s as he addressed Annabelle calmly.
“Lady Stafford, I am sorry to hear that you have problems that need my assistance. I was just talking with my wife last night about your past and future problems . If they are of a difficult nature, you should detail them in a letter, and I will write back, recommending to you the best persons to help you solve them. Otherwise, I shall not have time to respond to any requests in the future, even should one wait for me at my door in the middle of the night. As a newly wedded man, all my free time is dedicated to my wife.”
He glanced at Elizabeth while, from the corner of his eye, he could spot Annabelle’s face—red with shock—and the astonishment of the rest of the party. He then saw Elizabeth’s smile widen and her eyes narrow in preparation while she added:
“And Lady Stafford, if you do decide to write a letter, please direct it to me. That way you may be certain of receiving a proper reply. I am aware of all the particularities of this story, and I shall help Mr Darcy to decide the best way of proceeding further. Indeed—as you said several times—it seems fortunate that fate had us meet again today and settle all aspects of the situation.”
Shock twisted Annabelle Stafford’s features, and Elizabeth could not avoid rejoicing in her success. Lord Clayton took Annabelle’s arm and decidedly directed her to their party while James followed them, looking nothing but amused.
The size of the Fitzwilliam box, united with the Darcy’s next to it, could easily accommodate 20 people, and Elizabeth’s first thought was how happy she would be to invite Jane and her uncle and aunt to join them on another evening.
The ladies were invited to sit in the front row of chairs to have a better view of the stage, while each gentleman sat behind his wife.
In the general din of the theatre—loud laughter, blatant voices and noisy conversations—there was a strange silence in their box as none seemed to find a proper subject for discussion. A couple of minutes later, Lady Isabella broke the tension.
“Mrs Darcy, please allow me to tell you that you are my hero! If I had any puzzlement regarding why Darcy married you, it has long gone. You have my complete admiration.”
Elizabeth laughed and thanked her. Her husband responded in a low voice, “I assure you, Lady Isabella, that you should rather be puzzled that I was fortunate enough to be accepted by Elizabeth. I do approve of your words, though.”
“Well, I do, too,” the colonel intervened, exceedingly lively. “I say, this night has already proved to be more entertaining than I expected. I feel quite well so far.”
“You mean you are surprised to feel well, since you expected this night to be unpleasant and not entertaining? That is surely not a compliment to any of us,” Lady Isabella said with a sharpness that confused the colonel and made Elizabeth let out a small laugh.
“I believe the colonel chose his words in a rather unfortunate manner. I must share a secret, Lady Isabella: this appears to be a family trait,” Elizabeth whispered, and all three ladies chuckled while she wondered what the gentlemen were thinking behind them.
She felt her husband’s gentle hand on her shoulder as he spoke so close to her ear that she was certain he had touched her skin.
“You are my hero too, Mrs Darcy. Now please take the opera glasses. You may need them.”
She shivered, and her heart raced. She looked around to conceal her nervousness and vaguely listened to the discussions of the ladies beside her and the gentlemen in the back row.
She noticed Lady Stafford about six boxes away in a large group including James Darcy and Lord Clayton—watching her with insistent curiosity—and on the other side of the theatre, Miss Bingley and the Hursts with some companions.
Elizabeth smiled to herself as a daring, shocking and abominable thought—at which Jane would surely be appalled—crossed her mind. With a smile, she turned to her husband and spoke, leaning back towards him. “I am grateful for your care.”
He seemed surprised but quickly took her hand and briefly kissed it. “It is my pleasure to take care of you. Although I know you rarely need it—as you just proved.”
Elizabeth more felt than saw Lady Stafford and Miss Bingley staring perplexedly at their barely proper exchange.
She knew she was behaving horribly, but somehow she felt deeply satisfied to exhibit the closeness that existed between her and her husband if only to harass the women who had stressed her.
She blushed with embarrassment for her own childish behaviour, but she did not withdraw her hand from his until he eventually released it.
***
“So the main opera is about to start, and it seems it will be a long evening,” the colonel said.
“I need something to drink. How about you, Darcy? I noticed you already had your share of excitement. Miss Bingley seemed not fully recovered from the shock of your marriage, and she was not the only one.” Darcy’s severe look did not diminish his amusement.
“Oh, many people have not recovered from the shock of your marriage, Mr Darcy—actually all unmarried ladies and perhaps some of the married ones, too,” Lady Isabella added.
“You should not be bothered by this reality. And I hope Mrs Darcy knows how many people are watching her right now only to find something to criticise.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I have been hearing that for the last few days, and I keep hoping it is a joke. I cannot believe that London society has nothing more interesting to speak about, and although I do recognise my husband’s remarkable qualities,” she said teasingly, glancing at him, “it is hard for me to believe that all the ladies in Town entertained the hope of marrying him and now are all heartbroken. This cannot be anything but a joke.”
“Of course it is a joke,” Darcy intervened severely. “I am fortunate to have a bright wife who does not take this nonsense seriously.”
“Well, although I can heartily testify about Elizabeth’s intelligence, regarding the other part I have a different opinion,” Colonel Fitzwilliam continued.
“We should go and look for something to drink, and perhaps the ladies will find a more proper subject to discuss in our absence,” Darcy suggested, disapproval clear in his voice.
The gentlemen left the box, and the ladies remained by themselves.
“I look forward to seeing the opera.” Elizabeth began a different conversation.
“I confess I am not quite so fond of it, but it is an excellent way to spend time and meet people when there is no ball to attend,” Lady Isabella replied.
“I do enjoy opera very much,” Lady Maryanne intervened. “Elizabeth, but are you well? I am sorry you had to bear a most uncomfortable conversation.”
“I am fine, I assure you,” she said, smiling.