Page 21 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F rom an almost hidden corner near the doorway, Darcy watched Elizabeth bid farewell to Captain Wentworth then hie away to her sister’s sickroom.

He wondered why she was not willing to spend a quarter of an hour with her beloved in the garden after such a long absence.

She said herself that her sister improved; why should she hesitate?

The man was obviously over the moon to see her and to be in her company, but why was Elizabeth suddenly so subdued, almost repressed?

Did it have something to do with the secret she had been about to reveal?

“Impressive gentleman, is he not?” Bingley asked the room.

Miss Bingley sighed aloud and replied that she had seen more sophistication at that horrid assembly Bingley had dragged her to on their first week here. “Oh, Charles, I hope you do not take him for a model; I should hate to see you walking about as brown as a filbert.”

“So tanned and weather-beaten,” Mrs Hurst concurred .

Miss Bingley then turned to him. “Do you not agree, Mr Darcy?”

He uttered an almost silent humph, unwilling to yet converse with the lady, not until he spoke to Bingley in private about the matter Elizabeth had presented to him in the library.

“And to think, making captain at four-and-twenty,” Bingley put forth. “How diligent and capable he must be. Of course he is. Just imagine being in battle, running guns on a man-of-war, carrying trunks of Spanish coins across a gang plank from a disabled ship…”

“One can hardly carry a trunk full of doubloons, Bingley. Gold is incredibly heavy,” Darcy said.

“Yes, as Mr Darcy would know. I wish you were not so ignorant, Brother, as to these things,” Miss Bingley added, passing a long-suffering smile his way.

“Just because Darcy is as rich as Midas does not mean he walks about carrying bags of gold, Caroline,” he rebuked her. Turning to his friend, he asked, “So, what did you think of Miss Elizabeth’s captain, Darcy? Did you like him?”

“There is little not to like, I think. Miss Elizabeth is an astute judge of character,” except when it comes to the leanings of my heart, it seems, “and she esteems him, so I dare say we shall find him agreeable. Though I think his visit will not be long enough to become well acquainted.”

Darcy did try to find something not to like about the man, but Wentworth was just as Elizabeth had portrayed him: engaging, friendly, and open, while at the same time discerning and careful not to say too much.

If Darcy had met him in any other circumstance, he would have been just the kind of man whose acquaintance he welcomed.

In fact, his military manner and agreeable mien reminded him much of his own cousin, Alec Fitzwilliam, a colonel in His Majesty’s Army.

“That is too bad,” Bingley lamented.

“I believe he is to walk with Miss Elizabeth tomorrow. Perhaps you might invite him in after,” Darcy suggested. “I should like to hear more about his exploits myself.”

“That is a fine idea, Darcy; I believe I shall. In fact, I will send a note around to Mrs Westerbourne’s directly and extend the invitation.”

Darcy was glad of the opportunity to get to know the captain better.

He had often thought how much he would like Elizabeth to meet his sister, what excellent friends they could be.

A less-than-exuberant part of him conceded that this would eventually mean introducing this man to her as well, so it behoved Darcy to gauge the suitability of his company.

Wentworth seemed an honourable fellow, as much a gentleman as Bingley, well-spoken and genial; Darcy was glad of it.

If the man were raucous or uncouth, he would not be able to countenance his company, and this he would regret, for it would mean losing Elizabeth’s friendship, which he had so come to value.

For Georgiana. Yes. The friendship he valued for his sister.

Bingley stood to leave the room, and Darcy followed, asking, “May I join you, Bingley? There is something particular about which I should like to speak to you.”

Elizabeth had been mortified after Mr Darcy’s declaration.

“There is nothing I condemn more than deceit.”

Any argument she had had in mind had been lost in the constriction of her throat as the gravity of his words sank in. She could not contemplate how fallen she would be in his esteem should he discover her prevarication. Was she, too, to one day be the object of his implacable resentment?

The thought of losing the friendship they had developed over the past several weeks caused her physical pain such that she clutched her stomach and began to feel hot.

Oh, who was she trying to fool?

She did not only dread losing his friendship; her dismay sprang from the fear of losing what she secretly hoped they might one day become.

His company was becoming very…important to her.

How could she have known at the Meryton Assembly that the coming months would throw them together so often, or indeed that he would seek her out and make her his solace from the discomfort of disagreeable or unfamiliar society?

How could she have foreseen that they might become increasingly dear to one another?

Upstairs, Elizabeth had to catch her breath before entering Jane’s room. How shocked she had been to see Frederick, and how discomposed she had been in his company while her deception hung over her.

What must Mr Darcy think?

Watching Frederick commandeer her attention immediately and kiss her hands twice, even openly requesting a private audience on the morrow—of course, he would think they were a couple in love.

How on earth was she to explain that they were only friends now?

What kind of wanton must she be to allow a gentleman, not her lover, to take such liberties?

How low she must be to behave so familiarly with a man to whom she was not betrothed.

Even if she could somehow keep Mr Darcy’s good opinion after the truth was revealed, how would she convince him that she had no feelings for Frederick after what he had seen today?

How would she ever regain his good opinion?

Elizabeth could not lie to herself. She did not desire just his good opinion. Her horror at Mr Darcy discovering her pretence and the terrible shame she felt as she sat next to Frederick while that gentleman looked on brought forth a staggering revelation:

I love him. I am in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.