Page 7 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER SIX

E lizabeth did not know what to make of Mr Darcy’s cold welcome the morning of their Netherfield visit.

She could not but be taken aback by the heaviness of his brow and the intensity of his stare.

He was observing her, that was certain, but not with the kindly reception of a friend, nor even with the curiosity of a new acquaintance.

It was clear he was still in pain, given the way he had shifted his stance from time to time, but it was not a scowl of discomfort he had sent her way; that, she could have forgiven him.

No, his countenance bespoke what Elizabeth could only deem mistrust. She could not account for it; had she not put him at ease with regards to her intentions in seeking his company that evening?

Had not her confession of a previous attachment negated any suspicions he might have had about her motives? Why had he looked at her so?

Perhaps he had not enjoyed her company at the assembly as she had presumed—though she was sure he did not laugh easily.

It was perplexing, even for her, who prided herself on reading people so well.

It was for the best, she supposed, for if he liked her, she would be forced to speak to him, and it was becoming all too clear what a proud, disagreeable sort of man he truly was.

And so, upon arriving at the Longs’ dinner party, she did not expect him to even acknowledge her presence. She was, after all, a lowly squire’s daughter with a fortune of all of forty pounds a year and no connexions of note.

But, lo, as soon as she walked through the door and divested herself of her outdoor accoutrements, Mr Darcy was standing beside her, bowing deeply, and offering his arm to escort her the rest of the way into the house.

He did not speak past a formal greeting, so she chose to respond in kind.

After standing near him amongst her neighbours in silence for many minutes, it became evident that none of them were willing to approach her if it meant braving Mr Darcy’s glower.

Elizabeth inhaled determinedly, turned to Mr Darcy, thanked him for his escort, and excused herself.

She had put herself out for him enough, she decided.

She certainly would not volunteer her services again, especially if she was to be met with only cold civility for her efforts.

No sooner had she greeted her friends Charlotte and Maria Lucas, relieved to be in the company of those whom she valued and who valued her, than she once again felt his looming presence.

And looming he was, for he was easily a full head taller than she, though Elizabeth was no Lilliputian.

Rather than asking whether the ladies had been introduced to Mr Darcy, as was the polite thing to do, she simply launched into conversation with her closest friend—ignoring him.

After exchanging greetings, Charlotte’s eyes roved about the room, and Elizabeth found herself joining her in the exercise. In low tones, her friend pointed out the way Mr Bingley danced attendance upon Jane.

“I think they might do remarkably well together,” Elizabeth replied, careful not to let Mr Darcy hear amongst the chattering all about them.

“It is clear he likes her very much, but does Jane return his regard? If only she could make her admiration more discernible. Especially to Mr Bingley.”

Elizabeth looked over to her sister. She accepted the gentleman’s attentions with sanguinity, but Charlotte’s observation was sensible. If Jane’s good friend could not perceive her regard, perhaps Mr Bingley might be unsure as well. Perhaps she should speak to Jane about this.

By and by, their discourse came to an end.

Mr Darcy’s presence, however, did not. Charlotte darted her eyes towards him then met Elizabeth’s with a raised brow before departing.

As the Lucas ladies walked away, Elizabeth gave him a thin-lipped smile and sighed.

What was he about, hanging upon her elbow in such a manner? She did not have to wonder for long.

“Might we not make our way towards the gentlemen now?”

While the question was everything polite, it was now plain to Elizabeth why Mr Darcy had attached himself to her; he was expecting her to perform for him the same office she had at the assembly. He had magnanimously allowed her to converse with her friends, and now he wished to be accommodated.

Evidently, she was to be his societal cushion, a safe conduit between himself and the gentlemen of Meryton.

Though she was at first taken aback by his high-handedness, her shock abated when she remembered just who he was.

This was a man who likely commanded scores of servants, who was doubtless never refused anything, who was accustomed to being waited upon.

No wonder he fully expected Elizabeth to spend her entire evening catering to his unsociability.

She blinked up at him with an incredulous smile. The nerve .

It did not matter they had laughed together at their first meeting, nor that he had made himself agreeable to the farmers and their tenants.

At his core, he was the disdainful, haughty fellow he showed to the world.

Any display of something softer was an aberration, she was sure, and not a sign of some tender nexus hidden beneath the surface.

When he bent to meet her gaze, the fact of his continued presence reminded her of his discomfort.

Mr Bingley had abandoned him at once in favour of a group of ladies at the far end of the drawing room, of which Jane was a part.

Miss Bingley, whom she gathered looked upon Mr Darcy with rather more possessiveness than the gentleman would prefer, would not come near him as long as Elizabeth was upon his arm.

He knew no one else. She supposed it was her own doing; had she not gone out of her way to make the gentleman at ease in her company?

It was no wonder he had gravitated towards her.

While his presumption upon her time and exertions was irritating, she realised he must be reaching outside his realm of comfort to associate with these people at all. Had she not insisted he do so to help his friend become well-established in Hertfordshire? Clearly, he was willing to try.

She sighed, resigned herself to an evening of playing governess to a grown man she was not even sure she liked, and acquiesced.

She would escort him to Mr Warner and enquire after his efforts to crossbreed a sheep whose wool was both soft and strong; Mr Darcy had expressed an interest in farming, had he not?

Perhaps that would keep him occupied the rest of the night, and Elizabeth would be free.

Alas, Elizabeth had not been set free after introducing the subject of sheep-breeding between Mr Darcy and Mr Warner.

She had gently led the men into conversation, as if laying down kindling and blowing upon it with small comments until their discourse ignited in full.

Then, without formally excusing herself, she had left Mr Darcy to carry on under his own power.

Soon, however, she felt Mr Darcy’s eyes piercing her from across the room. She caught his foreboding gaze as he stood amidst the other guests, a lone sentinel whose resting expression was unfortunately that of fierce disapprobation. Thus, she soon found herself once again at his side.

“Have you not met most of the gentlemen here, Mr Darcy? Certainly you do not need me to introduce you?”

“Indeed, I have, Miss Elizabeth,” he answered. “But it does not follow that I know how to converse with them. I know nothing about them, nor they of me.”

“True. But is that not what conversation is for—to become acquainted?”

“I am afraid I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers,” he explained. “I have not the talent which some possess of conversing easily, of appearing interested in their concerns, as I see some men do.”

She stared up at him. Did he not realise how haughty he sounded?

“Perhaps you should become interested in their concerns, Mr Darcy. It is much more fruitful than merely appearing interested,” she suggested. “And a more enjoyable way to spend an evening, I dare say.”

Now it was Mr Darcy’s turn to blink at her. He appeared truly baffled by her suggestion that he take any pains whatsoever to show genuine interest in those about him. She held his gaze with a challenging tilt to her head. He ended their deadlock with a smug huff.

“Very well, Miss Elizabeth. Tell me what is so interesting about these gentlemen, and I shall attempt to become interested in their concerns.”

So, Elizabeth did.

Ignoring her exasperation at his conceit, she told him about Mr Long’s having taken on the care of his three grown nieces, whose parents were of a reclusive and unsociable nature.

She spoke of Colonel Ashe-Benning, the elderly widower in the corner whose utter attachment to his long-dead wife endeared him to all.

Sir William Lucas, she informed him, had served as mayor of their town many years before and had the distinction of having been knighted during his tenure, the pinnacle of his life being his presentation at?—

“The Court of St James’s, I am aware,” Mr Darcy said with a knowing smirk, eliciting the same from Elizabeth.

Next, she pointed out Mr Goulding and explained that he had recently inherited a small cotton plantation in the West Indies; he was eager to see it well-managed, but he knew nothing about the place, the people, or the crop for that matter.

“I have sold my cotton interests, as there is no profit in it without the enslaving of men,” Mr Darcy stated matter-of-factly, as if profit were his only concern. Elizabeth could not help but discern that profits were nothing to him if it meant men were treated inhumanely.

“Indeed,” was all she could reply, for this insight into his character touched her deeply. Perhaps there is more to him than pomposity after all.

Mr Darcy proved true to his word and attempted to make conversation with some of these gentlemen through the course of the evening.

Each time he finished one exchange, however, he stood silently, plainly waiting for her to return to him.

Elizabeth vacillated between exasperation at his high-handedness and pity for his unease.

When he caught her eye, she would discreetly make her way towards him with a patient smile.

He would offer her his arm, and she would walk him towards another party, fan the flames of genteel discourse, and leave him to converse.

By the end of the evening, his cool expectation of her assistance was replaced with something warmer.

After having spoken to Sir William at length about that man’s speech to the king during his mayoralty, Mr Darcy took the trouble of walking towards her and joining her as she conversed with Jane and Mr Bingley.

She was surprised to see him approaching, as he had awaited her approach throughout the evening, and her astonishment was further increased when he met her eyes with an expression that almost resembled a smile.

“Miss Elizabeth, is there aught I might do for your comfort? Are you in need of a chair? Or some refreshment? May I not bring you a drink?”

She was so stupefied by his sincere solicitude, she thought she might indeed need a chair.

And a drink.