CHAPTER THREE
June 1812, Hertfordshire
How I do wish Mama would permit me to remain home. Elizabeth looked wistfully at the new book on her bed. It was not to be; Mrs Bennet was determined to marry off both of her eldest daughters by the autumn. Since Elizabeth’s return from her visit to Kent, her mother had been relentless in finding opportunities to put her in front of eligible gentlemen.
Elizabeth watched her reflection for a moment as she toyed with the comb in her hair; then she rose, going to the drawer in which she had hidden his letter. She extracted it, but did not unfold it. She hardly needed to open it by now; its contents had been nearly committed to memory.
She did not regret her refusal, although the weeks since Mr Darcy’s astonishing proposal had at least taught her there was much more to him than she had ever suspected. She did regret having never truly known him, and she would readily own there were likely many ways in which they were well-suited.
However, no matter what, she knew she could never marry a man so serious. If nothing else, she wished for a husband with whom she could laugh and indulge herself in teasing and mirth. She had no doubt that life with Mr Darcy would be filled with things noble and solemn and grand, but which held precious little in the way of levity or merriment. She might have misjudged many things about him, but in this was she sure. For someone who loved to laugh as she did, a man like Mr Darcy would never do.
In any case, it did not signify. She was unlikely to ever see Mr Darcy again, and if she did, he would no doubt stay as far away from her as he could. He certainly must loathe her after her refusal; likely his greatest regret was that he ever said he loved her.
A knock came at her door; it was Jane. “Our sisters have promised they will leave us if we are not soon prepared to go, Lizzy.”
“Would that they should!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I would much rather stay home and read a book.”
The two sisters departed Elizabeth’s bedchamber, after Elizabeth slyly tucked his letter back into its hiding place. As they descended the stairs to the carriage, Jane mentioned, “Mama is not to be our chaperon tonight. Her head is exceedingly ill, and our aunt encouraged her to keep to her bedchamber.”
“Who will attend us then?” Elizabeth asked.
“Aunt and Uncle Gardiner,” Jane replied. “They are eager for the diversion.”
I despise beards . Darcy gave his cheeks a vicious scratching. These clothes are an abomination as well.
He looked down at his breeches. They were not well cut and pinched him right in the place a man least liked to be pinched. The material was not fine either, not the worst he had ever seen but dear lord, how did gentlemen of lesser means survive? He privately vowed that—should he ever be forced to retrench—he would choose to have one pair of well-made breeches of a fine material than to have several pairs of poor quality.
With a loud huff, he settled back into the seat of the carriage. This entire scheme is a fool’s errand. Miss Elizabeth shall never believe such fat-witted nonsense.
“Um, Darcy?” Bingley leant forwards, his face barely illuminated by the lanterns that swung outside of the carriage.
“Yes?”
“You will recall that you said I should tell you if you appeared disagreeable.”
Darcy sighed. “Yes?”
“You do remember that request, do you not?” Bingley sounded anxious.
Darcy replied in a resigned tone. “I remember.”
Bingley hesitated, clearly uncomfortable in his new role as Darcy’s instructor in the fine art of appearing amiable. “You do appear just the slightest degree disagreeable right now. Not too frightening, not by far! Just vexed, shall we say? Yes, vexed and perhaps a bit…hot.”
“Thank you, Bingley,” Darcy said from between gritted teeth.
“It is not the worst I have ever seen you, but perhaps you could smile a little?”
“This blasted beard!” Darcy could restrain himself no more. “It itches and it is hot! How am I to make Elizabeth fall in love with me when all I can think of is how damned itchy and hot I am!”
Bingley chuckled. “You must try not to think of it then.”
“Easy enough for you to say,” Darcy growled. “You had a shave just before we departed.”
“I did, it is true,” Bingley said soothingly. “But see there?” Bingley showed him a small mark near his neck. “My razor was dull, I fear, and I got a cut. At least you do not need to worry that you are bleeding onto your cravat.”
“This cravat is tied so stupidly, bleeding onto it could only improve it.” Darcy scoffed but immediately regretted it. This was just the sort of ill-humour that led to him insulting Elizabeth last autumn.
Hearing the sound of music, he looked out the window to see they had arrived at the assembly hall. His heart gave a quick series of thuds; looking across the carriage at his friend, he thought Bingley appeared to have gone slightly pale.
Bingley smiled grimly. “I have only one goal for this night and it is to re-establish my acquaintance and determine whether she despises me, or if there is a chance she might yet like me. Low expectations make for surer success, or so I hope.”
Darcy placed his hat on his head and gave his beard one last violent tug. “Into the breach, shall we?”
The hall was crowded, the music was loud, and the heat of summer made the air feel far too close. Darcy resisted the urge to scowl as Sir William Lucas was immediately upon them. It was only then that Darcy realised a problem he had not considered previously; he would need to deceive not only Elizabeth but the rest of Meryton as well.
“Mr Bingley! Mr Darcy! I heard that you were returned to our fair county and I?—”
“Um, forgive me, Sir William,” Bingley interrupted with a hurried glance towards Darcy. “You have called him by the correct name, but I fear this is a Mr Darcy who is unknown to you.”
Sir William’s brow wrinkled almost comically but his simple understanding was soon satisfied. For such a man as he, to know one Mr Darcy was pleasure enough; to know two was utterly joyous. His greeting was hearty and sincere, and Darcy was glad of it.
As they finished speaking with Sir William and began to move about the room, various members of the neighbourhood presented themselves to Bingley to extend their greetings. The word of the ‘second’ Mr Darcy went through the little place like wildfire. It mortified him to be the principal actor of such a deceit, but he supposed he was too far in it now to grow faint-hearted.
Remembering that his object was to prove himself agreeable and kind, he consented to introduction after introduction, all to persons he already knew. Many offered their comments on the similarity in appearance he shared with his supposed ‘cousin’.
“Of course, Mr Darcy is a good bit taller than you are,” Mr Goulding pronounced. “Several inches I do believe.”
“Darker hair,” Lady Lucas decided. “And curlier. But other than that, you are much of a pair!”
“You are taller than he, but thinner,” determined Mr Philips. “Your cousin must have a heartier appetite.”
My ‘cousin’ is not a heartbroken man for whom food has lost all appeal . Darcy only smiled and said it had always been so since their youth.
“In any case,” Mr Philips continued. “It is good to have another man of the legal study here tonight. We have a case of some delicacy here in town, and I hope you would grant me the honour of your opinion on it.”
“Oh!” Darcy stammered. This was a complication he had not imagined. “Well, you see…that is to say…Hertfordshire is different?—”
“Nonsense!” Mr Philips declared. With no further preamble, he launched into a rather detailed account of a nearby estate belatedly discovered to be under an entail. The former master, recently deceased, had for nearly a decade been somewhat out of his wits, and his son-in-law had the run of the place. The son-in-law, having no idea of the entail, had laboured diligently, providing a rather substantive increase in the coffers, and now was petitioning for something of the increase.
Darcy hoped he made the appropriate noises and interjections, particularly when Mr Philips exclaimed, “Of course you must have known of a similar case in Derbyshire! Highcroft near Bakewell… has it been five years since that matter was settled?”
Fortunately Bingley came to his rescue before he was required to reveal his ignorance. “I have seen Miss Bennet,” Bingley hissed while drawing him away. “As beautiful as ever she was—nay! More so! One hundred times more so! How ever shall I face her? Come, you must go with me. I will ask her for a dance.”
Darcy’s heart began to beat wildly as they crossed the crowded room, intent on going where Miss Bennet stood with a small, fashionably dressed lady of about thirty or five and thirty who was engaged in conversation with Mrs Goulding. Still Darcy did not see Elizabeth, and thus was his anticipation mixed with disappointment. In a brief moment of dismay he worried what he might do if she chose to absent herself this night.
He had almost persuaded himself that his efforts for the night were to be in vain when in an instant, they all converged. Himself, Bingley, Miss Bennet, the fashionable lady…and Elizabeth. All at once and without warning, he was upon her. He schooled himself to appear calm.
Elizabeth was shocked to see him; her eyes flew wide, and her hand went to her chest. “Mr Darcy!”