CHAPTER SIX
When the gentlemen had disappeared into one of the back rooms, Elizabeth stood contemplating the mystery she believed had been laid before her.
Upon her first view of the gentleman calling himself Mr William Darcy, she had believed, wholly, that he was in fact Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. However, his marked amiability, the ease and friendliness in his manner—all had caused her to doubt. When he flirted with her, her doubts were relieved; the man was, in no way, Fitzwilliam Darcy. He must be William, as he said he was.
Had not Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy made very plain the upright sobriety of his nature?
‘Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, they do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can’—she had said those very words to him the previous autumn, adding a challenge afterwards—‘But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without’.
Mr Darcy had replied, ‘Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which expose a strong understanding to ridicule.’
Thus this Mr Darcy could decidedly not be Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy would do no such silly thing as this.
There was but one thing that gave her pause.
Surely a gentleman would know he should not flirt and make love to the lady who had so recently rejected his cousin? He claimed to be in Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy’s confidence. This would surely make him more cautious in his dealings with her, would it not? She would have expected ‘William’ Darcy to avoid her as assiduously as his ‘cousin’ might have.
There were other things as well; that certain something in his manner. The attitude in which he stood, the movement of his hands when he spoke, even his speech; surely a cousin who spent most of his time in Derbyshire would have the accent of Derbyshire, would he not? And yet Mr William Darcy spoke as one who spent a considerable amount of his time in London.
A beard and an ill-fitting suit were not sufficient disguise for the nobility of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy’s appearance. Mr Darcy was—she would admit this now—a very handsome man. It took a great deal more than whiskers to disguise that.
Why would he do such a thing as this? What did he hope to achieve? Surely to make her laugh at him could not be his object. Was it a sort of revenge on her?
She could not deny this: he had surprised and intrigued her. She wished to know more of him and understand what it was that compelled him to do as he did.
She would not expose him, she decided. Indeed, she wished to study him further, to see what he was about. She thought she had surely misjudged his character before and now it seemed, in thinking him too serious and staid, she misunderstood him again. Mr Darcy was proving far more intriguing than ever she had imagined.
It was entirely fascinating to see just how far he would take this nonsense of his.
She turned to her sister and her aunt. “I require your forbearance.”
Both ladies agreed and stood looking at her expectantly.
“The gentleman who just left us, accompanied by Mr Bingley is, I believe, Mr Fitz william Darcy. He has chosen to don a disguise tonight, although to what end I cannot say.”
Mrs Gardiner protested this conclusion. “Who would attempt to deceive an entire assembly of people?”
“There are too many similarities in their appearance, but not only that. There is a certain something in his air, the way he walks; it is too like the manners of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Jane said, “Cousins will often share these sorts of things, similarities in not only looks but also gestures. It is not so very uncommon.”
“Yes, but…” Elizabeth stopped herself. What she had nearly said—but would not, could not ever say—was a secret she held deep in her heart.
It had been not the first moment of their acquaintance but rather the first moment that she had seen him, eight months prior, at the assembly much like this one. She had observed him enter and felt…something. A tug, so to speak, ill-defined but exceedingly pleasing. She recalled fancying it as a recognition of souls, although she discarded the notion at once, realising he was far too high for her and she must not harbour hopes for such a man.
Then of course, he slighted her and so it went from there. However, had he not slighted her, she did not know what might have become of them. Her injured pride made her determined to dislike him.
But now she felt it again. This man, in his shabby-looking whiskers and an unfashionable, cheaply made suit, produced another tug, still more powerful than the first.
“But what, Lizzy?” Jane interrupted her sister’s musings.
“They are returning,” Mrs Gardiner cautioned them in a hushed voice.
The gentleman tarried a moment by the window; a breeze blew and no doubt Mr Darcy hoped to dry his breeches. As the gentlemen stood there, the ladies lowered their eyes, using their particular talents to observe the gentlemen through their eyelashes whilst looking as though they saw nothing.
Mr Darcy’s breeches were bothersome to him it would seem.
“See there,” Elizabeth murmured. “You see how Mr Darcy has just adjusted his breeches?”
“All gentlemen do that,” Mrs Gardiner said under her breath while nodding at a passing acquaintance.
“Not Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, opening her fan in front of her face. “I never before saw such an action, not in his weeks in Hertfordshire, and not in Kent. Yet tonight, I have seen him troubling himself several times tonight. Perhaps as many as ten times.”
Jane was not persuaded. “Mr Bingley has ‘troubled himself’, as you say it, ten times in the five minutes they have been standing there. I think perhaps you merely did not notice it before.”
“No, no,” Elizabeth insisted. “What I mean to say is that I am certain such movements can only suggest that Mr Darcy is wearing attire that is not his own.”
Mrs Gardiner had opened her fan also and spoke behind it. “Lizzy, you might not be aware of this but the male anatomy…well, it can be rather inconvenient at times—most particularly during warmer weather, such as we are having.”
“How do you mean, Aunt?” Jane asked.
Mrs Gardiner glanced around. “The heat causes sweat and the sweat can lead to…discomfort.”
“Discomfort?” Mr Gardiner had arrived, his approach unseen by any of them. His voice seemed extraordinarily loud, very nearly booming. The ladies jumped and shushed him.
“What?” he asked in a theatrical whisper. “Oh! Is it—” He glanced around anxiously. “Is it a lady’s particular discomfort?”
Mrs Gardiner laughed. “Quite the opposite in fact.”
Mr Gardiner appeared bemused but before he could speak again, Elizabeth spoke.“Whether Mr William Darcy is who he says he is or whether, as I believe, he is Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, let us go along with it.”
The other three agreed and if Mr Gardiner was wont to question further, a quickly hissed word from his wife forestalled his questions.
The gentlemen abandoned their post at the window and were approaching their little group. The two Gardiners and two Bennet ladies straightened themselves. As Mr Darcy made his way past a group of gentlemen—including the rather corpulent Mr Hatchings whom he no doubt believed obscured him from view—he again adjusted his breeches; Elizabeth noted it and gave Jane a significant look. Jane hissed, “Mr Bingley has adjusted his breeches three times in the walk over Lizzy; it means nothing!”
“Mr Darcy, you are well recovered from Mr Bingley’s mishap,” said Elizabeth as soon as the gentlemen drew near. It was not entirely true; his waistcoat still bore evidence of the spill but it was to Mr Darcy’s good fortune that the dark colour of the garment hid most of the stain.
He bowed. “We have done our best, have we not, Bingley?”
Mrs Gardiner spoke. “Mr Darcy, pray forgive me. I believe I spoke wrongly before, confusing your family with another I knew in Derbyshire.”
“Oh.” Mr Darcy looked uncertain for a moment. “It was no matter.”
“I forget sometimes that it has been nearly twenty years since I last called that county my home.” Mrs Gardiner smiled warmly. “I hold Derbyshire in great esteem.”
With that they were able to put aside the subject of the Darcy family for a time, as Mr Darcy compared his recollections of youth in Derbyshire to those of Mrs Gardiner. The subject was ended when Mr Bingley asked Elizabeth to dance the next with him.