Page 18 of The Heroic Mr Darcy’s Bad Manners
Amongst their morning callers were the Matlock brothers, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Viscount Crawford, with whom Elizabeth had danced at Lady Middleton’s ball.
“Lady Elizabeth,” the colonel demanded her attention. “I have brought my brother because I believe he owes you an apology.”
Elizabeth rose from the sofa. “You may both follow me,” she replied evenly, escorting the gentlemen to the far corner for a modicum of privacy. She was out of favour towards the brothers for setting the disgraceful wager.
“The colonel here has convinced me that I owe you my sincerest apologies for prompting Darcy to dance with you with the lure of monetary gain. I assure you that ten guineas would not have persuaded my obstinate cousin if he were not already inclined to beg you for a set. I am solely to blame, and neither my brother nor Darcy have any share in the guilt. In Darcy’s defence, I must acknowledge that he never accepted my guineas. I know not how you came about this knowledge.” The viscount glared at his brother, who appeared unmoved by the scowl.
“Your brother is innocent. I was informed by a lady who is Mr Darcy’s particular friend.”
“How vicious to relate such an unladylike tale!” the viscount exclaimed, clearly happy to foist the blame upon anyone but himself. “I must assume that she is no friend of yours, Lady Elizabeth.”
“Of that there cannot be two opinions. Yet, she did not know I was the lady she was speaking about and must therefore be exempt from malicious intent. What I would like to know is why you spoke so decidedly in favour of Mr Darcy and lauded his prowess—to me of all people?”
“I thought that was obvious,” the viscount grumbled. “I never saw a man so madly, wildly, and romantically in love with any daughter of Eve as your Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth laughed heartily whilst she shook her head in bewilderment. “Do not be ridiculous. I am of a mind not to believe a word you say because I know from the man himself that I am barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him.” Elizabeth overlooked the viscount’s stunned expression, mostly because she did not want insincere refutations of Mr Darcy’s bad manners. She expertly changed the subject. “In my limited experience, gentlemen can have only two emotions.” Elizabeth smiled disarmingly. It no longer injured her to speak about the insult. It was much more fun to make sport of Mr Darcy and laugh at his fastidiousness. “Love is not one of them.”
“And which would they be?” the colonel queried with raised eyebrows.
“They are either vexed or not,” Elizabeth replied decidedly.
“And some ladies express opinions that are not their own for the pleasure of a debate.” The colonel smiled.
“It is impolitic of you to expose my true character to your brother when I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit.”
“I do not believe your reputation has been damaged, madam. Least of all by me,” the colonel replied good-naturedly.
Elizabeth could not help it; she liked the colonel very much. He was, in person and manners, most truly a gentleman. He had not tattled about his brother or tried to exempt himself from blame but had brought the viscount to her home to redeem himself. An admirable trait to be sure. Yet, she could not avoid noticing that he had stolen surreptitious glances at Jane during their entire discussion. Was she witnessing the first sparks of an infatuation?
“Mr Bingley and Miss Bingley,” the butler announced, startling Elizabeth and her companions. Speak of the devil, Elizabeth thought wryly.
Mr Bingley had wasted no time in calling upon Jane after their return to town, though it was strange he had not done so before the festive season. She immediately excused the slight by acknowledging that the visit had been of short duration, and they had attended but one event—at which Mr Bingley had not been present. It was highly unlikely he had known that her sister was in town.
Mr Bingley had brought with him a large bouquet of roses and made for the sofa Elizabeth had recently vacated. He seated himself beside Jane and offered her the flowers. Neither time nor distance appeared to have lessened his admiration. It was easily discernible by how close he chose to seat himself to her sister and how directly they engaged in conversation. Yet, his blunder at the theatre and recent interest in Miss Bergman were not so easy to forget. Could he be making love to all blonde ladies of beauty?
A sigh behind her made Elizabeth turn back to the colonel, who had until then hidden his hands behind his back. When he brought them forwards, she noticed he held on tightly to a lovely little nosegay with a single blooming peony. It must have cost him a fortune because peonies required much heat to be forced into early bloom. Upon noticing her attention on the flower, he offered it to her, but Elizabeth shook her head.
“I thank you, but no. I am in no need of incentives to forgive your wagering blunder. May I suggest that you give it to the lady who loves peonies above all other flowers,” she graciously offered. “My sister Jane.”
“No, I cannot interrupt when Mr Bingley is occupying all her attention,” the colonel said, nodding towards the sofa.
Elizabeth reverted her gaze to her sister, who was flanked by Mr Bingley and his own sister. Jane appeared ill at ease between the sister and brother who were ever so eager to rekindle their friendship.
“Jane, dear? I am sorry to divert you from your friends, but I need you to settle a dispute between myself and the good colonel.”
The colonel’s eyes widened, and Elizabeth thought this was not the moment to become missish because Jane rose with alacrity and was soon at her side.
“How may I be of assistance?” Jane asked.
“The colonel is too abashed to give you the nosegay he brought for fear of it being outdone by Mr Bingley’s generous bouquet. I am trying to convince him that the size of the offering does not matter when presented with your favourite flower.”
Elizabeth disregarded the viscount’s short bark of laughter and looked encouragingly at the colonel. She discerned a faint redness to his cheeks as he offered her sister the posy.
Jane was, as predicted, thrilled about the peony and brought it to her nose before fastening it on her fichu.
“It is absolutely lovely. Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
The redness in the colonel’s cheeks sprang out in full bloom. Elizabeth found his bashfulness endearing, as did Jane by her appraising looks.
The viscount brought forward his bouquet and offered it to Elizabeth, who in this instance accepted the bribe in exchange for her forgiveness.
Mr Bingley, prompted by his sister, rose and joined the Matlock brothers.
“Lady Jane, would you allow me to take you on a ride tomorrow?”
Mr Bingley, the viscount, and the colonel were three souls of the same mind and spoke simultaneously of the great merit of such an excursion. Elizabeth had to turn away lest she burst out laughing. A ride in this wintry weather! She met Miss Bingley’s eyes, which sobered her mirth. That lady was scowling but smoothed her expression when she discovered she was being observed.
Jane glanced at her grandmother, who was chaperoning the ladies and their callers.
“Why do you not all go and make a merry party of it,” the older lady suggested.
Elizabeth thought it was a splendid idea. That would allow Jane to compare the gentlemen, though she doubted her sister agreed. It was all too much for Jane, who liked to please everyone she met, yet there was no doubt that at least two gentlemen would be disappointed in the end.
It was decided that they would all go for a ride through the park on the following morning. Including Elizabeth, at Jane’s insistence.
She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. The allotted fifteen minutes of a social call had long since passed. The gentlemen proved their astuteness and bade their farewells.
“Heavens!” Grandmother Bennet exclaimed as soon as the guests had left. “For a moment I worried they would break into a fight for your attention, Jane. Elizabeth, I trust you to deflect their attention on the morrow should Jane be overcome.”
“I shall,” Elizabeth promised. “You may have no concerns in that regard.” Meaning Mr Bingley in particular.
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