Page 56 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

N etherfield was decked out with flowers (presumably procured from a London hothouse) and candles. The splendour was entirely lost on Darcy though as Elizabeth walked through the doors. She shone brighter than anything else, and his feet carried him to her as though he were on a pilgrimage to the sun.

“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing over her hand.

Elizabeth curtsied. “Mr. Darcy.”

“Miss Bennet,” he added, nodding to Elizabeth’s favourite sister.

Miss Bennet curtsied. “Mr. Darcy. It seems I owe you my gratitude.”

“Oh?”

“Lizzy tells me that you were a source of comfort during a difficult time.”

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who was smiling fondly and shaking her head.

She gave him a small shrug.

Darcy smiled at Miss Bennet. “If she told you the whole, I believe you would realise that the opposite was true.”

“Still, I am glad someone was there to take care of her when I could not.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You sound like you are talking about a child or a pet, Jane.”

Jane chuckled. “Well, like children and pets, you also require extra attention at times.”

Darcy’s mouth nearly dropped open. He would never have suspected Miss Bennet of having a sense of humour. Then again, Elizabeth was unlikely to maintain a close friendship with someone who lacked a sense of humour.

“Shush! I refuse to stand for such maligning,” Elizabeth said, folding her arms and putting her nose in the air.

“I see you are familiar with her ways, Miss Bennet,” he said with a smile.

Miss Bennet returned his smile. “Indeed.”

“I regret introducing you two,” Elizabeth said.

“You did not introduce us,” Darcy said promptly.

Elizabeth waved his objection away. “That is immaterial to the situation.”

“Well―” Darcy swallowed his comment as Bingley practically pranced over to them, apparently having abandoned the receiving line.

“Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth. Please allow me to tell you again how very lovely you look tonight,” Bingley told Miss Bennet.

A faint blush coloured Miss Bennet’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. You are looking well tonight, too. So is your home.”

Bingley stared into her eyes, apparently lost in her gaze.

Darcy cleared his throat.

“Caroline decided what decorations she desired, and the servants did an excellent job of executing her vision,” Bingley told Miss Bennet. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Darcy nearly laughed aloud. Miss Bingley had changed her mind numerous times over the past few days, torn between the various ways Netherfield could be decorated, issuing conflicting orders and generally making the servants’ lives difficult. Truly, the splendour of the rooms was due entirely to the servants.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head subtly.

“Well, however it was done, it looks well,” Elizabeth said.

Mr. Collins appeared at her elbow and bowed to the group, paying extra attention to Darcy. “I could not help but overhear your most recent comment as I drew near, my dear cousin,” he said, “and I wholeheartedly agree. Your home is indeed very lovely, Mr. Bingley. It almost reminds me of―”

Darcy cast a speaking glance at Elizabeth as Mr. Collins slipped seamlessly into one of his discourses about Rosings and how beautiful (and expensive) the estate and furnishings were. Over their past months of wagers, he and Elizabeth had concluded that Mr. Collins had several prepared monologues and that he frequently steered the conversation in such a way that he could embark upon them.

For a moment, he considered interrupting the tall man, but he did not wish to be rude, even to Mr. Collins. Attempting to mask his boredom, he quietly glanced around the ballroom, looking for Wickham. It was highly unlikely that the man would show himself—but then again, if someone had asked him a year ago about the likelihood of Wickham entrapping Georgiana, he would have scoffed.

“Would you care for some punch, Miss Elizabeth?” he interjected the moment Mr. Collins took a breath.

“If my fair cousin desires punch, I would be more than willing to undertake the necessary effort to procure some for her,” Mr. Collins said. “After all, we would not dream of expecting a personage such as yourself to engage in such a menial task.”

Elizabeth blinked at him. “Yes, that would be lovely, Mr. Collins.”

The man smiled at Darcy as though having won a battle and then left.

Elizabeth gave Darcy a look of mock disapproval. “That was really too bad, Mr. Darcy. Sending the poor man off like that.”

“Did you want to listen to his opinion of Rosings?” Darcy shot back.

Miss Bennet cleared her throat gently.

Elizabeth looked over at her sister and then turned her attention to Bingley. “Mr. Bingley, do you prefer a reel to a cotillion?”

Bingley looked back and forth between Elizabeth and Darcy several times before recollecting himself and answering the question. Miss Bennet skilfully steered the conversation forward from there.

Not twenty minutes later, as Mr. Collins drew Elizabeth onto the dance floor, Darcy’s stomach churned and he forced his expression to remain impassive. He would have to adjust to seeing others dance with her, even if they did marry. Elizabeth would never stand for him looming over her like a jealous oaf. Still, something would have to be done about Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth’s distress grew palpable as Mr. Collins bumbled through the dance, trodding on her feet several times and turning the wrong direction, halting the dance and stumbling into the people around them. Something would have to be done soon .

When Elizabeth limped off the dance floor, Darcy nearly ground his teeth and only the surrounding crowd kept him from rushing to her side.

Fortunately, Charlotte Lucas intercepted Elizabeth before long, and Darcy realised how completely he had put Elizabeth’s friend out of his mind. He had not even recalled that she would be here tonight. Ruefully, he admitted that it was yet another evidence that Tuesday had been their own little reality and he was not yet adjusted to living in the real world.

Elizabeth winced as she stepped down a bit too hard on her left foot and pain shot through it. Mr. Collins had trod upon that particular foot several times. Her feet would probably recover before the next set, but for now, she wished for nothing more than to sit down somewhere. Thankfully, Charlotte was drawing near and she could prevail upon her friend to either distract Mr. Collins or to support her while she found a suitable resting place.

“Charlotte! You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, Eliza. I can tell that you took special pains with your appearance as well.”

Charlotte then very obviously turned her attention to Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth blinked at her for a moment before recalling that they had not yet met. Their last Tuesday she had gone into Meryton with Mr. Darcy instead of spending time at the Lucases.

“Oh! Mr. Collins, may I introduce my good friend, Miss Lucas? Miss Lucas, our cousin, Mr. Collins.”

Charlotte curtsied, and Mr. Collins began his practised compliments.

Before long, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Jane joined them, though Mr. Bingley and Jane stayed far enough back that they could conduct their own private conversation.

“Are you well?” Mr. Darcy murmured.

Elizabeth nodded, wishing her mortification had been less complete.

“Are you certain? You were limping.”

She smiled up at him. Others had likely noticed how poor Mr. Collins’s dancing had been or had commented on how poorly they danced together. Mr. Darcy, however, was only concerned about her injuries. “I have certainly had worse. It is not as though Sisyphus had stepped on my feet.”

Mr. Darcy hissed in sympathy. “Mr. Collins may not weigh as much as a horse, but it must be painful.”

“I shall be well before long.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Elizabeth shook her head slightly, her gaze still fixed upon Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas. “I will be fine.”

“If you think of something―”

“I will let you know,” she promised. “You might want to stop looking like you are a hair’s breadth from murdering Mr. Collins.”

Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Not murdering. Just maiming.”

“Poor dancing is hardly a maiming offence,” she said with a light laugh.

“Not even when he is dancing with you?”

Elizabeth cast him a quick warning look.

“I will not maim him, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins asked. “After all, Lady Catherine is very fond of healthful exercise.”

“Particularly when others are doing the exercising,” Mr. Darcy murmured to Elizabeth.

She snorted, turning her laugh into a cough.

“I apologise, Mr. Collins, what were you saying?” Mr. Darcy asked.

Mr. Collins repeated his query about Lady Catherine’s approval of balls and dancing and then began a monologue about his own habits of exercise.

An eternity later, the next dance began, and Mr. Collins was forced to end his monologue. He rushed over to Miss Bennet and claimed her hand. Elizabeth was engaged by another young man, and Darcy turned to Miss Lucas.

“Would you do me the honour of this dance, Miss Lucas?” he asked.

Miss Lucas’s eyes went wide. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”

He doubted he would ever be fond of dancing, but kindness prompted him to ensure Elizabeth’s dear friend was not deserted. Not to mention the talk that would arise should he fail to dance with anyone save Elizabeth. After dancing with Miss Lucas, he secured a dance with Miss Bennet for later in the evening and danced with Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Mary.

By that time, Mr. Collins had danced with all his “fair cousins” and Darcy remained near the man instead of dancing the next set. “Mr. Collins, I was wondering why you did not ask Miss Bennet for the first set. Are you not concerned that asking Miss Elizabeth may hint at an inappropriate preference?” he began.

Mr. Collins shifted back and forth, like a little boy caught bringing a mouse into Sunday services. “Inappropriate preference?”

“I cannot imagine that Lady Catherine would support a preference towards Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr. Collins puffed himself up. “Actually, Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine herself sent me upon the errand of obtaining a wife. In fact, she has done much to the parsonage to renovate it for my bride’s convenience.”

Darcy pasted on a frown of concern. “She specified that you marry one of your cousins?”

“Well, no, but it seems to be the least I can do, considering the, uh, circumstances, and when I informed Lady Catherine of my intentions, she was very supportive.”

Darcy nodded in pretended thoughtfulness. “Would Lady Catherine find Miss Elizabeth suitable, or would she prefer someone a bit less opinionated?”

“Opinionated, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins asked with bewilderment.

Darcy clasped his hands behind his back. “In my experience, my aunt surrounds herself with people who share her opinions. Do you believe Miss Elizabeth’s opinions would coincide with Lady Catherine’s?”

“I am certain that once Miss Elizabeth recognises Lady Catherine’s wisdom, she will at once be won over to Lady Catherine’s way of thinking—for how can anyone argue with truth?”

“I see.” Darcy paused as though hesitant to suggest the next bit. “But, if she does not, will she avoid sharing her difference in opinion?”

“Miss Elizabeth is more than capable of bowing to superior wisdom. In fact, I have heard her do so when her sister or her father has pointed out a flaw in her argument,” Mr. Collins said after a brief consideration.

“I see. I have noticed a certain—outspokenness in her character that I fear would annoy Lady Catherine.”

Mr. Collins frowned. “I shall give further consideration to the matter.”

“That is all I ask,” Darcy said and excused himself to go find Colonel Forster.

Hopefully that would be enough to convince Mr. Collins to cease pursuing Elizabeth. Darcy briefly considered putting Mr. Collins off the Bennets altogether, particularly as becoming related to the man sounded like a sentence to constant boredom, but Miss Mary might like Mr. Collins and the Bennets would be better off retaining Longbourn.

Much as he had every time they had spoken about Wickham previously, Colonel Forster was willing to keep an eye on Wickham. Darcy still hated to leave Elizabeth in Hertfordshire with Wickham, but between her uncle and Colonel Forster, she, and hopefully the rest of Hertfordshire, should remain safe. In addition to finding Colonel Forster, Darcy’s trip around the perimeter of the dance floor had provided him with the opportunity to greet several of the people he had met previously. Sir William Lucas had been invaluable in re-introducing him.

By the time he returned to where he and Elizabeth had been standing between dances, Darcy was finally able to escort Elizabeth onto the dance floor for the supper set. Bingley had reclaimed Miss Bennet, and Mr. Collins was anxiously examining them from the outskirts.

The music began, and Darcy studied his partner. Her limp had vanished, indicating that her foot was indeed feeling better. It was the work of an instant to imagine her as his dance partner at all the society balls his aunt insisted he attend. Elizabeth would be radiant, able to match wits and debate, and to inject a note of true politeness into the ton.

“ ‘La Boulanger’ is one of my favourite dances,” she said, her gaze fixed in front of her.

Darcy raised an eyebrow.

“Come, Mr. Darcy, we may not dance in silence,” she said, a teasing challenge in her tone. “ I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room or the number of couples.”

“I will say whatever you wish for me to say, Miss Elizabeth.”

A slight smile tugged at her lips. “That reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by and by, I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones.”

Darcy chuckled. “I will be glad to listen to your remark on private balls. Might I suggest another topic, however? What are you reading at the moment?”

“ Essay on Prints .”

“Again?”

She shrugged. “It has been several weeks since I read anything by Gilpin.”

“Old favourites are sometimes the best.”

“Indeed.”

As their fingers clasped and unclasped in the figures of the dance, Darcy wished her hands were gloveless and that he could feel the softness of her skin. He wished they were married already. “Do you believe you are readjusting?”

“After a week?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows went up. “Perhaps slowly, but I believe it will take some time. What about you?”

Darcy shook his head ruefully. “No. I am merely—I leave for London tomorrow, and I am ambivalent about the matter.”

“As am I,” she murmured. Elizabeth glanced at the people around them. “But let us talk of something else.”

Their discussion on the various schools of Greek translation and a brief argument about the efficacy of balls in general for conducting business lasted until they were settled at one of the tables, food in hand. Darcy had steered her away from Bingley and Miss Bennet as Miss Bingley was sitting with them. She had steered them away from Mr. Collins, who was sitting with Miss Lucas, and her two youngest sisters. Both agreed they wished for this last meal together to be eaten in peace and joyful communion. Unfortunately for those hopes, Mrs. Bennet plopped herself down on the bench not four people away from them.

Darcy nodded towards Mrs. Bennet. “How has your mother been?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as Lady Lucas joined Mrs. Bennet. “I apologise for my mother’s behaviour.”

“What behaviour?”

As Mrs. Bennet began loudly proclaiming the myriad advantages she had secured by introducing Miss Bennet to Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth waved a hand in her mother’s direction. “That behaviour.”

Darcy pursed his lips. “It is not as though I can complain about incivility. I myself have certainly been guilty of it more times than I would wish.” A slight smile crossed his face. “I am quite interested to see what you make of Lady Catherine, provided you meet her at some later date.”

“Oh? Is she as opinionated as Mr. Collins represents?”

“More so. Of course, you may never encounter her.”

Elizabeth merely waited inquiringly.

“She is―” Darcy took a sip of wine, trying to wet his dry throat as he realised he had not yet explained the situation to Elizabeth. “She is determined I marry her daughter. Cousin Anne and I have already concluded we would not suit, and my Uncle Stephen supports me, but Lady Catherine refuses to listen and it is easier to just ignore her hints.”

“Ah, I see. Yet another mother who has claimed a handsome rich young man for herself.”

“Indeed.”

Elizabeth winced as her mother announced that Jane was expecting a proposal any day now. “I have never been able to understand how she and my uncle are related. My uncle in London,” she added upon Darcy’s confused look. “He and my aunt have such genteel manners that you would never know they are in trade.”

“I suppose you had to learn your manners from somewhere.”

Elizabeth hesitated. “It truly does not bother you?”

“That they are in trade?”

She nodded.

Mr. Darcy set down his fork. “No. I have learned that the measure of a person is not in their profession, but in their character. If your aunt and uncle are of good character, I am certain I will enjoy meeting them. Even if they are not, I would not change my mind, if that is what you are asking.”

Elizabeth set down her own fork. “Thank you. I believe you would like them greatly. My uncle shares your passion for fishing.”

“Then I shall have to speak to him about that at some point.”

Just then, Lydia ran by with a sword, a young officer haring after her. Elizabeth lowered her face in mortification.

Mr. Darcy rose and carefully set his napkin next to his plate. “If you will excuse me for a moment, Miss Elizabeth, I will ensure she does not come to harm.”

Elizabeth nodded at her cold chicken. How wonderful (and mortifying!) that Mr. Darcy would trouble himself for her sister’s safety, despite the fact that her parents had ignored the entire event.

Before long, Mr. Darcy returned. “She has restored the sword to Mr. Chamberlayne, and Colonel Forster was having words with him about the proper handling of weapons when I left.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

“It was no trouble.”

She gave him a small smile. “I doubt that.”

He returned the smile. “She is certainly a spirited young woman, is she not?”

Elizabeth laughed. “One could say that.”

“I see a bit of you in her.”

She nearly blanched. “What?”

“Neither of you lacks determination, and though your senses of humour are very different, you both like to laugh.”

“I shall defer to your more objective opinion,” she said finally.

Mr. Darcy glanced over at Lydia. “I think she is what you might have become if you were trying to gain your mother’s approval and were without beneficial influences.”

Elizabeth shuddered. Thank God for her aunt and even her father! The thought of being as wild as Lydia was terrifying.

“And she is but a child still.”

Elizabeth nodded. “True.” Gratitude for Mr. Darcy’s care filled her chest. Having her mother and Lydia display such uncouth behaviour left her stomach squirming, but Mr. Darcy was not put off by it. He did not condone the behaviour, but he was willing to look deeper, to see the causes behind it—something even she struggled to do. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. It is enlightening to see my family through your eyes.”

He smiled at her. “Merely returning the favour, Miss Elizabeth.”

Less than a minute later, the call went out for entertainment. Before Elizabeth could even blink, Mary was out of her seat, bustling towards the pianoforte. She had tried to talk to Mary about her musical choices over the past few days, suggesting pieces that would show off her talents. Mary, however, had no interest in listening to anyone’s opinions but her own. Thus, the company sat and listened as Mary plodded along.

Mr. Darcy maintained an air of polite interest. Others did not.

Miss Bingley’s expression openly proclaimed her disgust and she winced repeatedly. Indeed, she was not the only one—though the neighbours were less overt about their distaste. As Mary began warbling a second song, Elizabeth stared at her, trying to convey that she really ought to cease playing after this piece. Desultory applause sprinkled throughout the room when she finished.

Mr. Darcy leaned in. “I wonder if Georgiana could advise her. Your sister appears to be skilled in the technical aspects of the pianoforte. If she chose pieces within her vocal range and worked on her expressiveness while playing, she could develop into an excellent pianist.”

“Perhaps you ought to ask your sister before volunteering her for such a task,” Elizabeth suggested.

Darcy nodded, his eyes still fixed on Miss Mary. It was really too bad that she had chosen such a method to gain attention. How miserable to annoy the very people you wished to please!

“That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit,” Mr. Bennet called as Miss Mary lifted her hands to begin a third piece.

Darcy glared at the man for his public dismissal of his daughter as Miss Mary retired in confusion, trying to behave as though his words had not stung. Though the substance of Mr. Bennet’s rebuke had been appropriate, his method of doing so had left much to be desired.

As the request for entertainment was renewed, Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth, one eyebrow lifted.

She shook her head subtly. “I would prefer not to draw attention to my increased skill,” she murmured.

Before Darcy could reply, Mr. Collins stood and declared that had he been able to sing, he gladly would have done so, then proceeded to give a short discourse upon the duties of a rector.

Half-hearted applause pattered around the room, probably in relief that the sermon was over, and Mrs. Bennet commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, then observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a “remarkably clever, good kind of young man.”

Elizabeth put her face in her hands.

Darcy nearly reached out to comfort her before recalling they were in public and the day would not be reset. “I am here,” he murmured.

“My entire family has pledged to make a spectacle of themselves today.”

He chuckled. “It may feel that way, but I imagine your neighbours are inured to their behaviour, and I will not be put off. I wish your mother had been exposed to true politeness and truly good preaching earlier in her life, but that deficit may be rectified.”

“I just do not know how she can remain so blind as to how socially unacceptable her behaviour is.”

“Perhaps she is more aware than you realise. At least she is doing her best to ensure her daughters’ futures.”

Another young lady began a piece of music, and they fell silent.