Page 12

11th December 1812, Wednesday

Darcy was itching to get to Longbourn.

It had been a week since he and Bingley had come to Town on business, and almost just as long since Miss Bingley and the Hursts closed the estate and returned also.

Darcy had been disappointed when the sisters had called at his house on their return, but he hadn't been particularly surprised at their cunning. It did make matters worse for himself however, especially since now Charles seemed to be actively courting Lady Petunia instead, a match his sisters were all for. Without Netherfield open, staying in Hertfordshire would become much more difficult without announcing to everyone that he intended to court and eventually marry the second Miss Bennet. And while Darcy himself had no qualms about making his intentions clear, he could not help but feel for the eldest Miss Bennet, who no doubt would be the subject of much speculation when her own beau did not return for her.

Though- Darcy could not, in good conscience, blame Bingley for his actions. Bingley was used to the London society where he was not quite the most sought after match. Despite his wealth, to most members of the ton , Bingley and his sisters were not so far from the trade business as to escape its stench. Bingley was the first member in his family to have earned a gentleman's education and his direct father had built most of his wealth through his cotton mills in Scarborough.

In School and University, Bingley had been mostly alienated by his peers before Darcy had taken him under his wing.

In society, Bingely's amiability and his connections to the Darcy name opened doors for him, but most gentlewomen, though happy to flirt and dance with him, never expected to marry him, and so, though his effusive attentions were never unwanted, they rarely raised expectations in the lady or her family.

Darcy had warned his friend when they'd first entered Hertfordshire that in a county so unknown and a society so small, things would be much different.

Raising expectations would be easier, and fulfilling them more difficult.

The same certainty had been Darcy's own reason for his increased reticence when in Meryton. But, Darcy supposed, in Bingley's case, who was not used to avoiding cloying women and their matchmaking mamas like the plague, old habits died hard.

In the very first assembly, he had singled out the eldest Miss Bennet as the most beautiful creature and had danced with her twice, intriguing and inciting gossip in the entire community.

Further encounters did not do much to disabuse the people of Meryton of their misunderstanding.

At every opportunity, Bingley sought Miss Bennet's company, to the point that even Darcy had begun to think that maybe his friend really was seriously in love this time.

The match would not have been completely unbalanced. Bingely would bring his wealth to the table and Miss Bennet, her status as a gentlewoman whose family was old and well respected. In London, maybe Bingely would've been able to do better, but if the two people were truly in love, Darcy was determined to support his friend.

After all, in Darcy's head, by marrying Elizabeth's sister, Bingley would also be connecting himself to the Darcy name through a tie much stronger and longer lasting than friendship.

But Bingley was young, and Jane Bennet seemed to have just been another infatuation.

Gossip would be callous and bitter for a while, but Jane Bennet was a well-loved member of the Meryton society, and things will eventually go back to normal.

Bingley's reputation as a respectable and honourable gentleman among the Hertfordshire people would be more difficult to salvage, which could become an issue if he ever did decide to purchase Netherfield, but Darcy refused to think so far ahead about a matter which was not principally his concern .

He had made a promise to Elizabeth, and he was determined to keep it.

Darcy was in his study, going through his correspondence after having asked Mrs Norse to have his bags packed. He was planning to leave for Hertfordshire soon. The plan was to stay at the Meryton inn 'Rose and Crowns' and court Elizabeth until just before Christmas, for which, he had have to come back to Town to spend the festivities with his sister Georgiana, who was at the moment at Pemberley, before, once again, going back to Hertfordshire. Darcy did not know how long it would take to make Elizabeth fall in love with him- he had no experience in encouraging a woman's affection.

Just the opposite, in fact.

It would be a challenge.

But Darcy was not known to prefer the easy paths anyway.

A knock on his study door brought Darcy back from his musings on his courtship,

“Enter.”

It was Hugh, Darcy's butler, carrying a singular letter on a silver tray,

"Sir, It has come directly from Matlock with a rider. Peter says it is a matter of some urgency."

An ominous inkling sent a chill down Darcy's spine when he saw the poorly concealed worry on Hugh's face. Darcy motioned for the letter and Hugh placed it on his desk before bowing and taking his leave.

The letter was from his aunt Elenor. It read,

Dear Nephew ,

I write to you this letter in a confounding state of relief and despair. At long last I have had word about my son Richard. After months of sending letters and receiving none in return, you do not know the lightness that I felt in my heart and my soul this morning when I saw a letter bearing the seal of his regiment.

And yet, it is not all glad tidings.

The letter was addressed to your father from General Bates. Richard has been badly injured. His right femur broke when he fell with his horse after it was shot in battle. His left wrist was crushed. The doctors who attended to him assure us that the bone on the leg has set well and the wrist, though not of much use now, has healed and yet, Richard does not wake. Not often, and not for very long. He runs a fever almost constantly. They’ve decided to bring him home to recover under our care and attention but until I’ve seen my son, I will not be relieved. In this family, ‘tis only you and perhaps Georgiana who have loved Richard and cared for him with the same fervency as I have. And so I know as I write to you that only your joy and worry at this news will be comparable to mine.

I have already sent for Georgiana at Pemberley. She will be here by nightfall.

Come home, Darcy. If Richard would want anyone by his side in these moments, it would be you- his best friend and forever companion.

Your delighted and distressed aunt,

Elenor Fitzwilliam

Darcy bit the inside of his cheek even as the letter crumpled a little under his tightening grip. His heart was torn in a million different directions. Elation at his cousin's return, worry for his condition, disappointment that yet another duty kept him away from Elizabeth .

And yet he knew where he needed to be. Who needed him more. Inevitably, Darcy will earn Elizabeth’s hand. He was determined to do so, and yet for now it would have to wait. His cousin needed him. Lord knew the earl and his heir, unconcerned as they were in matters of the ‘spare’ son, would be of no help. Darcy was to Matlock.

─── ※ ·?· ※ ───

Elizabeth sighed, glanced once again at the grandfather clock in the Goulding’s parlour room and only just managed to not make a face when another minute passed with no sign of Mr Darcy. Since her arrival at their neighbour’s house, her eyes had been darting between the main door and the clock, and with each minute that passed without the arrival of the gentleman who she had promised her first dance, Elizabeth could feel her spirits wilt.

Despite Netherfield having closed down for the foreseeable future and its master having returned to Town, a bigger part of her than she would like to admit had believed that Mr Darcy would keep his word and come anyway. He was not the kind of man to break promises so easily.

And yet, with the rest of his party gone, with no place to stay except maybe the local inn, how could she expect him to travel all the way to Hertfordshire for just one dance? For just her? Surely, she did not merit such importance. She, who did not have any sort of understanding with him; she, who he was not even really courting. Their most intimate interactions had taken place in the solitude of their early morning walks, secluded from society and with no one to witness and speculate over their growing fondness for each other except themselves. Her disinclination in sharing these new developments in her feelings towards the gentleman even with her most beloved sister had made it so that her disappointment and hurt at his continued absence would not be understood or even acknowledged by anyone around her .

Elizabeth did not envy Jane the scrutiny that she was suffering ever since Netherfield closed up, but a part of her yearned for a third party confirmation that what she was feeling was not just in her head- that her raised expectations and her disappointed hopes in Mr Darcy’s attentions and his subsequent absence were justified.

The piano and the harp started playing softly, bringing Elizabeth out of her wool-gathering to see couples slowly pair up together on the dance floor. Jane was one of the first women in line, as usual, being accompanied by the lately returned John Lucas. Jane’s lips were turned up in a bright grin, different from the subdued and serene smiles Lizzy had gotten used to. She was glad her sister had not been trying to make light when she had told Elizabeth her heart had not been touched by Mr Bingley. Elizabeth could see now watching the couple together that even if Jane wanted him to, Mr Bingley would not have been able to touch something that did not belong with Jane anymore.

No, Jane’s heart was John’s. It was wherever John was. It went wherever John went.

Silently, and for only a moment, Elizabeth wondered, casting another glance at the main door, when her own would return to her?

A throat cleared behind her, and Elizabeth turned around with her heart in her throat, hoping against all hope, but it was only Jameson Goulding, the eldest of the Goulding children and three years Elizabeth’s senior. He had a toothy smile on his face, and his ginger hair was styled in a way that was eerily similar to how Mr Darcy kept his, only it did not look nearly as charming on him as it did on the other gentleman. Still, Elizabeth smiled back. Jameson was a dear childhood friend.

“Miss Lizzy, You are looking beautiful this evening.”

Lizzy thanked him, complimenting him in return, and then, unable to help herself, asked, “Have you done something different with your hair? ”

Jameson laughed, brushing his hair lightly with his hand in an act that was very self-conscious,

“I tried something new. That Darcy fellow wore his like this.” Elizabeth watched as Jameson’s cheeks reddened, the freckles on his face darkening and making him look like a child, “I know you don’t like that guy much, Lizzy, but my sisters tell me that all the ladies thought him very dashing-looking.”

Lizzy ignored that part about her dislike, for it was abhorrently untrue now, but silently acknowledged to herself that Jameson really was not wrong. Mr Darcy really was the most handsome and yes, dashing, gentleman of her acquaintance.

“Oh? And which one of these many ladies are you trying to impress tonight, Mr Goulding?” She teased him,

“About that-” Jameson cleared his throat nervously, then extended his hand, “Would you dance the first set with me, Miss Lizzy?”

Lizzy’s smile froze on her face. She should accept. Lord knows if she did not- she would not be able to dance for the rest of the night. But, for the past week, like a fool, all she had done was imagine dancing the opening set with Mr Darcy and relish in the idea of the statement such an action would make from a man known to never dance the first set with anyone. And now, insensible creature that she was, she could not imagine dancing the set with anyone else, even if it meant sitting out for the rest of the night.

She tried for an apologetic grimace, “I’m sorry, Mr Goulding. I can’t. I-”

“Have already promised the first set to me. ”

Lizzy’s eyes widened, and she whirled around to this time see Darcy right behind her, close enough that when she turned, her shoulder brushed against his chest. Mr Darcy’s face was stiff, his mien stern as he looked at the man in front of him. It was not until his gaze turned to her did she see the warmth and pleasure in those dark eyes, the slight tilt of his lips as he bestowed upon her a small, but heartfelt smile,

“Is that not right, Miss Elizabeth?”

“What?” She blinked. She could not think. His face was too distracting, his scent too intoxicating- then, remembering the conversation she had been having, turned again to face Jameson, “Yes. Yes, I already promised Mr Darcy my first set. Last week.”

Jameson’s face showed both his confusion and petulance at this new predicament- but Mr Darcy, on the top of being a very dashing gentleman, was also a very intimidating one. In both his height and the broadness of his shoulders, he exceeded most men in any given room. His posture was always correct, his figure taut and athletic. But, more than anything, it was the features on his face- noble and severe- they made strangers and acquaintances think twice before they spoke around him. Mr Darcy was not the kind of man you argued with, or cajoled. He was the kind of man you obeyed and gave way to. Jameson gritted his teeth, but he bowed, and then walked away.

Elizabeth felt Mr Darcy place a gloved hand on her elbow, and then he turned her around so she was facing him once again. The features that were only a moment ago so very sharp in their intensity seemed to soften as he looked at her, and the intimidating man that all were so cautious of, including the Elizabeth she was before she got to know him, fell away to reveal a nervous, chagrined young man she could not help but adore,

“I hope I have not come too late.” It was a question in the form of a statement, but more than either, the words sounded to her like a plea. Elizabeth smiled brightly back at him, erasing all his worries ,

“No, Mr Darcy. I reckon you’ve come at just the right time.”

Darcy smiled, again with those charming dimples that Eliazbeth was finding herself quite defenceless against, and for a moment, just looked at her,

“You are very beautiful, Miss Bennet.”

“Thank you, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth could admit, at least to herself, that she had made more of an effort than usual this evening. Her dress was one of Jane’s and had been taken in in all the right places. It was of a soft yellow colour that offset very pleasantly against her dark features. She had borrowed one of Lydia’s newer white satin ribbons and had small white wild daisies woven into her hair by Kitty. Her only significant piece of jewellery was a delicate garnet cross necklace that had been passed down to her by her grandmother. Though not quite belonging with the rest of her ensemble, the jewellery seemed to emphasise the leanness of her neck in such a way that Darcy wished to kiss it. The result of her attire, coupled with the brilliant smile she gave the gentleman when she first saw him, was such that Darcy could not help but admit that Miss Bennet was the sun itself.

He cleared his throat, then bowed as he offered Elizabeth his hand,

“Then shall we, Miss Bennet?”

“Lead the way, Mr Darcy. ”