Page 18 of What Comes Between Cousins

I T CAME AS NO SURPRISE , least of all to Elizabeth, who had played some small part in the event, that the coming of Lady Catherine and her daughter dominated the conversation at dinner. At first, Elizabeth wondered if the lady’s loud comments had resulted in gossip regarding her and her sisters. But then she realized that the lady had not said much of them, only referencing some nebulous “Jezebels” who were tempting her nephews. The Bennets were well enough regarded that such words would not affect their standing, regardless of the looseness of the gossips’ tongues.

Chief among the diners who held court and spoke with great fervor concerning Lady Catherine’s coming was, of course, Mrs. Bennet. But whereas most of their neighbors would not understand of what the lady spoke, Mrs. Bennet was not insensible to the insult of the woman’s words toward her progeny, nor was she apt to let it pass.

“It is scarcely to be believed,” said she to Lady Lucas and some of the other ladies nearby. Mary was also seated with her, no doubt to attempt some moderation of their mother’s words should it become necessary, while Kitty—somewhat subdued due to the indisposition of her closest sister—and Lydia, still immobile because of her injury, were also within range of their mother’s voice.

“That such a loud, proud, termagant of a woman could be related to Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Darcy is beyond my ability to understand. They are everything good and kind. To be burdened with such a relation must be a cruel cross to bear!”

“It is difficult to understand,” agreed Lady Lucas. “But, Maggie, you should lower your voice. Despite a less than desirable relation, I do not think the gentlemen would appreciate hearing her spoken of in such a manner.”

Few things were certain in life, but the ability of Mrs. Margaret Bennet to speak in a loud voice and ignore all reason had always been one. But in this instance, Mrs. Bennet was stopped short, and she cast about, looking for the gentlemen unless Elizabeth missed her guess. When she turned back to Lady Lucas, her manner was almost furtive.

“Right you are. Though my girls have suffered much insult because of this Lady Catherine’s coming, I shall overlook it. The gentlemen deserve our approbation, for they have been everything good.”

“I cannot agree more, my friend.”

And with those words, the two women fell into quieter conversation with other nearby ladies, and though Elizabeth witnessed more than furtive glances about the room, she heard nothing more from them. Lydia’s injury had resulted in her inability to run amok as she usually did, which limited Kitty’s will to embarrass them too. With her mother’s seeming new-found restraint, it was quite possible the family would emerge from the night without any stain on their reputation. There had been enough occasions in the past where such a conclusion was not assured to leave Elizabeth in a state of relief.

As her mother was checked for the present, Elizabeth turned away and noted the approach of Mrs. Hurst. Not having had much chance to speak to the other woman thus far this evening, Elizabeth greeted her with pleasure, which the other woman returned with equal enjoyment.

“Again, I wished to thank you for seeing to Miss de Bourgh,” said Louisa, the first words to issue from her mouth. “My sister, as you can see, does not have much interest in acting as she ought, and I was still fuming from Lady Catherine’s demands. That is no excuse, of course, but I am grateful nonetheless.”

A quick glance at where Miss Bingley was sitting revealed the woman to be watching all and sundry with a look of utmost distaste. She caught Elizabeth’s eye and sneered at her, but it did not contain the woman’s usual measure of superiority. In fact, Elizabeth suspected Miss Bingley had, for the first time, been made aware of the possibility that her chosen target’s family would not welcome her with open arms as she had thought and was revising her plans accordingly.

“It was no trouble, Louisa,” said Elizabeth, turning her attention back to her true hostess. She smiled at the other woman and continued: “Perhaps it would have been best had I considered better and kept myself separate from Miss de Bourgh’s disdain.”

Louisa laughed. “I cannot dispute your words. But you acted to see to a guest’s comfort, and I appreciate your support.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend. I am happy to assist.”

They stood in that attitude speaking for several minutes until finally, Elizabeth espied the gentlemen returning with Mr. Collins trailing along behind. Mr. Darcy’s expression, though carefully controlled, was easily seen as fury, while Lord Chesterfield appeared more exasperated. As for Mr. Collins, he displayed a measure of shock, no doubt because his patroness had not been treated like a queen when she had swept into the room. Then he saw Elizabeth, and his countenance darkened. Elizabeth thought he might have approached to castigate her, had Mr. Darcy not started toward her first, with a warning look for the parson to keep away. Mr. Collins did so, but not without a scowl at Elizabeth.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. He bent in a low bow before her. Elizabeth could see Mr. Collins gasping at his actions from behind. “I would like to take this opportunity to apologize most humbly to you for the behavior of my aunt. Lady Catherine does not speak for me in any way. I would not wish for you to think I espouse any of her beliefs, for I do not.”

“I do not blame you for your aunt’s behavior, sir,” said Elizabeth. She dared look up into his eyes and noted they were fixed upon her in earnest appeal. “It is clear that your opinions are quite different from Lady Catherine’s. There is no one who could possibly blame you or your cousin for her words or actions.”

“But her vitriol was directed toward you and would have been even more pointed, had she known who you were earlier.”

“And is my cousin not equally to blame?” Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Collins. The man was too far away to hear what they were saying, but his distress was evident in the wringing of his hands. “I presume it was he who summoned her, after all.”

Mr. Darcy turned slightly and regarded the parson. Though he was turned away from Elizabeth, it was clear from the sudden pallor in Mr. Collins’s countenance that Mr. Darcy’s look was not at all friendly.

“I believe he did. But she would have come at some time or another.” Mr. Darcy paused and grimaced. “You have likely heard from your cousin, but my aunt has long maintained the delusion that I will marry her daughter. Her assertions are without foundation; I am not engaged to my cousin, nor are my wishes restricted in any manner.”

Though Elizabeth wondered at the forceful nature of his statement, she could only assure him that she was unharmed. “Then I think I must congratulate you, sir. I should think that the prospect of having Lady Catherine as a mother-in-law would make strong men quail. It must be a relief to be spared such a fate.”

At first, Mr. Darcy gawked at her, seeming unable to credit Elizabeth’s sportive comments of his aunt. Then he laughed, allowing Elizabeth to release the hint of hysterical mirth which had been building while she waited to see if the man would take offense at her thoughtless jest. It was clear her glib tongue would land her in hot water if she did not take care.

“Your humor, more than anything else, informs me you are unharmed,” said Mr. Darcy as he shook his head. “Your resilience is truly awe-inspiring, Miss Elizabeth. I have rarely seen its like.”

“Perhaps you have not looked,” replied Elizabeth, feeling the embarrassment of his approbation all over again. “I do not think I am so special.”

“And I will assert you are ,” replied Mr. Darcy. His earnest expression had made a reappearance. “There are few who would not be offended at such caustic words as my aunt directed at you. And I am sure my cousin was no kinder.”

Mr. Darcy paused and seemed to consider her. Elizabeth did her best to simply wait for him to speak again, though the appearance of fluttering wings in her midsection did little calm her. Why she should feel this way in Mr. Darcy’s presence she did not know, but it was there nonetheless.

“If you will oblige me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy at length, “I believe I would like to request another dance of you if you have one available.”

Elizabeth gawped at the man, the word surprised not even close to what she felt about his application. “Another dance?” asked she, though the words were weak to her own ears.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Darcy, his tone and purpose firm. “I am fully aware of the implications of such a request, and I do not make it lightly. I find you are an estimable woman of whom I wish to know more. Furthermore, I wish to show the room that whatever my aunt’s opinions are, I do not share them. Will you do me the honor?”

Some reply must be made, and though Elizabeth was bemused at the impossibility of it all, she could only respond to this man’s entreaty in a like manner. “The only dance I have left is the final dance of the evening.”

“Then I will claim that dance, if I may be so bold.”

Hardly aware of what was happening, Elizabeth nodded her acceptance. Mr. Darcy took her hand and bowed over it, and for a moment Elizabeth thought he might kiss it. In the end, however, he chose the lesser form of regard, thanked her, and went away. Elizabeth could not tear her eyes away from his back. What would her neighbors think? To dance the first and last dance with the same woman was an unmistakable sign of favor. Was it not?

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“L OUISA!” HISSED CAROLINE . Louisa felt her sister’s hand, as she reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her to a nearby door and out into the hall. “Of what were you speaking with Eliza just now?”

“I was thanking her for seeing to a guest in our house in our stead,” said Louisa, pulling her arm from Caroline’s grasp and glaring at her sister with contempt. “ We are the hostesses for the evening, are we not? It should have been our duty to see to Miss de Bourgh’s comfort, no matter how objectionable her mother’s behavior. Yet Elizabeth saw fit to do so herself when we could not be bothered.”

“I am certain it was nothing more than an attempt to ingratiate herself with the cousins,” sneered Caroline. “She is an artful woman. I am certain she intends to snap one of them up from under my very nose.”

Louisa regarded her sister, wondering how Caroline had become so conniving and selfish. In fact, Louisa was certain that both men were enamored with Elizabeth, and it was obvious to all but Caroline that neither would ever pay any attention to her as Charles’s sister beyond what was required by civility. It was a great pity—more than ever, Louisa wished to be free of the burden Caroline had always been. But she could not wish her shrewish sister on such fine men.

“Caroline,” said Louisa, her patience almost exhausted, “do you not see that you have not been acting as a good hostess ought? You have seen to little of our guests’ comfort and have spent your time watching Lord Chesterfield and speaking with objectionable militia officers.”

Caroline’s sneer was once again evident. “Perhaps I would take greater care if the opinion of these country savages concerned me even a jot. Why should we concern ourselves with the opinions of such people?”

“Because they are our brother’s neighbors,” replied Louisa. “And because they are good people. How can you think to act properly when hosting the higher-ranking members of society from London when you cannot even be bothered to do so in a smaller society?”

“I am sure I will know how to act,” replied Caroline with an airy wave of her hand.

“Then I suppose I should speak to our brother,” said Louisa. “If you cannot be bothered to be his hostess, then perhaps I should take up the reins of that position. At least he would not be looked down on by his neighbors for an overly haughty woman presiding over his house.”

With those words, Louisa turned and stalked away. Caroline could try the patience of a saint, and Louisa was feeling far from saintly that day.

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“Y OU HAVE ASKED MISS Elizabeth to dance again?” demanded Fitzwilliam.

“I have,” replied his infuriating cousin. “It was the least I could do to apologize for our aunt’s behavior.”

“I believe it may have been my right and obligation,” said Fitzwilliam. “As the higher ranked between us, you should have stood aside and allowed me to tender our apologies. And I hardly think it necessary for you to offer to dance with her as compensation for being ill-used by the likes of Lady Catherine, especially when it is largely because of you that she was so treated!”

Darcy turned to regard him, his countenance forbidding. Such tactics had never worked on Fitzwilliam—he could be as forbidding as Darcy when he chose—and of late, they had only irritated him.

“Such a limit cannot be placed on good manners, Fitzwilliam. If you wish to apologize to Miss Elizabeth yourself, I am certain you have the opportunity to do so, should you only take it. As for my request to dance with her, that is my business, is it not? And I shall not even dignify your comments regarding Lady Catherine’s behavior with a reply.”

And Darcy stepped way, leaving Fitzwilliam watching him, feeling the need to gnash his teeth in frustration. That fastidious Darcy should pay such attention to naught but a country girl—the country girl in which Fitzwilliam found himself interested, no less—was a circumstance Fitzwilliam could never have imagined. And he was not about to tolerate it either.

His purpose clear, Fitzwilliam scanned the room for Miss Elizabeth, finding her speaking with some ladies of the area not far away. Fitzwilliam judged it likely the dancing would begin again quite soon. Consequently, he knew he had best step to it. Thus, he approached and bowed low in front of the three ladies, noting that while Miss Elizabeth was looking at him with curiosity, the others were giggling behind their hands. Fitzwilliam ignored them—Miss Elizabeth was the true prize.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “if you are not engaged, might I ask for another set this evening? I wish to apologize for my aunt’s actions.”

“I thank you for the apology,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “But I am sorry to say that my dance card is full.”

“You do not have another dance available?” asked Fitzwilliam, the feeling of anger wending its way through his mind. Darcy had snapped up her last dance!

“I do not. You have my apologies, Lord Chesterfield.”

“Then another time, perhaps,” replied Fitzwilliam, not caring that his words and tone were more than a little short.

He turned away removed himself to the side of the room, watching the dancers as they moved through the steps of the sets. But he had eyes only for Miss Elizabeth, as he fumed at being denied what he wanted. Fitzwilliam did not even consider dancing. He was too angry to ask any other lady for the pleasure.

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A S THE VISCOUNT WALKED away from them, Elizabeth watched him, astonished at his reaction. He took up position by the side of the dance floor and refused to speak to anyone, his gaze roving over them all with seeming contempt. Elizabeth knew he did not feel that way—he had proven his character time and again. But the way he was carrying himself this evening, he reminded her of Mr. Darcy’s demeanor that first night at the assembly in Meryton.

By contrast, Mr. Darcy was in another part of the room speaking with Mr. Goulding, and while he would never be so animated as his cousin, he was acquitting himself well. It was odd, Elizabeth decided, but it appeared as if the cousins had exchanged characters, or at least they had exchanged positions. The viscount had seemed angry when Elizabeth had informed him she could not dance with him. Was that enough to render him unsociable for the rest of the evening?

A little later, as the dancing was about to begin again, Elizabeth found herself beside her youngest siblings, and she was privy to their conversation about all that had happened that evening.

“Did you see Lady Catherine’s dress, Lydia?” Kitty was saying. “The material from which it was constructed was positively divine.” Kitty sighed. “If only Papa could afford to clothe us in such costly materials. I might never leave the modiste!”

“Yes, yes,” replied Lydia in her usual caustic tones. “It is unfortunate the woman wearing the gown was so objectionable.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kitty, seeming confused. Elizabeth shook her head—Kitty always had been more than a little oblivious.

“Only that she treated Lizzy horridly,” exclaimed Lydia. “If that is how all members of high society behave, then I think I want no part of it.”

“There are surely objectionable characters in every society,” said Elizabeth. As she was speaking, her eyes caught sight of Mr. Wickham, and she noted how he was watching them with keen interest. Suppressing a shudder, Elizabeth turned her attention back to her sisters. “But not everyone of higher society is objectionable. Lord Chesterfield, for example, is everything that is good and amiable. Is he not?”

Her sisters allowed that she was correct and began speaking of other matters. Soon they were joined by Mary who, it appeared, had been close enough to hear their conversation.

“I am surprised you held the viscount up as a paragon to our sisters, Lizzy,” said she in a soft tone. “By your own admission, you have begun to have questions about his lordship.”

“I am merely cautious, as we discussed. I could hardly speak of Mr. Darcy to Lydia. While she does not think ill of him, she does consider him to be too taciturn and stuffy for her taste.”

Mary nodded. “I suppose that is true.”

But the question Mary had posed stayed with Elizabeth, and she wondered at it. She had felt distinctly uncomfortable when confronted with Lord Chesterfield’s behavior and warmed by Mr. Darcy’s. Why, then, had she praised Lord Chesterfield to Lydia rather than Mr. Darcy? Did she, in some way, view them both through the eyes of prejudice? She had always been of a sociable nature herself—might that cause her to unconsciously esteem the man more like her?

When her next partner came to collect her for the next dance, Elizabeth was no closer to answering her own question as she had been at the start. But she was determined to try to see past whatever prejudices she possessed and view both men as they were. Perhaps most importantly, she was resolved to see Mr. Darcy as an amiable man, one who was, perhaps, not so open as she was herself, but no less estimable nonetheless.

It was much later in the evening, during the lull between the previous dance and the final one of the evening, when Elizabeth found herself on the side of the dance floor with Jane nearby. Jane was to stand up for the final set with Lord Chesterfield, who seemed to have roused himself from his thoughts. Much as Elizabeth herself, Jane had danced twice with her beau, though her dances had been the first and the supper. Elizabeth could not be happier for her sister and was not above indulging in a little teasing of her elder sibling.

“Mr. Bingley has been very attentive toward you this evening, Jane.”

Jane, as Elizabeth might have predicted, blushed. “I am certain he is only being kind.”

“If there was a man as kind to me as Mr. Bingley is to you, I would order my trousseau,” said Elizabeth.

When Jane’s color became even more prominent, Elizabeth laughed and enfolded her sister in an affectionate embrace. “Oh, Jane, it is rarely amusing to tease you, because you present such an inviting target!”

“Stop it, Lizzy!” exclaimed Jane, fixing Elizabeth with a stern glare.

Elizabeth could see right through her, however, and only grinned in response. “Very well. I shall leave you be, regardless of how sorely I am tempted to continue. I will only say this: be certain of your heart, my dearest sister. And when you are certain of it, take care to make him certain of it. He carries on quite charmingly, it is true, but a man needs a little encouragement.”

With a smile, Jane turned away at something Mary said. The void was immediately filled by the tall man who was to dance with Jane.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Lord Chesterfield, “I have realized that though I said I wished to apologize for my aunt’s behavior, I did not actually do so.”

“It is quite unnecessary,” replied Elizabeth, hoping to forestall another uncomfortable conversation. “As I informed your cousin, I do not hold you accountable for Lady Catherine’s actions. I pray you will think no more of it.”

Though the viscount’s expression tightened, he bowed low to her. “It is a measure of your goodness that you can think so, Miss Elizabeth. Regardless, I will beg your pardon. Lady Catherine had no business speaking to you in the way she did. And for that, I apologize.”

“Thank you, my lord,” replied Elizabeth. “I appreciate your words.”

Lord Chesterfield paused for a moment before he fixed her again with his attention. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope I am not speaking out of turn when I say that I find you the most intriguing young woman I have ever met. I believe I would like to know more of you if you will allow it.”

It was these words which finally gave Elizabeth a little clarity on what was happening between the cousins. She did not like the implications at all.

“I am quite happy to converse on any occasion which presents itself, Lord Chesterfield,” replied she. “At present, however, I believe I had best find my partner for the final dance of the evening.”

She turned away, but not before she had seen the flash of irritation from his lordship. But Elizabeth was, by now, feeling more than a little annoyance with the man and his cousin. She was not about to allow herself to be the prize of their little rivalry. Perhaps she should control herself better, but the fact that she was to dance with Mr. Darcy presented an opportunity to allow her grievance to be heard.

By the time they started the dance, Mr. Darcy seemed aware of Elizabeth’s less than congenial attitude. They moved in silence for several moments, Mr. Darcy regarding her as if trying to puzzle her out, Elizabeth attempting to bring her pique under control lest she say something she ought not. It was Mr. Darcy’s opening sally which burst the dam holding Elizabeth’s temper in check.

“It appears the evening has proven a trial on your patience, Miss Elizabeth,” said he when they stepped close together. “If required, I once again offer my unreserved apologies for my aunt’s behavior.”

“You and your cousin are both intent upon apologizing repeatedly,” replied Elizabeth. Her ire was leaking out despite her attempts to control it, and her tone was more than a little testy. “I will inform you again that you need not do so. I appreciated your first apology, but anything else is unnecessary.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “Then might I ask if your ire is reserved for me in particular?”

“Not for you, in particular, sir. I am equally frustrated with your cousin. Though I would not presume to accuse either of you of anything underhanded, I wish you both to know that I will not be the unwitting award of a rivalry between cousins.”

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, “I would not have you think that I see you in such a manner. It is clear to me you are nothing less than a treasure.”

Mr. Darcy paused and though everything within Elizabeth screamed to reply to his words, something kept her silent. She had always known Mr. Darcy was a careful man, one who, when he spoke, did so with the greatest of care, using words which were well worth hearing. Perhaps it was this which stayed her tongue and harnessed her wit. Either way, for those few, brief, awful minutes, she waited with bated breath to hear what he wished to say, wondering if she ought to fear it.

“I am not skilled at this, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy at length, shooting her an apologetic smile. “I have not the talent for speaking which some possess, and I have never paid attention to a woman before. I have not, I would have you know, because I have never found a woman who intrigued me, who spoke to me directly to my heart as you have.

“While my behavior and that of my cousin might have led you to believe that we vie for your attention as a sort of contest between us, I would have you know that I have no such thoughts. I cannot say what Fitzwilliam feels, and I will not attempt to indict or vindicate him—I will leave that to him. For myself, I believe I may say that my interest in you is unalloyed and unstained by any thought of besting my cousin. You are an estimable woman; any man would be fortunate, indeed, to be able to claim your regard. A man who gained your love would be the luckiest man on earth.”

Elizabeth gasped. “You speak of love, sir?”

“I do, but only in the sense of what I believe is possible.” Mr. Darcy smiled and Elizabeth felt liable to swoon. “It is clear to me that loving you would be the simplest task to which I would ever set myself. But let us not put the cart before the horse, shall we? I understand your caution has been roused by what you have witnessed tonight, and I certainly cannot blame you for it. I am content to take it slowly, to earn your trust and regard, if you will allow me.”

“How could I refuse such a heartfelt appeal, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, though she hardly knew what she was saying. “I will not agree to anything at present, but I am happy to receive you whenever you call.”

And it was true, Elizabeth decided. He had proven himself true by not demanding a courtship or the like immediately, so as to prevent his cousin from doing so first.

Suddenly, Elizabeth could imagine falling in love with this man. She could imagine it very well, indeed!