One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (24 page)

“If I did not upset you, may I inquire as to what was the cause of your ... distress?” Mr. Darcy asked in confusion.

“That was not distress, sir.” Elizabeth said as she continued walking toward the house. She waited for him to come alongside her before she added, “I am certain it cannot surprise you, for I told you myself that I dearly love to laugh, even if the object of the joke is myself.”

“Why did you leave the room?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Surely you could have laughed among friends.”

“Mr. Darcy, we are both aware that proper comportment does not allow for an attack of gaiety such as I have suffered to be exhibited in company. I required a moment of privacy.” Elizabeth replied.

“What was the source of this ... attack of gaiety as you call it?” One corner of Mr. Darcy's mouth turned up as he asked the question.

“There it is.” Elizabeth chuckled. “I knew you could not restrain yourself from asking! If you know the answer—as well you may—it is most ungentlemanly of you to ask me to own it.”

“Let us assume I do not know the answer.” Mr. Darcy pressed, his hint of a smile widening slightly.

“If that is the case, I believe the proper course of action would be to allow a lady to keep her secret,” Elizabeth retorted triumphantly, “and never to broach the topic again.”

“Then I shall not force you to own it, Miss Bennet. I would not wish to be accused of ungentlemanly behavior. The lady's secret is safe.” At this, he genuinely laughed and escorted her back indoors to the sitting room, an uncharacteristic grin plastered on his face.

The next half an hour was spent in relaxed conversation. Jane and Mr. Bingley continued contentedly talking quietly between themselves, but Elizabeth found that the strange tension between herself and Mr. Darcy was somehow gone.

Elizabeth boldly continued stitching on her handkerchief, although holding it at an angle that obscured Mr. Darcy's view of it. They discussed several books they had both read, and Mr. Darcy told Elizabeth a little about his sister, Georgiana, whom he had seen briefly the day before when he was in London.

“Did you also see your aunt in London, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth enjoyed asking the question, for the last time they had spoken of Lady Catherine he had not disclosed the relationship.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” he responded with a nod and a shrug, “and my cousin Anne as well. She sends her regards to you and your family.”

“It must have been a great joy to see her.” Elizabeth replied, allowing a slight air of smugness to creep into her tone as she kept her eyes focused on her needle. “I understand that you are engaged to Miss de Bourgh.”

At this, Mr. Darcy looked intently at Elizabeth. It took a moment of silence, but eventually she looked up, blinking at the flutter of déjà vu that stirred in her stomach as their eyes met. “It is a lie.” Darcy's voice was guttural as he locked his eyes onto hers. “I am not engaged to Anne.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth said softly as she broke the gaze and dropped her eyes in confusion. “I must have been misinformed.”

“Anne told me you were kind to her.” His voice had lost its edge. “She was exceedingly grateful.”

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. “I was glad to be of some assistance. She did not look well.”

“She also told me some incredibly diverting stories about your cousin, Mr. Collins.” Mr. Darcy chuckled, trying to return to the ease of their previous conversation. “I would be willing to share them with you someday when you are in need of a laugh, but you must promise not to run away if the laughter overcomes you.”

“It is not fair to exploit Mr. Collins in such a way—it is too easy.” Elizabeth said, with an arch in her brow and her tone. “If you must make me laugh, let it be at you alone. I do not believe you can do it, but if you do, I promise to stay and laugh. I am obliged to warn you, though, that Miss Bingley will not approve.”

Mr. Darcy's brow furrowed for a moment, and he answered seriously. “You have raised the stakes to a point of pain, Miss Bennet. Remind me to never play against you at cards.”

“Mr. Darcy, at cards you would have the advantage.” Elizabeth laughed at him. “I bet in jokes and giggles, which cost me nothing. At cards, where money is required, your threshold is unlikely to be exceeded. As you well know, I have no money to squander at the tables.”

“I did not mean to...,” Mr. Darcy stammered.

“Do not distress yourself so, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth continued to laugh, “I am not seeking your sympathy. I much prefer my currency, for when you lose, your money is gone, but I may retain my good spirits and humor, even when it is spent.”

“True,” Mr. Darcy said, “but laughter cannot secure your future.”

“That is where Mr. Collins comes into the equation.” Elizabeth said sweetly. “He is the heir of Longbourn, and in his marrying one of its daughters, the future is secured for all. You need not concern yourself with the matter.”

“Has he made an offer?” Mr. Darcy's face returned to the mask Elizabeth hated.

“He has only just arrived, Mr. Darcy. It would hardly be proper for him to offer in so short a time.” Elizabeth stood as she spoke, agitated by the turn in the conversation. “I must excuse myself now. I have enjoyed our conversation today very much. I sincerely hope the pleasure will be repeated again in the future.” She curtsied and went to her room upstairs, taking her embroidery with her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Stars & Constellations

E
lizabeth's bedtime routine of brushing and braiding her hair was barely complete when Jane knocked quietly and joined her in her bedchamber, as happened most evenings, if Elizabeth had not already gone to Jane's room first.

“Oh, Lizzy!” Jane cried out softly as she closed the door behind her, “What a day we have had at Longbourn!”

“Never has there been a day such as this one.” Elizabeth laughed as she shook her head in agreement. “Having a suitor is very agreeable, I daresay, if his name is Mr. Bingley.”

“Oh, Lizzy, Mr. Bingley is everything wonderful!” Jane sighed happily, “But I fear that I behaved very selfishly today. When we are together, I forget myself. Was Mr. Darcy difficult to entertain? It appeared that he distressed you....”

“Jane, you must not fret!” Elizabeth giggled, “I was discomposed, to be sure, but it was no fault of Mr. Darcy's, unless one can assign blame for an observant eye.”

“Observant eye? What did he see, Lizzy?” Jane was clearly puzzled. “Was I not in the room as well? Am I so blind?”

Elizabeth retrieved her embroidery hoop and handed it to her sister. “It was the handkerchief. My design intrigued him. If you study it, you will see what I myself missed when I drew the pattern, and even as I stitched on it did not realize was there. Mr. Darcy noticed it with but a glance.”

Jane took the article and moved closer to the candle to examine it. Suddenly, her eyes rounded and she gasped. “But it is so plain! What did he say?”

“He said nothing, except that he found the design unusual.” Elizabeth started to laugh again. “Imagine my horror, dear sister, when I discovered these initials, stitched by my own hand, and exposed by Mr. Darcy! I cannot imagine what thoughts he entertained, but I do wish I could have been looking at his face, for I am certain it was a sight! I was so consumed by the absurdity of what had happened that I was forced to quit the room or else fall upon the floor for lack of breath!”

“That was when you left? We all thought you had been upset, although we had no idea what could have made you so.” Jane suddenly paled. “Mr. Darcy followed you! I should have gone after you myself, but Mr. Darcy said ... he said...,” Jane put her hand over her mouth. “He picked up your embroidery, said something nonsensical about constellations and stars and said most emphatically that he would speak to you and put your mind at ease. When you returned, it seemed to be so, and I did not give it another thought.”

“That is because your thoughts were all wrapped up in Mr. Bingley!” Elizabeth teased and, after a moment's pause, added, “Jane, now you have made me wonder, for Mr. Darcy said nothing to me of stars. Can you not remember what he said?”

“Goodness, I was not paying him much heed.” Jane blushed. “Let me think.” She sat quietly, and after a moment of contemplation said, “I think it was something like 'Men look at stars and see constellations to order the sky. I have foolishly seen heaven in a handkerchief.'“ Jane pondered for a moment and shook her head. “What do you suppose he could have meant by it?”

Elizabeth took the hoop from Jane and fingered the pattern, tracing the letters that had been a moment ago the cause of great levity. “I suppose he must have thought that he imagined the letters in the design the same way men see constellations in the sky, by connecting random points. That is a great relief to me, for I would not want him to think me presumptuous.”

“You have never cared what Mr. Darcy thought before, Lizzy. Has something changed?” Jane challenged her.

“Do not be ridiculous, Jane. I cannot have him think so—he is already far too conceited. It would be a great disservice to the man to add to his vanity when it is already as bloated as it is.” Elizabeth retorted. “If only there were a remedy for a pride such as his, I would serve that to him in an instant!”

“As you did to poor Mr. Collins at dinner?” Jane laughed at her sister. “After all our work to get him to notice Mary, he could not be pried from your side tonight. You were very nearly rude to him, and he was too obtuse to notice.”

“
Poor
 
Mr. Collins
?” Elizabeth complained. “I say poor
 
Mary
 
for liking such a man. The tragic thing is that he improves when in Mary's company. I cannot say how she does it, but it is uncanny. He is undoubtedly the stupidest man in all England, and yet Mary has managed to elicit some almost intelligent discourse from our cousin.”

“You must allow for the difference in Mary's temper.” Jane counseled. “Mary must see good in him, or she would not desire his attentions. I have never seen her so intent on achieving a specific end as she is now. We must continue to help her. Consider, this—if she can improve him in one conversation, imagine how enriched he would be with a daily dose of Mary.”

“But Jane, it is our unhappy lot to be burdened with such an odious cousin. Think on this—could we bear to call him brother? I am very uncomfortable to think that I have thrown Mary into his path as a means to save myself.” Elizabeth frowned. “Yet she really does seem to like him. I cannot understand my own sister.”

“You have told me many times, Lizzy, that only the deepest, most profound love would induce you into matrimony. If Mary finds herself bound to Mr. Collins by these same feelings, you cannot fault her for the same standard to which you hold yourself.” Jane persuaded.

“You are right, Jane.” Elizabeth conceded. “I am delighted that you also seem to have had the good fortune to find yourself profoundly in love. You are in love, are you not?”

Jane blushed and looked away from her sister. “I believe I am. If love is marked by tender feelings of admiration and regard, as well as a stirring of passions that I did not know were within me, then I confess; I am most happily in love. You must promise, Lizzy, not to repeat it to anyone, not until we are engaged.”

“I promise.” Elizabeth laughed. “Although it is written on both of your faces, etched so deeply in every glance, that your secret, though safe with me, is not really safe at all.”

~*~

Mr. Darcy, upon his return to Netherfield, was relieved to find that responses to three of his express letters had been delivered in the course of the day. These, combined with the two he had retrieved from his London house gave him much cause for reflection.

From his cousin Richard came the reply that he would come to Meryton as soon as his leave was approved. When he arrived, they could together determine the best course of action for the “Wickham problem.”

From his steward at Pemberley came the assurance that although Lady Catherine de Bourgh had attempted to learn of Mr. Darcy's whereabouts through them, including threats and intimidation, the information had been faithfully withheld, and he could be certain that she would not receive intelligence through his estate in Derbyshire.

From his solicitor in London, he received confirmation that the land agent responsible for letting the Netherfield property to Mr. Bingley had been cooperative in making a guarantee that the transaction would be held in strictest confidence, and that they could not be traced to Hertfordshire by inquiries made by outside parties.