One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (70 page)

The small fire from earlier in the day was out, leaving the room cold, for the staff had not yet distributed the embers from the larger fireplaces among the bedchambers. Elizabeth readied herself for bed quickly, and, shivering at the chill in the air, she impulsively reached in her closet to the place she had hidden the wine-colored shawl and withdrew it. She wrapped it almost reverently around her shoulders as she retrieved the letter and sat in the same fashion as she had since childhood, with her legs tucked beneath her on the window seat.

The shawl and the letter came to me together, however accidental that event was
 
she thought, defending her action to herself.
 
It is only fitting that they remain paired when the letter is examined
. She tugged the shawl resolutely around her shoulders and prepared to read the letter yet again. Her eyes first scanned the page as a whole, noting how very much like the man his hand was. The powerful angle and uniform shape of the letters were striking—the penmanship was as elegant as any calligraphers might be, yet masculine in form, and perfectly legible.

Although she had read the letter twice through before dinner, indeed, certain parts of it were already indelibly fixed in her mind, she felt as she had upon her first reading, somehow worried about what she might find there.

My dearest Elizabeth
, So familiar a greeting carried an intimacy that felt to her nearly forbidden, and yet she thrilled at his use of her Christian name while a faint echo played in her mind of similar words spoken at her sickbed.

His next lines confused her, particularly the passage that spoke of their being
 
not yet engaged
. By this, did he imply that he was in fact to offer for her at some future moment, or did he mean to impress upon her the undecided nature of their acquaintanceship? She recalled the cruel declarations that Caroline Bingley had made to her about Mr. Darcy's ultimate choice in a wife.
 
Is he putting me on my guard not to assume what is not formally established?

She read on in the letter, warmed by the confidence he expressed in her character, for it signified some degree of esteem, intimated that he regarded her with sufficient trust to disclose such private matters to her. She was pleased that he wished to introduce his sister to her and flattered, to some degree, at his expressed hopes in their friendship, yet there was something troubling in that request. She could not immediately discern the source of her discomfort on the matter, but it niggled at her nonetheless.

Although Lydia had told her, and she had previously read the letter, she was still shocked nearly to disbelief at the suddenness of Mr. Wickham's demise and the apparent mystery that surrounded his fate. She was rocked to her core, yet again, by the disclosures about the dealings of Mr. Wickham with Miss Darcy. Elizabeth recalled her brief friendship with that amiable and charming man with a fresh perspective, for while Mr. Darcy had personally advised her to give no consequence to Mr. Wickham, she had thought him to be a pleasant and agreeable acquaintance.
 
In retrospect, perhaps he was too smooth in his manners to be trusted.

She chastised herself for having failed to speak privately with each of her sisters and set her mind to do so in the morning, to explain that they must not mention Mr. Wickham in Georgiana Darcy's presence. This she felt could be best accomplished by preying on their sympathies in describing Wickham as having been raised as nearly a brother in the house and assuring her sisters that it would sorely grieve Georgiana should they mention Mr. Wickham or anything related to him. In this sound advice she could speak to her family with no mention of any letter from Mr. Darcy and yet accomplish the task he had entrusted to her.

Her eyes turned back to the letter. The last paragraph was cryptic and was the source of some anxiety to Elizabeth, for she could not make out his meaning. She felt certain that Mr. Darcy was saying something important to her without saying it exactly.
It is peculiar that he should renew his idea, especially as I was so adamant in my refusal!
 
Surely he does not intend to pursue his offer to teach me to ride—that was playful jesting from the dance, a topic that should have been left at the ball.
 
Perhaps, she reasoned, that this was yet another ploy to express the platonic nature of their relationship. Did he mean to impress upon her his determination to restore the distance dictated by the disparity of their individual stations? As she pondered this question, the answer to her discomfort in the earlier part of the letter came. The purpose of the letter was clear—Mr. Darcy merely wished to enlist her aid in helping his sister overcome the events that he had disclosed in the letter.

She re-read the letter now and saw with clarity all that he was trying to say—to gently advise her that she should not anticipate any further addresses but prepare, instead, to be of service to his sister, who was in need of consolation and a friend. This she would gladly do for him and be honored by the request. Indeed, she knew that she could not refuse him anything. He could not know the heartbreak she harbored—she would not betray her feelings for him again in light of his indifference. Now that she had detected his meaning, she was sure she could be at ease in his presence, for she would know how to act.

She returned the letter to the drawer, snuffed the candle, and slipped beneath the counterpane of the bed, the shawl still wrapped securely around her body. She lay awake, contemplating the possibility that, as early as tomorrow noon, Mr. Darcy and his sister might be returned to Netherfield.

~*~

The next morning after breakfast, Elizabeth sought out each sister, and her parents, as well, in turn for a private conversation about their upcoming introductions to Miss Darcy, for she was determined not to fail in this assignment to insulate Miss Darcy from comments that would injure her. She began by sharing what general information she knew of Miss Darcy and cautioned her sisters against overwhelming the shy girl, who was raised with no sisters and only one elder brother. She added, as if it were an afterthought, that Mr. Wickham had been raised in the same household and was as a brother to her when she was young. Upon hearing of Miss Darcy's childhood attachment to Wickham, each of her family solemnly agreed not to mention him, lest they provoke her tender sentiments and bring further trouble to her in so doing.

Lydia, in particular, was anxious not to stir up remembrance of that fellow within the house, for their father, rather than forgetting his promised penalties, was piling them on, sentencing his youngest daughter to many hours of study, of practice, and even to chores in the household. He was in such a foul temper over Lydia's disobedience that even Mrs. Bennet dared not intervene on Lydia's behalf.

Neither had Kitty escaped their father's wrath, for it had become known after Elizabeth had quit the meal that Kitty had been privy to all of Lydia's anticipation of an elopement, and she was included in all of the punishments that Lydia bore, although Kitty accepted it meekly while Lydia chafed against each assignment.

Following the interviews, Elizabeth was disconcerted to realize that, although she had only been about for a few hours, weariness chased her, and she was once again obliged to rest. Mr. Jones had warned her of the possibility of fatigue following her illness and admonished her to heed her tiredness in order to recover fully. She fought valiantly against it, but by late morning, she admitted defeat and so informed Jane before she returned to her bedchamber. She was fast asleep when the party from Netherfield arrived at Longbourn.

~*~

Kitty first raised the alarm as the carriage entered the drive, but Mrs. Bennet took up the cry, and all of the occupants of the house, save Elizabeth and her father, rapidly converged and assembled in the sitting room. When Hill announced their guests, five of the Bennets rose calmly from the seats where they had appeared to be thoroughly engaged with tasks of sewing and other needlework.

The family stood nearly in unison as Mrs. Bennet stepped forward to greet them. Miss Darcy was introduced to those Bennets present, as was her companion, Mrs. Annesley. Everyone engaged in those pleasantries attendant to introductions, but when no Elizabeth was named among the daughters, Georgiana looked nervously at her brother.

Mr. Bingley, a great smile on his face stepped up and inquired. “You are all well I hope?”

“Very well.” Mrs. Bennet replied graciously. “Except for Lizzy, I should say. She is not herself since the fever.”

At this, Mr. Darcy's eyes widened slightly. “Shall I summon a physician from London?”

“You are very kind, Mr. Darcy, but that is not necessary. Mr. Jones has advised that there is a minor outbreak of the fever in the neighborhood, and he has warned us that it will be some few weeks before Lizzy is fully recovered.” Mrs. Bennet gestured for her guests to be seated as she reassured them. “It is not an epidemic, mind you. As it turns out, the illness is not passed easily, and those who are preventing it with lemon balm and elderberry appear not affected at all.”

“It is excellent that the illness may be prevented,” Mr. Bingley declared. “I would hate for such a thing as an epidemic to interfere with the wedding.”

“Now that you bring it up,” Mrs. Bennet said with delight, “there are orders of business regarding the wedding that cannot be delayed! Come, Jane. Come, Mr. Bingley. We will repair to the parlor so as not to be disturbed in our preparations.” She stood and walked to the doorway, beckoning to Jane and Mr. Bingley. Jane blushed with some mortification that her mother had jumped to the object of her preoccupation so immediately, with not even an offer of refreshment, but Mr. Bingley was all smiles as he offered his arm to Jane for the brief walk to the parlor.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Bennet; I am certain we can resolve any matters of nuptial-related urgency in short order and join the company shortly.” Mr. Bingley then lowered his voice to a whisper that only Jane could hear. “Perhaps,” he said with a boyish grin, “we shall find a suitable location for the mistletoe in the parlor!”

The departure of those three wedding planners left Mr. Darcy in the room with Georgiana, Mary, Kitty and Lydia. He walked to the window, as was his habit, and stood with his back to the ladies, who quickly disregarded his presence. His concern about exposing his sister to the younger Bennet girls was quickly allayed. It was evident by their gentle manners toward his sister that his letter to Elizabeth had born fruit—the girls were all perfectly well behaved, and kind and welcoming too. Mary inquired after her musical studies, and Kitty asked her about town. Lydia admired her frock and inquired after the latest fashions, as it was apparent that Georgiana Darcy was outfitted in apparel more current than what was typically seen in Meryton.

Georgiana blushed and stammered some at first, but she soon was at ease in their company, giggling at Lydia's jokes along with Kitty. Darcy watched them in the glass, gradually relaxing as he observed his sister respond favorably to the unaffected welcome she received in this household. He quietly moved to a seat by the table and, with some agitation, sat down. He picked up a book that sat on a nearby table and thumbed through it. He set it back down and listened while Lydia told a humorous story about a cat that hid her kittens in the barn. Kitty interjected frequently with details Lydia had left out, and Georgiana was spellbound with the tale.

While the young ladies were thus engaged, the door to the sitting room quietly opened, and Elizabeth entered. Mr. Darcy immediately stood and bowed to her, his eyes seeking hers as he greeted her. “Miss Elizabeth.”

She curtseyed in response. “Mr. Darcy.”

He crossed the divide rapidly, relieved at her appearance in the room, but on his approach, her eyes turned away from him to Georgiana, and she smiled at the girl with great warmth before she turned her expectant gaze back to Mr. Darcy.

“My sister,” Darcy said, wishing not to take his eyes away from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth laughed softly. “I am aware of who the young lady is, Mr. Darcy. I was very much hoping to be favored with an introduction—if it is not too much trouble.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Darcy blinked himself out of the stupor that threatened him. He made the introductions, and Elizabeth drew Georgiana away from the younger girls. Taking her by the hand, she lead her to the set of chairs that Jane and Mr. Bingley had so often occupied, where they could converse quietly, undisturbed by others in the room.

Elizabeth put the young girl at ease nearly the instant they met, her conversation so generous and her manner so warm that Georgiana's expression was soon more animated than Darcy had seen it at any time since she was a child. Elizabeth's eyes, which he had always found so enchanting and intelligent, twinkled with what seemed to be genuine affection for Georgiana within moments of their first greeting. Darcy marveled at the transformation that Elizabeth had effected on his sibling. Georgiana looked up at him once, as if to reassure her brother of her well-being. Darcy's delight at the outcome of the first meeting of the two women he loved most in the world nearly overcame his reserved demeanor, but he remained composed and rewarded Georgiana's gesture with a faint smile and a nod.