One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (8 page)

~*~

Elizabeth left the house virtually undetected by the other occupants, or so she thought. The morning was bright, with no clouds to obscure the sun, but it was also cold and damp, having rained during the night. A gauzy mist still hung among the autumnal trees, and the grass glistened with water droplets—remnants of the storm. Elizabeth lifted her dress up as she walked, but the day was too beautiful to fuss too much, and as soon as she was clear of the house, she broke into a run, the rush of cool air in her lungs invigorating her. She ran until her heart pounded and she was panting for breath. When the last vestiges of her indoor lethargy had been wiped away, she slowed back to a walk, smiling breathlessly at the rejuvenation she felt, although not yet ready to return to the house.

She continued to walk, feeding off the sunlight and the fresh smell of the rain. She stopped when a large hunting dog suddenly appeared, blocking the path. She looked around for his master, and seeing no one, whistled softly. The dog bounded towards her and she picked up a stick, holding it high above her head to get his attention before she threw it. They played several rounds of fetch, with each return of the stick handsomely rewarded with kisses on the dog's nose and generous petting of his ears. Elizabeth was thus engaged in bestowing her affections on the animal when a sound behind her caused the beast to whine softly and sit at attention. Elizabeth turned with a start, to see none other than Mr. Darcy, astride an enormous black stallion.

“Have you lost your way, Miss Bennet?” He said it perfectly seriously, and yet Elizabeth detected, in the strange tilt of his head, a manner slightly teasing.

“I have not lost my way, thank you.” Elizabeth said with a coy grin, “Although, perhaps you have lost your dog, Mr. Darcy? As you see, I have found a handsome one who has become separated from his master.” She patted the dog's head and was rewarded as his muzzle sought her hand for more.

“I thought I recognized him. I shall thank you to return him before he transfers his allegiance to you and is completely spoiled for hunting.” Darcy's tone was, as before, humorless, yet the glint in his eye hinted to Elizabeth that it was an ill attempt at banter, so she did him a favor and responded lightheartedly.

“You need not fear so,” Elizabeth replied. “A dog's heart is as constant as the sun. Once he has given it, it will not be moved, though heaven and earth fall away, he is true. He does not care for your wealth or your position. Your connections mean nothing to him. Were you in rags and ruin, it would not matter, for he loves
 
you
, not your trappings. You see, you are safe from me; I cannot steal your dog away.”

Darcy stared at her for a moment and then, he tipped his hat. “Good day, Miss Bennet,” he said, as he turned the horse around and rode away, his dog trailing happily behind him.

Had she overheard the breakfast conversation he wondered? Talk of wealth and position and connections as they related to the Bennet family had perhaps been in poor taste with the two daughters of that very family under the roof. He felt particular shame at his own comments about their marriage prospects, for although they were true, they had also been harsh and unfeeling. She could not have heard them, he realized with relief, for it was during that very conversation he had moved to the window and spotted Elizabeth running into the glade of trees beyond the house. He had feared that she was in some distress and set out to find her, only to find her joyfully playing with his dog, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling and her impertinence intact.

~*~

Elizabeth spent the better part of the day reading in quarters with Jane, whose condition at the end of the day was much as it had been in the morning. At half-past six, Elizabeth was summoned to dinner, and the maid came once more to sit with Jane.

The polite inquiries regarding Jane's health from Caroline and Louisa struck Elizabeth as insincere, for they were delivered with such an air of superiority and condescension that it was a great struggle for Elizabeth to remain composed. She did so, however, and upon hearing that Jane was not much improved, Mr. Bingley's sisters spared but a few words of shock and grief over Jane's accident before they moved on to happier subjects. Mr. Bingley was another matter.
 
He bombarded Elizabeth with a myriad of questions about Jane's health until he was satisfied that her recovery was simply a matter of good care and time.

When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned to Jane with no intention of going back downstairs, but having been called upon to return to the group, and with Jane once again fast asleep, she acknowledged that the right thing to do was to join her hosts, although it brought her no pleasure.

She picked up the book she had been reading, and brought it with her, for with no needlework or stationery to occupy her hands, the book secured her faith that the evening would not be wasted.

Upon entering the drawing room, Elizabeth saw that the entire party was playing cards. Caroline invited her to join them, but suspecting that the stakes were higher than she could afford even if she wished to play, she lifted up the book she had brought. “Thank you, but I would rather read; I expect to return to Jane shortly and do not wish to disrupt your game.”

“You are very singular for one so young.” Mr. Hurst grumbled.

“Do you not care for our society?” Caroline badgered. “Or is the truth more dull?” She turned back to speak to those seated at the table. “Miss Eliza Bennet is a great reader and takes no pleasure in anything else.” She tittered slightly as she spoke.

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” Elizabeth said, “I am
 
not
 
a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“Yes,” Caroline said in sugared tones. “I have heard that talk of the militia is of great pleasure to the Bennet household.”

“True,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “Some of my sisters are indeed pleased at the addition of officers to Meryton society as a result of their being quartered here for the winter, but I do not share their rapture. It is other, more vigorous pursuits that give me pleasure.”

“Such as
 
walking
 
I suppose,” Caroline said haughtily. “I saw you return from your walk this morning. How unfortunate for you that it rained last night; for you can take no pleasure in being found six inches deep in mud.”

“If Cleopatra enjoyed a mud bath, why should I not take pleasure in it?”

“Have you no other pleasures to speak of, Miss Bennet? Surely you play the pianoforte.”

“Aye, and sing too, but for my own pleasure only. My pleasure does not extend to entertaining, for I play ill indeed.”

“Do you hear that brother?” Caroline exclaimed, although looking directly at Darcy. “Miss Eliza plays and sings. I had no idea we were in company with such an accomplished woman.”

Bingley laughed heartily and encouraged Elizabeth to play and sing for them.

“I beg you, no,” Elizabeth said. “I must return to Jane.”

“Nonsense,” said Louisa, catching Caroline's drift, “now you must play for us. It would be so disappointing if you decline.”

Elizabeth looked at her hosts with some dismay. Mr. Bingley was most eager to hear her play, but Caroline and Louisa's taunts did not make her feel cooperative. Mr. Hurst was grumbling about the card game and their lack of attention to it, but it was Mr. Darcy's face that changed her resolve, for written on it was the firm belief that she would not do it. As soon as she saw this, Elizabeth became determined to contradict his belief.

“If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would all be in for a grand experience I assure you. I know that you must all be in the habit of hearing the very best performers, but owing to your perseverance, Miss Bingley, I will teach you a lesson, which is to believe me when I say that I play badly.” Elizabeth gravely glanced at Mr. Darcy, “And you, sir, I entreat you to keep your breath to cool your porridge, and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”

Her performance was pleasing; although by no means perfect, it was far more so than Caroline expected, and after two songs, Caroline thanked Elizabeth for her
 
display
, and asked her what book she was reading.

“It is a book from your own library,” Elizabeth replied, without directly answering her question. “I had read my father's copy some years ago, but I find that I am getting more out of it now, for the questions it poses require some reflection to discern my own opinion on the matter.”

Darcy, who had moved to the writing table when Elizabeth was singing, stopped writing, although he did not look up or otherwise acknowledge the conversation.

“And what are these serious questions, might I ask?” Caroline rolled her eyes.

“They tend to the behavior of men, or mankind. Why do men behave in a just manner, or why do they not? Do the stronger elements of society scare the weak into submission, or do men behave justly because it is right for them to do so? Moreover, what of justice alone? Is it a means to an end, or can justice stand alone as a worthwhile aim?” Elizabeth hesitated, seeing that Caroline was not really listening.

“The question that remains to be examined is whether you have, upon reflection, formed an opinion in these matters.” Darcy asked, turning in his seat to look at Elizabeth.

“I have, although I expect that my opinion may be altered in the course of my reading,” Elizabeth answered. “It is a most enlightening book.”

“Miss Bennet, do you paint or draw?” Caroline interrupted.

“Not yet,” Elizabeth replied.

“And what foreign languages do you speak? Are you well versed in French, or Italian?”

“No indeed,” Elizabeth laughed, “I have had far better uses for my time. If I ever occasion to travel, I will learn enough to get by.”

“I believe I must take back what I said earlier, Miss Bennet, about your being an accomplished woman. I have come to believe that you do not deserve the word, for you have paid little attention to those talents and social graces that must accompany a woman of accomplishment.” Caroline said rudely.

“Miss Bingley, are you then, an accomplished woman?” Elizabeth inquired sweetly. “For now that I am beginning to understand the gravity of being so accomplished, I should like to know whose example I am to take in the matter.”

“If I must name an example,” Caroline paused, glancing toward Mr. Darcy, “I give you Miss Georgiana Darcy. She is very accomplished indeed.”

“Indeed?” Elizabeth repeated, also looking at Mr. Darcy.

“Yes, my sister is indeed accomplished for her age. The only failing she has at present is the improvement of her mind, through reading.” Darcy said firmly. “I may recommend, when she is a bit older and able to get more out of it, that she too explore the pages of
 
The Republic
.”

Elizabeth felt herself color at the realization that Mr. Darcy had identified the book, and observing that she felt fatigued, she hastily made her excuses and returned to Jane.

Chapter Eleven

A Room with a View

E
lizabeth had not quit the drawing room for twelve seconds before Caroline Bingley declared. “What a tedious chore it is to spend an evening in company with Eliza Bennet. Her country manners, which you call 'charming,' my dear brother, are indeed atrocious. Her refusal to join us at the card table was an affront to civility—if my opinion is of any import.”

“I thought the evening went very well,” Bingley said cheerfully. “She was as delightful as ever.”

“Perhaps to you, she seemed so, but I found her to be insolent in every way. I pray that Jane recovers quickly, for it would be unendurable to continue for many nights in this way. Would you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”

“No,” Darcy replied. “I could endure it well, for Miss Bennet was most agreeable company. Any lack of comportment you may have perceived on her part can easily be attributed to her concern for her sister's condition.”

“But,” Caroline pursued the matter, “that concern is no excuse for her flippant manner of address. She is too mischievous. There is nothing about her to recommend.”