A ladys reputation, p.17
A Lady's Reputation, page 17
The two gentlemen talked for a short while, discussing Fitzwilliam’s conquests or lack thereof. Eventually Fitzwilliam strolled away in search of a pretty lady to keep him in adequate style, and Darcy was able to return to his thoughts.
He had considered asking Elizabeth for a second dance but persuaded himself against it. Having already acted in London in a manner that led people to believe them betrothed, he did not wish to make the same mistake here—not for his sake, but for hers. Moreover, he saw how much she was enjoying herself, and he would not take that from her. “See there,” he said softly as he watched her move through a pattern. “I am not always selfish.”
Their dance had been a satisfying beginning, but he ever wanted more where Elizabeth Bennet was concerned. Nevertheless, for tonight, he would make himself be satisfied or, if not that, then at least be resolved to bear dissatisfaction.
Elizabeth was nearly insensible with fatigue as the night drew on. Never before had she been at an assembly with such a surfeit of dance partners and all of them agreeable and kind. She had, on the whole, a most enjoyable evening.
There was only one part of the night in which she would claim dissatisfaction. She had believed—nay, hoped—that Mr Darcy would ask her to dance a second time. He did not. Indeed, she had scarcely any idea what had become of him, for after their first, early dance and his dance with Jane, he had very nearly disappeared.
She saw him leaning against the wall looking rather unhappy. He had not seemed so after their dance, but he surely was now. She could read it in the set of his mouth and the disinterested look in his eyes.
Mr Tomlinson came to request the last set of the evening, but she demurred with another glance towards the place where Mr Darcy stood. Although her time dancing had been agreeable, she now preferred a more sedate occupation.
Yielding to an impulse she did not wholly understand, she stared at Mr Darcy, willing him to look at her.
The dance had ended, and the couples moved and shifted, changing partners and so forth. In the bustle, he lost sight of her, but it did not worry him. He was patient, resolving to find her once the next set had begun.
But when it started to form, she was still not to be found. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, he looked about, seeking her without appearing to do so. It took some time, but he finally located her in the chairs off to the side where some of the chaperons sat. To his shock, he saw that she was watching him.
His gaze locked with hers as he took a moment to determine that she was truly looking at him and not merely gazing in his direction.
However, she smiled—just a little smile but a charming one—then, for just a moment, she dropped her eyes. Then her eyes were back on him.
She glanced at the empty chair beside her and moved her eyes back to his. An invitation?
He waited. She did it again, this time allowing her arm to drop and surreptitiously tap the chair with her fan. An impish sort of look at him followed.
I have been summoned, he thought with delight. He made haste across the floor, careful not to beam like a love-struck idiot but unable to conceal the lightness of his step occasioned by the intense pleasure in his heart.
When he reached her, she rose, and he bowed. Not knowing what to say, he settled for the obvious. “Miss Elizabeth, I would be pleased if you would dance the next with me.”
“Thank you,” she said, with a little twinkle in her eye. “I had believed you not fond of dancing, sir, and now you would dance with me twice in one night?”
How lovely it was to be teased by her! “I am fond of dancing with you.”
“In any case, I shall spare you,” she said with a smile. “I had another enjoyable pursuit in mind.”
“What is that?”
He watched as a blush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. She appeared ignorant of it although she could not quite look at him when she said, “I enjoyed our earlier conversation and hoped to have more of it.”
Darcy agreed, his tone in no way matching the sense of exultation within him. She sat, and he took the seat she had offered, thinking that the night was ending far better than he had dared hope.
They had agreed to begin anew, yet he struggled, not really knowing how to do so. How did one begin anew with a woman who knew of his love and with whom so much had been shared?
It seemed she read his mind. “Let us put aside more weighty issues,” she said in a low tone. “Let us speak of nothing and everything, shall we?”
“Gladly,” he told her, much relieved.
It was somewhat depressing for Georgiana to be left behind the group who attended the assembly, and Elizabeth noticed it even as Georgiana did her best to appear unaffected. In an impulse of sisterly kindness, Elizabeth had said to her, “You must be present for what I consider the best part of any such amusement.”
“What is that?”
Elizabeth put her arm around Georgiana’s waist. “Why, the discussion of it, of course. My sisters and I sit up after every ball, telling one another who wore what, who danced with whom, and why this person was absent while another person was present. I am sure I would not even bother going to balls if I could not talk them over with my sisters afterward.”
Georgiana was delighted by the idea and, later that night, appeared at Elizabeth’s bedchamber door with a tray of much-appreciated refreshments. The two ladies were soon joined by Jane, who announced, “I declare, I did not sit once the whole night!” She extended her foot, which was a bit swollen from her exertions.
The ladies settled onto the bed, eating and talking of the assembly. Elizabeth began, recounting her dance partners and regaling Georgiana with tales of the more notable gowns they had seen.
“I met a Miss Abell. Very pretty girl and amiable too.”
“Oh yes,” said Georgiana. “Our fathers used to shoot together, and she would come to visit although she was older than me.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I do not think my sister found her brother displeasing.”
“Lizzy,” Jane hushed her. “All the gentlemen I danced with were kind and welcoming.”
This led to a discussion of their various dances. Elizabeth allowed most of it to come from Jane as she did not feel she could discuss dancing with other men in the presence of Mr Darcy’s sister.
Georgiana would not allow her complete silence, however. “Did you dance with my brother?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I did.”
“Oh?” Georgiana leaned closer, her eyes wide and unmoving. “How was it?”
Elizabeth looked down. “It was nice.”
“Was it?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, suffusing her words with warmth and finality. “Very nice indeed.”
A silence fell, but it was brief, broken quickly by Jane’s laughter. “Miss Darcy, you must know my sister’s reserve is a desirable thing. That which she prizes is held close. If she thought your brother disagreeable or vexatious, I assure you, we would hear it all.”
Elizabeth tried to protest over Georgiana’s giggles but found she could not.
Jane, clearly repentant of her little joke on her sister’s character, was quick to change the topic. She mentioned a Miss Clark, which made Georgiana laugh and ask whether the colonel had danced with her. He had not, not insofar as either Jane or Elizabeth noticed.
“Are my brother and cousins all good dancers?” Georgiana asked. “I have danced with them at home for practice and so forth, but I do not know whether they are good or terrible or merely average.”
This led to a conversation of dances that had come before: the good, the not so good, and the dreadful. Jane and Elizabeth, having been out for some years, had an ample supply of tales for Georgiana, including a generous allotment of those in the dreadful category.
It was likely the sharing of these confidences that led to Georgiana’s impulse to share something as well. As she had little of gossip or stories of her own to share, it fell to her to speak of someone else. It began innocently enough with Jane asking of the plans for the days ahead. Georgiana had a fondness for games and picnics, it would seem, and had planned many of them. “I do not know when Mr Bingley will join us,” she said contracting her brow. “Perhaps he will not come after all.”
Jane went unnaturally still as Elizabeth remarked, “Oh? I had understood his attendance here to be rather certain.”
Georgiana said, “Evidently, he and my brother had a terrible argument.”
“About what?” Jane’s voice seemed high-pitched and a bit wavering.
“He does not like Mr Bingley’s friends of late. They are somewhat wild or at least more wild than my brother thinks is good.”
Elizabeth was looking at the coverlet. “Mr Darcy is attentive to the good character of his friends.”
“That is true,” Georgiana said. “He does not associate with the dissolute. He and Saye have had several arguments over Saye’s behaviour as well, though Saye is a great deal more settled since becoming betrothed to Miss Goddard.”
A sudden pall was cast over their little party. Georgiana looked at the other two ladies, concerned she had offended them with her gossip. She apologised immediately, begging them to say nothing of the matter to her brother. “To overhear what he says in the privacy of his rooms is not honourable, I know, particularly when one casts his communication abroad as I have done.”
Both ladies assured her the secret was safe with them just as they heard a rooster crowing in the distance. Georgiana gasped when she heard it. “We shall all be abed until noon!”
“Perhaps we shall,” Elizabeth agreed with a little laugh as the others moved to take their leave. Jane would not look at her as she departed, and Elizabeth’s spirit groaned to see her sister already downcast over this latest disappointment. Elizabeth was sorry to have heard what she had of Bingley even as she wondered at it. Her first inclination had been vexation at Mr Darcy until she recalled Kitty’s report of Mr Wickham and his debts. Was that it? Had Mr Bingley found himself in arrears, perhaps even asked Mr Darcy for a loan?
She would never know, it seemed. Mr Darcy gave no indication that Mr Bingley was no longer expected, nor did she think he would. If nothing else, his dealings with Mr Wickham had shown that Mr Darcy did not feel he needed to answer to anyone about his private actions.
The day after the assembly began late and carried on at a drooping pace. Darcy soon learnt that even after the exertions of the assembly, the Bennet ladies had declined to retire, instead staying up half the night talking to Georgiana. It pleased him as much as it surprised him.
He wished to assume their languor was wholly due to lack of sleep, but it was not long into the day before he feared it was not. He had hoped his new beginning with Elizabeth would mean greater ease and friendliness, but it did not. Elizabeth seemed somewhat wary, almost withdrawn. He noticed her watching him several times, particularly when Georgiana asked when Mr Bingley was expected.
“His plans are not yet fixed, dear. Soon, I should hope.”
Across the room, Elizabeth lowered her eyes to the book on her lap. She did not appear to be particularly engaged in it, glancing about frequently and often shifting in her chair.
He found himself standing before her with no recollection of having moved there nor any idea what he meant to say. Thus, he surprised himself as much as her when he said, “I wonder, Miss Elizabeth, whether you would accompany me on a short walk.”
She jumped a little. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted, she stared a moment before gently closing her book. “It might rain.”
“It might,” he agreed with a cursory look at the window. “I think not though. There is a charming stream I would like to show you. I think you will like it.”
She placed the book beside her with slow, deliberate movements as she appeared to give careful consideration to his invitation. Finally, she said in a tone of admission, “I need a minute to get my things.”
In due time, they were out of doors. The air held an unusual hint of coolness, which persuaded Darcy to introduce her to a favourite spot of his. She agreed although it was something of a distance from the house, and they set off.
Their conversation was inconsequential as they went. Elizabeth was quieter than usual. After some time, he remarked on it.
“You are not in your usual lively spirits today, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Forgive me if I am poor company.”
“Not at all,” he said reassuringly. “But if there is anything that plagues your mind, I am an able listener.”
They came to the little stream of which he had spoken. It was charming, shallow, and bubbling merrily over rocks time had worn into smooth ovals. Farther down was a deeper pool that was almost perfectly round—an ideal swimming hole. She knelt down beside it, removing her glove and running her fingers in the cool water at the edge.
Darcy knelt beside her. “Fitzwilliam and I used to think if we swam deep enough, we would find ourselves emerged into the Orient or perhaps the American colonies.”
She laughed lightly, looking at him with merry eyes. “And did you?”
“No. We nearly drowned on many occasions, but we never came close to the bottom.”
“So the question remains unanswered, then. It is still entirely possible this is the doorway to another kingdom.”
He chuckled and rose, holding out his hand to assist her. She stood and turned to face him. “If I am quiet, sir, I must admit that I find myself frequently lapsing into thought today—partly, I must own, from my fatigue of last night.”
“And the other part?” He had a sense he must tread carefully, though he knew not why.
“I am pondering the meaning of friendship. I believe you and I have become friends, after a fashion.”
“Yes, we have.” He did not move his gaze from hers when he added with some boldness, “You do surely know that to be merely your friend is not my true wish.”
She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. “It seems, however, your friendship is easily removed.”
Not Wickham again! He barely restrained a groan. “My attachment to those I count as friends is implacable.”
With a pert smile and a swish of her skirts, she turned away, returning down the path they had come by. “An unforgiving temper and implacable attachment. I wonder, then, under what circumstances will one triumph over the other?”
He made two quick paces to draw beside her. “I told you I had an unyielding temper during your stay at Netherfield, I believe.”
“You did.”
“Since that time, I have been given to understand that much of what I knew about my conduct might require evaluation and change to become a man worthy of…worthy of love.”
She said nothing, lowering her head so her bonnet would obscure her face.
He touched her lightly on the arm without speaking. When she looked, he gestured to her left. She turned towards a small, narrow path. It was not easy terrain, and she shot him a questioning look.
“The way is a bit uneven, but the vista it will afford us is worth the struggle.”
She silently acquiesced, beginning to pick her way up the path slowly and carefully. The terrain required their close attention for a time. It was rocky and quite steep in places, but at last, they arrived. The narrow path opened onto the flat edge of a large precipice overlooking both a rocky ravine and the stream they had dabbled in previously. On such a day as they had, the view went on for miles.
Elizabeth exclaimed in delight at the prospect before her. To Darcy, it was as charming as could be imagined, with black rock jutting forth over the water. The stream babbled along over a series of low waterfalls. On the other side was a lovely dense wood, the leaves looking green and cool in the dappled sunlight. Elizabeth sighed, visibly rapt with pleasure in the scene.
“This is indeed a charming place,” she effused. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
“The pleasure is mine.” He watched her, revelling in her felicity. “I am glad you see it was worth the difficulty in getting to it.”
There was a brief silence between them. “I recall, Miss Elizabeth, one discussion at Netherfield during which you mentioned that you enjoyed studying the characters of those around you. You said that, as few as they were, they nevertheless had infinite variety and thus provided you endless interest for study.”
She nodded.
“Do you not wonder what changes your reproofs might have wrought in me?”
She laughed a little nervously, folding her arms across her chest. “I would hope my reproofs could not have been so severe as to lead you to believe you must change yourself on my account.”
“It was not the severity of your reproofs that proved persuasive.”
She looked at him, an expectant and quizzical expression on her face.
“I have another recollection from an evening at Netherfield that serves me here. You and I were speaking of Bingley’s character in terms of the ease with which he is persuaded by his friends. Do you remember it?”
She thought for a moment. “Not in every particular, no.”
“You accused me of saying that to yield readily, easily, to the persuasion of a friend has no merit with you. I said to yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either. You said I allowed nothing for the influence of friendship and affection, that if there was a regard for the requester, a person will often yield on the basis of their affection rather than be argued into it.”
“I remember it vaguely,” she admitted. “How did we leave it? Did we decide affection or reason was most important in such matters?”
“We decided nothing.” Darcy stepped over a protruding root after guiding Elizabeth carefully around the obstacle. “Bingley asked us to cease our conversation, fearing it was too much like a dispute.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, glancing up at him. “Mr Bingley dislikes argument.”
He could not answer for that, not when he knew quite well how vigorously Bingley could argue when provoked. “I suppose you must wonder what this has to do with us. Only that I did not require excessive argument to persuade me into attending to your reproofs.”
