B00CO8L910 EBOK (25 page)

“How soon will you propose then, William?”

“As soon as I can find a moment alone with her, Georgiana — on that, you may depend.”

Chapter 15

Finding a moment alone with Elizabeth was proving to be dashed difficult. Darcy bit back the ungentlemanly oaths that were at the tip of his tongue and politely accepted the cup of tea she was handing him. They were in the drawing room with her family. He looked down at her and allowed a half smile. She was lovely in a sprigged lavender muslin gown with dark purple embroidery. He had forgotten how charming she looked in colors. He had not even considered she would not be in black, or even in half mourning dresses, when he saw her next. That was a few days earlier when he first came into the neighborhood. She stunned him then in all her loveliness in a green-hued summer dress. He had been so discomposed that at first he could do no more than bow politely over her hand as his sister made her delighted greetings.

Elizabeth smiled in return as he took his cup and saucer from her hands. He was as handsome as ever. When he arrived in Hertfordshire and called on her with Georgiana, she had been temporarily overwhelmed with an enchanting memory from a field of bluebells. Her cheeks, she knew, blushed scarlet, and she could not meet his eyes. Now she could, and she looked into his dark brown eyes, thankful to see their usual intensity. If not for his distinctively austere and unwavering stare, she would have wondered whether he had changed his mind. Getting a moment alone with him was proving to be dashed difficult! She swallowed stiffly and sighed.

Remaining at his side, she considered various topics of conversation. Surveying the room, her eyes rested on her mother, demurely sitting with Jane and Mr. Bingley. Her mother was laughing sweetly at something the gentleman said; she was comporting herself in every way the lady. Who would have thought Elizabeth would miss her mother’s old scheming ways? She was certain her mother would have artfully contrived a moment alone with Mr. Darcy by now! She would have been locked in the room with him within a few minutes of his arrival a few days before; Elizabeth was sure of it.

Seeing where Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed, Darcy was considering the same undeniable change in Mrs. Bennet. The woman had been so ill mannered and uncouth when he was in the neighborhood last autumn; she had been a major reason Darcy had not allowed himself to become totally bewitched by Elizabeth. It would have been unthinkable to attach himself to such a lady and to call Mrs. Bennet his mother, especially when the memory of his own beautiful, charming mother was etched into his mind as the paragon of proper, ladylike comportment. In truth, Elizabeth’s mother had been his greatest objection when deciding whether to propose to Elizabeth last April in Kent! Now the lady was preventing his proposing to her now — albeit, Darcy admitted, not intentionally! He had been counting on her matchmaking agenda to help him find a moment to speak with Elizabeth privately.

He could not complain about her changed behavior, really — only observe it with astonishment. He had been in company with the Bennet family several times since arriving in Hertfordshire, and she had yet to revert to her nervous and invariably silly ways. To add to his amazement, she was not the only Bennet whose transformation nearly made his jaw drop in disbelief. On more than one occasion since his arrival, Elizabeth’s father had entered the room, greeting his wife tenderly with a kiss to her fingers before seating himself beside her! This was the same man who before, as far as Darcy had ever witnessed, kept more than a room’s distance from his wife whenever possible. It was foul timing in Darcy’s mind that the two of them should decide to become proper just when he could have capitalized on either
his
negligence or
her
matchmaking with respect to their second daughter.

Thinking of this, Darcy looked at her next to him. He ached to take her arm and thread it through his own in a proprietary fashion — much the way Miss Bingley often did — almost claiming him. The thought of Elizabeth placing claim on him brought a smile to his face. Her silken curls were arranged with a few purple flowers woven in a beautiful twist on the top of her head. From his height, he could not see her face below the curls. He had to see her bright eyes, so he cleared his throat to garner her attention.

Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy and smiled. She had been enjoying reacquainting herself with his manly scent
.
“They are much changed, are they not?”

Darcy’s face registered no understanding for a moment before he saw her indicate with her small chin towards where her father and mother were now sitting conversing with each other across the room.

“I could not say,” Darcy said politely.

Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy. There is no need to preserve propriety and not speak of the obvious with me.”

Darcy could not help but smile a little wider and bow his head to acknowledge her statement. He was not in the habit of commenting on another’s behavior, but he ventured, “Your parents do seem to be . . . ” He thought about it and could find no other word than “Happy.”

Elizabeth sighed and returned her gaze to them. “Yes, I believe they are.”

Darcy could not then resent their change in behavior or their failure to aid his suit, not with Elizabeth looking so content, her eyes dancing with happiness as she observed her parents. Of course, he knew he should have requested a private audience with Elizabeth as soon as he arrived or any time in between, but he had never been an open man. He had never been one for display or sharing his personal matters. If he could not find a private moment with her on his own before the wedding, he vowed he would swallow his pride and request one.

“You know, my father says that they married for love.”

Darcy did not know what to say, so he only nodded and studied the couple.

Elizabeth sighed. “Of all the changes that have come to our home since Lydia’s death, this was not one we could have foreseen.”

“I would suppose not.” Darcy returned the small smile she offered him. Then a thought struck him. She had once requested a private meeting with him; why could he not ask her? “Miss Elizabeth,” he began with his voice lowered, “I believe there is a set of benches behind the hedge in —”

“Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley’s shrill voice could not have reached his ears at a more inopportune time. Elizabeth watched his eyes cloud and his jaw tense before he turned towards Miss Bingley just as the lady slid her gloved hand through his arm. “There you are, sir. Forgive me for neglecting you; I was detained by that insufferable Sir William —”

Darcy cleared his throat to stop her, stepping backwards to allow her to notice Elizabeth for the first time at his other side. Miss Bingley barely colored at her barb before she addressed Darcy’s other companion. “Why, Miss Eliza! I did not see you there. Your dress makes you blend so splendidly into the room.” She waved a delicate hand around to point out the purpled hues of the wallpaper.

Darcy frowned slightly; he thought Elizabeth stood out like a midnight star, a lighthouse to a lost ship, a glass of water to a dying man, and the very breath of life at his lips. Her breath at his lips . . . He cleared his throat again, this time to dispel his thoughts so he could address Miss Bingley. He spoke rather coldly. “Miss Bingley, I do not recall hearing you extend your congratulations to Miss Elizabeth on the happy upcoming marriage of her sister to your brother.”

Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip, first to stifle her own cutting retort for Miss Bingley and then to keep from laughing aloud at the way Darcy forced her to display a pretense of civility.

Glancing at Darcy, Miss Bingley presented an insincere smile to Elizabeth. “My congratulations, Miss Eliza.”

With a dangerously sweet smile, Elizabeth parried, “Thank you, Miss Bingley. And of course, my continued congratulations to you on your brother’s happiness.” When Miss Bingley nodded stiffly, Elizabeth could no longer help her riposte. “It seems we are to be sisters.”

Darcy felt Miss Bingley’s hand tighten at his arm, but he carefully kept his face from betraying his amusement.

“Indeed,” was all Miss Bingley could manage.

At the best of times, Miss Bingley was merely tolerable if only for her brother’s sake. Throughout the week, she had intruded upon his conversations with Elizabeth, and now she interfered as he was about to request the privilege of speaking to Elizabeth alone! His patience with the woman was hanging by a thread. If his friend were not getting married in just two days, he would have given over to his frustration days ago! He did not want to create an unpleasant atmosphere at the time of his friend’s triumph and felicity, and for that reason, he bit his tongue.

Since traveling impetuously to Hertfordshire earlier in the week, he had called at Longbourn two times, each surprisingly accompanied by an insistent Caroline Bingley wishing to see her ‘dear Jane.’ Each time, she had spent more of her energy trying to engage him in conversation than talking with ‘dear Jane.’

He had suggested a walk on a bright day, knowing that Miss Bingley did not walk, especially when there was a chance the sun might penetrate her enormous bonnets and freckle her porcelain skin. He had thought then that he might be successful in speaking with Elizabeth, especially when he knew his clever sister would come along but might lag behind — overcome by a timely bout of fatigue, of course. As luck would have it, Miss Catherine offered to join their walk. Darcy thought nothing of it until it became apparent that Kitty was determined not to stray far behind, pulling Georgiana along with her.

Foiled yet again, Darcy never anticipated Kitty would prove to be such a tenacious chaperone. It had made him wonder whether she felt any responsibility towards her sister’s fall, having not been close enough to see around the bend in the path when Lydia fell. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind, not wishing to acknowledge any uncertainties he had there. They had found Wickham and decided the proof was simply not there to cry foul play.
Besides
, he told himself,
what motive could Wickham have had to hurt Lydia?

Across the room, Georgiana excused herself from speaking with the Gardiners, newly arrived from London for the wedding, and made her way towards where her brother, Miss Bingley and Elizabeth were talking. She had been watching her brother converse with Elizabeth. Both had smiled brightly, had looked wistfully into each other’s eyes and seemed pleasantly engaged with each other. Then she saw Miss Bingley spoil the moment. What did a frustrated matchmaker like Georgiana have to do? How could she get her brother and Miss Elizabeth pleasantly engaged in a more
official
capacity when people like Bingley’s and Elizabeth’s sisters stepped on all of her efforts?

She shook her head as she cursed under her breath — of course, not real curses; she was a gently bred lady. When she reached the threesome, two sets of eyes registered relief; the other feigned welcome. So Miss Bingley did not appreciate her several attempts to separate her from William since they arrived.
No matter
, Georgiana thought.
If she would just give up, we would not have to play this tiresome game.

“Miss Bingley,” Georgiana began, noticing the slight hitch in the lady’s insincerity. “Would you do me the honor of playing this evening? I believe they are about to open the instrument. For myself, I am not yet comfortable exhibiting before such an audience, but I so enjoy seeing you display your talents. What say you? Will you give me another opportunity to observe your confident bearing, so that I might learn by your example?”

Miss Bingley swallowed her irritation at the interfering miss and sagely agreed as she patted the girl’s hand. “Why, Miss Darcy, of course I will. I am sure by the time you make your curtsey, you will be one of the most accomplished young ladies of my acquaintance.” She released Mr. Darcy’s hand with a meaningful smile, making sure he noted her attentions to his sister. While she walked away with Miss Darcy she thought,
And after I am married to your brother, I shall see that you are married off to the first nabob I can find. And good riddance!

After watching his sister leave with Miss Bingley, Darcy looked down at Elizabeth, his lips pulling up into a smile as he watched her press her own lips together to keep from laughing.

“And what do you find so amusing this evening, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth kept her eyes firmly in front of her and did not dare look up at him. She knew she would lose her composure. “I am sure the same thing that you find amusing this evening, sir,” she managed, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.

To hell with propriety
, Darcy thought, as he boldly reached for that gloved hand and placed it on his arm. To the room, it looked as if he were simply escorting her to the refreshment table to deposit her glass there. He ignored her impertinent look when she lifted her chin in reaction to his behavior. When they reached the table, she released his arm to place her cup on the table and then turned to take his from him. When he retrieved her arm and placed it again on his to escort her back to their corner of the room, he raised his eyebrow at her in challenge when she tilted her head again to him.

If it could be said that their conversation thereafter was natural and unaffected, the same could not be said about the feelings coursing through them by their slight touch; those were completely affected.