Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (14 page)

My dearest Elizabeth,

Your letter brought me great happiness for, like me, you recognize the beauty of what we have achieved in so short a time. You have no idea of the joy I receive upon the sight of your now familiar script upon the page. Each of your letters is unique, and I spend countless hours reliving the moments you describe and deciphering the meaning behind the words. I cherish them for they hold your scent and the warmth of your hand. And I am quite of the nature to think a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.

That being said, as enchanting as your letters are, we cannot continue this exchange forever. It would not be fair of me to claim such a hold upon you. You deserve a husband who reveres you. You deserve a family who looks upon you as the center of their world. Even if continuing our correspondence would not go against propriety, we both know we cannot communicate as such if no betrothal exists; and as much as I adore your tales, I hold a duty to my estate. A betrothal must lead to a marriage, or it must be broken.

Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy correct, but the thought of losing what was now within her reach shook Elizabeth to her core. Could she abandon the hope of finding something few women of her time knew?

We are born alone, and for many of us we remain alone. Even when a hundred people surround us, loneliness claims our hearts. Yet, when I took your acquaintance, something inside me said, “You can find happiness here.” In truth, it took me many days to cease hushing that inner voice, but since accepting the thread, which ties me to you, I know the thing for which my heart covets most bears the name “Elizabeth.”

Surely you must know what we share is more formidable than any force upon this earth. It can transform two souls yearning to know each other.

“Yet, what of our disagreements, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth whispered through the tears forming in her eyes. She desired what Mr. Darcy described, but Elizabeth feared failure.

So, you must decide, Elizabeth, what you will choose. Even after my earlier perfidy, Bingley asked me to stand up with him, and I pledged myself to do so. I will not write again. Instead, I will await your choice at Bingley’s festivities. I pray you will choose to replace the pain of our earlier battles with a loveliness that will forever remain in our hearts.

D.

Three weeks passed, but Elizabeth knew no peace. She went about her days as if nothing unusual occurred; yet, every breath she took held the sadness of losing Mr. Darcy, for Elizabeth was certain they could not know the perfection Mr. Darcy’s letters promised. No marriage could sustain such excellence. She resigned herself to meeting him again at Jane’s wedding, but Elizabeth planned to avoid Mr. Darcy as much as possible. She even planned a pretend illness if she could not evade the gentleman.

“Better we part with amiable feelings toward each other than to know the blemish of harshness again,” Elizabeth repeated, hoping her caution would stick.

“Mr. Bingley means to host an engagement party at Netherfield,” Jane announced Thursday last.

Elizabeth’s breathing hitched tighter.

“What a lovely idea!” she exclaimed. “When?”

“Saturday next,” Jane explained. “The weekend before our nuptials. A full moon is expected to aid Mr. Bingley’s guests in their travels.”

Elizabeth swallowed the rush of panic claiming her chest.

“But I thought Mr. Darcy could not return to Netherfield until the day before the ceremony. Would Mr. Bingley host a ball without his friend? The wedding is five days removed from the ball.”

“I am certain Mr. Bingley does not require Mr. Darcy’s permission to host a ball in his own house,” Mrs. Bennet declared in disapproval. “Bingley wishes to claim Jane before his neighbors. I find Bingley’s actions exemplary.”

Elizabeth shot a pleading glance to her father who shook off her look of despair.

“Bingley told me again only this afternoon that Mr. Darcy had business in London and would not arrive until the wedding.”

Mr. Bennet remained the only one who knew of Elizabeth’s deep connection to Mr. Darcy, and even her father did not know of Elizabeth’s greatest alarm: that Mr. Darcy would arrive and depart without her. One moment she feared the man would look elsewhere for a wife, and the next, Elizabeth convinced herself his withdrawal was for the best. All Mr. Bennet knew was the letters stopped: She supposed her father thought Elizabeth ended the understanding she held with the gentleman.

“Certainly we shall all celebrate our dearest Jane’s triumph,” Elizabeth insisted. “Our sister will be the most beautiful bride ever.”

* * *

Much to Elizabeth’s chagrin and her relief, Saturday and the ball arrived with no word of Mr. Darcy’s presence, and she did her best to place a smile on her face for Jane’s sake. Netherfield overflowed with the local gentry from miles around. Without either of his sisters present to serve as his hostess, Mr. Bingley pressed Lady Lucas into service. He pacified his future mother in marriage by telling Mrs. Bennet that she held great responsibility with the wedding breakfast and preparations for Jane’s bride clothes, and he wanted Mrs. Bennet to enjoy the ceremony without the pressing difficulties of hosting a ball to complicate the matter. Elizabeth thought Bingley handled the situation quite well. She realized with Bingley and Jane only a three miles trek from Longbourn, Bingley would often know Mrs. Bennet’s interference, and it was best for the gentleman to set a standard response.

Netherfield never looked finer. Lady Lucas, known for her financial efficiency, kept the decorations simple and classic. Gone was the ostentatious display of the previous Netherfield Ball. Elizabeth found she preferred Lady Lucas’ taste to that of Caroline Bingley.

“Everything is splendid,” she told Bingley as he bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. “I am certain you and Jane will be most happy here.”

“I am anxious to claim Miss Bennet,” Bingley assured in his customary amicable manner. “I believe your sister will make an excellent mistress for Netherfield.”

“As do I,” Elizabeth assured.

Bingley nodded his agreement.

“Now, if you will pardon me, I must see to my other guests,” he whispered. “You will save me the second set.”

Elizabeth smiled easily; Mr. Bingley brought out the softer side of everyone, except perhaps his sisters.

“It would be my pleasure.”

As she watched Bingley greeting other neighbors, Elizabeth sighed with envy.

“I wonder what a ball at Pemberley would entail?” she murmured.

For a brief second Elizabeth closed her eyes to bring forth an image of Pemberley’s largest ballroom and its Master in all their glory. Despite her best efforts, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Dreaming of anyone I know,” a seductively familiar voice said close to her ear, as warmth claimed her back. The scent of sandalwood flooded Elizabeth’s senses.

With a start, she turned to stare up at Mr. Darcy’s chin. Elizabeth did not realize he was so close.

“What are you…?” she began before remembering her manners. “Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth dropped a curtsy. “I was unaware, Sir, that you would attend tonight. I understood you held business in Town until next week.”

Even though Elizabeth did not offer it, Mr. Darcy claimed her hand and brought it slowly to his lips.

“I did not wish to disappoint Bingley.” He placed a kiss on the back of Elizabeth’s gloved hand, before adding, “Or you.” She felt the warmth of Mr. Darcy’s caress race up her arm.

“You are quite certain of your attentions, Sir.” Elizabeth said in chastisement. She had no idea why she rebuked him for she was never happier to see anyone. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had the empty satisfaction of noting the mirth crossing Mr. Darcy’s features.

“Do you wish me to leave forever, Elizabeth?” he asked softly. “Just say the words.”

However, before Elizabeth could put thought to her answer, a bubbly voice came from behind her.

“You found her, William!”

Elizabeth turned to discover Miss Darcy on the arm of Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Miss Darcy. Colonel.” Elizabeth dropped a curtsy. “I am pleased to see you again.”

“And I you.” Miss Darcy said with a speculative glance to her brother. “Darcy permitted me to join in your sister’s celebration.”

Elizabeth noted the practiced smile on Mr. Darcy’s lips. The gentleman thought Elizabeth would not send him away if his family accompanied him.

“I am certain Jane will be honored by your presence.” With a hint of a grin, Elizabeth turned to the colonel. “And you, Sir, how went your business with General Leigh-Hunt?”

“It was much as I expected,” Fitzwilliam said with a shrug. “Rumors exist that I am to the American front shortly to train some of the newer recruits. I must report to the Upper Canada frontier.”

Miss Darcy wrapped her arm through her cousin’s.

“I am not best pleased. How are we to exist without Fitzwilliam’s sensibility?” the girl declared. “As I always do, I shall worry every day the colonel is away.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam brought Miss Darcy closer to his side.

“Well, I shan’t be leaving tonight, and Darcy promised that I might claim at least two of your sets.” The colonel glanced to Elizabeth. “Might I claim the third set, Miss Elizabeth? Bingley says he is to have the second, and I am certain Darcy means to claim the first.”

“I do,” Mr. Darcy said with the faintest hint of irony in the lift of his lips. “That is, if Miss Elizabeth will permit my doing so.”

“Certainly she will accept, shall you not, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Darcy declared. “We may form a quartet.”

Elizabeth blushed scarlet as she handed Mr. Darcy her dance card.

“I would be honored, Sir.”

“Shall I sign for you, Colonel?” Mr. Darcy asked his cousin.

The colonel laughed easily.

“We might as well claim the attentions of two of the most handsome women in the room. I will sign for you on Georgiana’s card.”

“You think I am handsome,” Miss Darcy asked wistfully, and Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy’s sister felt more than cousinly affection for the colonel.

“No fishing for compliments, Georgie,” the colonel teased with a wink directed to Miss Darcy.

Mr. Darcy returned Elizabeth’s card before placing her hand upon his arm. They followed the colonel and Miss Darcy to the floor, where the lines formed.

“Your sister is most kind,” Elizabeth spoke for Mr. Darcy’s ears only. “I am certain she knows of my open disparagement of claiming her friendship.”

Mr. Darcy tilted his head where he might speak with privacy.

“I explained to Georgiana that it was I that you found revolting, not she.”

“I never found either…” Again, Elizabeth could not say the words her heart pronounced. “Neither of us performs well in such situations. We both expect our words to know authority.”

“Do you truly believe your declarations?” Mr. Darcy asked as he set her in the line of ladies before stepping away. “I am of a different mind.” His smile widened, and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Mr. Darcy was an exceptionally handsome man when he smiled. “We have proved ourselves congenial more often than not?”

Elizabeth made herself speak with lightness. She would not ruin a dance with Mr. Darcy by arguing as she did the one time they danced in this very room nearly a year prior. While she circled him, Elizabeth set her mind to being witty.

“Then we shall speak of something pleasurable, Sir. What say you to books?”

Elizabeth crossed behind the colonel, laughing at the gentleman when he wagged his eyebrows at her. With a girlish giggle, Elizabeth extended her hand to Mr. Darcy, who used his strength to bring her closer to him than propriety declared.

“I say we are a book in two volumes but with one tale to tell,” Mr. Darcy pronounced seductively.

A shiver of delight ran down Elizabeth’s spine. It was all she do to remember the next steps when Mr. Darcy guided her toward Mr. Bingley while Mr. Darcy accepted Jane’s hand.

As Bingley spun Elizabeth in a tight circle, she turned her head often to watch Mr. Darcy with Jane. Even without hearing his words, she knew Mr. Darcy wished Jane happy. As the dance brought her to Mr. Darcy’s side again, they caught hands over their heads and behind their backs to turn in place.

“And what of art, sir?” she teased.

Mr. Darcy’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I would quote Aristotle: The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.”

Elizabeth thought immediately of Mr. Darcy’s portrait hanging in the Pemberley’s gallery. It spoke of the gentleman’s inner goodness.

“What of music?” Elizabeth demanded as she skipped away toward Mr. Grange, who claimed Mary for the set. Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand as they passed. Mary rarely danced at such functions, and it did Elizabeth well to see Mary’s eyes glisten with the joy of recognition.

Returning to Mr. Darcy’s side, Elizabeth waited for his response, but when none came, her eyebrow rose in proof.

“Have you employed all your witty remarks, Sir?”

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said softly.

“Then what of music?”

They repeated the first pattern, and Elizabeth accepted the colonel’s gloved hand. She glanced up at the man.

“Your thoughts, Colonel?” she questioned.

“I am gathering memories to carry me through the dark moments ahead.” He smiled sadly at Elizabeth. “I will remember this moment. I pray you accept my cousin before I receive orders to depart. I wish to stand with Darcy in his happiness. Doing such would mean I might some day know the same.”

Elizabeth had no time to respond before the music and the pattern whisked her back to Mr. Darcy. His humor softened the lines of his face.

“Music can transform into loneliness or contentment. Into strengths or weaknesses. Into a joining or a tearing away.”

Mr. Darcy’s words were as if an omen of what was to come, and Elizabeth felt the dread of loss claiming her tongue. They did not speak again until the second dance of the set. The minuet permitted them a closer proximity and an easy conversation.

At length, Elizabeth gave in to finishing what they left dangling some minutes prior.

“I do not know how to start over.” She dared a glance to Mr. Darcy. His steady gaze was as controlled as everything else about the man. A unconscience stirring of Elizabeth’s hopes brought a frisson of awareness as it ricocheted through her.

“We do not begin again.” Mr. Darcy’s countenance spoke of his adamant refusal, and panic returned to Elizabeth’s breathing. “We have taken the first step, Elizabeth. We must either halt our progress or walk into the future, hand-in-hand. Before this night is over, I mean to have an answer.”

* * *

Elizabeth introduced Miss Darcy to many in the room, especially to her two younger sisters. As she expected, Elizabeth found the girl quite agreeable. Miss Darcy made a friend of Mary by sneaking off to the music room to share a duet, and Georgiana impressed Kitty with the girl’s sense of fashion.

From a respectable distance, Mr. Darcy kept a close eye on his sister, and Elizabeth had the strong suspicion upon her, as well. The gentleman nodded his approval of Mr. Grange’s claiming a set on Miss Darcy’s dance card, but he shook off Mr. Lincolnton’s offer.

Yet, her brother’s disapproval did not seem to bother the girl. Miss Darcy chattered with many of the younger sect, making Elizabeth feel ancient. The girlish giggles and the red-faced youths held no interest for her: Elizabeth preferred the chiseled features of Mr. Darcy.