Previous Section, Section V
Chapter 26
October 10, 1812
It was two days before his wedding day and Fitzwilliam Darcy knew he should be feeling a sense of joyful anticipation. He was, after all, about to marry the woman he loved above all else. Instead of anticipation, however, what he felt was a gnawing insecurity and jealousy. He was not entirely certain that Elizabeth loved him with the singleness of devotion with which he loved her.
The seeds of these feelings had been sowed ten days earlier when Elizabeth had remarked upon his cousin's remarkable powers of persuasion. This seemingly innocent remark had made Darcy wonder just how persuasive his cousin had been with her. He could not vanquish images from his mind of Fitzwilliam kissing her passionately, and her responding to him the way she had done with Darcy himself in Bingley's study.
In addition, he found himself dwelling unhappily on various memories he had been trying to repress: Elizabeth's passionate look from the carriage as she left Pemberley and his cousin's claim that her look had been directed at him; Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam laughing together in the Lambton Inn; Elizabeth blushing prettily behind the piano at Pemberley while his cousin turned the pages for her; her impassioned defense of the colonel at the Inn after she informed Darcy of her understanding with Fitzwilliam; and, most recently, her joyous expression when Bingley had informed her that Fitzwilliam would be attending the upcoming ball. What tortured him most of all were nightmarish imaginings that when Elizabeth saw his cousin again, she would realize that she preferred him to Darcy.
What was strange about these persistent jealous feelings was that he had not been aware of them at all, or at least not to a significant degree, during the first month of his engagement to Elizabeth. He had felt confident then that she had never loved his cousin. He had even written to his cousin several times inviting him to the wedding, so sure had Darcy been in her affections. But once the idea that his fiancée might have stronger feelings for his cousin than she admitted took hold on his thoughts, he could not shake it loose.
Added to his latent sense of jealousy, was the fact that Elizabeth's manner to him had changed since the day they had embraced so passionately in Bingley's study. Indeed, on several occasions since then, she had withdrawn from him when he had attempted to embrace her. She also seemed to avoid spending much time with him; he had hardly seen her at all during the past week.
His jealousy, which had been slowly simmering, was now at the boiling point.
He was walking with Elizabeth in the meadow behind Longbourn. She was playing with the strings of her bonnet and looking uncharacteristically subdued. Knowing that he was not likely to get another moment alone with Elizabeth before their wedding in two days, Darcy finally broached the subject which had been on his mind for some time.
"Elizabeth, do you recall the day that you encountered my cousin and me at Pemberley?"
"Of course, how could I forget." She laughed. "You both were informally dressed, but quite fetching in your wet clothing."
"We both looked fetching?" His face darkened. "Was that passionate look of yours when you were leaving Pemberley that day meant for both of us, then?"
Her brow lifted in surprise at the harsh tone of his voice. "I do not know what you mean, sir."
"As your uncle's carriage was leaving the drive, you turned around and looked in the direction where Fitzwilliam and I were standing." His voice had an edge to it. "There was an unmistakable look of longing in your expression. My cousin informed me that that look was intended for him. Was he correct?"
Elizabeth frowned slightly and then looked directly at Darcy. "I had no passionate feelings for your cousin then, nor have I ever had such feelings for him. If I was looking back with passion and longing, I must have been looking at the beautiful grounds of Pemberley. I believe that I fell in love with them on first sight."
She watched to see how he responded to this. His sudden pique had taken her by surprise. She had thought that her teasing answer would reassure him, but he seemed shaken by her response.
"You fell in love with Pemberley? Was it seeing my estate, then, that made you change your mind about marrying me? I had thought you were above that, Elizabeth. I was confident after your first refusal that my money and my position met little to you."
She was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke her voice was shaking; whether it was trembling from anger or from hurt, Darcy could not tell.
"How can you accuse me of marrying you for mercenary reasons? You know that it is not true. I do love Pemberley, partly because it reflects the strength and refinement of your own nature. But I never would marry you or anyone for an estate. Surely, you know the depth of my feelings for you; my response to your kisses should convince you of that."
"You are highly responsive, that is true, but I believe that is your nature. For all I know, you responded to my cousin in the same way, and to Wickham, as well."
She put her hands over her ears. "You have said quite enough, sir, I will hear no more." She turned and started to walk away.
Darcy stepped in front of her, so as to block her path. "Elizabeth, please forgive me. I am so sorry."
"No, Mr. Darcy, do not apologize. I am not sorry. Indeed, I am glad, in fact, that I learned your opinion of me before it is too late."
She turned and started to run in the direction of Longbourn.
He stood as if rooted to the ground for a few terrible moments; then he strode off after her. He caught up with her in less than ten strides. Darcy grabbed her hands and sank on his knees before her.
"Elizabeth, please hear me out. I am truly sorry and ashamed of my behavior just now. I have been afraid of late that when you see my cousin again, you will realize that you care more for him than you do me. I know that my accusations regarding Pemberley are unjust, and Wickham, too, for that matter. It is just that I love you so much, and I have been so sure that something would happen to come between us. I believe I have manufactured these accusations against you to spite myself."
Elizabeth looked down upon Darcy with a desolate look on her face. "But surely, sir, these feelings of yours must have come from somewhere. I must have done something to make you have such little trust in me."
Her expression looked so pained that Darcy could not bear to look at her. "I am sure I am distorting your actions out of proportion, but you appear to have been avoiding my company this past week."
Elizabeth's face reddened slightly. "As for your last statement, you know I have had a thousand things to do to prepare for the wedding and for moving to Derbyshire. My whole life is about to change and there is everything to be done. I have missed spending time with you, but it could not be helped."
Darcy slowly rose to his feet but did not look at her. "I cannot help but feel that there is more to it. Your manner has been decidedly detached the last few days."
"What of your own manner? If I have been detached, it was in response to your guarded manner. You did not tell me of your jealousy of your cousin until just now, but I have sensed that you no longer trust me. I was even wondering if you were having second thoughts about our wedding."
"No, absolutely not." He paused and looked at Elizabeth. "And you? Have you had second thoughts?"
He held his breath waiting for her response. If she no longer wished to marry him, he would not be responsible for his actions.
Her answer gave him little relief. "We must talk, but not today. We have guests arriving any moment, and I must go home to greet them. Besides, I am feeling too distressed at present to have a rational conversation."
"When?" The calmness of the question belied his growing sense of panic and despair.
"Tomorrow afternoon at one o'clock."
"Very well, I will call for you at one o'clock. Thank you for giving me a chance to explain." He bowed stiffly, trying to hide his feelings in a show of formality.
Darcy's heart was heavy while he watched Elizabeth walk away. It was little comfort knowing he had only himself to blame for his present misery.
October 11, 1812
The next afternoon Elizabeth found herself seated next to Darcy in his curricle. He had arrived promptly at one and asked her father's permission to take her for a drive. Mr. Bennet had given his permission somewhat reluctantly, after responding that he would much rather Mr. Darcy take him on a drive so that he could escape the bedlam of Longbourn.
When they had left the grounds of Longbourn, Darcy stopped the horses and turned to Elizabeth. He studied her closely for a moment. She looked peaked and tight-lipped.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to come with me, Elizabeth. I have much I want to say to you, but I cannot engage in serious conversation when I am driving. There is somewhere that I wish to take you, somewhere private where we can talk. Does this plan meet with your approval?"
He looked at her with anxiety. She nodded, and for the next twenty minutes they rode together in silence.
Finally, they pulled down a dirt road and came to a halt in front of a large dilapidated barn. She looked at him in surprise.
"I brought you here to show you a wedding present," he said. "It was meant to be a surprise, but I thought it might help to explain my deplorable behavior yesterday."
Her eyes widened slightly. "A wedding present, sir? I hope it is not a horse. You know my feelings on that subject."
"Yes, I do know. It is not a horse, although one day, if you allow me, I hope to help you overcome your fear of horses." He jumped down from the curricle. "Please wait there a moment."
He strode to the barn door. It was then that Elizabeth noted that the barn's doors were secured with a large padlock. Darcy removed a large key from his waistcoat pocket and opened the padlock and swung the door open.
She was beside herself with curiosity. Her anxiety to know what was inside the barn was so great, she that almost forgot her hurt feelings.
Darcy quickly returned and lifted her down from the curricle. He noticed that she relaxed for a moment in his arms, as she usually did, and then she stiffened and held herself apart from him. They walked silently inside the barn, which appeared to be empty except for a few bales of hay. He removed his coat and laid it down over a bale of hay; he then motioned for Elizabeth to sit down.
"Please sit down a moment while I look about. It appears that Mr. Auden has taken the trouble of hiding the apparatus."
She looked puzzled, having no idea what he was referring to. She sat down, and silently looked around her. As it was warm inside the barn, she removed her pelisse and bonnet, and set them by his coat.
He disappeared around several bales of hay, and then he gave a small shout. "I have found it. Please come and look."
She walked around several large stacks of hay bales to follow the sound of his voice. Darcy was standing beside what looked like a huge basket, so high that it came to above his waist. Sitting beside the basket were large folded bundles of cloth and various other unidentifiable objects.
After staring at these objects for a moment, Elizabeth's face suddenly lit up with comprehension.
"Is this a hot air balloon?"
"Yes, or rather it is the makings of one. Wait until you see it inflated tomorrow in its glory. It is a true sight to behold."
"Was it your plan to take me for a ride in it?"
"No, unfortunately, it is too risky. It will be launched near Meryton so we will be able to see it overhead when we are married tomorrow."
He turned to her. "That is, if you are still willing to marry me tomorrow after my base accusations yesterday."
"I am not inclined to break off our engagement since you admit you do not credit those accusations, sir, but I do want to know what caused you to behave the way you did."
Darcy closed his eyes for a moment, and an expression of stark relief appeared on his face. "I will try my best to explain it to you. But please be patient with me, I am not accustomed to articulating my feelings very well. As you know, I often say things that make you angry when it is not my intention to do so."
He took Elizabeth's arm and led her over to the bale of hay that was covered by his coat. Motioning her to sit down, he sat down next to her. He could tell from the erectness of her posture that she was not comfortable sitting so close to him. He slid slightly away from her and clasped both his hands around his left knee.
"When I was a child of eight or nine, my mother took me to see a hot air balloon launch. It was an even rarer sight then than it is today. It was the most exhilarating moment of my young life. My childhood was not unhappy; I was very close with my mother, in particular. But I did not get to see her often. She was often away with my father and I was left alone at Pemberley with my tutor. My life was highly regimented and very lonely. I had been raised to focus on my responsibilities, not pleasures of friendships. Until I saw that air balloon float through the sky, I had never felt a sense of freedom or even joy. After that, my childhood dreams were full of hot air balloons."
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, she appeared to be listening with rapt attention.
"When I was twelve years old, I had an opportunity to watch a second hot air balloon ride. I had the same joyous feeling upon it seeing it rise into the air. It rose in the sky and drifted away. We watched it for half an hour or more, and then when it was still within sight, it exploded in the air. I cannot describe the horror I felt at the moment."
Elizabeth slid closer to Darcy and put her hand on his. He laid his other hand over hers and closed his eyes.
"Shortly after that, my mother died after being ill for a brief time. I was there in the room, when she died; my father had commanded it. After that, I felt that nothing was safe, that everything wonderful would be taken away from me. Other things happened to confirm that feeling. By the time I was twenty, I had lost my father, an uncle, the woman who had been my nanny since birth. I had also lost the friendship with George Wickham, whom I had been very close to as a boy; he had betrayed my friendship in numerous ways even then.
"I grew aloof and standoffish. I was too afraid of losing another person to get close to anyone. With the exception of Bingley, the only friends that I had were people such as my cousin and Mr. Crandall whom I had known since childhood. Until you came along, Elizabeth, I was quite determined to never fall in love. I did not want to risk it. I know that during my disastrous proposal, I raised all manner of objections about your family, and your lack of social position and wealth, and these things in truth did have some influence over me. But the biggest impediment to my fully embracing the idea of marriage to you was the strength of my feelings for you. I knew that if I were given the chance to truly love you, and then lost you, that I would never survive it."
Darcy drew a deep breath and looked at Elizabeth. She brushed the tears from her eyes with one hand, and tightened her grip on his hand with the other.
"I cannot excuse my behavior yesterday, I can only say that it was motivated by fear that I would lose you," he continued. "I have loved you for some time, but never as much as I have since our engagement. The idea that I could lose you..." His voice cracked slightly and he paused for a moment. "When I tried to embrace you last week and you started pulling away, these dark fears and jealousies took a hold of me. Despite my accusations against you yesterday, it was never you that I lost faith in or stopped trusting you, it was myself and my ability to survive losing you. Please forgive me."
"I forgive you." she assured him. She released her hand from his and softly stroked the side of his face. "I only wish you could have spoken of these fears to me sooner. I know it is hard when there has been so little time. After we are married, it will be easier, I hope."
Darcy leaned over and kissed the top of Elizabeth's head and lay his check against her hair.
"I have been foolish, as well." She continued. "If it had not taken me so long to appreciate your worth, I would have accepted your first proposal, and would not have entered into that foolish understanding with your cousin. Please believe me, I was very fond of him, but I never loved him. I have never loved, nor have I ever kissed, any man but you."
Darcy kissed her temple. "I would not care terribly much if you had, as long as you are completely mine now. It wasn't your past that I really cared about, Lizzy, but my anxieties about whether you would continue to love me in the future."
"You need have no anxieties on that score. I truly love you, and my heart is completely yours. I proposed to you after all, in defiance of convention and decorum, and perhaps the very laws of nature. That should say something of the depth of my love."
Darcy lifted his head and smiled at Elizabeth, his heart in his eyes. "Ah, yes, you were very forward, my love. Your behavior shocked my sensibilities and made the happiest of men."
Even though they were completely alone, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Perhaps, you could act in defiance of convention again to further demonstrate your affection for me." He looked pointedly at her lips.
Elizabeth laughed. "Are you encouraging me to kiss you, sir?"
"I am encouraging you to do what ever you like with me, Lizzy." Darcy's voice was uncharacteristically gruff.
The timber of Darcy's voice and the look in his eyes made, Elizabeth shiver. She slowly leaned forward and kissed him gently. To his great delight, she then climbed onto his lap and put her arms around his neck. He immediately enclosed her in his arms and their kisses turned fierce and then unbearably tender. At some point, Lizzy removed Darcy's neck cloth and suckled gently on Darcy's throat while she pressed herself against him.
Darcy's eyes flew open. "Lizzy, you will undo me entirely. Much as it pains me to say so, we must stop for now. We have guests to entertain very shortly."
Elizabeth jumped off of his lap; her eyes were wild.
"Oh dear, I forgot myself completely. My aunt and uncle and cousins will be arriving any minute, and there are so many things to do before the ball. We must leave at once."
Darcy started to retie his neck cloth but his fingers trembled so he could not manage the knot. Elizabeth noticed his predicament, and felt rather pleased to see her handsome fiancée reduced to a state of such helplessness.
"Let me help you, my love. I have assisted my father with his neck cloth on many occasions."
Darcy surrendered gladly to her ministrations. As she tugged on the cloth, she observed that her attentions to his throat had left several small marks.
"Oh, dear," Lizzy murmured, feeling quite mortified by this evidence of her wanton behavior.
Darcy looked at her with concern. "What is the matter, darling?"
She could not look at him. "I..I left marks on your neck." Although he had encouraged her to act brazenly, she was sure that he would find her blemishing of his person quite unacceptable.
To her surprise, he laughed gaily. "Ah, you have given me an early wedding present. It is quite fortunate that high neck cloths are in fashion. I would give you the same gift, but considering the cut of your gown, it would cause quite a scandal at the ball."
Lizzy turned to Darcy and impulsively threw her arms around the neck. "You are truly the best of men!"
As they were driving back towards Meryton, Elizabeth leaned towards Darcy and kissed him. "I hope you are now assured of my devotion. I do not wish you to suffer any jealousy when we see your cousin tonight. Politeness demands that I dance with him, should he ask me, but my heart will be with you. If you doubt it, all you have to do if go into the retiring room and remove your neck cloth before the looking glass."
Darcy was so distracted by both the kiss and conversation, that he missed seeing a rut in the road. Luckily, he was an accomplished driver and he managed to steady the curricle before it turned over completely.
Chapter 27
October 11, 1812
Richard Fitzwilliam sat on his horse and stared at the Meryton chapel. It was small and dreary looking. It gave the appearance of being slightly lopsided, as if it were sinking into the ground on one side.
"Perhaps it is just my perspective that is distorted," Fitz thought as he dismounted and strode inside the church.
To his relief, the church was empty of people. The church was as gaily decorated on the inside as it was cheerless on the outside. The doorway and the sides of the pews were decorated with great swaths of ribbons and bunches of greenery in preparation for tomorrow's wedding. The smell of pine, rosemary and sage filled the air.
After walking slowly up the aisle, he stood for a moment to the left of the pulpit, and turned and faced the aisle, imagining that he was the bridegroom and he was waiting for the entrance of his bride. As he stood there inhaling the scent of herbs, the church door opened slightly and the figure of a woman slipped inside. In the dimming light, he could not see her face clearly, but from her dark brown hair and her small, voluptuous figure, he had little doubt of who she was.
"Damnation," he muttered under his breath. Elizabeth Bennet was the last person he wanted to encounter alone in this setting. He stepped backwards into the shadows, hoping to avoid her notice.
After pausing a moment by the door, the woman starting walking up the aisle with graceful measured steps.
When she was about two yards from the pulpit, Fitzwilliam was finally able to look at her face. Her eyes were closed and she had a dreamy expression. He gazed upon her up tilted face with shock. The woman standing before him was not Elizabeth Bennet, as he had first thought, but someone who looked very much like her. He could not take his eyes off of her. She had a perfect oval shaped face, and her lips were even fuller than Elizabeth's. Her brow was high and delicate. She had, moreover, the most perfect proportions that he had ever seen in a woman. Her figure was small and pleasingly curvaceous, but unlike Elizabeth, this woman had a figure that was completely symmetrical.
"She is a goddess," he thought and made a small involuntary sound of appreciation.
The young lady opened her eyes quickly and pierced the shadows with a cold, disapproving look; her wide mouth thinned into a prim line. The creature who had just a moment earlier looked like his idea of divinity had instantly transformed herself into a plain young woman with a pedantic air. There was an awkward silence. Finally, he regained his composure, stepped out from the shadows, and executed a hasty bow.
"Since there is no one here to introduce us, please allow me that liberty. I am Richard Fitzwilliam, the cousin of the Fitzwilliam Darcy who is to be wed here tomorrow."
The young woman curtsied stiffly. "I am Mary Bennet, the sister of Elizabeth Bennet, your cousin's fiancée." She gave Fitzwilliam an odd searching look as she said this, as if expecting him to show some response.
He nodded in acknowledgement of the introduction, but said nothing further.
"If may ask you a question, sir, I am curious to know why you are here."
Fitzwilliam looked slightly disconcerted by this question. "I am soon to be ordained to be a vicar, and thus, I find myself drawn to the church."
Mary looked at the former colonel and pursed her lips in a sour expression. "If you are practicing to be a vicar, you should stand behind the pulpit, not in front of it."
He immediately strode to the pulpit and stood behind it. He held his head up high, and his face molded itself into a severe and formidable expression, appropriate for scaring new soldiers.
Mary shook her head in disapproval. "You look like a despot; you will scare away your flock. A vicar must have a benevolent look about him if he wants his parishioners to come regularly to church."
His face quickly relaxed into an expression of such an absurd degree of munificence that Mary's upper lip curled briefly in amusement. He looked at her with an affronted look on his face.
"Dare you smirk, madam, when I am trying my best to master my new profession? It is not very charitable of you."
She stopped smiling, but she did not look at all contrite. "I am not uncharitable, sir; you looked completely ridiculous. You must look a little more dignified than that or no one will take you seriously as a vicar."
Fitzwilliam placed his hand over his heart. "There, now you have wounded my vanity and discouraged me utterly. It is too much; I shall never get the hang of being a vicar." He shook his head with a mock dejected look.
Mary managed to look repentant and reproving at the same time. "Oh no, you must not give up so soon. I am sure you can learn to be a proper vicar, only you must practice more. You must avoid the habit of embracing one extreme or another, as a good vicar has the appearance of being both benevolent and stern at once."
"Like this?" He glared at her out of his left eye while twisting the right side of a face into a ludicrous grin.
He was expecting to make her laugh at his antics, but to his great amusement, Mary frowned and stamped her foot instead.
"No, that is worse than before. You really have to work harder at this if you wish to be ordained."
To her astonishment, Fitzwilliam leaned his head back and laughed. He had never before met a woman with such an impoverished sense of humor. For some reason, he found this remarkably entertaining.
"I perfectly agree with you, Miss Bennet, but I think there is much more to be done than simply getting my facial expressions under control. I am afraid I am frightfully ignorant about the content of sermons."
"I should think that the sermon would be the easiest part. I have written a number of sermons myself, although I have no hope of ever being a vicar."
He looked at the prim young woman before him with interest. "You write sermons, do you? Would you choose a career in the church if it were possible?"
"Oh yes," breathed Mary. "I should like nothing better. I would make a wonderful vicar. I have a natural aptitude for sermonizing."
"Then perhaps you should teach me how to do it. I have not the slightest clue how to go about it. Because of my army service and frequent travels abroad, I have rarely even attended a church service in recent years, and on those few occasions when I have done so, I never paid much attention to the sermon."
Fitzwilliam expected that Mary Bennet would scold him upon this admission, but instead she looked at him very intently as if trying to decide whether he was worth offering her services to or not.
"I will strike bargain with you, Miss Bennet. If you spare some time this evening to give me some pointers on preparing a sermon, I will teach you how to be charming."
She surprised him again by looking more intrigued than affronted by this offer.
"How would you go about doing that, sir?"
"First, I would teach you to how laugh and flirt."
"I doubt you would succeed in such an endeavor. I do not know if it is in my nature to be flirtatious, and I am not prone to laughter."
He looked at Mary appraisingly. "Well, if you want to learn these things, I am confident I could teach you. I have as much or more expertise in flirtation as you do in sermonizing."
"I do not wish to appear to be ridiculous. I have been told that it is unbecoming for plain women to flirt."
"Flirtation when properly done is never unbecoming. Besides which you are hardly plain, although you do not look particularly attractive when you wear that disapproving dour look. When you walked down this aisle earlier with that dreamy look on your face, I found you to be breathtakingly lovely." He surprised himself at his candor; he had never spoken so openly to a woman he had just met before.
Mary was completely dumbfounded, not by his candor, but by the compliment. No gentleman had ever shown the slightest interest in her before, and now, this man, who she knew to be the son of an earl and the prospective recipient of a generous living, was paying her marked attention and complimenting her looks most shamelessly. A thought occurred to her that caused her to look at the man before her with grave suspicion.
"Does your attention to me have to do with your feelings for my sister, Elizabeth?"
Fitzwilliam started and looked uncomfortable, "What do you know of my connection with your sister?" he asked rather harshly.
Mary was not intimidated by his tone; she'd heard harsher reproofs from her mother. "I only just heard today from my sister Lydia and her new husband, who I understand is a great friend of yours, that you yourself desired to marry my sister, Elizabeth, and that you had an arrangement to marry her if Lydia had married Wickham. I also heard that you injured Mr. Wickham in a duel in an attempt to bring about his marriage to my younger sister. Is this true?"
"It is the truth, more or less. I am distressed that it is being bandied about as household gossip. It will be most uncomfortable for me, as well as for your sister and my cousin, at the ball this evening and at the wedding tomorrow if word of this is spread about town. I believe, in fact, that I will forego attending the ball, and perhaps the wedding, in light of this news."
"I would not advise that, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Word has gotten out that you will be attending the ball and the wedding, and as you are to be Mr. Darcy's only relative in attendance, besides his sister, it will look most suspicious if you suddenly decide against attending. At this point, only my immediate family knows of your history with my sister, but if you do not attend the ball, it would fan the flames of gossip. My mother, for one, would be sure to respond to inquiries about your absence with wild speculation that you are too smitten with my sister to countenance attending the ball."
Fitzwilliam considered this. "You are probably correct that it is best if I attend the ball. I am anxious to avoid as little gossip and scandal as possible. Do you have any idea of how to prevent the spreading of this news during the ball?"
Mary thought for a moment. "My sister Lydia has trouble holding her tongue, but she seems devoted to her husband and I believe she would do what he asks her to do. You could pen a note to him that I could deliver, asking him to counsel his wife to say nothing regarding you and Elizabeth. Persuading my mother to remain silent, however, is a harder task. She loves to gossip, particularly about her daughters' conquests."
"Ah, that is unpleasant for you, I am sure."
"Not for me. I have never had any conquests."
Fitzwilliam stared at the woman before him for a moment. He was surprised at how much she intrigued him. "What if I were to show a decided interest in one of her single daughters tonight at the ball. Would that likely keep her quiet on the subject of my earlier interest in Miss Elizabeth?"
Mary considered this carefully. "I believe there is merit to that plan. My mother is aware of your social connections, and she has heard from Mr. Shelby of the excellent living that you will receive upon getting ordained. If she thought there was a chance that she could secure you as a son-in-law, she would do just about anything, including holding her tongue. Yes, you must show a marked interest in my younger sister, Kitty. My mother will be so delighted she will forget all about your history with Elizabeth."
"Why should I pay attentions to your younger sister, when I could do so with you, and kill two birds with one stone. I could teach you how to flirt in exchange for lessons on sermonizing and silence your mother all at the same time. Flirting while dancing is a particular specialty of mine."
Mary shook her head. "I believe you are serious, Mr. Fitzwilliam. But teaching me to flirt and dance at the same time is out of the question. I have had as little experience with dancing as I have had with flirtation. "
"Ah then, we better get to work on our lessons straight away." Fitzwilliam executed an elegant bow and held his arm out to Mary.
"Miss Mary, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
Chapter 28
October 11, 1812
People gasped in wonder as they stepped into the ballroom. The walls and ceiling had been draped in yellow silk and the light from thousands of candles bathed the room in a twinkling veil of golden light. The overall effect was so opulent that any host but Mr. Bingley would have been subjected to criticism for his pretensions. As it was, Mr. Bingley, flanked by his two sisters, greeted each of his guests with such an abundance of hospitality that even the most jaded among them were charmed by the surroundings. Not even the supercilious airs of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could spoil the festive mood.
Standing behind Mr. Bingley was Mr. Darcy and his pretty young sister. That gentleman smiled at each guest with such warmth as to dispel forever the impression among the good people of Hertfordshire that he felt himself to be above his company. Many a woman of all ages felt her pulse quicken and her insides quiver when Fitzwilliam Darcy bowed gracefully over her hand. One young lady, in fact, was so overcome by the force of Mr. Darcy's elegant attentions that she had to immediately withdraw to the retiring room with the assistance of her mother.
Adding greatly to the excitement of the evening was the news that a number of unmarried gentlemen would be in attendance at the ball. Most of the single young ladies in the area had arrived early so that they could position themselves advantageously before either any unmarried gentlemen or the Bennets arrived. It was universally felt that since three of the Bennet girls had recently made such advantageous matches that it was only fair that the other young ladies in the neighborhood had first crack at any eligible gentlemen that ventured into Hertfordshire.
To the delight of the young ladies, four friends of Mr. Bingley arrived quite early in the evening. All of these gentlemen were pleasing in both looks and manners, and they soon found themselves surrounded by the younger members of the female sex. The young ladies' mothers, however, kept one eye on the entrance to the ballroom because they felt that the best in the way of eligible gentlemen were yet to come.
They were proved correct when, just as the clock struck ten, a footman announced the arrival of Mr. John Crandall and Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam. Although most of the young ladies felt that neither of these gentlemen were quite as good looking as Mr. Bingley's four friends, something in the manner of these two men's dress, form and bearing informed the young ladies' mothers that these gentlemen were superior to the others. The more industrious mothers soon discovered that Mr. Crandall had a large fortune and an old estate, and Mr. Fitzwilliam was of noble birth and possessed a generous income. These mothers quickly motioned to their daughters and in no time at all Mr. Bingley's four young friends found themselves quite deserted.
So busy in fact were the mothers and their daughters in plotting how to catch the eye of Mr. Crandall and Mr. Fitzwilliam, that none of them observed the awkward meeting between the latter gentleman and Mr. Darcy. The two cousins stood toe to toe for a full minute, both with a stony faced expression, before either one spoke. Darcy was the first to break the silence.
"Fitzwilliam. You look well."
"And you." Fitzwilliam searched Darcy's face and was relieved to see there was no sign of scarring from the vicious punches that had marked the last time that they had seen each other.
There was another awkward pause, and then Fitzwilliam mumbled. "I wish you joy."
"Thank you, and I wish you the same." Then the two gentlemen wordlessly clapped each other on the back. With these spare words and the one manly gesture, the two cousins expressed to the best of their ability all the complexity of emotions that they felt towards each other.
With one last intense look at Darcy, Fitzwilliam moved on to Georgiana. He had no idea how much she knew of the recent events of the past. She had tears in her eyes when she greeted him, and he did not know whether the tears were due to compassion for him or anxiety over the upcoming wedding. He pressed her hand.
"Do not weep on the eve of Darcy's wedding, Georgie. He looks very happy and so should you be." He spoke in a low voice in her ear.
Georgiana did not say it to her cousin, but she was exquisitely happy, both for her brother and herself, regarding his upcoming marriage. Her tears were due to the fact that her cousin could not join them in their joy. Although neither Darcy nor Elizabeth had said anything to her on the subject, she knew from observing his behavior in Derbyshire that her cousin had been determined to win Elizabeth for himself.
She tried to steer the conversation away from the subject of happiness. "It is wonderful that you have come. I hope to have a chance to dance with you. You are the best dancer that I know, and I am not comfortable dancing with strangers."
"Of course, Georgie, it would be my honor. Are you certain, however, that Darcy will allow you to dance in a ball as large as this? It is not considered proper, seeing as you are not yet out."
"Oh, I may dance all I wish. My brother has become quite relaxed about such things. It is all due to the influence of Elizabeth. She has a remarkable effect on him."
Fitzwilliam's expression tensed momentarily at these words and then relaxed.
Georgie looked aghast and grasped her cousin's hand. "Oh, I am so sorry, I did not mean to speak of her."
Fitzwilliam realized then that Georgiana was aware of at least some of his history with Elizabeth and that her tears had been for him. His voice was rather gruff when he spoke.
"Do not fret, Georgie. I am well. Now, you must greet your other guests."
With that, Fitzwilliam kissed Georgiana and hastened away. His pride was wounded to think that he was the object of his young cousin's pity.
He was soon introduced to a number of young ladies and their mothers, and their rapt attentions assuaged his pride to some degree. He expertly engaged in charming banter with the elder as well as the younger of these ladies.
Although Mr. Crandall was rumored to be the richer of the two, Mr. Fitzwilliam's conversation was so delightful and his manners so easy, yet so genteel, that he was deemed by most to be the better catch. In fact, more than a few of the young ladies had revised her earlier opinion of him and now were convinced that Mr. Fitzwilliam was by far the handsomest available gentleman at the ball.
Fitzwilliam was conversing with the prettiest of the young ladies about the pleasures of a country ball when the footman announced the names of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Conversation ceased and all eyes turned to the new arrivals just in time to see Misses Jane and Elizabeth Bennet join their parents and then approach their hosts.
From within his circle of admiring young ladies, Fitzwilliam watched silently while Darcy greeted his bride to be. Both Darcy and Elizabeth were circumspect in their greeting of each other, but their mutual adoration was clear in every small gesture and glance they exchanged. Fitzwilliam's observation of the betrothed couple was more educational than it was painful. It was clear that Elizabeth loved Darcy in a way that she had never loved him. He also realized, after observing Darcy's impassioned looks at Elizabeth, that his own feelings for her were quite lukewarm in comparison. "She has brought him to his knees," he thought, relieved to discover that she no longer had the same effect on him, if she ever had. Elizabeth was as lovely as ever, but his love for her was proving to have a short wick.
His reveries were interrupted by a shrill conversation between a young lady standing on his right and her mother.
"Oh look, there is Kitty Bennet! She is certainly not in her best looks tonight."
"Yes, that green gown does not suit her at all, and she has grown so thin. Mary Bennet on the other hand looks almost pretty tonight. She has actually taken some trouble with her appearance for once."
"Wait until she opens her mouth, however, her preaching will scare any interested gentlemen away. She is as dull as they come, poor soul."
Fitzwilliam turned to the two gossiping ladies and bowed slightly. "Please excuse me, but I must go pay my respects to Miss Mary Bennet. She is such a delightful conversationalist."
Leaving the two women openmouthed in his wake, Fitzwilliam started to move in Mary Bennet's direction. She noticed him approaching and their eyes caught and held. The intensity of the expression in Mary's eyes made him feel slightly lightheaded. Before he could tear his eyes away from Mary's, Shelby rushed over to his side.
"Fitz! It is deuced good to see you. Good Lord, you are looking like a clergyman already! I have never seen you look so solemn. Let us get a drink and catch up a bit."
Fitzwilliam smiled fondly at his friend, although his thoughts were still occupied by the smoldering look that Miss Mary had just given him.
"Yes, we have much to talk about, Shel, but first I must pay my regards to someone."
"Ah, yes, you have to do the proper and all." Shelby looked around. "I do not see any of your relatives about. I imagine they were not too happy about the wedding, especially, Lady C. I expect that she has got her nose quite out of joint over the whole business. I doubt she would have minded as much if you had been the bridegroom."
Shelby then leaned over and whispered in his friend's ear. "Lydia and I guessed, Fitz, that it was Elizabeth that you were engaged to, but have no fear; your secret is safe with us."
Shelby straightened up and gestured to a young lady in a pink gown shrieking with laughter in the middle of the ballroom. "There is my Lydia; she is dying to meet you. We were just talking to your old friend Cutler; he has an aunt who lives in Bath, you know, and he told Lydia that you and he used to..."
Fitzwilliam cut his friend off. "I would like to ask you a favor, Shelby."
"Of course, Fitz, you know that you can count on me. Do you need me to help you make a getaway?" Shelby looked in pointedly in the direction of Elizabeth Bennet who was now standing at the side of her fiancé.
"Escape will not be necessary, I hope. All I require is a simple introduction to a young lady."
Shelby beamed. "That is just the thing to turn you around. There are quite a few pretty young gels here, too. I ain't going to be much help, however, because I don't know any young ladies here, except for my wife and her sisters."
"That will do perfectly. I would like, in fact, an introduction to Miss Mary Bennet."
Shelby looked confused. "But I thought you have met her already, she gave me a note from you."
"I require a formal introduction, and do not let on about the note."
"Right; I will have to introduce you to her sister Kitty, and my mother-in-law at the same time as they are standing together." He lowered his voice. "Better not show too much interest in Kitty or you might find yourself shackled to her. The good Mrs. B is determined to find a husband for Kitty, now that Lydia and I are fixed, and Mrs. B don't do things by halves."
"What about Mary? I thought that she was the next oldest after Elizabeth. Is her mother not trying to marry her off as well?"
"Mary? Good God, even Mrs. B knows that there is not much hope of anyone marrying her. Nothing terribly wrong with the girl, but she is a preachy thing, prim as they come, and likes to scold her sisters. She and Lydia don't get along at all."
Fitzwilliam looked over at Mary who now had her back turned to him. Even the sight of the back of her stirred something in him. He tried his best to keep his reaction from showing on his face.
Shelby put his arm on Fitz's elbow and steered him towards the Bennets. He introduced him to first Mrs. Bennet and then to Mary and Kitty.
Mrs. Bennet looked at Fitzwilliam with keen interest. "You are Mr. Darcy's cousin, are you not?"
He nodded.
"And you have met my daughter Elizabeth, I believe? " Mrs. Bennet asked with a coy smile.
"Yes, Ma'am, I have had the pleasure of her acquaintance, and I am looking forward to be better acquainted with your entire family. I am hoping that your daughter, Miss Mary, will dance the first set with me."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened. "Oh, Mary does not dance, but my daughter Kitty loves it more than anything. She will make you a fine partner. Kitty, Kitty, come here; Mr. Fitzwilliam would like to dance the first set with you."
"I beg pardon, Ma'am, I would be delighted to dance with Miss Kitty later in the evening, but for the first set my heart is fixed on having Miss Mary as my partner."
Seeing that Mrs. Bennet was too astonished to respond, he turned to face Mary and bowed.
"Miss Mary, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
Mary hesitated for a moment, and quickly glanced to the area of the room where the band was tuning up and couples were started to take their places for the dance. She then glanced at her mother who was staring at her with an awed expression on her face.
Mary put her hand on Fitzwilliam's proffered arm. "Yes, I would be honored."
They took up their places opposite each other in the line that was forming. Fitzwilliam was trying to think of something lighthearted to say to Mary, but nothing came to mind. They stood and stared at each other in silence until the opening chords of the dance were played, and he and Mary stepped towards each other in time with the music. A thrill of anticipation struck Fitzwilliam as he and Mary faced each other, palms up, and when their gloved hands touched briefly, he shivered unaccountably. "What is happening to me," he thought.
He soon moved down the line, according to the rules of the dance, and to his surprise, he found himself across from Elizabeth. Judging by the deep flush, which spread over her face as Fitzwilliam looked at her, Elizabeth was highly uncomfortable to be facing him.
As he approached her, he said softly, "Miss Elizabeth, I wish you and my cousin great happiness."
Elizabeth searched his face for a moment and saw that his well wishes were genuine.
"Thank you, your well wishes mean more to me than anyone's." Tears glistened in his eyes, as she spoke.
Fitzwilliam, strangely touched by the encounter, mused that he had never before, to his knowledge, brought any woman to tears and now he had caused two young ladies to be in that state within the space of less than half an hour.
"God bless you," Elizabeth whispered as they parted from each other to proceed down the line.
Fitzwilliam soon found himself back in front of Mary. She was looking as grave as ever.
"You must not look so solemn while we dance. It is a lighthearted pastime. You should be laughing, or at least smiling," he chided her with a small smile.
"It is you who are fault, sir," she said as their palms lightly touched again. "You promised to teach me to flirt and laugh while dancing; I believe you said it was your particular specialty, and yet I have not had one lesson this entire evening."
"Ah yes," he replied, but before he could think of an appropriately flirtatious remark, they temporarily switched partners again and he found himself in front of Miss Caroline Bingley.
That lady greeted him with a smirk that was positively malevolent.
"I must confess, I am surprised to see you upon this felicitous occasion, Colonel. Oh, I do apologize; I had forgotten that you are no longer to permitted to bear that form of address. It seems you have lost out in all respects."
Fitzwilliam smiled stiffly at her. "I compliment you, Madam, on being an excellent hostess. You have truly outdone yourself tonight."
He was relieved to be facing Mary again for the second dance of the set.
"Instruct me, sir. How does one go about the art of flirting while dancing?"
"The best way to go about it is to tell your partner something amusing in a light tone of voice. Then you will both laugh together, and your partner will compliment you on your wit."
Mary thought for a moment. "I did recently overhear something that you might find amusing, but it is also rather scandalous. Too scandalous to repeat, in fact, I cannot tell it."
Fitzwilliam drew up close to her and whispered in her ear. "You cannot not, or you will not?"
"I cannot, not while dancing, I will forget the steps, and trod on someone."
"Afterwards then?"
"Perhaps," she said with a mysterious little smile and glided away down the line.
After that, Fitzwilliam had difficulty concentrating on the steps so preoccupied was he with curiosity over Mary's scandalous tale and with the memory of her rare smile.
When at long last the set was done. Fitzwilliam placed Mary's hand on his arm. "Come let us seek out refreshments and you must tell me your scandalous story. I cannot wait a moment more to hear it."
He commandeered a glass of punch for both of them, and then steered Mary into a deserted corner of the ballroom.
Mary sipped her punch slowly, until Fitzwilliam cleared his throat impatiently and raised his eyebrow in an expectant manner.
"The scandalous tale involves Mr. Bingley's sisters and Mr. Hurst."
Fitzwilliam's eyes widened. "Does your tale involve the circumstances surrounding the marriage of the Hursts?"
Mary nodded.
Fitzwilliam smiled hugely, "By Jove, I have been dying to hear this tale. Please go on."
"It is not very gracious to speak of it now while we are enjoying Miss Bingley's hospitality."
"It is Mr. Bingley's hospitality we are enjoying, and he was intending to tell me the tale this past summer until we were rudely interrupted by a rainstorm. I must insist that you tell me the tale at once or I will think you a terrible tease."
"Very well then." Mary said.
She took one more sip of punch and then put it aside and folded her hands primly. "I heard that before his marriage, Mr. Hurst was widely known as the 'eight thousand a year man.' Mr. Bingley's sisters were aware of this and determined that Louisa Bingley should marry him. They pursued him very boldly, and when he showed no interest, they planned that during a house party Miss Louisa would slip into his bedroom. She did so and Miss Caroline arranged for a friend of his parents to discover them thus. In order to avoid a great scandal, his mother forced Mr. Hurst to marry Miss Louisa."
Fitzwilliam grinned. "How very scandalous." Then, he frowned slightly. "Eight thousand a year? I am surprised, I understood that Hurst had a very modest income."
"Yes, that is the odd thing. His title 'eight thousand a year man' did not refer to his income at all, which is quite modest as you say. It referred to his obsession with oysters. I heard that one year he ate so many oysters during a four month period that he and his friends calculated that if oysters were in season year round, he would eat eight thousand a year. That is where his nickname came from. When Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley discovered their error, they were extremely vexed. They both have vowed, in fact, never to eat oysters again. I understand that Mr. Bingley's cook is quite put out because she likes to serve oyster stew on occasion as it is one of Mr. Bingley's favorite dishes but Miss Bingley will not permit it. I myself think it is quite unfair of Miss Bingley to deprive her brother of oyster stew just because she made a mistake in her calculations. What do you think, Mr. Fitzwilliam, is it not most ungenerous of her?"
Fitzwilliam stared at Mary for a moment, and then leaned his head back and laughed uproariously. He laughed so long and so loudly, in fact, that most of the people in the ballroom turned and stared in his direction, and then stared even harder when they realized that standing next to the dashing Mr. Fitzwilliam, and laughing right along with him, was Miss Mary Bennet.
When Mr. Fitzwilliam's laughter finally died down and he was wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes, Mary gave him a reproving look.
"Mr. Fitzwilliam, you are being quite remiss."
He looked at her in confusion. "How so?"
"Since I have told you something amusing and we have both laughed together, you are now obligated to compliment my wit."
Fitzwilliam took Mary's gloved hand and kissed it gallantly. "My dear Miss Mary, your wit is so finely constructed as to put that of all other young ladies to shame."
Mary was so pleased by this compliment that she gave her companion a dazzling smile. He felt positively weak in the knees.
None of the single young ladies or their mothers missed the sight of Mary Bennet laughing shamelessly with Mr. Fitzwilliam, nor did they fail to observe him kissing her hand. They were so miffed at the sight that they immediately pronounced that Mr. Fitzwilliam was sadly wanting in both looks and manners, and they vowed to focus their favors on Mr. Crandall. So suddenly besieged by female attentions was that gentleman that he soon disappeared into Mr. Bingley's library and was not seen again for the rest of the evening.
October 12, 1812
The wedding service was overlong. Fitzwilliam had difficulty staying awake, partly owing to the fact that he had been unable to sleep the night before due to fantasizing about having Mary Bennet in his bed. In his imaginings, she was divested of all clothing but despite her immodest state, she was wearing a severe, pedantic look. He had found the image surprisingly seductive.
"Could I be falling in love again?" he had mused, and then the thought had struck him that he might be falling in love, true love, for the first time in his life. This notion kept him awake for the remainder of the night, tossing and turning in his bed.
Crandall, who was sitting beside Fitzwilliam, leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "That will be you up there soon, I expect."
Fitzwilliam started and looked at his friend in his astonishment. Was the turn of his thoughts so obvious then?
"I beg your pardon?"
"As you will be a vicar soon, you will be responsible for performing marriage ceremonies. You may even officiate at my own some day, if I should ever be as lucky as Darcy. I am sure you will not be so dull as the creature officiating today. I have never heard a service so dry and tedious before. Darcy does not seem to mind, however. He looks positively aglow with happiness."
Fitzwilliam nodded. There was no denying Darcy and Elizabeth both looked exceptionally happy. "As they should be," he thought, surprising himself with his lack of rancor.
Fortunately, the long service finally drew to an end and most of the guests spilled out of the church while the two wedded couples signed the register.
The new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley exited the church ahead of the Darcys, and a cheer went up as they walked down the church stairs. Mr. Darcy and his bride soon followed them. Another cheer went up, and Elizabeth squeezed Mr. Darcy's arm and laughed. He smiled down at her lovely face. Just then, the church bells started pealing, and both of the married couples made a dash to the open carriages that awaited them in front of the church. They climbed into their respective carriages while the onlookers pelted them with petals.
Darcy and Elizabeth were waving to well wishers from the high seat of the carriage, when Darcy murmured, "Look up, my love."
Elizabeth looked up and gasped in wonder. There, above them in the sky, was a large red hot air balloon; two young men waved to them from the basket and Darcy raised his hand in salute. Instantaneously, the two men started tossing handfuls of small golden coins down to the crowd below.
A cry went up from the wedding guests, and everyone raised their heads to the sky in wonder. Several of the younger guests started jumping up to catch coins as they fell from above.
One large coin landed on the top of Mrs. Bennet's bonnet; she was so enraptured, however, that she did not even notice. "Oh Mr. Bennet!" she cried, "A hot air balloon! I think a ride in one would set me up forever!"
"Do you, my dear?" replied her husband. "I will have to have a word with Mr. Darcy a the wedding breakfast about it. I have no doubt that he will be only too happy to oblige you." Mr. Bennet smiled to himself at the irresistible image of his wife floating away into the wide, blue yonder.
The wedding breakfast was a huge success. To Mrs. Bennet's delight, Mr. Darcy's cousin spent most of it by Mary's side. The only time, in fact, that he ventured far from Mary was when he approached Caroline Bingley near the coffee urn. Fearing that Mary might have competition for Mr. Fitzwilliam's affections, Mrs. Bennet hovered nearby while the two conversed. She was surprised to discover that Mr. Fitzwilliam had sought out Miss Bingley to discuss oysters. To Mrs. Bennet's relief, Miss Bingley seemed to have an extreme distaste of oysters because she stalked off with an outraged look on her face soon after Mr. Fitzwilliam raised the subject.
The chief subject of conversation at the breakfast was the hot air balloon and how wondrous it was. No one had ever seen anything quite like it. Everyone agreed that it was a magical sight.
"Mr. Darcy," remarked Mrs. Phillips loudly, "was it you who made the arrangements for the air balloon? I declare I cannot imagine anything more thrilling in my life!"
"I can," he replied, gazing at his lovely bride.
It was not long thereafter that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy hastily departed their wedding breakfast. Some people speculated that they had slipped out to take a ride in the hot air balloon. Although these speculations were not wholly accurate, they were not far from the truth.