Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (17 page)

Mr Darcy looked for Elizabeth in vain. He strode through the park, walking down each path in the hope of seeing her, but she was nowhere to be found.

Instead, he found the Bents. They were also in Buxton; indeed, his father had suggested it. And so instead of having a chance to apologise to Elizabeth and explain to her, he found himself escorting Miss Bent.

Before the walk was over, they had ascertained that he would be at the assembly ball on the morrow, and they left each other with an expectation of meeting again very soon.

He returned to the house feeling despondent.

‘Did you not see her?’ asked Georgiana, when he went into the drawing-room.

They were alone, for Mr Darcy’s father was resting and his mother was overseeing the servants as they arranged the house to her liking.

‘Who?’ asked Mr Darcy.

‘Your princess,’ said Georgiana.

Mr Darcy raised his eyebrows.

Georgiana chuckled.

‘I only mean that she reminded me of a princess in the fairy tale of Cinderella, because she ran away from the prince at the ball.’

‘Cinderella was not a princess,’ he said, sitting down on the sofa.

‘No. But she married the prince anyway,’ said Georgiana.

‘I am not a prince,’ he said.

‘You are as good as a prince at Pemberley,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you will find your princess yet.’

‘If only it were that simple,’ he said.

He sat back with a tired air.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Georgiana sympathetically. She slipped off the piano stool and went over to the sofa, where she sat beside him. ‘You have seemed distracted ever since the ball. Do you really miss her so much?’

He could not tell her that he was concerned for their father, but he did not want her to think that he was obsessed with Elizabeth, and so he said it was just a few business matters that were giving him cause for concern.

’I wish I could go to the assembly ball,’ said Georgiana.

Mr Darcy smiled.

‘Now who is Cinderella?’ he asked.

‘Cinderella had a fairy godmother,’ said Georgiana. ‘I wish I had someone to wave a magic wand and make my wishes come true.’

Mr Darcy felt, at that moment, that he would like a fairy godmother himself.

But then he roused himself. If Elizabeth was in Buxton then in all likelihood she would be attending the assembly ball on the morrow, and if so he was determined to dance with her. She would not be able to run away or refuse to speak to him. She would be in public and she would have to listen to him. He could not undo the past, nor change the present, but he could at least explain to her and lessen the hurt of the woman who mattered more than anything else to him.

Elizabeth was excited as she dressed for the ball. Mr Wickham had called that morning, and once again they had gone out walking together. She liked him more and more every time she saw him. Not only did she like him for himself, but for what he had endured at the hands of Mr Darcy.

She was not worried about seeing that gentleman at the assembly, for she had heard that the proud Darcys did not attend the public balls. So it came as a shock to her when she walked into the assembly room, clad in a delightful blue silk gown, only to see him at the far side of the room.

She looked for Mr Wickham but she looked in vain. It was early, and he had not yet arrived. If he had been in the room, she knew he would have been at her side, making it impossible for Mr Darcy to approach, but without him she felt vulnerable.

She stayed close to her aunt and uncle, and spoke to their numerous acquaintance, for the Gardiners were popular people.

But it did not good. Mr Darcy detached himself from his group of friends and, together with the Master of Ceremonies, he approached her.

The Matser of Ceremonies performed the introductions in the most courteous manner. The gentlemen bowed, the ladies curtseyed.

Elizabeth felt her aunt’s eyes upon her, but there was nothing she could do. She could not cut Mr Darcy in a public place, and it was evident that he did not intend to cut her. Quite the opposite, he had deliberately sought her out.

‘Miss Bennet, might I have the honour of this dance?’ he asked.

She longed to say no, but it was quite impossible. She could do nothing but give him her hand and allow him to lead her out on to the floor.

They created quite a stir. Miss Bennet had been dancing with the eligible Mr Wickham, and now she had been sought by the even more eligible Mr Darcy. Buxton society was curious as to what the result would be.

‘Should you not be escorting your betrothed?’ asked Elizabeth pointedly as they faced each other, ready for the dance to begin.

‘I believe I am allowed to dance with other ladies,’ he remarked.

‘Indeed. You are Mr Darcy of Pemberley. You may do as you please,’ she said.

‘I have not asked you to dance so that I could fight with you,’ he said, as the music began.

‘Then why have you asked me to dance with you?’ she said.

‘So that I might apologise.’

She was startled.

‘Apologise?’ she said.

‘Yes. I hurt you and I am sorry. That was not my intention.’

His words almost reached her. They almost soothed her wounded spirit, but then she remembered that he had a capricious nature and no doubt he would be hurting her again tomorrow, if she let him.

‘Very well, now you have apologised we may dance in silence,’ she said.

‘No, we may not.’

He performed a complicated figure in the dance, passing behind her. But when he was once more facing her he said, ‘You do not believe me.’

‘No, I do not,’ she agreed.

She passed behind him, her every movement graceful and assured.

‘May I ask why not?’

‘You lied to me,’ she said. ‘What did you think would happen? Did you think it would not matter? Did you think I would overlook it as easily as you did?’

‘I never meant to lie,’ he said. ‘You mistook me for the steward and I was about to correct you when I realised how refreshing it was to talk to someone who did not know who I am. I am used to being courted wherever I go, but I am not liked for myself, I am liked for who I am. Young ladies simper and flirt. Their mothers are little better. But you did nothing of the kind. You treated me honestly and openly, and I was entranced.’

‘Entranced?’ said Elizabeth, despite herself.

‘Yes. Entranced,’ he said firmly.

They performed another figure of the dance and then resumed their conversation.

‘That is a strong word,’ she said.

‘It was a strong feeling,’ he replied.

She felt herself growing uncomfortable, for she knew she was in some danger from him. He was just as charming as before. Not with the easy, smooth surface charm of Mr Wickham, but with something deeper.

She startled herself by making the comparison, and making it in Mr Darcy’s favour. But although her reason protested, she could not deny her feelings. They definitely found Mr Darcy the better man, despite his faults.

‘And is that why you said nothing when you showed us around the grounds?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘You did not think it was wrong to deceive my aunt, my uncle and myself?’

He looked guilty and his steps faltered a little.

‘It was not planned,’ he said. ‘My steward was ill and so I was going to arrange for a message to be sent to you, saying the tour could not go ahead. Then I saw you and I could not resist spending more time with you.’

She raised her eyebrows as if in disbelief, but in reality there was a convincing note in his voice and she began to think that what he said was true.

As if sensing that she was relenting, he turned the tables on her and said, ‘Why did you pretend you were Miss Bent?’

‘I did nothing of the kind!’ she said indignantly.

‘When I called out to you by the lake, you answered to that name.’

‘Because it is so similar to my own,’ she replied.

‘But you knew I had taken you for one of the guests at the Pemberley ball,’ he remarked.

She felt uncomfortable, because she knew that what he said was true. She, too, had been guilty of deception.

‘I did not at first realise you had made the mistake, and then I wanted to tell you,’ she said. ‘I was going to tell you at the ball. But you found me and asked me to dance with you, and the moment was so magical I could not resist.’

‘It
was
magical, was it not?’ he said softly.

He was passing behind her again as he said it, and she felt the soft whisper of his breath on her neck.

‘Yes,’ she admitted. Then she roused herself and said, ‘But you were engaged to be married. You should not have been saying such things to me.’

‘I was not engaged when I said them. My father took me by surprise at the ball. He announced my engagement without asking my permission, or even telling me what he was going to do. I never proposed to Miss Bent. I never asked her to be my wife. I would not have behaved towards you as I did if I had known what was about to happen.’

Elizabeth’s heart leapt.

‘Then you were not laughing at me?’ she asked.

‘No, I was not,’ he said emphatically. ‘What must you think of me, if you think me capable of such a thing.’

‘I hardly know you,’ she pointed out.

‘No, you do not.’

She could hear the regret in his voice.

‘And now, I do not suppose I ever will. You are engaged.’

There was a silence and then he said softly, ‘Yes. And there is nothing I can do about it. My father is ill and he wants to see me married before he dies. He is concerned about the estate and the Darcy family name. He wants to be sure it will carry on once he is gone.’

‘Oh, I am so sorry.’ Her words were heartfelt. She had not dreamed of such a thing. She could see what a difficult position it placed him in. ‘Mr Wickham will be sorry, too,’ she added, for she knew how fond Mr Wickham was of Mr Darcy’s father.

‘Wickham!’ His tone of voice had completely changed and she was surprised at the contempt in it. ‘Mr Wickham has never been sorry for anyone in his life, unless it is himself.’

‘I am astonished to hear you say so! He seems to be a charming gentleman,’ said Elizabeth defending her friend.

‘He is nothing of the kind. Do not let him impose on you,’ said Mr Darcy.

‘No,’ said Elizabeth hotly, for she was loyal by nature and she did not like to hear him attacking her friend. ‘I will not. After all, if I want anyone to impose on me, I can rely on you for that.’

She had spoken in haste and wished the words unsaid but it was too late. She saw a haughty expression cross his face and he said, ‘I thought you had accepted my apology but I see I was wrong. Perhaps it is as well we cannot spend any more time together.’

The final chords of the dance sounded and he escorted her to the side of the room in stony silence.

Elizabeth did not know whether to be most vexed with him for attacking Mr Wickham, or most vexed with herself for reacting without thinking. Either way, she was feeling distinctly angry when she rejoined her aunt and uncle.

She did her best to hide it, however, and luckily they did not notice. They were busy talking to some old acquaintances they had run across by chance, and Elizabeth excused herself. She went to the ladies’ withdrawing room and dabbed her temples with lavender water.

By the time she returned to the ball, Mr Darcy had gone. But Mr Wickham was there. He was dancing with another young lady but as soon as she dance came to an end he joined her.

She could not help remembering Mr Darcy’s words:
Do not let him impose on you
. She wondered what they meant. But as the evening wore on, and Mr Wickham’s conversation was just as lively as ever, and his attention just as admiring, Elizabeth soon dismissed it as jealousy, as Mr Wickham had claimed.

Elizabeth was up early the following morning. She was by nature an energetic young woman and she loved to walk, particularly when the weather was fine. Her aunt was not a great walker, but her aunt’s maid was luckily as energetic as Elizabeth, so they were used to going out together early in the morning.

The bright day beckoned Elizabeth outside and before long she was walking along the pavements, looking in shop windows and enjoying the morning air. She was just about to go into a haberdasher’s, for she wanted some new ribbon to trim her bonnet, when the peace was shattered by the sound of a wail and Elizabeth saw a little dog running away from its stately mistress. The poor woman tried to run after her dog, but she was not fleet of foot and her companion was no better. She almost tripped over the broken lead that was dangling from her hand.

‘Napoleon!’ she cried. ‘Napoleon!’

Elizabeth tried to catch the dog as it ran towards her, but it dodged her before running down a side alley. Elizabeth followed, calling to the dog, ‘Napoleon!’

The dog paused, its tongue hanging out, and Elizabeth approached in a friendly fashion. But then a large mutt appeared from nowhere and the smaller dog took fright. It bolted down another alley and Elizabeth followed again, holding her bonnet on with one hand as she clutched her skirt with another.

At last, she cornered the little dog as it stood, whimpering and exhausted, at the bottom of a flight of steps.

Elizabeth crouched down and called to the dog. It hesitated for a minute and then it decided to trust her. It walked forward and she was able to scoop it up in her arms.

She was just about to go back when the door at the top of the steps opened and a man stumbled out. He had evidently been drinking, and he turned back to embrace a woman in a nightgown. They indulged in a long embrace. To Elizabeth’s horror, she saw the man was George Wickham.

Mr Darcy’s words came back to her:
Do not let him impose on you
.

Now she knew what he meant.

She turned and hurried back to the main thoroughfare.

George Wickham, who had presented himself as a respectable gentleman about to take holy orders, was nothing but a drunk and a libertine.

Elizabeth looked about her for the dog’s owner. The lady caught sight of her and came hurrying up to her.

‘There you are, Napoleon! Bad boy!’ said the lady affectionately to her dog, taking him from Elizabeth. ‘You shouldn’t run off like that, bad boy!’

‘Naughty Napoleon, frightening Her Grace like that,’ said the companion.

The dog licked her face and wagged his tail.

The duchess – for such she must be, to be called ‘Your Grace’ - laughed and thanked Elizabeth for her help.

‘What is your name, my dear?’ she asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth told her.

‘Perhaps, one day, I can do you a good turn,’ said the Duchess.

‘There is no need. I was glad to help,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Yes. I could see that, my dear. Such generous people do not come along very often. But we all need a little help from time to time.’

And with that, she called to her companion and set off ‘to buy another lead for Napoleon,’ as she explained.

Elizabeth and her maid crossed the road to the haberdasher’s. Elizabeth was particularly looking for a length of coral pink ribbon, to match the small flowers on her new sprigged gown. There was just the colour she needed in the window. She went into the shop, setting the bell ringing: it was so arranged that every time the door opened and shut, it knocked the bell which hung above it and let the shopkeeper know he had customers.

She went over to the ribbon and examined it whilst the shopkeeper served the lady and gentleman in front of her.

‘I think I will buy some ribbon for my sisters as well,’ said Elizabeth to the maid.

The range of colours in Buxton was far superior to the range of colours in the Meryton shops.

At the sound of her voice, the gentleman turned round and she was horrified to see Mr Darcy!

They had parted on very bad terms, but she could not ignore him so she dropped a cool curtsey and he made her a slight bow.

There the matter would have ended, but the young lady with Mr Darcy said, ‘Oh, what a pretty ribbon. I do so love that colour. I saw a coral gown in the latest edition of
La Belle Assemblée
.’

La Belle Assemblée
was a popular magazine, containing a number of fashion plates as well as poetry and fiction and Elizabeth saw the latest edition peeping out of the lady’s bag.

Mr Darcy looked displeased at the exchange, for he could no longer escape introductions, and Elizabeth learned that the young lady was his sister, Georgiana.

The two young ladies struck up a conversation about ribbons and together they chose several lengths to trim their bonnets.

Elizabeth was charmed with Georgiana. Although Georgiana was a wealthy heiress, she was natural and engaging. At last Georgiana had made her selection and she handed her ribbons to the shopkeeper. He congratulated her on her taste and showed her several other things which might interest her.

With Georgiana’s attention engaged elsewhere, and with her aunt’s maid examining a packet of sewing needles at the other side of the shop, Elizabeth took the opportunity of speaking to Mr Darcy.

‘I have just seen Mr Wickham,’ she said.

‘Indeed,’ he replied frostily.

‘I just wanted to thank you for putting me on my guard. I did not believe you at the time, but I have recently found out what you meant. I will not go into particulars. I will only say that my eyes have been opened and I am no longer deceived.’

He looked surprised, then his features softened.

‘I do not know whether to be glad or sorry,’ he said. ‘I am glad you are no longer duped by him, but I am sorry you have had another unpleasant experience.’

He did not need to say any more. Elizabeth knew only too well what he meant by ‘another unpleasant experience’.

Twice now she had been deceived by seemingly respectable gentlemen, first by Mr Darcy and then by Mr Wickham.

But her honesty forced her to admit there were very different reasons for the deception. Mr Darcy had been a victim of her own mistake, when she had told him he was the steward, and then he had been attracted by the idea of her liking him for himself instead of his position.

Mr Wickham, on the other hand, had deliberately set out to deceive her for reasons of his own. Since she was not wealthy and he had nothing to gain by deceiving her, she was forced to conclude that he had done it because he enjoyed her company. She had thought he was going to propose to her, but now she was not certain, for although he had given every indication of being a man who was about to propose, he had perhaps been toying with her affections. For all she knew, he could have taken half a dozen other women to see his future residence, and made them all feel he was about to propose.

Whatever the case, all intimacy between her and Mr Wickham was now at an end. If he did propose, she would refuse him.

‘Miss Bennet, if . . . ’

He stopped. They both knew what he had been going to say. If he had a free choice in the matter he would propose to her. But he could not do it. He was engaged elsewhere, and his father would disapprove, and men in Mr Darcy’s position needed the approval of their fathers if they were not to be disinherited.

It was hopeless, and they both knew it.

They were interrupted at that moment by Georgiana, who said, ‘There! I am done! Thank you so much for bringing me here this morning, dear brother.’

The tender smile she bestowed on him showed Elizabeth that Mr Darcy was a good and generous brother. She was sure he would make a good and generous husband. But alas! It would not be to her.

‘Miss Bennet,’ said Georgiana, turning towards her. ‘I wonder if you would be so good as to take tea with me tomorrow afternoon. I know so few people in Buxton and I would consider it a very great favour if you would say yes.’

Georgiana was beloved by both her parents and her happy confidence shone out of her eyes. She was only sixteen, but she had delivered her invitation with grace and maturity.

‘Thank you,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I would be charmed.’

Georgiana gave Elizabeth the address, and the arrangement was made. Both ladies curtseyed, Mr Darcy bowed, and then the Darcys left the shop.

Elizabeth purchased her ribbon and then she returned home. She found her aunt and uncle sitting in the drawing-room, talking about their plans for the day. The afternoon was already arranged, since Mr Wickham had said he would call, but they were trying to decide whether to attend a concert or a firework display that evening.

Mrs Gardiner saw at once that something had happened and Elizabeth enlightened her aunt and uncle about Mr Wickham’s behaviour. They were shocked, but as her aunt said, it was better to find out sooner rather than later.

Mr Wickham was engaged to call on them that afternoon and Elizabeth welcomed the opportunity it would give her to let him know his attentions were no longer welcome. In the event, Mr Wickham did not arrive, and Elizabeth guessed he must have a sore head. He would be at the concert that evening, however, and so Elizabeth persuaded her aunt and uncle to go. She had always been a courageous young woman and she knew she must see Mr Wickham at some time, so she felt it was better to do so as quickly as possible. That way, she could greet him politely but remotely, and let him know that she had discovered his true nature. After that, she felt sure he would avoid her and so she would be able to finish her stay in Buxton without constantly thinking she might bump into him.