Author: Alix James
Category: Other
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/alix-james/page,8,553562-spirited_away.html
You may have guessed already that I secured more private lodgings for my cousin, as she declined to return to Kent. I could not bring her to Netherfield, nor could I permit her to remain alone and unprotected, so your friend Miss Long and your father’s tenants accompany her. I truly believed none would forge a connection between their “disappearances,” trusting in their different spheres of society to prevent any such association. I underestimated you, more to my pleasure than disappointment, and you cannot know how greatly it troubled me when I had to deceive you to protect Anne. I dare not ask forgiveness, but I hope there might be found an ounce of understanding in your heart.
One thing more I must address, and that is the matter of George Wickham. He has spoken in partial truth, for he was the son of my father’s steward, and we have long been associated. However, the list of the persons he has harmed does not bear recitation. I have not the space here to describe all, save to say that my own sister almost numbered among them. If you have ever appraised me with wariness, I beseech you to apply that same judicious manner to all your interactions with Lt. Wickham. Should the occasion arise, I would gladly entrust you with the whole truth.
If, after reading these things, you find you can tolerate a few words with me, you may assume that I would ask for any set of your choosing this evening. If you decline, I shall withdraw and trouble you no more. I will only add my best wishes for your health and happiness.
FD
He was not near Mr. Bingley, as she might have expected. Elizabeth carefully scanned the ballroom, searching for that tall figure with the dark crown of curls. He was not beside Colonel Fitzwilliam… nor was he in company with Miss Bingley, who appeared to be searching for someone herself.
Ah, at last. There, at the edge of the room and taking a note from a footman, was her Mr. Darcy.
No! she chided herself. Not my Mr. Darcy… perhaps he is mine only for the moment, as he asked to speak to me, but that does not make him… oh, bother.
She picked her way through the crowd until she stood not ten feet from him. He noticed her at once; she was sure of it by the way his shoulders stiffened, but he did not turn to her. Feeling foolish and just a bit conspicuous, Elizabeth gestured to a passing waiter and took a glass of punch. Mr. Darcy did the same.
Only after he had swallowed his first sip did he casually permit his gaze to wander in her direction. His lips tightened fractionally, and he inclined his head. “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy. It is a fine gathering, I see. Have you met many friends tonight?”
Something peculiar warmed in his eyes, and he hesitated. “One, I hope.”
“I am glad to hear it. Perhaps you will tell me more when we have an opportunity.”
He looked down at his glass. “When?” he asked through lips that scarcely moved.
Elizabeth finished her punch and gave the glass back to a passing waiter. “Well, sir, you did request the supper set. I shall look forward to it.”
His eyes lifted—he blinked in surprise, then seemed to collect himself at once. “The supper set—of course, I had nearly forgot. Until then, Miss Elizabeth.”
She dipped her head and curtsied with as much poise as she could manage at the moment. “As will I, sir. Unfortunately, I must leave you now, as I see my first partner of the evening is searching for me.”
With that, she walked away from a perfectly respectable—and perfectly handsome—gentleman and into the clinging, unsavory presence of Mr. Collins.
21
“And of course, my fair cousin, I do enjoy the very frequent and always gracious hospitality of the magnanimous Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her condescension has been ever generous, and exceedingly—”
“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I believe we have missed a turn.”
He stopped talking and watched with gaping mouth as the couple beside them took up the pass in their place. Elizabeth could hardly keep from covering her face with her hands, as every couple in the line was staring at them. Collins merely waved, offered a red-faced smile as his excuse, and reached for Elizabeth’s hands once more as the lead couple turned and came back up the line.
“As I was saying, Miss Elizabeth,” he continued as if nothing were amiss, “Rosings is surely the most magnificent estate in all of Kent, and—I flatter myself—to be envied in all the kingdom. Why, only the day before my departure, I was going to pay my respects to the fair Miss de Bourgh, ailing though she was, and the quantity of rooms through which I would have had to pass were simply too great to number.”
Elizabeth permitted herself a sly grin. “Did you ever see her in her sick chamber?”
“See her?” he scoffed. “Why, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot fault you for your innocence—no, indeed, for you have not seen what the eye cannot imagine. One does not simply walk into Miss de Bourgh’s sick chamber, the very idea! No, no, for the halls and passages were all feared to be tainted with bad humors. It was not a risk Lady Catherine would recommend for me, due to my position in the parish.” He fell back to contented silence, his face flushed with pride and exertion as Elizabeth promenaded around him.
“But of course,” he added after a moment, “I did leave my regards, and a small token of my admiration for the fair lady.”
“Flowers?” she asked.
“Oh! Who would dare give flowers to one who is ailing? The fragrances cannot be appreciated. No, no. I left a note with a poem I composed myself, comparing the lady’s features to those of Fair Artemis, the Pure. She cannot help but be flattered, I am quite certain.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Surely.”
“But I do wonder that Mr. Darcy has not rushed to her side. I mean to importune the gentleman on that very topic as soon as I may, for Lady Catherine urged most strenuously—”
“Mr. Collins, perhaps it would be best to grant Mr. Darcy the benefit of the doubt,” she suggested. “Surely, an honorable man has commitments he cannot break. And would a responsible man risk endangering an invalid by bringing with him all manner of infective agents? Why, I cannot conceive of what he might contract on the road, in dirty coaching inns and the like.”
Mr. Collins paused for a moment, his eyes wide with fresh thought. Then he shook his head, smiled condescendingly, and clicked his tongue. “You are very clever for a young lady, my dear cousin, but Lady Catherine is wisdom itself, and if she insisted, then it must be proper. Ah, it is our turn.”
The rest of her set with Mr. Collins dragged in hopeless monotony, punctuated by moments of exquisite humiliation. At last, however, it was over, and Elizabeth blew out a sigh of relief.
Until Lieutenant Wickham presented himself to claim her.
He extended his hand with a brilliant smile, a surreptitious glance at the retreating Collins, and led her to the floor. “I promise,” said he in a low voice, “I shall abstain from mindless chatter, and I will strive my uttermost to refrain from treading upon your hems.”
She offered a tight expression and a vague, “Hmm.”
“What is this? No laughter for me? Ah, well, I suppose it was not that marvelous a joke. Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, have you a full list of partners this evening?”
“I have some sets free,” she answered honestly. “But I believe I will prefer to sit out those dances, rather than to be on my feet for each one.”
“Ah, very generous of you. I have noted a shortage of gentlemen in Hertfordshire, and though my regiment make up handsomely for the lack, I imagine many a lady will thank you for your tired feet. For myself, I have engaged a partner for every dance but one, and I wished to ask your advice on that.”
Elizabeth’s thoughts had turned inward, and she was slow to answer him. What if what Mr. Darcy had warned her of was true? He had not disclosed details, to be sure, but ought she to be condoning the lieutenant’s designs on her friends? But then, it was just a ball, well chaperoned and perfectly decent. It was not as if anything scandalous or untoward could really take place on the dance floor.
“Miss Elizabeth? Where have you gone?” he asked as they pirouetted around one another.
She blinked. “Forgive me. What question did you wish to ask?”
“An easy one, I presume. I had wished to ask both Miss Maria Lucas and Miss Mary King to dance, but I am one set short. Which shall I choose? I dearly hope you can advise me.”
Elizabeth completed her pass, purposely avoiding a turn of the head that would have permitted him to see her reluctance. By the time she had resumed her place, she had forced her expression to smooth once more. “I am afraid I cannot advise you, sir. I do not know if either of them are even free for the set you would speak for.”
He frowned and appeared to consider. “I ask you what I think is a simple question, that of which lady might be more amiable. Yet you have, without so many words, accused me of arrogance in presuming they are both waiting on me to speak. I am properly chastened, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps I will first speak to Miss King, and if I am refused, I shall know how to act.”
She replied with a thin smile. “My best wishes in your endeavors.”
22
He tried not to watch her as she promenaded and pirouetted through an assortment of partners that began with a buffoon, then a snake, then a series of boys, simpletons, and men far too old or too clumsy to do her justice. Only once, when she was standing up with Bingley, was she matched to someone who did not make him pity her one minute and wish to drag the malingerer away by his collar the next. Darcy still suffered all through that half-hour, for it was the one he had promised to Miss Bingley.
At last, the moment came when he could bow before her and take her hand from her most recent partner. She came to him with shining eyes wide, a faint crease of joy beside her mouth, and a manner that spoke of pleasure and welcome. She dropped her head and performed a flawless formal curtsy as he bowed, and then, she was all his own for the next two hours.
“I had not anticipated the pleasure of the supper set,” he told her once they were walking together. “You were more generous even than I had hoped.”
She had crossed her hands with his as they walked down the line and affected a casual air. “No other had spoken for it, and I did not wish to dine alone.” Yet, even as she finished, she lifted her eyes to him with a curious twinkle. “I thought I would be sure of an interesting conversation, at the very least.”
“I hope you shall find it so, although there may be less of it than you might be led to expect. I take it you credited… what I wrote?”
They came back to their own places before she could respond, and the other couples began to pass between them. She caught his eye, however, and mouthed, “Purvis Cottage.”
He froze in his steps, staring in shock and no small degree of horror. She had discovered Anne’s hiding place. What were her intentions? He clenched his teeth and unconsciously searched for Richard among the throng.
His fears were allayed in the next instant when they came together once more, and she clasped his hand with greater warmth. “It is a very comfortable establishment,” she murmured. “Private and safe—anyone could take refuge there.”
“Then we understand each other,” he answered in a low voice.
She turned, and glorious brown eyes locked with his own. For that moment, she was all there was in his world—her gently curved nostrils, her shining figure, her silken skin. Full lips parted. “We do,” she whispered.
The supper might have gone ill. He might have taken umbrage at Mrs. Bennet’s vulgar speeches or Mr. Bennet’s careless manner. They might have been seated too near certain persons or too far from others. The soup might have been off taste, the wine might have been dull. His lady might have taken greater interest in Richard, sitting on her other side, or perhaps the young lady seated opposite Darcy might have tried to divert him.
None of these things arose to trouble him. In fact, for the first time in years, he found himself laughing gaily with his dinner partner and paying almost no heed to anything else. Even Lydia Bennet’s indecent outburst from half a table away only distracted him because it embarrassed his companion, but he secretly caught her hand under the table. His fingers grazed hers in what he meant to be only a gesture of reassurance, but it was as if the heat of a lantern had flared to life between their hands. Her eyes darkened and her skin became rosy, and after that… things were different.
She sipped her wine to compose herself, then calmly asked, “Sir, I have heard much of your aunt, Lady Catherine. I trust she is… in good health?”
He returned his hand to the table and considered his viande. “As far as I know. It troubles me greatly that I cannot be at hand to comfort her when matters with Miss de Bourgh are… uncertain. But, I anticipate being able to cheer and console her soon.”
“And your cousin, have you heard aught of her… prognosis?”
He smiled, admiring the soft spirals of hair brushing her neck. “I expect it will have turned one way or another by the end of the week. You may be assured that Fitzwilliam and I are exerting every means within our power to see that she will be well cared-for during this strange time.”
“You are admirable guardians,” she said.
He shook his head and lowered his voice. “I have not always been thus. My failures, I shall enumerate for you in detail one day. Another young lady under my protection nearly vanished… but we should speak of her concerns later. Tell me—” he passed his gaze lightly about the room, then sought her eyes once more—“have you heard talk of Miss Long’s absence this evening?”
“Some…” Her brow creased thoughtfully. “Those among my friends were wondering that she had not returned from ‘London’ and they all thought it strange that she should go just now, with so little warning. Nothing more came of that conversation, but I shall take care to divert such talk, if I hear anything more.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
Her lips puckered into a playful smile, and she sipped again from her glass. “Sir, I have one further question I would like to ask. You said that a certain party was responsible for causing much unhappiness. I have pondered this all evening, and I have come to some rather shocking possible conclusions. We just determined that we would not discuss specifics in such a setting, but I do wonder how far off course my imagination might have swept me. Perhaps you could rank the histories of past behaviors for me. Let us scale it from one, which we might call ‘a trifle inconvenient,’ to ten, which would be ‘wretchedly vile.’”
He frowned and drummed his fingers. “As the original intent was never carried off—due only to the fact that I was able to intervene—I shall rate the individual’s performance as an eight, or ‘perfectly reprehensible.’ However, had another mere hour passed, I would be introducing new words and numbers to your vocabulary.”
Her brows shot up, and she paused to drink again from her glass. “That is fearful, indeed,” she mused quietly. “It is fortunate for all that you were able to interfere before yet another girl could be spirited off.”
This, she said with a hint of amusement that did not fail to arouse a silent laugh from Darcy—only because it had been some months now, and Georgiana was safe. After all that had passed in recent weeks, it was enough that Elizabeth could try to rouse him with humor rather than accusation, and he was content to follow her lead.
23
Elizabeth had seldom in her life passed such an enjoyable dinner. Mr. Darcy was a different man when his secrets were stripped away—the sort of man she had at first hoped he might prove to be. To be sure, there was a humble bashfulness when he spoke, almost like that of a youth, but he was nothing if not earnest. It was a vast improvement over the commanding mask he always wore in company, and which had first soured her on his conversation.
Throughout the time she sat by his side, one conviction grew upon her. Faint and glimmering at first, it soon crashed over her with a powerful feeling of regret and humility. She had been so eager to trust George Wickham because of his genial smile and his willingness to
stroke her bruised pride. But what goodness, what edification had he ever spoken? Empty flattery designed to turn the feminine ear, unprovoked defamation of an honorable man, and nothing of any substance.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said as the meal was drawing to a close, “I beg you would permit me to unburden my conscience on one matter.”
His smile faded, and he set his spoon aside to devote to her his full attention. “Something serious, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am afraid it is. I have been guilty of encouraging faithless talk and willfully turning a deaf ear to reason and sincerity. I have long prided myself on my powers of discernment, but it seems my vanity was yet stronger. I am afraid I must ask your forgiveness.”
His throat bobbed faintly, and his eyes fell in thought for an instant. No glib, facile response would she receive from Fitzwilliam Darcy—he would present her with the unvarnished truth of his sentiments.
“Miss Elizabeth, if forgiveness is to be asked, it is I who should do it. I have hardly been forthcoming with you.”
“But that was in an effort to protect another,” she reasoned. “It speaks well of your character, not ill.”
“Nevertheless, my reticence to speak directly has caused harm, and might have done yet more harm, had we not clarified the truth. I would not see you injured by…” He flicked his gaze up, across the room to where a certain red-coated individual was seated.