A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic
Chapter Four
Elizabeth set down her brush and stared intently into the mirror where she had been watching herself brush her thick, dark hair.
What was it?
When she and Mr. Darcy had talked that afternoon, she had felt something. She hadn't spoken to him afterwards, because until she knew what that something was, she would rather not act in response to it. She had resolved on devoting her hours of evening solitude and quiet to contemplate on it, but now that the appointed time had come, somehow it frightened her, oddly. However, Elizabeth never liked to let things frighten her.
Elizabeth pondered a moment. What did she feel for Mr. Darcy? She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long wondered why he would be so surly as to wish Jane and Bingley apart…her other abhorrence was borne from Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth scowled to think of Wickham, and to think that she had once thought to favor him. Whatever other antagonism she harbored toward Mr. Darcy had, of course, diminished into cold indifference when Jane had married.
But then she found out his opinion had changed on that head…and had found that he not been so disagreeable as to wish them ill, as she thought he might. With this information she could do justice to his good qualities. But she had never ever done it before,
Elizabeth thought back to her very first visit to Pemberley. She remembered her astonishment at his housekeeper's great praise: no one was good enough for him, he was sweet-tempered and good-natured, kind to the poor, a thoughtful brother, a good master and landlord, and only appearing prideful for not being talkative. At the time Elizabeth had quite laughed at it, supposing with her aunt that he was a liberal master, thus comprehending every virtue in the eyes of his servants. Now, however, when she thought of it again, she felt that perhaps the praise of an intelligent, respectable-mannered servant who had known Mr. Darcy since he was a small boy was not to be so hastily rejected.
New respect and goodwill welled up inside Elizabeth. After all, he had proven himself perfectly friendly in their recent meetings. With a pang she wondered if it was because she was now more equal to him in society than in their past meetings...but then she remembered that he had professed himself doubting the weight of such things as placement in society. In the past, he would be greatly concerned with such things, but now it did not seem to matter so much. He has changed, thought Elizabeth with a smile, and for the better.
Elizabeth thought fondly of their bantering and other bits of conversation. Not that we have ever had a conversation that did not include bantering, she thought a trifle sadly. Elizabeth wondered if her feeling had been one warmer than friendship...more tender. Instantly she decided to observe and try to conjecture Mr. Darcy's feelings towards her, before thinking of the possibility of her own budding sentiment any further.
***
They could not call upon Mr. Darcy for four days hence; their other acquaintances had called away much of their time. Elizabeth could have no patience with them...her greatest wish was to talk to Mr. Darcy. Amidst the height of her impatience, as she sat at her writing table in the front room, the door was opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy walked in. Elizabeth stood, delighted, and would have begun her project immediately, but her resolution to do so dissolved when she realized an unfamiliar woman, perhaps only a few years Elizabeth's junior, had entered with Mr. Darcy. She could not but stare until she recollected herself. Darcy was greeted warmly, and he said, as soon as he could, "Mrs. Follows, Mrs. Bingley, allow me to introduce my sister, Mrs. Georgiana Hawthorne." Elizabeth smiled at herself and gave herself a mental reprimand.
Mrs. Hawthorne had a graceful appearance, and though less handsome than her brother, there was sense and good-humor in her face. Her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle, to the relief of Elizabeth, for if she would have had time to surmise, she would have expected to find her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been. Elizabeth remembered Mr. Wickham, once telling her long ago that Mr. Darcy's sister was quite proud and disagreeable, but she had long since learned to have no faith in anything her brother-in-law said, therefore she was not surprised to find Mrs. Hawthorne rather shy, though perfectly agreeable.
"My sister has long particularly wished to be known to you," said Mr. Darcy, once the most of their trivial topics were worn out. He had looked directly at Elizabeth, but, of course, she told herself, he was speaking to Jane also. Mrs. Hawthorne smiled charmingly in concurrence.
Supposing that she would be doing Mrs. Hawthorne an act of kindness by beginning a valid subject, she turned to her and cordially said, "I am told you have two children. How old are they?"
She was not mistaken; her new acquaintance looked highly obliged, as did Mr. Darcy seem, for Elizabeth's taking notice of his sister. Mrs. Hawthorne talked readily and freely of her children and home for some time with fondness, and then asked, apparently happily involved, as she spoke again quite of her own accord, whether Mrs. Follows had any of her own children?
Elizabeth winced. "No; my husband passed away before I was blessed with children."
Mrs. Hawthorne looked very embarrassed, and said no more. An awkward silence ensued, until Elizabeth, wishing to clear away any estimations of her companions that she might be affronted, spoke to Mrs. Hawthorne as graciously as before. The reply was not given with the same enthusiasm, though open and good-natured; Elizabeth believed she understood that Mrs. Hawthorne was still happy to speak to her, though thoroughly ashamed for evidently causing her pain.
Later, the conversation returned to its level of good humor and understanding, ending only when Mrs. Hawthorne reluctantly mentioned to her brother that they must be leaving. This reluctance that they would go was shared by all, thus proving that there was great satisfaction with the meeting on all sides.
***
Darcy smiled, quite pleased with the world, as Mrs. Follows was sitting next to him in his phaeton. Not exactly a shrewd or regal sentiment, but Darcy did not care in the slightest; it was natural and just. She and the Bingleys had come once again to Pemberley, and had begged to spend the late morning riding the full circumference of the park, finding Darcy happy to oblige.
Once they were on their way, Mrs. Follows turned to him. "It was so very good of your sister to come to us the other day. She is quite charming."
"I am glad to hear it you felt it so, and am very pleased to inform you that she used nearly the same words in reference to you."
"I am very flattered. I am sure I should delight in returning the call."
An engagement was made, as they drove along, for Darcy to accompany Mrs. Follows and Mr. and Mrs. Bingley to the Hawthorne's estate.
"Do you live in Derbyshire, Mrs. Follows?" Mrs. Hawthorne had asked during this second meeting.
"Yes, but rather far to the east; not near enough for making simple, frequent visits. I have friends in Lambton, who knew my aunt, and I am here to visit them, and naturally, Mr. Bingley comes to visit Mr. Darcy."
"How much longer shall you be in the vicinity?"
Mrs. Follows looked at her sister questioningly. "Little more than a week?"
"Eight days, to be precise."
Darcy looked up, alarmed. He looked at the floor, thinking frantically, then muttered determinedly, "If my name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, she'll be told,"
"Did you say something, Mr. Darcy?" said Mrs. Bingley, who was sitting near him.
"I..." Darcy thought hurriedly for something acceptable to say, cursing forever the fact that his deep voice could carry so well even when he hardly spoke. He cleared his throat and used an indifferent tone as he replied. "I was just thinking aloud that it is such a pity that you all cannot stay longer. I should always be happy to see Bingley, yourself...and Mrs. Follows...for as long as you may be here."
Elizabeth was crestfallen to hear him express this civility so airily, but hid it under a painful smile. He can feel nothing for me. He makes it a point now, when he knows I leave soon, that no sign of admiration should now escape him. He is sensible that if such an idea has been suggested his behavior during our last meetings must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Well, Mr. Darcy, consider yourself safe. I will think no more about you. Elizabeth's heart wrenched within her; this action had been exactly calculated to make her know her own heart. Until now, she never realized how much she had hope to find he held affection for her to match what she suddenly realized was her own strong regard was for him.