An ocean of colors whirled beneath the chandeliers as Darcy surveyed the busy ballroom. The baron and baroness may not belong to the highest tiers of society, but they were kind enough and well-connected enough to have guests of great repute gracing their home.
The true reason for this winter's ball was, of course, the celebration of their daughter's coming out. Miss Hartwood was adorned from head to toe with the finest of the family's jewels tonight, though her childlike smile hardly rose to the occasion.
Darcy knew Miss Hartwood, having spent ten days in the family's company one summer in a rather successful attempt to drive the young girl's pathetic little suitor away. Society at large did not know of this fact, however, and Darcy had no desire to divulge it.
God forbid Elizabeth hear of more of his moral failures.
"Miss Hartwood looks particularly fetching tonight," Lady Matlock declared to her nephew, when Darcy shifted to the side of the ballroom to avoid the next dance. Richard had no such reservations, of course, and grinned his entire way down the line.
"She is a fair one," Darcy admitted. Miss Hartwood was a nice enough young woman, he supposed. Amongst all the ladies Darcy had ever pretended to court, she was perhaps the most sensible of them all.
But there was no chance she could outshine Elizabeth - who rendered all other ladies pale, condemning them to be mere leaves in the presence of a flower in full bloom.
"Do you suppose she would do well in the family?" Lady Matlock continued, despite Darcy's clear distraction.
He glanced warily at his aunt, conscious of her past efforts in matching him with every lady she deemed worthy.
"I have no such designs," Darcy responded.
Lady Matlock laughed, the ruffles on her dress fluttering merrily.
"I hardly mean to ask of your intentions, child."
Darcy frowned, uncertain of the direction of her thoughts. Here he was - a wealthy bachelor dressed in his most impeccable garb. It was but natural that he interpret everything said to him in light of potential matrimony.
"I ask your thoughts, dear nephew, with regards to how well she suits with Richard."
Darcy turned then towards the sight of his cousin, hand in hand with Miss Hartwood, dancing the night away with a smile more genuine than he had sported in months. The man was clearly smitten.
And the thought brought Darcy a surprisingly thorough sense of relief.
"She is a wonderful young lady," his aunt remarked.
Now, Darcy allowed himself to smile. "Yes, and they would suit very well indeed."
The light-hearted whistling drifted to Darcy's ear the very moment he entered the house. The earl was hardly a whistling man, and neither was the viscount. The pitter-patter of jovial steps accompanied the whistling, and Darcy couldn't help but glance at the source with childlike curiosity.
"Richard," he remarked, surprised at the sight of his grinning cousin practically prancing down the staircase.
"Ah, Darcy, I fear I cannot speak with you now." Richard reached the bottom floor with an emphatic thud. His smile was charged, almost ebullient. "I fear I must go pay my respects to Miss Hartwood this morning. I hope it was not I you were hoping to call upon today."
A brief moment passed before Darcy responded. "I - no, I meet with your father."
"Ah, then you are early. I doubt he is awake at this hour." Richard continued to grin. It was almost disconcerting the amount he grinned. "He nearly wore himself out chaperoning after dinner last night. Father takes his liberties, but the baron is an upright man."
Darcy nodded mutely, recovering still from his full-force encounter with a smitten Richard.
"You visit Miss Hartwood often?" He asked dumbly, when he realized that he did not yet wish for Richard to go. There was something between them. It was something that ought to be addressed sooner rather than later.
Richard's face tinted.
"Every day." He shifted on his feet like a guilty child. "I hope you do not find me silly, cousin. One simply must go where one's heart resides."
It was a great admission, and Darcy gathered all of his courage to voice his subsequent thought. "You do not miss another then?"
"Another?" Richard's brow frowned, although his jaw seemed to smile even then. "I do not know what you speak of."
Darcy cleared his throat. This was a necessary conversation - yet it was not one he had wanted to conduct in Matlock House's hallway, with a fidgety cousin so eager to depart.
"Do you miss Miss Elizabeth?"
Slowly, another sort of grin spread itself across Richard's face. It was as if he marveled at why Darcy would allude to someone like her at all.
"Perhaps as a friend, I do," Richard remarked, "although I must say I have long forgotten any romantic intentions I may have had towards her."
"Is it her fortune?"
"No." Richard's eyes narrowed. "Although I must admit that I am indeed blessed that Emily's coffers are as full as her heart."
The fact that Miss Hartwood was merely Emily to Richard said enough.
Darcy, his hands rooted in his pockets, rested his chin against his chest. "I wish you every happiness."
"Thank you. I must say I hardly remember Miss Elizabeth now." Richard blinked.
"Truly?"
"I learn the art of forgetting women from you, Darce. Surely, you are not impressed."
The reminder of his past life unsettled Darcy, and he forced himself with no small effort to focus upon the present.
"You will not be offended then," he muttered, "if another person - perhaps, someone of a close acquaintance - were to seek Miss Elizabeth's hand?"
Richard frowned, as if he wondered why Darcy asked such a question at all.
"No, I would not," he replied. "I have no claims over Miss Elizabeth and can hardly take any affront if - "
Richard looked up sharply as his own words cut short. A look of understanding dawned gradually on his face. And for the first time in his life, Darcy felt as if Richard appeared intelligent, almost smart.
Then Richard shook his head as Darcy looked on with an uncertain glance. Richard grinned. "I suppose I am a fool for having taken this long to see it, aren't I?"
Darcy did not reply.
With a magnanimous smile, Richard clapped his cousin on the back. "Off I go to court my Emily. You have my every blessing."
"You see an old man now, Mr. Bingley, but I held my own among the ladies then." The earl swirled the wine in his glass as he waxed poetic about his former conquests. "Nary a peer held a candle to my charm."
Bingley, amiable as ever, dutifully replied, "I am most certain that is true, my lord."
The old man nodded approvingly before swallowing his next gulp. It was a lazy London afternoon, a day after Darcy's conversation with Richard, and the three men had deemed the hour suitable for a rare gathering.
But juxtaposed as he was between two individuals so very important to him, Darcy marveled that he had once considered his uncle to be the one whose life he ought to emulate.
He used to scoff, privately and publicly, at Bingley's determined quest for a single, lasting love. He used to console himself that a man of his wealth and charm simply had to share them - it was only fitting that he did.
There were always plenty of ladies willing to bask in them, after all.
"And how goes your hunt for an estate, Mr. Bingley?" the earl inquired a moment later, drawing Darcy from his thoughts. "Have you settled upon the one in Hertfordshire? My son lauded the grounds."
"I seek to continue my lease for the moment," Bingley responded, his cup of sobering tea poised beside him. His smile rang pleasant and true. "I fear I simply must if I wish to curry favor with the family of my bride-to-be."
The earl laughed scoffingly, almost as if such familial attachments were beneath him. Darcy, for the first time in his life, felt a twang of envy for Bingley's impending domesticity.
"You are most thoroughly besotted, son." The earl shook his head at their visitor.
"I am blessed," Bingley politely replied, with a bright and hearty smile, "for I despise neither my bride nor the matrimonial state we prepare to enter."
"You do not fear loss of freedom."
"On the contrary, I eagerly anticipate being united in truth with the woman I love."
Darcy watched with mute admiration at Bingley's ability to strike genuine awe, and puzzlement, into the aging earl.
"In fact, I shall be meeting my betrothed, her sister, and her uncle and aunt this very evening in London."
Bingley's statement, by all accounts, was an extraordinarily common statement. There was nothing surprising, nothing mystifying, about a man participating in a dinner party with the family that he was about to join.
It was a statement, however, that struck Darcy keenly today.
"Miss Bennet is in London?" He struggled to inquire with a natural tone.
"Indeed, with Miss Elizabeth. They are here to complete Jane's trousseau and are staying with their uncle, Mrs. Bennet's brother."
"Have they been here very long?"
"Ten days or so. I admit it has been nice to share the town scene with Jane."
"Do they have plans to depart soon?"
"I believe their plan was to stay the duration of a month. Is there a matter with that, Darce?"
It was difficult not to tremble, to hide the strength of his emotions then.
Darcy cleared his throat. "Do you believe they can welcome another guest tonight?"
He did not even mind the look his uncle gave him when he very nearly skipped right out the house behind Bingley an hour later.
"London rain is so thoroughly inconsiderate!" Elizabeth lamented as the sisters unraveled the skirts they had to gather upon their arrival. The horses behind them, having fulfilled their duty to transport the carriage and its contents to the Gardiner home, neighed and whinnied the rain away. Dampened hemlines dropped on their uncle's threshold with decided defeat. "I understand, perhaps, the weather's grievances against me; but what have the skies to grumble about you, dear Jane?"
Jane chuckled softly as they handed off the spoils from their shopping trip to the servants before wrangling themselves indoors.
"It is not so altogether miserable," said Jane, even as she pried wet gloves off her fingers.
Elizabeth groaned loudly, impressed once more by her sister's incorrigible good nature. "I most certainly hope not a single item in your trousseau has been harmed. Mama shall have my neck."
"She shall not."
"You very well know she shall." Elizabeth grinned as they weaved their way towards the drawing room and its beckoning fireplace. While her personal preference for the countryside ran deep, she was unable to deny the beneficial effects this London trip had upon her spirits.
Torn from her usual haunts and penchant for solitude, she had much fewer opportunities to brood about Mr. Darcy here.
It was inevitable that she thought of him occasionally, particularly as she visited the shops in the more fashionable side of town. The Bennet sisters were content to peruse without purchasing, but Elizabeth could not help but wonder if any of the heiresses parading in the shop windows shared an acquaintance with the man himself.
These were the places his family would stroll. These were the women he so heartlessly toyed with.
She did not particularly like the thought that she was merely one victim among many - and so she strived her best to push the memories away.
"Oh, are you two alright?" Aunt Gardiner descended upon them like the most doting of mother hens, muttering quite loudly her extraordinary regret at leaving them to themselves for the last two shops. "Supper would have cooked itself fine without me."
"We are perfectly fine, dear aunt," Jane offered sweetly as the sisters found themselves wrapped in warmed blankets and shawls. "I do not even know if Charles can come in such weather."
"Your Mr. Bingley will gladly swim the channel just to see you, Jane," declared Elizabeth. "I hardly think a few drops of rain shall stop him."
"It may well become a storm."
"He shall have the Lord himself calm the winds and waves for you."
Jane blushed demurely at the statements, and Elizabeth once again grinned.
If she was not to be permitted to smile for herself, it was comfort enough that she could smile for her sister.
The sound of the front door being knocked and opened surprised all three ladies.
"Who would come in such weather?" Aunt Gardiner frowned.
"Mr. Bingley, of course." Elizabeth chuckled.
"But it is early."
"He could hardly wait to see her."
And Elizabeth was, of course, quite right regarding the identity of their trembling guest, his usual curls flattened by the inclement skies.
What Elizabeth did not expect altogether - despite the hidden hopes she may have harbored for the many weeks past - was the taller man who entered behind his friend, his face solemn yet pleading as he met her eyes.
"Mr. - Mr. Darcy," she could hardly make out.
"May I speak with you, Miss Elizabeth?" He said, loud and clear, without preamble, in the presence of every soul in the house.
Elizabeth allowed herself one tiny moment before saying yes.
A/N: We are near to wrapping this thing up! That hallway scene between Darcy and Richard is my favorite of this chapter. I hope you liked it too!