Chapter Eleven: Lizzie
He's looking at me, I know he is, he makes out he's getting another drink but I can feel his eyes burning into me as he looks me up and down. I hated him the moment I walked through those big doors into that ridiculously grand hallway. Why then do I feel myself blushing at the thought of him looking at me? Why am I here? Why do I put myself through this? I don't want to be here, Charlotte didn't want to be here- hey where was Charlotte? I glance round, wanting to locate her and save her from Mr Collins, but Lady Catherine has started another rant and I am going to be forced to listen. She's going on about how beautiful Miss Bingley looks tonight – lovely. What a lovely topic for us to talk about. Um Darcy care to comment? I look at him as I silently ask him the questions in my head. He's looking anywhere than at me. Oh he is so difficult to read. I feel like I am plucking at flowers, 'he likes me, he likes me not.' Which would it be today? Lady Catherine has paused for a moment seemingly to draw breath before the next lecture, so I decide to get my two-penneth in, goaded on by the amount of champagne I have consumed in a very short amount of time.
"It's a pity Charlie ... I'm sorry, Mr Bingley couldn't be here tonight. I would have liked to see him again, I didn't get chance to say goodbye before he left. I don't think many people did."
Darcy's head shoots up, he knows what I am getting at. He looks guilty. Well Good.
"Oh yes Eliza, Caroline mentioned Charles had had to play host to one of your sisters I believe, when she turned up on his doorstep ill." She announces to our group. I'm seething inside, I don't know who I'm madder at, her or 'Green Eyes'. I'm about to open my mouth and put her straight when Darcy speaks.
"Aunt Catherine, it wasn't quite like that. Elizabeth's elder sister Jane had been visiting Charles, and whilst there, fell ill. He felt it was his responsibility to take care of her and he did. Lizzie visited her and brought her a change of clothes etc." He states. I close my open mouth and take stock of what I have just witnessed. He had stuck up for me, for Jane, told his aunt what had happened, that she had heard wrong. And, that my name is Lizzie and not eff'ing Eliza! I smile at him to thank him, I can't help it. He smiles back. For a moment it's just him and me. The whole room seems to fall away before my eyes.
"So this sister Jane, she is your eldest sister?" Lady Catherine is eyeing me suspiciously, what am I walking into now?
"Yes milady, I have five sisters. Jane is my eldest, I am second oldest."
"Five! Five girls! Well I feel sorry for your parents I must say. So which sister was the one who made a show of herself at the Rosings Christmas Party?" And there it is.
"I must apologise for that Lady Catherine. It was my younger sister Lydia, she isn't usually like that." I lie. "She had been visiting a friend and had a little to drink, she was staying with me so she wanted me to take her home."
"So is she your middle sister then?"
"No milady, she is my youngest, Lydia is fifteen." No sense in lying, she probably knows everything from 'Green Eyes' anyway!
"Fifteen! Fifteen and out drinking! Well, I never heard anything like it. And your parents expect you to take responsibility of her? How old are you Miss Bennet?" Richard and Darcy clear their throats as if to remind their aunt of their presence, no matter what the year, it's still considered bad manners to ask a lady her age. "Come now Miss Bennet you are graduate, you cannot be more than twenty two surely?"
"No Lady Catherine, I am twenty one." I drop my head trying to get my thoughts straight in my head, she has insulted me - I am not stupid. She has insulted my parents, Christ my whole family. What sort of comeback could I give that won't result in me - at worse being arrested and at best being sacked? I stand dumbstruck wishing the floor would swallow me up. When Darcy breaks the silence once again.
"Miss Bennet, would you like to dance?" He holds his hand out, a look of hope in his eyes. Is he crazy? After that speech, Lady Catherine is obviously dismissing my whole family as lower than low, I'm a social leper not to be touched, let alone danced with, and here he is asking me. I take his hand. The moment our fingers touch something shoots through me too big to explain or put into words. It is like the night at my flat, like nothing I have ever felt before, and at the same time I never felt more comfortable in my life then when my hand is in his. He leads us to the dance floor not speaking.
As soon as we are alone he blurts out, "I'm sorry!" He's sorry, whatever for?
"For your aunt? You don't have to apologise for someone else's behaviour." I assure him.
"No I mean for the whole Charlie and Jane situation. I know it has upset a lot of people and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a great deal more, that does involve other people, my aunt and Caroline especially. But you're right, it's not my job to apologise for them. Just know I'm not them."
I look up at him, not quite believing my ears. Nicholas Darcy has not only admitted he is wrong and apologised, but he 'isn't them' what does that mean? The song has finished but he doesn't let me go, instead he moves his hand from my waist to the small of my back bringing us closer together and dancing seamlessly into the next song. I am so shocked by this unspoken admission, I can't speak either. So we just dance in silence through the next song and the next one after that. By song number four, we have relaxed, neither of us tense, it is peculiar how we seem to fit together. Like we have been dancing like this for years. We just seem to fit. Except we don't of course. We are so far apart it's laughable.
"What are you doing in March?" he asks quietly. I tear my eyes away from his chest and up to his.
"Hmm? March?"
"Yes I noticed on the holiday planner you have three weeks off, what are your plans, if you don't mind me asking?" He wants to know about my holidays?
"Oh no, yes, no sorry, March yes. It's nothing exciting to be honest. I've been doing it since I was a little girl. My favourite aunt and uncle - the Gardner's, who own the flat I'm staying in - they take me with them on a touring holiday. We've done the Lakes, the coasts, the Yorkshire moors. This year we're heading to Derbyshire." He smiles and brings me, if possible, closer still. "Derbyshire, really?" Before I can press the matter further or ask him if he has any holiday plans, we are interrupted by a loud crash of a cymbal.
"Ladies and Gentlemen please gather outside as we countdown to midnight and watch the fireworks! It's one minute to midnight!" The master of ceremonies announces.
There is a sudden excited frenzy of people rushing to get outside. Darcy slowly lets go of me lowering my hands. "I'd better go see if I can find my aunt. She likes to watch the fireworks before going to bed." He says softly.
"Ok. Thank you for the dance." My voice trails after him.
He's gone, a head bobbing above the crowd. Seriously, he's just left me at midnight on New Years' Eve? Am I that bad he didn't want to kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me? Before I can dwell on it further, Charlotte catches my hand and drags me outside. The fireworks are spectacular and when the canon finally fires signalling the end of one year and the start of the next, Charlotte and I hug it out. As I break away from her embrace I see the lonely figure of Mr Darcy leaning against one of the concrete pillars that flanked the back doors. His eyes lock with mine and he nods a greeting at me before lowering his head and heading indoors. Suddenly I realise, he hadn't kissed me, no, but he hadn't kissed anyone else either. He had been here watching me.
Richard wasn't kidding when he said that's when the real party started. It is unbelievable. Too much for us village girls. An hour in and we are ready for home. I look for Mr Darcy to say goodbye, but Richard tells me he has gone to bed early. We drag Mr Collins away from some snobby types he's schmoozing. The taxi ride home is thankfully short. I gaze out the window and for some reason find a tear escaping and sliding down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly before it is noticed. I don't know why I'm crying- yeah I do- I am falling for my boss. Falling hard.
I get home and sneak into the room I shared with Jane, back to sharing again for the holidays. I start up my laptop intending to catch up with my social media while I am home, seeing if any Uni pals want to meet up. As I am getting ready for bed, taking off my make-up and jewellery, I notice I have an email waiting. I click on the inbox and my finger freezes, hovering over the open button. Sender Nicholas Darcy. I glance at Jane sleeping peacefully. I have to know what it says, what could it possibly say? It is his private email address to mine, how did he even know that? Stalker? I giggle. Oh wait, it was on my application form. Of course it was. Stalker. I shake my head. I'm going crazy!
I curl up in bed under my familiar duvet and click 'open.'
Elizabeth,
I apologise, again, for my attitude tonight and my abrupt departure, I would have liked nothing more than to be with you at the stroke of midnight and share all that tradition entails, but I felt it was inappropriate with my Aunt and the rest of the firm present. Please forgive me.
I know you have doubts where I am concerned. You are not sure of my true character. I would like to put your mind at rest on a couple of points. Hopefully we can then move forward. As friends.
Firstly, my hand in the braking down of the relationship between your sister Jane and Charles Bingley. I will be completely honest with you here, you may not like it, and want to scream in my face how wrong I am, but remember this is my opinion forged from what I have witnessed over the past few months, since they met. From the first day Charlie saw your sister at that ceremony, he was transfixed, obsessed with everything about her. As they begin to see each other sociably and the friendship deepened into something more. He confessed to me he was falling in love with your sister, but was afraid she did not feel the same. I took it upon myself to rectify this, I watched your sister when they were together and apart to see if I could recognise the same feelings I knew were in Charlie. I'm afraid I did not.
'Did not' She is SHY! I say out loud cursing at the screen on my laptop wishing it was his face. Jane stirs and I curl up again trying to stay quiet.
I saw them together on quite a few occasions before you even discovered their relationship - another reason I did not believe her feelings to be true - how could a sister not tell the other about a relationship supposedly so important to her? To me the answer was, it wasn't. She didn't bother telling you as she didn't see it lasting. Before you come round here all guns blazing, I'll admit here in writing - or typing - I was wrong. I have seen and heard since how miserable they both are apart, and have realised that although Jane kept her feelings guarded and to herself, it doesn't mean she didn't have them. Believe me, I understand this now completely.
I cannot apologise enough for the distress I have caused everyone in this matter. I spoke to Charlie two days after our discussion the night of the Christmas party, and he is already making plans to come back home. I can only hope those feelings remain and they can re kindle what had been lost because of me and my persuasive advice.
I look at Jane again beaming, 'he's coming back, Jane, Charlie's coming back to you!' Nasty 'Green Eyes' email had all been a lie, either that or she didn't know the truth. My smile broadens when I imagine her face when Charlie arrives back home, no doubt eager to see Jane.
Now moving onto the second issue I would like to get straight. Mr Wickham. This is a bit trickier to put into words, but I will try to start at the beginning. You have to understand when I showed up at your flat that night of the party, my intention was not to lecture you, or to tell you who you could or couldn't see. I wanted to save you from being used. I should have told you the truth from the beginning but it wasn't my secret to tell. I have since contacted the person who owns it and they have given me permission to share the details with you.
I thought of that self-assured Mr Darcy he presents to the rest of the world and I realise that isn't the real him. Not even close. He isn't so self-obsessed that he doesn't care. He cares too much. He had cared for his friend.