Hello all, I hope you're still with me! I really must apologize profusely for the delay in Chapter 10, I know I left you all on the edge of a cliff without a rope and I never intended to take so long so for that I'm sorry. I'm not totally happy with this chapter but it is necessary to be a certain way for what I have planned next! Let's crack on shall we?! XXXXXXXXXX Steph.
Chapter Ten
As several of the guests were being welcomed by Mr and Mrs. Charles Bingley Elizabeth slipped out of the drawing room and made her way into the salon, where the guests would eventually be led to. She entered the room, lightly brushing non-existent creases from her dress; she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear and then looked up. Upon doing so she was confronted with a sight she should have expected yet still dreaded. Mr. Darcy stood at the other side of the room with an untouched glass of amber liquid in his right hand whilst his left was clasped into a firm fist and pressing harshly against his lips. He whipped his head toward the door as she entered and watched her in her unguarded moment. Not immediately registering the presence of another, Elizabeth continued her nervous tugs and brushes at her gown until, in exasperation; she let out a sharp sigh and let her hands fall to her sides as she made to survey the room for the most secluded space.
Her breath caught and her eyes widened as she at last realised the presence of another. His eyes were still caught somewhere on her gown before they frantically travelled to her face. They met each other's gaze and held before she broke the connection and looked away taking a deep breath she hadn't realised she was holding. He was brought back to the present by her agitated state and began grappling with his mind for something to say but words would not come. Elizabeth managed to find her bearings considerably quickly as her eyes roamed the wall to her left with frantic agitation for but a moment before she came to gather her senses. As her composure quickly reapplied itself she began to examine the situation in which she found herself. She was stood, once again, alone in a secluded room with this man and the effect was, once again, so profound as to steal from her all of her well grounded wit. This time she could not make the excuse that she was irate with him, or that he had dragged her against her will into such a situation but she could honestly say that the emotions were of an equal magnitude, why, she could not fathom.
She made a furtive attempt to glance his features, his eyes were darting about a far corner of the room, to the floor and then to the glass in his hand and back to the corner again. His jaw was working every so often as though he momentarily found words before they died in his throat. In that short moment where his usual haughty exterior had slipped away she observed a glimpse of vulnerability, he looked... unsure, something she would have never attributed to him before. She knew not what to think; she had prepared herself for his anger, his disdain, even his indifference but what she saw in that moment, his unmasked, and unchecked vulnerability was not something she knew how to approach. He looked as lost as she felt only moments ago and this gave her the strength to lead the conversation.
She took a deep breath as a hundred different polite phrases ran through her mind; questions on the state of the roads, his current trip to town, the weather and, rather ironically, she thought, considering the conversation from the wedding, the war. Not one of these topics seemed apt but neither did simply standing before him and trying to apologise for an argument that occurred months ago and could have been entirely forgotten by him by now, though his current demeanour would suggest otherwise. Lord, what must he think of her? What was it he had said? Something about her not knowing his opinion in regards to herself. Such an ambiguous statement gave no help or encouragement and when mingled with the guilt she felt she could only imagine he held a rather ill opinion of her.
She almost groaned aloud as she recalled the words she threw at him, 'well,' she thought, 'if I can be so very vocal with my prejudiced opinions then it's is only fitting that I can be just as vocal in my contrition.' She felt the conviction in her resolve even if her confidence was lacking.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, her voice faltering slightly. "I believe, Sir, I owe you... a rather weighty... apology." She tried to convey the repentance in her eyes before she went to continue. He whirled his head about to look at her, his eyes were wide and his mouth hung slightly agape, she would have laughed if she did not feel the gravity of the scene so severely. He turned now to face her fully with a look of incredulity and askance. "Sir, I..." She began again taking a tentative step toward him.
Their solitude was broken by the sounds of laughter and murmured speech in the corridor, a warning and rather short chance to regain a sense of normalcy. She let out a harsh sigh and quickly walked to the window at the left side of the room to stare out of it as she willed her mind to calm down. Darcy stared at her as she retreated to the window still stunned into silence as a hundred different questions rushed through his mind. The door opened to allow the interlopers entrance and Mr and Mrs. Bingley led the guests into the salon.
Darcy stared at the newcomers still not seeing as he blinked from the clutch of people to the stiff back of Elizabeth as she stood at the window. Somewhere in his addled mind he registered Bingley's voice and managed to school his senses into a more social expression. "Ah Darcy, there you are, I'd wondered where you and my decanter had run off to, last I checked you were both ensconced in my study." He jested. "We can discuss whatever it is you wish to after dinner if that's alight by you, there is something I should inform you of," He finished in a more conservative tone as he stepped toward his friend. Darcy made some reply of he knew not what but Bingley seemed satisfied so he paid no more attention. The rest of the group made their way into the room and Elizabeth made a discrete move from her post at the far window to the door through which the guests had entered. She silently joined the last couple to walk through the door, leaving said pair to believe she had come in with the rest of the guests and the rest of the guests to believe she had come in behind the couple. 'It was for innocent enough reasons,' she allowed.
It was now that she allowed herself to truly examine the party of guests more closely, she had helped Jane to organise little details but most of the work had been done by Mrs. Bingley and the housekeeper so Elizabeth knew only that the Gardiners would be here this evening and that the Bingleys would be serving lamb. She immediately regretted not having at least glanced at the name cards on the table. So it was that she stood at the back and to the side of what could be considered an intimate group by London's standards; about 18 people including herself. She caught sight of her aunt and uncle at the other side of the room and began to move in that direction. She neared them as her aunt was greeting an older couple and her uncle turned to his right and walked towards the fireplace. She watched in what could only be described as abject astonishment as her uncle moved to Mr. Darcy's side and began conversing. The latter gentleman had, for all intents and purposes, replaced his mask of... she couldn't describe what it was actually, once she would have named it disapproval, but it looked more indifferent now. 'Oh! Why must he be so indecipherable?' She thought.
"Lizzy?" sang her aunt's voice. "Whatever is the matter?"
"Forgive me," she replied, startled by her aunt's address but unable to tear her eyes from the exchange between her uncle and Mr. Darcy. "Aunt, how does Uncle know Mr. Dar..." her voice trailed off.
It is, I'm sure you will agree, dear reader, a rather perverse occurrence when ones question is answered by oneself before it is really asked. But such was the case upon Elizabeth's enquiry to her dear aunt. She looked back to her uncle and Mr. Darcy as they conversed, all ease and friendliness, though the latter appeared somewhat pre-occupied. His gaze landed on her and she quickly turned her back, grasped her aunt's arm and practically dragged her toward a secluded corner.
"Aunt, pray enlighten me; I suspect I would not be wrong in thinking that Uncle and Mr. Darcy were in each other's company often in the efforts to recover Lydia." It was a statement but given as a question nonetheless.
"I had not realised you were told about the circumstances of Lydia's wedding," Mrs. Gardiner evaded.
"Aunt please, I am very much aware, believe me," Elizabeth huffed. "What I wonder at is the nature of the relationship between Uncle and Mr. Darcy."
"Lizzy, you need not be so offended, I'm sure you have your own reasons for disliking him so vehemently but he did our family a great service in this," her aunt admonished. "He seems to think much more of you than you do him I will say," she said, raising an eyebrow at her rather petulant niece. "As to the relationship he and your uncle share it is easily explained. Mr. Darcy, as you know, took the entire 'business' upon himself but your uncle and Mr. Bingley would hardly sit idly by whilst he scoured the streets in search of them. Your uncle and Mr. Darcy were in each other's company most days for the whole day. He was very civil but it was hardly the most fortuitous circumstance though I will admit I can see why you may have thought him proud or perhaps conceited given the displeasure he had to endure," she allowed. "But he was most certainly a very different man to what you described; he seems to improve vastly upon further acquaintance, though in essentials he was ever the same. Your uncle and he have formed quite a steadfast friendship and I trust Edward's judgement without doubt and I must say I agree with his assessment of Mr. Darcy more than you own, my dear."
"He is not my Mr. Darcy, Aunt." She said with a roll of her eyes but still focused on said gentleman.
At this odd claim her Aunt started but hid her surprise rather well. She smiled, Mr. Darcy most certainly did think a lot of her niece, she had seen it in his expression and heard it in his voice when he merely mentioned her, and mention her he did, more often than he realised, she supposed. In truth, she was feeling sorry for his unrequited feelings... until now that is.
"I don't believe I ever said he was so, Lizzy dear," she said casually, giving Elizabeth a sidelong glance. "I can see you think rather ill of him, Lizzy. I know he may at times appear... austere perhaps," she said seriously if somewhat dubiously, but before Elizabeth could make a case either against or supporting this observation her aunt continued thusly; "However, my dear Niece, I must be fair to Mr. Darcy; as of late he has been nothing of the sort. There has been no undue pride, he has been all that is affable and he and your uncle get on very well. Why, he's even all that is good to the children," she laughed lightly.
"He knows the children, your children?" Elizabeth asked in clear shock, finally ripping her gaze from the gentleman in question and back to her aunt.
Aunt Gardiner smiled absently. "Yes, Lizzy, he is terribly good with them; he is wonderful with little James, Susan is determined that she will marry him and Freddie has managed to coerce him into fencing on every occasion," she laughed wistfully.
"Pray, Aunt on what occasions?" Elizabeth asked still shaken by the explanation.
"Oh, dinners, business calls and such," she answered dismissively. The hint of amusement in her voice was lost on usually discerning her niece.
What could she say? There was nothing to ask, nothing to add, not to her aunt anyway. She was incapable of speech for a number of reasons. Again and again the same mess of questions spun her head; why did she feel the misery so acutely? How would she rid herself of this guilt? Why was the effect so very severe? And possibly the most nagging question of all, who was this man who was so determined to take up so much of her mind? Had she misjudged him? She knew she had but had it been such a very severe misinterpretation of his character? Why was he so altered, if he had truly ever been anything different? He was so awful back in Hertfordshire but she heard such varied accounts about him that she could barely make out a single aspect of his character. Had her prejudice lead her to misjudge him so unforgivingly? She could no longer rely on Wickham's report but she had formed her own opinions of the man from the first but were they all based on a slight and his own reticence around strangers?
Her head spun as images of his angry face then his saddened eyes flew through her mind. The thought of Mr. Darcy ensconced in her aunt and uncle's front parlour with five year old Susan coercing a marriage proposal from him whilst nine year old Freddie pretended to call him out, demanding satisfaction and all the while Mr. Darcy sitting and entertaining the toddler, James, sent her mind into turmoil. She felt worse and worse as the guilt flowed through her veins and poisoned her tongue leaving a bitter sweet taste of shame on her palate.
'I must apologise, if only to bring myself relief from this madness,' she silently determined to herself. She tried to imagine what he might say, how he may react; would he be angry, fuelled by hatred with the kind of anger that had lit up his eyes at the wedding? Would he be sad? She was only aware of seeing an emotion akin to sorrow command him once; again it was at the wedding. She recalled the way the burning rage in his eyes had faded into something else, something she did not recognise and then sputtered as the brilliant flame was snuffed by abject misery, his eyes forlorn and then how his shoulders hung before she walked away. 'Or, perhaps', she thought, 'he would be simply indifferent.' This thought seemed to disturb her the most, the idea that he could cause such a tumult of maddening emotions to rise up in her and consume her so wholly whilst he stood unscathed by her own attacks gave her even less solace than the idea that he could be just as affected as she.
Before her aunt could provide any further explanation, their discussion was interrupted by the subject itself. Mr. Darcy walked over to the ladies alongside Elizabeth's uncle, he was, ostensibly, unaffected by the shared trepidation which surged through Elizabeth's mind but in truth, to anyone who knew him and his mannerisms, the subtle, cautious change to his step and the stiffness in his back and jaw would serve as indication of his discomfiture.
It must not go unsaid that both Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were highly astute individuals and rather formidable as a united front, the prosperity of their business proof of this. Therefore the curious exchange which they had walked in on this evening had gone unnoticed by all present save for them, they did, after all, have many years' experience with their dear niece. It would not be the first time they caught her hiding behind doors, though she had been considerably younger the last time they had occasion to do so and never with a young man either. Moreover, they could not help but note the heightened emotions which warred on the face of their newer friend, Mr. Darcy.
"Lizzy! My dear, you must come and finish beating me at the chess game we started last week, I become more and more petulant over it the more I have to look at the board, it sits in my study taunting me! Though it means Darcy is saved from teaching Freddie any further, which in turn means James hasn't the chance to chew the pieces," her uncle laughed softly as her aunt smiled. Mr. Darcy's gaze was trained on Elizabeth in an attempt to gauge her reaction.
"You are teaching Freddie chess?" She asked, still unable to keep the surprise from her voice which was merely above a whisper.
"Yes," was all the reply she was to expect. His eyes were hard and discerning but there was something behind his stoic gaze and stance which spoke of confusion, caution and a silent pleading to boot.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner shared a knowing glance as they observed the pair, Madeline Gardiner was happy to allow the two to reach their own conclusions and understandings now that they were in conversation… somewhat. But her husband had a little more mischievous streak which was often bellied by his jovial nature, thus he decided that a nudge in the right direction could only help the pair, not to mention bring a good font of amusement to the conversation, albeit at his niece's and friend's expense.
"Darcy's rather good actually, Lizzy, I believe he could even best you given the chance," he said, glancing at his wife with a hidden smirk. "Though I often rather question his elaborate strategies they do play out well for him in the end… most of the time, that is. I daresay you may be his match." Mr Gardiner was at least kind enough to feign innocence as he pretended not to notice the way that Darcy's mouth fell open slightly and his niece's colour drained.
"It is rather unpolitic of you, my dear, to reveal our friends penchant for elaborate tactics to a prospective opponent," Mrs. Gardiner spoke, her eyes laughing and bellying the censure she was directing at her husband.
Mr. Gardiner chuckled lightly at his wife's half-hearted reprimand. "What would you suggest I do to amend it my dear wife?" his eyebrow quirked almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps tell how our Lizzy has a tendency to attack too freely before assessing all the pieces?" he asked with an air of affable innocence.
Both Darcy and Elizabeth were desperate to regain composure as they stood in mute surprise at the turn in conversation. Elizabeth, in her discomfort, began toying with a loose curl, she longed to make her excuses and remove herself from the conversation but she couldn't do so without raising a number of questions, not to mention seeming severely lacking in manners, something Mr. Darcy no doubt already though she was deeply deprived of.
That gentleman held out no better, his mind was torn in shreds as he longed to simply let loose his tongue and speak to Elizabeth, he so desperately wanted to know what she had meant to say when they were alone, he almost thought she had been about to apologise but that was a ridiculous notion, what had she to be sorry for? He couldn't have such a discussion in their current situation. But apparently his tongue didn't want to have any other so he stood silently as he gazed upon her weaving a lock of hair around her fingers wishing he could walk away and yet desperate to stay all at once. The amalgamation of desires left him in an agitated state but, as always, he appeared wholly unaffected by the turn of events.
Mrs. Gardiner noticed her niece's clear discomfort as well as the stiff posture of Mr. Darcy and while she found her husband's antics and nudging humorous, she also felt sympathetic toward the pair and decided a swift change in topic was necessary and so lead the dissuasion in a less personal but more agreeable direction. The group, by some unspoken agreement, kept their conversation based around mundane topics until dinner was announced whereupon Mr. Gardiner, who was mid conversation with Elizabeth, took the liberty of escorting her to the table whilst Mrs. Gardiner was lead in on Mr. Darcy's arm. Elizabeth could not decide if she felt relief over being rescued from Mr. Darcy being forced to escort her himself or if she was disappointed that she had been robbed of the chance to speak with him, albeit briefly.
~oOo~
Conversation was easy during dinner though neither Elizabeth nor Darcy could feel anything akin to ease at present; Elizabeth was seated at the middle of the table across from a polite, fashionable young couple and with her aunt on her left and an older gentleman to her right. She glanced around the table several times but diligently avoided allowing her eyes to stray to the man on Charles' left. She did not want to look at him for fear of… 'for fear of what? What have I to be afraid of? His censure? Well his censure is deserved,' she reasoned. 'Indifference,' her mind answered. 'You will not look because you do not want to have to confront a listless regard directed at yourself.' The thoughts were confusing and unwelcomed so in an attempt to ignore them, as banishing them she found was quite impossible, she began to converse with an alacrity which had been missing since she descended the stairs that night.
It just so happened that the older gentleman to her left was a Colonel, he and his wife had met Bingley last year and formed an amiable tie. Elizabeth fell into easy conversation with the gentleman, a Colonel Martin, whilst his wife, Mrs. Martin, was enjoying her own conversation with their hostess and Caroline Bingley, who sat across the table a few chairs away, though how much she 'enjoyed' and to what degree she 'endured' the latter's conversation is debatable. Elizabeth soon found herself so engrossed in the tête-à-tête that it was only when they broached the subject of the war and her uncle joined the discourse that she recalled the other members of the party. She turned at the sound of her uncle's voice, opening the group to be more welcoming to others.
"You give your opinion very decidedly for one so young," said the Colonel with a faintly reverent smile at Elizabeth.
"When one is confident in their opinions should they not state them freely? How else will one have their opinions challenged and expanded if they do not state them?" She smiled back prettily.
"Well said, Madame. Though there are many who are so very decided in their opinions that they are unmovable. To be able to change one's mind on a subject, especially one so serious as politics, is admirable," said he.
"Provided that one is presented with sufficient facts and reason to alter one's estimation then yes, I would agree that the capacity to do so at will is desirable indeed, if one can stand one's ground firmly then one should also be able to admit their wrongs when necessary and with equanimity," she concluded, thoughtfully.
"You seem to be very adept at being resolute in your opinion yet not so biased as to be closed to new information, Miss. Bennet," the colonel said with a slight bow of his head.
"Rather singular is it not for a young woman to find such a strong, if any, interest in the war is it not?" asked the gentleman across the table addressing his query to Mr. Gardiner.
Elizabeth blushed slightly at this as the colonel turned and smirked nonchalantly at the ironic young man opposite him, she turned to see how her uncle would respond. He wore a similar expression to the colonel but did not look at his niece as he politely answered the younger man.
"Do you not think it prudent that a woman, young or old should be knowledgeable in regards to the politics of their own country, especially when we are in the midst of such turbulent relations on the continent? It would be rather tiresome to have to constantly remind one's wife and daughters why doing things in the French style may be considered unpatriotic," he said with light sarcasm.
Elizabeth gave her uncle a meaningful look but he regarded her with nothing more than a cursory glance from the corner of his eye and a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. As a result her gaze strayed ever so slightly to the right and directly to the part of the table she had been so diligently avoiding. Her eyes immediately met Mr. Darcy's and though it was for but a brief moment the significance of the conversation suddenly dawned upon her; She was discussing, quite animatedly, the war though the last time she had seen Darcy she had acted outraged for his suggestion she would have any knowledge on the subject. She closed her eyes and flushed a deeper shade of pink. Tentatively, she looked back to where he sat again, she met his gaze immediately, he was regarding her with an intent stare, and she was forced to bite back her bitter chagrin.
He noticed her discomfort and the heightening of her colour and concluded that their minds were both returned to that dreadful day at Longbourn. He felt her gaze falter momentarily and panicked, what was he to do? They were too far separated to discuss anything, 'even the war,' he thought to himself. He smiled slightly at his musings, there was a little bitterness behind it but that was directed at himself, never at Elizabeth. Her eyes returned to his face and must have caught the expression for she hung her head ever so slightly and cast her eyes down to the table surface. Darcy panicked. He fidgeted, as much as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy could be expected to fidget, and his eyes flitted briefly to Mrs. Gardiner whose attention was elsewhere. But he found he couldn't look away for long, he looked back to where she was and willed her eyes to meet his. She looked up briefly, tentatively and with trepidation but the moment her eyes met his she lost all sensation of fear and was instead overcome with confusion and relief, confusion foremost, for Mr. Darcy was smiling at her. Not only was he smiling but he was laughing, not aloud of course, but there was such laughter in his eyes and the subtle upturned corners of his mouth that she was taken aback. He looked on cautiously, hoping she would see all his remorse and regret, though she need not forgive him he wanted her to know that he had taken what she said to heart. Elizabeth, however, seemed more discomposed than he had ever seen her, though the thought that he had been the one to have such an effect on her made him giddy, he smiled wider at the thought that he could affect her in any way, his gaze still set upon her.
Elizabeth blinked and leaned forward almost imperceptibly at the gesture. Mr. Darcy was smiling. No, Mr. Darcy was not only smiling, he was smiling at her. As if by automatic response she lifted one brow toward him and his smile deepened ever so slightly. Her confusion worsened but her discomfort lifted; he was laughing at their predicament, he found it entertaining! She was surprised, of course, she had expected him to be incensed, he had every right after all, but he wasn't, instead he was actually laughing at the irony! So shocked was she that she simply held the quizzical expression for perhaps longer than she should as his smile wavered a little. This jolted her and she quickly, but cautiously, returned the smile, the corners of her mouth only upturning slightly. He relaxed visibly, obviously relieved that she hadn't simply disregarded him and continued to smile back at her.
They stayed as such for some moments, both desperately wondering what the other was thinking but finding the experience too precious to alter it even slightly. They only broke the contact when a lady who sat at Darcy's right began talking with him. Elizabeth watched as he spoke to the woman, he seemed to be conversing well but to her he appeared somewhat uncomfortable. She knew him to be a rather taciturn sort of man but watching him now he looked as if he made conversation readily and easily though still reticent to some degree, in fact, it almost looked as though he were making a definite effort. She continued to watch him, ostensibly paying attention to the conversation between her uncle and another man across the table. It was not very long before Mr. Darcy's eye met hers again, he faltered slightly in his speech to the other young lady when he looked up to find her watching him and he had to remind himself to continue. Elizabeth, embarrassed at being caught, quickly averted her eyes and smiled at something her uncle had just said, though what she knew not. It was almost against her will when her eyes strayed back to the other end of the table as if they were drawn to it.
He was watching her as she had watched him only moments ago, the young lady he had been conversing with now talking to the older woman to her left. He did not, however, look away as she had, instead he held her gaze with his brows furrowed as if he were trying to solve something very grave indeed. She hadn't looked away from him, it was enough. He smiled gently, one corner of his pulling upwards & his brows still furrowed, giving him a questioning expression. She looked at him, surprise evident on her face as she realised he was, once again, smiling at her. She tentatively returned the smile and his own grew stronger and his brow less furrowed. She looked away again, this time down to the end of the table where Jane sat, and felt the oppressive weight which had sat on her shoulders up to now lifting. The rest of the dinner passed quickly and with great ease so it was not long before the ladies were leaving the room to gather in the saloon.
Darcy watched her stand, join arms with her aunt and walk out of the room behind the rest of the ladies. He smiled at the door she had just walked through; the dinner had been promising, relieving and gave him an alarming surge of hope.