CHAPTER 4 - Darcy

Darcy watched Elizabeth disappear into the darkened hallway with shock. Turning the envelope over in his hands, he couldn't believe she had given it to him. It was most improper, and whatever his opinions of Elizabeth might have been in the past, he had never judged her to be improper.

He quickly tucked the envelope into his dinner jacket, and as he walked toward the door, he resolved not to view Elizabeth's actions through the lens of social convention and custom. For a young lady of her standing to risk such a thing… It must be important.

But what could be so important, Darcy could not begin to imagine. He knew what he hoped the letter to contain, but he was enough of a pragmatist to not let his expectations rest upon hopes and dreams. Even as he walked into the dining room, however, he allowed his mind to wander towards declarations like the ones Bingley and Miss Bennet had so recently shared with one another.

Glancing about the table, he saw that the ladies had already taken their seats, as had Mr. Bennet and Bingley—who seemed to be quite happily seated next to the oldest Miss Bennet. Which meant that his was the seat that had been left vacant by Mrs. Bennet.

With a small crush of disappointment at not having been seated next to Elizabeth, he took his place by Mrs. Bennet. To think that only earlier that day, he has insisted on avoiding Elizabeth, and now here he was, wishing to be seated beside her.

Although to be truthful, it was only natural for him to wish to be seated next to her rather than beside her more unfamiliar family members. Darcy was not at his best among people he was not familiar with.

Yes, that was it, he realised. That was why he wished to be seated beside her. It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing her again and the feelings the occurrence had awakened inside him. And it most definitely had nothing to do with the letter she had so covertly slipped him.

Darcy almost shook his head at his ridiculous thoughts. Who was he to lie to himself? He knew very well why he wished to be seated next to her.

Even as it was, Darcy found himself searching out Elizabeth's presence in the room. She sat on the same side of the table as he did, their seats divided only by the younger girls. He couldn't see her very well, but he could picture what she must be doing: her hands resting in her lap, patiently awaiting the start of the meal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn and smile at him. His breath caught in his throat as he hesitantly smiled back, sharing a small moment with her despite their distance around the table.

What was in that letter!

His hands itched to pull the missive out of his pocket and read its contents immediately, but he knew he couldn't possibly embarrass them both in such a manner. He would have to wait until he got to privacy, but the wait was tormenting him.

As he watched Elizabeth on the other end of the table, his imagination started to get the best of him. His reactions to her smile and even her slightest movement seemed like a signal to everyone else at the table that something had passed between them.

Don't be foolish, he scolded himself. No one was watching either of them. All eyes were on Charles and Miss Bennet.

Ever since he had entered the room, the table had been occupied in pleasant conversation as they waited for the first course to be served. But suddenly, all the conversation seemed to stop around him and the room grew silent.

With a minute's delay, Darcy realised that Mr. Bennet had stood up. He held his glass aloft as he cleared his throat and began a toast.

"It is with great pleasure that I welcome you into my home and to dine at my table." He bowed slightly in Bingley's direction. "I know this will be the first of many such evenings as we welcome you, Mr. Charles Bingley, into our family."

Miss Bennet and Bingley smiled widely at each other, and as Darcy watched them, he could not help but think that he had never seen two people more satisfied with life.

"It is a moment of great pride for a father to see his eldest daughter matched with such a fine gentleman. I can only hope that my other daughters have such happy futures." The younger girls giggled indelicately and Darcy saw Elizabeth's mouth draw tight. "Now, let us all raise our glasses, and drink to the health and happiness of the couple. To Charles Bingley and Jane!"

Following Mr. Bennet's lead, Darcy lifted his glass and brought it to his lips. He was pleasantly surprised at the rich taste of the wine as he drank. Setting his glass down, he touched his napkin to his lips and waited for the first course to be served. The conversation re-emerged around him and he allowed the sounds of it to wash over him, joining only when he was directly spoken to.

Dipping his spoon into the soup set before him, he smelled the pleasant aroma of a potato and leek soup. Tasting, he was pleased with the combination and resolved to compliment Mrs. Bennet on her kitchen.

Hearing a lull in the general conversation, he began, "I say, Mrs. Bennet, I must offer my compliments to you and your kitchen. This is delicious."

Startled, Mrs. Bennet put down her own spoon and gently dabbed at her mouth before replying.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Darcy." Her tone was careful and her wide eyes spoke of her surprise, as if she had not expected him to pay her any compliment.

Darcy nodded politely, the dinner conversation continuing to buzz around him. He allowed the words to flow over him without paying them much mind, his mind racing back to the letter safely hidden in his breast pocket. The impatience he felt at not being able to tear open the envelope and satiate his curiosity was unlike any he could recall.

What could it possibly contain!

The dinner went by—first, one course, then another, and a third—with no one requiring any response from him aside from an occasional nod and "quite right" at the appropriate moments. But when he lifted a spoon of pudding, he suddenly noticed all eyes on him and realised, belatedly, that someone had asked him a question. Hastily, he reviewed the half-heard conversation in his mind and picked out an answer.

"Why, yes, I do believe Georgiana will come to the wedding—if Charles and Miss Bennet are so kind as to extend the invitation," he bowed his head toward Bingley.

"Why, of course, Georgiana is invited!" Bingley exclaimed, looking shocked that Darcy had to ask. "Our families have been friends for years! She's practically a sister of my own, and I know that Caroline dotes upon her."

"She'll be delighted, I'm sure," Darcy replied as everyone turned back to their desserts, no longer requiring his contribution to the conversation.

As Darcy paid more attention, he realised that it was getting to the point where no one's contribution was necessary. Mrs. Bennet was quite excitedly discussing the wedding, posing questions rapidly without giving Miss Bennet any opportunity to answer. Miss Bennet gave Bingley an apologetic look, and he returned it with one of utmost caring and patience. Mrs. Bennet prattled on, not noticing that the betrothed couple were completely occupied by each other, rather than by what she was saying.

"Why don't you and the ladies move into the sitting room for tea, my dear?" Mr. Bennet broke in as they had all finished the final course of the meal. "And the gentlemen may enjoy some male conversation."

Mrs. Bennet looked startled at the interruption, but quickly agreed and stood up. The rest of the ladies followed in suit and everyone stood from the table. As the ladies walked out, Darcy thought he saw Elizabeth pause at the door and look back at him, but the pause was so quick, he wasn't sure whether he had imagined it.

Mr. Bennet was busily packing his pipe after the women had left, and he poured the three of them glasses of port. The gentlemen settled themselves back, enjoying the smoke and drinks.

Puffing his pipe, Mr. Bennet again passed his congratulations to Bingley. "I believe I have mentioned it on previous occasions, but tonight has again confirmed it: you and Jane are most alike in countenance. Such similarity signals great contentment in your future together."

Charles thanked the man, and the conversation quickly began to exclude Darcy once more. Not caring, he found himself lost in his own thoughts, occasionally passing a word. The other two men seemed to take note of his preference for silence and required very little of him.

After several glasses each, Mr. Bennet tapped out his pipe and rose from the table. "I suppose we should re-join the ladies," he sighed. "I know you'll want more time with dear Jane, Mr. Bingley."

Bingley stood eagerly and nodded his thanks. Darcy got up more slowly and allowed Mr. Bennet and Bingley to leave the room first, continuing their conversation.

As he made his way to the door, he patted his pocket. Making sure the other two men were safely out of sight, he momentarily gave into his curiosity. He carefully removed the letter from its hiding place and stared at it.

He walked slowly towards the voices in the other room, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. Its plain front gave no indication of either the sender or the recipient, and the blob of wax on the back was simple. He gave it a gentle squeeze, as if feeling for more than paper.

"Darcy! Are you going to join us?" Bingley's voice interrupted Darcy's quick examination.

His heart almost jumped to his throat and he quickly stuffed the envelope back into his pocket before entering the sitting room. Striding straight to Bingley and Mr. Bennet, he purposely ignored Elizabeth and took up a place next to Bingley, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

What had she been thinking! Giving him such a letter at the most inconvenient time!

His mind was again consumed by the contents of the envelope, but he tried to keep his curiosity under control and his expression neutral. He nodded to Bingley and Mr. Bennet as he joined them and tried, without much success, to pick up the thread of conversations in the room.

"What is this?" Lydia's voice suddenly broke through all conversation like a gunshot.

Darcy whirled around to see her standing in the middle of the room with an open envelope in her hand. Elizabeth was a pace away, her face pale and drawn. Darcy quickly, and surreptitiously, felt his pocket. With a sinking heart and a rising horror, he realised it was empty.