Chapter 6

The last two weeks of the house party passed pleasantly for Elizabeth. She continued breakfasting with Mr. Darcy, and taking walks with him whenever he wished to escape the marriage-minded ladies, although she made sure not to spend enough time with him to cause talk. She was pleased against her will that he had no interest in any of them. It was a selfish and useless thought. Still, she resolved on enjoying her friendship with him until they had to leave. She had no doubt that once they returned to Campton Manor, Vincent's iron hand would fall upon her once again. He had mostly ignored her during the house party. She resolved that she would try to avoid her husband as much as possible when they returned to his estate. She would spend her time visiting tenants and try to stay out of his way. She now also had a new friend in Rosamond Landsdowne, so she could add that lady to her correspondence.

Mrs. Landsdowne was planning a ball for the night before the end of the house party. Elizabeth was looking forward to dancing again, especially if one of her partners was Mr. Darcy. She guessed he would probably only ask married women to dance so that he raised no unmarried lady's hopes.

She had attended many balls in London right after her wedding in the few months they spend in London for the season. Vincent's paternal aunt, a dowager countess, had reluctantly presented Elizabeth to society. She had enjoyed the dancing, but not the company. The wives of all of Vincent's friends were snobbish and spiteful, and had looked down on her, not hiding their disdain. Elizabeth had no care for what they thought; but Vincent's restrictions meant that she could make no friends of her own. He chose whom she associated with, and would not allow her any autonomy of her own. Added to that, she had not been allowed to visit with the Gardiners or Jane, when her eldest sister had come to stay at Gracechurch Street.

Still, she was looking forward to the ball tomorrow night. She had asked Mrs. Landsdowne if she might help with some of the preparations. She thought it would help her to learn, while she could, so that she was prepared when Vincent inevitably wanted to throw a ball sometime in the future. She had enjoyed her time with Rosamond. The woman was only a few years older than Elizabeth, but she seemed certain of her place in the world, secure in her husband's and children's love. Elizabeth could not help but envy her.

Darcy groaned inwardly as he saw Miss Bingley enter the breakfast room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. She had clearly been trying to wake up early during this house party in order to break her fast with him. Most of the time he had been already finished when she came down, but this morning she had caught him early enough. He and Lady Carlisle had just sat down to eat when she sidled up to him.

"Mr. Darcy," she purred, "what a lovely morning it is. I hope you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you, Miss Bingley," he responded tersely.

"Good morning, Miss Bingley," said Lady Carlisle brightly.

Darcy had to hide his smile at Caroline's sour look as she responded unwillingly. "Good morning, Lady Carlisle." Then she turned back to Darcy. "It is a beautiful morning for a ride. Perhaps you would join Louisa and me after breakfast? It seems as if we have hardly seen you for the whole house party! And we are such good friends!" She batted her eyelashes.

Darcy saw out of the corner of his eye the glint of mirth in Elizabeth's fine eyes. "I am afraid I already promised Lady Carlisle that I would let her borrow one of my books. She had promised to discuss Blake's Marriage of Heaven and Hell with me," he invented at the spur of the moment.

Miss Bingley opened her mouth as if to protest; but he knew she had never read such a thing, and so she could not invite herself along. He glanced over at Lady Carlisle to find that she was clearly holding in laughter. He finished breakfast quickly while Elizabeth captured Miss Bingley's attention by asking her questions about the seminary she had attended. Miss Bingley preened as she answered, supposing she was impressing Darcy, who could not have cared less. Elizabeth was worth a thousand Miss Bingleys.

He realized with a shock that he was referring to her as "Elizabeth" in his mind, rather than "Lady Carlisle." This was going down a dangerous road. He had managed in the last two weeks to keep their relationship as strictly one of friendship. He could not allow his already tender feelings to deepen. But he found, to his dismay, that they had anyway. He resolved that he would enjoy a dance with her at the ball tomorrow night, and then he would separate himself from her. He should not tempt himself with what could never be.

He hurriedly finished his breakfast and then he led Lady Carlisle out into the gardens. "Where are we going, sir?" Elizabeth laughed, trying to match his long strides. "I thought you had a book to lend me," she teased.

"I do want to lend you that book, but I thought that, since I told Miss Bingley we would be discussing Blake, we could do it in fair surroundings."

"What a pleasant idea," she said. He slowed down so she could catch up with him. "And what do you think of The Marriage of Heaven and Hell?"

They passed a pleasant conversation until they reached the rose garden, where there was a stone bench. They both sat, Elizabeth organizing her extravagant dress about her. Darcy still did not understand why she wore such clothes. They did not become her. She dressed more like Miss Bingley than a woman of good taste. However, he quickly dismissed that from his mind.

"Lady Carlisle, I am hoping you will favour me with a dance at the ball tomorrow night," he said.

"I should be pleased to, sir," she said. "I suppose you shall want to avoid giving the marriage-minded misses encouragement."

"Indeed," he said. "Do you have the supper dance free? I should enjoy dining in your company."

"That sounds lovely." Was it his imagination, or did she sound rather breathless? He found he was looking deeply into her eyes, and she was looking into his. The finest eyes he had ever seen. They were a shining brown flecked with gold, lit with intelligence and spirit.

He moved closer to her, drawn as if by a magnet. Colour had come to her cheeks, and she was glancing down at his lips. Her breath was coming rather quickly. She looked irresistible. He wanted to kiss those rosy lips so badly that he almost did so before he realized what he was doing. He also found that he was holding her hands in his own.

He jerked back from her and stood quickly. Elizabeth looked a little dazed. "Forgive me, Lady Carlisle. I did not – I should not have – please excuse me."

He strode away quickly, leaving her sitting on the bench. He could not believe how close he had come to kissing a married woman! He was disgusted with himself. She was not his; she could never be his. She belonged to another man. He would not so violate his principles. He would stay away from her for the rest of the house party.

Then he cursed to himself as he recalled that she had promised him a dance. Very well, he would dance with her. But after that, she would be out of his life forever.

Elizabeth sat on the garden bench, feeling dazed. For a moment, she had thought Mr. Darcy would kiss her. But even more surprising, she had wanted his kiss! She had only ever kissed Vincent, and she had never liked it. But Mr. Darcy was different. She admitted that she was attracted to him; not just his physical person, but his personality, his intelligence, his quiet kindness and fortitude.

But why had he wanted to kiss her? Was it possible that he felt some of the emotions that she was feeling? If so, it was a disaster. She and Mr. Darcy could never marry. If he loved her the way she loved him, she knew their love was doomed.

But then he had jerked back from her and left her suddenly. It seemed he knew the danger of their feelings, as she did. Her heart filled with sorrow that after tomorrow, she may never see him again. Could their friendship survive such distance? She did not see how.

She wanted to weep from the emotions churning inside her. She had never before felt romantic love, and that she should feel it now, for Mr. Darcy, was excruciating. She resolved to bury the hurt deep inside of her. She had been burying her hurts for the last six months; another one would make no difference. At least that was what she told herself. Instead it seemed that the corrosive love would kill her heart before she could overcome it.

At this moment she hated Vincent with a fierceness that she had never experienced before. If only he had left her alone! – but then, if he had not married her and brought her here, she would never have met Mr. Darcy. Was it possible she could have met Mr. Darcy without Vincent's intervention? She did not see how. Mr. Darcy existed on a plane above that of Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. That she would have loved him either way she admitted was true.

The only thing she could do was try to bear the excruciating distance between them. It would just be a new pain added to all the old hurts she already had. Vincent could not injure her worse than she already suffered now.

Mr. Darcy stayed away from her for the rest of the day. She kept stealing glances at him, unable to help herself. She could not help admiring his tall form, his handsome face, his curly black hair, and his dark eyes. But then she would catch herself, and look away from him again. She scolded herself that he would never be hers. She had to learn to live without him. It looked as if even their friendship was over from the way he was avoiding her.

She could not blame him for doing so. He was clearly a man of high principles, who would not allow himself to be seduced by a married woman. She had surprised even herself with how much she had desired his kiss, however. Could it be that he desired her just as much?

She dashed the idea from her mind. The situation was hopeless, and she must simply learn to deal with it.

Her spirits were decidedly low when, after dinner, Darcy did not seek to sit next to her in the music room, or be her partner as they sat down to cards afterwards. She saw him instead sitting with his friend Mr. Bingley, and even enduring the presence of Miss Bingley. She noticed that Vincent was pairing with Mrs. Godfrey again, which did not surprise her.

She resolved to focus on the card game. She had partnered with Rosamond, and they were playing opposite Lord and Lady Albright, a couple from the neighbourhood. Mrs. Landsdowne had been looking at her friend with concern, clearly reading Elizabeth's low mood. She forced herself to smile, not wishing to worry her friend, and dreading the thought of having to explain. She could never let anyone know what she felt for Darcy. It would have to be her burden alone.

She decided to excuse herself early from the night's entertainment. It would do no good to sit here and watch Darcy from across the room. She could not enjoy herself, and decided it would be better to retire so she could nurse her hurts alone in her chamber.

She waited until the hand was finished, and then made her excuses, claiming to be tired. The others wished her a pleasant night's rest, and Elizabeth moved her chair back to stand.

Unfortunately, however, there was someone who was passing right behind her chair. She felt a solid object behind her, then heard a cry. She whipped around to find Mrs. Godfrey, standing inches from her, her light blue gown covered in red wine from the goblet she had been holding. Apparently Elizabeth had knocked her drink into her chest. Mrs. Godfrey's eyes shot daggers at Elizabeth.

"How dare you!" she cried.

"Please forgive me! I did not see you!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"You have ruined my dress!"

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Godfrey. Allow me to provide the services of my maid to help –"

"There is no use in that! The dress will have to be thrown away!"

Elizabeth looked around them, finding that she had created a scene against her will. Everyone was looking at them. But it was Vincent's face that truly frightened her. He was furious.