One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (9 page)

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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“I did not consider her manners untoward. No, indeed, Miss Bingley, her conversation showed a liveliness of spirit that was refreshing, and any mischief she showed
 
you
 
was well deserved.”

“You say that only because you were not really paying attention, Mr. Darcy. Indeed, you were very reserved tonight, but that is not surprising in light of the society. I am certain I know what you were thinking.”

“I imagine not.”

“Admit it, Mr. Darcy. You were thinking that it would be insupportable to spend another evening in such a way, in such company as that of Miss Eliza Bennet.” Caroline snickered.

“My mind was, I assure you, more agreeably engaged.” Darcy said curtly.

“Well?” Caroline prompted after a lengthy pause.

“I was meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Caroline blushed slightly. She had received this compliment before, that her eyes were lovely, yet she was gratified that such a statement would come from Mr. Darcy. She fluttered her eyelashes as prettily as she could and pressed him. “If I may be so bold as to ask, whose eyes have inspired these reflections?”

Mr. Bingley looked sharply at his sister, but she did not see it, her attention was so fixed upon Mr. Darcy.

Darcy hesitated, taking stock of Miss Bingley before he casually replied, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!'“ repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favorite? Pray when am I to wish you joy?”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask.” Darcy replied wryly, “A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love and from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy, for it seems that all it takes to make this leap is the merest hint of admiration.” He turned to his friend and speaking softly so that only Charles could hear, he added, “Or a blow to the head.”

Charles snorted and flushed, drawing Caroline's attention away from Darcy.

“And you, dear brother, should not encourage Miss Eliza in her
 
exhibitions
. It does neither of you credit.”

~*~

The next morning, Elizabeth was concerned to find that Jane still could not sit upright or stand for more than a few moments before she was overcome with dizziness and had to lie down, and that her headache was still severe. Elizabeth related this information to Mr. Bingley at breakfast, and he immediately sent for Mr. Jones to return to Netherfield to consult on the situation.

In the meantime, Mrs. Bennet had become increasingly distraught that there had been no news from Netherfield regarding Jane's condition.
 
She set out to learn for herself how Jane was doing, in spite of a weak protestation from Mr. Bennet that “No news is good news.”
 
Mrs. Bennet flitted about, urging Mary, Kitty and Lydia to hurry, for they were coming too. As much as she wanted to see Jane, she had grown accustomed to the escort of her daughters wherever she went. They served as a balm to her poor nerves; it would not do to make the visit alone.

Elizabeth was in Jane's room when their mother swept in, her younger sisters in tow. They stood around patiently as Mrs. Bennet fussed and stewed over Jane, plucking at her bedcovers as she repeatedly crooned, “My poor Jane. What is to become of you?” Elizabeth's attempts to console her mother were met with stinging remarks about ineptitude in caring for Jane and how wrong it was that Elizabeth had been selected in place of her own mother.

Jane assured their mother that Elizabeth's ministrations had been nothing short of perfect and that she felt significant improvement was nearly upon her, which eventually satisfied Mrs. Bennet. It was at this point that Mr. Jones arrived and after examining Jane, declared that she must remain in bed for at least three more days. He produced an elixir designed to relieve Jane's dizziness to some degree and left it, along with additional instructions for Jane's care.

Afterwards, Mrs. Bennet, with a train of daughters dutifully following behind her, called upon Mr. Bingley and his sisters in the drawing room. She enthusiastically complimented his living arrangements, and asserted, with the confidence bestowed by Mr. Jones' recommendation, that they must trespass on Mr. Bingley's hospitality for
 
at least
 
three more days.

Mr. Bingley heartily agreed to continue as host, for he was most happy to oblige and very pleased that he could be of assistance and offer Jane the comforts of his home during her convalescence. Miss Bingley half-heartedly assured Mrs. Bennet that Jane would receive the best of care while Mrs. Hurst nodded and Mr. Hurst snored.

Mr. Darcy had turned to the window nearly as soon as they had entered the room. He gazed silently at the glass during the entire conversation, turning his attentions back to the room only in time to bid farewell to Mrs. Bennet and her three youngest daughters.

Elizabeth had noted his seeming affection for the glazing on several previous occasions with increasing curiosity. She wondered if it was the prospect beyond the glass he enjoyed, or if the view served as some form of escape. Nearly as soon as her family had left, Mr. Darcy had excused himself and quit the room; so Elizabeth, curious as to what had held his attention for so long, took the opportunity to peer outside from the same vantage point that Mr. Darcy had occupied.

The view, she was surprised to find, was not in any way spectacular; in fact, owing to a cover of clouds, it looked rather gray and gloomy. Just as she was mentally convicting Mr. Darcy of using the outdoors as a poor excuse to be unsociable, the sun passed behind a thick cluster of clouds, maximizing the window's reflective properties, which she had not until that moment noticed. She saw, most clearly detailed in the window, the reflection of the chair that she herself had been sitting on. She gasped audibly at her discovery, wondering what it could mean.

“It is a beautiful view, is it not?” Mr. Darcy had re-entered the room and now stood behind her at a barely proper distance. Elizabeth nodded, looking at his face looming over hers in the glass.

“Indeed, although I am certain it is more so when the weather is less foreboding.” Elizabeth could feel the heat of his body behind her, in stark contrast to the chill emanating from the windows. She felt a strangeness come over her as she contemplated whether to step to her right or her left, for she could certainly not turn around or step backward due to Mr. Darcy's proximity.

“Does this mean that you will dispense with your walk today?”

“No,” Elizabeth replied, “but I shall confine my exercise to the garden paths, for as much as I enjoy a walk, I am not as fond of being rained on.”

“Are your walks always solitary?” Mr. Darcy inquired.

Elizabeth blinked, looking downward as she considered her reply in a degree of confusion. Was he asking to join her, or was this just polite conversation? Looking up, with a slight shake of her head, she gave her answer to the glass. “No sir, they are never solitary, for one is never truly alone in nature. There are the birds, and creatures of the wood and glen to console me. Indeed, at times I find myself in the company of a stray hound, or even perhaps, the occasional horseman wandering the countryside.”

She only saw it in the rippled glass, and indeed, it was so fleeting that she was not certain she saw it at all. There appeared, for the briefest moment, an enormous smile that crossed his face.

“Touché, Miss Bennet. Would you allow me to show you the garden today?”

“I will if you bring your handsome dog along.” Elizabeth said with a slight chuckle.

“And give you yet another chance to steal his affections?” Darcy's tone was droll.

“I could do not do so, sir, even if I tried.” Elizabeth smiled before adding, “Although ... it might be amusing to attempt it. He did seem to like it a great deal when I threw a stick for him to chase, and he did receive my attentions most enthusiastically....”

“You must pardon my poor hound's eagerness, Miss Bennet, but you were, after all, kissing him quite profusely.” Darcy stepped backward a few steps, opening the way for Elizabeth to remove herself from the window, his face lit, not with a smile, but with a spark of humor in his eyes.

Elizabeth had turned to face him, and that look on his face gave her leave to tease him back. “Then you
 
must
 
bring him, Mr. Darcy. It is imperative that I make amends at once, for I do not even know the beast's name, and it will not do to have his reputation tarnished in such a way.”

“Apollo. His name is Apollo.” Darcy bowed slightly, as if making an introduction. “And I will by all means bring him if it would give you pleasure to see him again and allow you to make amends.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Apollo? Upon my word, he is aptly named!”

“How so?”

“Did I not declare him to be as constant as the sun? His very name verifies it. You can have no fear that he and I will ever be anything but friends.” Elizabeth laughed again and quit the room.

Bingley, having been the only person who had remained in the room, had observed the scene between them in its entirety and could not withhold comment. “You told me when we first met her that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not handsome enough to tempt you, yet from where I sat, you were looking very tempted indeed, Darcy.”

Darcy looked sharply at his friend. “My sensibilities are intact Charles. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is indeed a charming lady; but I am in no danger of being tempted by her, I assure you. She is ... intriguing, that is all. You need not fear that I have any designs upon her. Your guest is safe.”

~*~

Elizabeth returned to Jane's room, where she found that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had joined her sister. Although they appeared to be most companionable toward Jane, Elizabeth suspected that their motive in coming was to access Jane's condition for themselves, for they had looked quite put out that Jane's recovery had not yet progressed sufficiently for transport back to Longbourn. It pleased Jane, however, to have visitors, so Elizabeth excused herself with, “I see that the sun has come out.
 
I believe I shall go for a walk in the garden.”

She put on her bonnet and a donned an embroidered wool shawl, hurrying down the stairs with a parasol in hand, hoping that the warming rays of the sun would remain for the duration of her trek through the Netherfield gardens. She came upon the housekeeper, who showed her the way to the best door to access the path into the garden, and soon, Elizabeth was free of the confines of the house.

Two large hedges marked the entryway to the gardens; she was just passing through them, when she heard her name called.

“Miss Bennet!”

She turned around and found that Mr. Darcy was striding in her direction at great speed, with Apollo traipsing along beside him.

“You did not wait for me, Miss Bennet.”

“I had thought you were in jest,” Elizabeth replied.

“One thing you must know about me, Miss Bennet, is that I never jest,” Darcy replied solemnly.

“That is too bad, for I dearly love to laugh.” Elizabeth replied, picking up a stick from the ground and tossing it for Apollo to chase. As the dog sprung after it, Elizabeth punctuated her declaration by laughing in delight and ran a few steps to meet the hound on his return.

Mr. Darcy did not attempt to keep up with Elizabeth but trailed behind, noting her vivacity and her natural grace, among other things. He did not attempt to analyze the joyful feelings she inspired in him or how the sound of her laughter made his insides quiver. He was a man of discipline, after all, and in full control of his faculties. He reluctantly acknowledged to himself that he was powerfully drawn to her, but this she could never know! Despite the regard he was developing for her, he could not set aside the expectations of a worthy match imposed on him all his life.

He thought of the stream of women who had unsuccessfully pursued him over the years, yet he could find none to compare with Elizabeth Bennet. How strange it was that she was unimpressed by his fortune and position. She even told him as much, albeit indirectly, in her little speech about his dog. She could not know how those words had stung him, stripped him bare of his own importance, and in the same breath, declared him loveable, if only to his dog. She had declared him safe from her, that she could not steal his dog away, but, Darcy complained to himself, she had made no such promise about his own heart.

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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