Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (13 page)

“Miss Bennet.”

So engaged was she in her own thoughts, she had not noticed the object of them had followed her out onto the balcony. He stood some distance away, though at a very inconvenient place, for he blocked any easy retreat back into the house. To get away she would be forced to walk a wide arch around him, a feat it seemed most silly to perform. “Mr. Darcy.”

She wondered at his standing there, watching her, and when he did not deign to speak again, she suddenly exclaimed, “I remember you once said, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its
being created
.”

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.

“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?” She lifted her chin, staring boldly into his eyes.

“I hope not.” He took a step closer, and then another, till he had joined her near the railing. They were hidden by shadows away from the view of the windows. The sound of laughter and music poured from inside, but she barely heard it. All of her attention became focused on him. The darkness, the garden beyond the railing, the shadows cast upon his face — they all reminded her of her dream and she felt transfixed upon her place. She opened her mouth to speak, but Darcy chose that moment to lift his hand. His fingers hovered between them, hesitating before reaching to cup her cheek. The touch created a shock of heat to her system, opposing the cooler night. She trembled. His scent replaced that of the fresh night air, yet she found it invigorating.

Without much care to her words, she continued a little breathlessly. “It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first.”

“May I ask you the purpose of your questions?” His fingers did not move and yet she felt as if they ran along her entire body. She trembled again; her knees weakened, and she swayed on her feet. She parted her lips, taking in rapid, deep breaths.

“Merely to the illustration of
your
character,” said she, endeavoring to shake off the sudden gravity of her predicament. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?” His breath whispered against her cheek. She perceived him to be closer, yet, without detecting him to move. There was something open about his expression, but she could not make out the details of it in her heightened state.

She shook her head, unable to force her eyes from him. She could not think but to answer honestly. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly.”

“I can readily believe that reports may vary greatly with respect to me.” Suddenly, his hand was gone and he had stepped back into the light. The cast of flickering candlelight against his face through the window effectively ended the spell that he had woven with his nearness. Back was the serious Darcy she was accustomed to. “I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”

Elizabeth forced her features to harden. The effects of his touch still stung her flesh and she wanted nothing more than to rub her cheek. She resisted. “But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied.

Just when she would inquire as to his reason for seeking her out on the balcony, he bowed and walked just as quickly away. Elizabeth, in her ire, followed him, but not with the intent of chasing him down. Instead, she watched in which direction he walked so that she could go the opposite way. Her heart was still beating fast when Miss Lucas came to inquire after the pleasantness of her last dance partner. Elizabeth, still stunned that he had touched her face, and that her own body had reacted with such passion; could scarcely relate all her hearty dislike of the man before Mr. Collins came up to them, and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honors of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly? I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”

“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth was mortified by the idea.

“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”

Elizabeth tried to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinence, rather than a compliment to his aunt. It was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and if it were necessary it was up to the discretion of Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance.

Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination. “My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy. Give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom — provided that a proper humility of behavior is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty.”

With a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth.

“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favor unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”

As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley. The thoughts to which her agreeable observations gave birth made her almost as happy as Jane. She pictured her settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow. She felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavoring to like Bingley’s two sisters. She plainly saw her mother’s thoughts were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other. She was deeply vexed to find her mother talking to Lady Lucas freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation. Then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain they must desire the connection as much as she. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane’s marrying so great a man must throw them in the way of other rich men. Lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

In vain did Elizabeth endeavor to check the rapidity of her mother’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them.

Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical. “What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!” Elizabeth frowned, wondering where her ardent need to defend Mr. Darcy came from. She tried to tell herself it was because of Jane, but as she touched her cheek she knew that was not entirely the case.

However, nothing that she could say had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded. Though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady severity.

At length, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But the interval of tranquility was not long for, when supper was over, singing was talked of and she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she attempt to prevent such a proof of complaisance, but in vain for Mary would not understand them. Such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song.

Elizabeth’s eyes fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was ill rewarded at their close. Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favor them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary’s powers were by no means fitted for such a display. Her voice was weak and her manner affected.

Elizabeth was in agony. She looked at Jane to see how she bore it, but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted. Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father’s speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.

“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure in obliging the company with an air. I consider music a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do …” Mr. Collins said more, much more, but Elizabeth was too vexed to pay him much mind. When finally the man concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room, he gave a bow to Mr. Darcy. Many stared and smiled, but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.

To Elizabeth it appeared her family had made an agreement to expose themselves to as much ridicule as they could during the evening, and it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success. Some of the exhibition escaped Bingley’s notice, as his concentration was so fixed upon Jane. Otherwise, her mortification might have been complete. That Bingley’s two sisters and Mr. Darcy should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. Seeing Mr. Darcy studying her, she wondered if he silently judged her as well for allowing him to touch her cheek, and quickly made her escape from his immediate notice through the crowded room.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain she entreated him to stand up with somebody else, and offered to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it. His chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her and he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to Charlotte, who joined them often, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation to herself.