Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Nineteen
Iendeavoured honestly to follow the advice of my father over the course of the next few weeks. I set out every time we called at Netherfield, which was nearly every day, to approach Mr Darcy with the allowances I might give a new friend. I exerted as much patience as I was able, which was not always particularly admirable when my betrothed would irritate me with his behaviour. In time I began to discern a pattern to his moods. Often they were related to his new situation. Mr Darcy had, as far as I was able to perceive, never been ill or required so much assistance. I believe he did not mind any aid from myself, but at times I detected a growing tempest within at the black night in which he was forced to live. His manners were almost always without fault, though I could tell he railed at being so dependent on others. He was gracious and thankful whenever I would pour his tea, procure him a plate, or perform any of those little duties one is expected to do for their betrothed. Yet there were other times, I am ashamed to say, when I may have taken my nursing too far.
Once I had seen a spot of custard remaining near the edge of Mr Darcy’s mouth and without thinking of what embarrassment I might cause him, I reached up with my finger, brushing against the spot and the side of his lip, cleaning away the remaining treat. Mr Darcy stiffened at my actions, his cheeks ruddy and brow furrowed. I apologised immediately, taken aback by the flames lighting in the dark depths of his unfocused eyes. He was not some invalid old man, and I had treated him as such.
I expected to be chastised despite him never having done so before, and in anticipation, found my shoulders tense and my natural defences rise. However, when the gentleman did speak, after manfully swallowing his ire—I know for I watched mesmerised at the movement above his cravat—his voice was pitched low and trembled with strong emotion.
“Elizabeth.”
My name was all he said, and I felt all the humiliation he could wish with the censure. Although I was embarrassed, I lifted my chin in my defence and explained I had not meant to discomfit him, only to clear away the custard. I acknowledged that I ought to have told him about it and allowed him to clean it himself, and I would in the future be mindful of such boundaries.
Mr Darcy’s thunderous expression grew more displeased, and then oddly crestfallen. Even though he clearly had found my actions disconcerting, he was gracious with me and excused my actions, even thanking me.
I spent the rest of that afternoon bewildered at the man. Although he had thanked me for my attention to him—despite clearly being unsettled by it—he continued to occasionally reach up and brush his fingers carefully across that spot by his lips as if inspecting whether I had done a good enough job of it! Maddening, puzzling man!
Despite these baffling moments wherein I struggled with the reality of a future with a man I could not always make out, I was beginning to truly enjoy my time with my betrothed. He was intelligent, a fact I had previously known but had not allowed myself to appreciate. His wit was sharp, and now and again, I was even delighted to detect a dry humour from him.
On occasion my father accompanied us to Netherfield, which I found to be a balm of comfort. For on those times when Mr Darcy would infuriate me with his terse replies, I was able to glare at my father as if to say, “See!” I might have found my father’s silent laughing responses enough to wish him away except for the interesting way that he and Mr Darcy interacted at times.
I often felt that I did not understand some context in their conversation even though Mr Darcy’s answers to my father’s enquiries were varied. At times he was amused; at other times he clearly did not wish to pursue the topic.
What was the subject so frequently broached between the two that left me feeling I was missing some pertinent clue? Fishing. My father would ask about Mr Darcy’s recent successes at angling. What bait was he using, and did he find it successful at luring in his catch? Frequently, I would attempt to hush my father, impertinent though it was for a daughter to admonish her parent. How could he be so cruel as to speak of a sport that was impossible for Mr Darcy to pursue at the moment? It seemed a mockery, yet Mr Darcy appeared amused by it, though quite often also flustered.
“My biggest difficulty at present, Mr Bennet, is keeping her on the hook. As soon as I feel as though I might be near to my goal, something will go awry and the catch swims away again.”
On this occasion I had enough of being outside the conversation, but still more, I felt some pressing concerns regarding it as well.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, for the interruption, however I must ask you, Mr Darcy, whether your physician knows you have taken up sport again? I understand it is a sedate sort of activity—though that is very much the end of my knowledge of it—nevertheless, I must protest you exerting yourself when it may not be to your benefit!”
My father laughed at my speech, which only added fuel to my justified concern. I turned expectantly to my betrothed, hoping for a reasonable answer.
He smiled at me then, almost amused like my father, though there was a softness around his eyes that was not mocking. “I thank you for your concern, Elizabeth. I promise all my activities are for my ultimate well-being.”
He then pulled my hand from where it had rested in his on the sofa between us and lifted it to his lips to kiss. My face was flaming, my eyes darting to where my father sat nearby. Relieved he did not seem unhappy with Mr Darcy’s attentions, I was still more than a little shocked to see Papa wink at me!
My father slapped his hands upon his knees and stood to take his leave. “Well, sir, from my view, I do not think you will be long in finding the right lure to that elusive fish of yours. Keep casting out, my boy.”
Mr Darcy was holding back a smile, and he nodded to acknowledge both the advice and the endearment. For myself, I was more than a little surprised by my father’s warmth to him, and again I pondered what might have passed between them when Mr Darcy asked for my hand.
For some days thereafter, the weather prevented any travel between our houses. Although I had become accustomed to daily visits and time with Mr Darcy, I could not help but feel a little relief when I awoke to several inches of fresh white snow. Jane and I spent the day with our sisters playing in the snow, pressing the fresh, powdery delight together in an attempt to form some creature, only to see it crumble apart due to the dryness of it. I felt as though I had not laughed so thoroughly in weeks, and it was refreshing to my soul. There was no puzzling gentleman to surprise me with his moods and no disconcerting touches or attentions to feel twitchy about. At one point even my father came out to laugh at our antics, declaring us all the silliest girls in England. Lydia tossed a half-formed snowball at his chest only to have it break apart on the journey. With wind-brushed cheeks and bracing breaths, we followed our father inside, eager for the hearth and the hot chocolate Hill would bring us soon enough.
The days away felt a cleansing lungful to my thoughts as the changes ahead of me weighed heavily. I found these changes at times exhilarating but also oppressive. Having such a holiday from it all brought a measure of peace to my soul.
Such calm was not equally afforded to all of my family party. There were some among us who felt most ill-used by Mother Nature’s winter wonderland. Mr Collins was restless and unhappy for each day we were confined to Longbourn. He was exceedingly morose, sometimes fretful, for the insult his absence must be to Miss Bingley. It was a source of amusement for Jane and me, who had witnessed the odious man’s attentions to his betrothed border on the excessive. I smiled at the thought that Miss Bingley and I might be, for the first time in our acquaintance, feeling similarly to one another.
Mr Collins, in his haste to attend to his bride at the earliest possible moment, nearly pushed my renewed spirits to their breaking point. He was impatient, obnoxious, and irritating as he encouraged us to break our fast with swiftness. The roads were once again passable, and Papa had given us leave to use the carriage.
Instead of listening to Mr Collins’s complaint about the speed of our groom navigating the pits in the road, I smiled out the carriage window. I saw, just as we were leaving the drive, a group of soldiers approaching Longbourn, and thought to myself how glad I was to be heading to the quiet of Netherfield instead of enduring my younger sisters’ flirting.
When we at last arrived at Netherfield, Charles nearly bounded down the steps to welcome us. I was pleased to see how well such action affected my sister’s beautiful countenance. She blossomed and radiated joy at her betrothed and my high spirits lifted still further. I turned to make my way up the stairs, watching as my cousin skipped—with greater agility then I had expected possible for him—up the stairs and in search of Miss Bingley. I smiled to myself, well humoured at the couples surrounding me and feeling a small measure of eager anticipation for seeing my own Mr Darcy.
My own Mr Darcy.
The thought stopped me in my ascent, and I smiled to think how, improbable though it was, the sentiment was both odd and right.
We were met inside the corridor by Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, dressed for travel. The surprise of seeing them on the verge of taking their leave was great. I had not known they had plans to depart and was a little sad to see them go. Colonel Fitzwilliam explained that he was obliged to report in with his commanding officer, and knowing he would be but a day or two, was entreated by Georgiana to take her along so she might finish a bit of her Christmas shopping in town. I had not realised how dear to me Georgiana had become, and seeing her daily was a pleasure that I had not expected to soon end. Colonel Fitzwilliam was another matter. I found him diverting to be sure, but at the same time, I did not always like the too-probing looks he cast my way. He had an uncanny ability to catch me at my most vulnerable, and I felt as if he read my thoughts far too clearly at times.
“I am sorry to see you go, but delighted you will return so soon.”
“The recent weather has prompted the trip. I knew I would need to see the major general before the Advent season but planned to make the trip a little later, presumably when Darcy was in a more certain state. This way I can take care of any business I need to, Georgiana can do her shopping, and I am commissioned by Darcy on an errand or two. When we return, we may stay as long as we wish.”
“Well then, I wish you both a safe and quick journey to town and back. Georgiana, you will be much missed.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed at my obvious neglect of similar sentiments to him, knowing by now my tendency towards teasing. Charles and Jane likewise said their farewells, and Mr Darcy’s relations took their leave.
As we proceeded into the parlour, I felt a pulsing in my chest in anticipation of seeing Mr Darcy. It was a sort of jolting surprise to feel such, and I realised all the more how well-needed the wintery holiday had been for my spirits. Here I was refreshed and ready to please and be pleased by my betrothed.
If only he were present!
It was but a moment before I discerned that Mr Darcy was not among the occupants of the room. Mrs Hurst was there, playing with her dangling bracelets, alone with her husband snoozing beside her. Miss Bingley and Mr Collins were absent, though little could I bring myself to care much about them.
Charles turned to me, catching a glimpse of my expression.
“Is Mr Darcy unwell today?” I asked, hiding the disappointment in my voice.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth,” he said, and I smiled at his self-conscious use of my name. Since his engagement to my sister, I had given him leave to use it as my new brother, however his modesty often found him a little shy in its application. “Allow me to escort you to the library. I believe Miss Darcy was visiting with him there before you arrived.”
He took his leave of Jane with a press of her hand and began walking with me out of the room. His gallantry in escorting me was an unnecessary kindness; as often as I found my own way to the library, it was now a familiar part of the house. My new brother’s motives were soon revealed though, for he asked my opinion on his gift for Jane for the forthcoming festive season. We were smiling and pleasantly speaking on this favourite topic of ours—Jane—when we were both abruptly silenced by the scene before us.
Having turned the corner down a corridor leading to the library, we were nearly past a small alcove when a brief glance into it caused me to gasp in shock. Charles, hearing it, turned to see what might be the cause. Before our eyes, in the not-quite-private space of the alcove, was the unwelcome and wholly unsettling discovery of Mr Collins and Miss Bingley engaged in an amorous and quite heated display of affection.
I turned my back to them as soon as my wits came to me and bit my lip to suppress the embarrassed laughter bubbling up inside. Shock certainly, and nausea churned as well. Never in my life had I witnessed such behaviour!
“Caroline!” my companion bellowed, forcing me to curl my shoulders inward as a fresh batch of humour assailed me. I heard a gasp, some muffled movements, and a crash of some sort, followed quickly by pieces of a vase scattering past my feet. Oh glory, I could not have held back the tears of laughter nor an unladylike snort, for the final sound reaching my ears was the resounding smack of a slapped cheek.
“Mr Collins! How dare you take liberties with me!” Miss Bingley cried, her voice shaking and feigning outrage.
I heard my cousin mumble, and I dared to look over my shoulder at the guilty parties now that I knew they were no longer otherwise occupied.
“Forgive me, my exquisite pet, I am run away with my feelings.”
Miss Bingley’s cheeks were flushed, her dress a little askew, and her hair in need of a lady’s maid. She caught my eye and hers narrowed.
She returned angry eyes to her betrothed who, by the looks of his own appearance, had not been the aggressor there. Mr Collins seemed all the more moved by her anger, imprudently ignoring her still shocked and outraged brother to instead groan and offer more submissive apologies. Miss Bingley’s chin rose, and I saw at once that she was pleased by his grovelling.
It was Charles’s stout and impassioned speech that brought the couple’s attention back to him. He was speaking of scandal, dishonour, and hasty marriage; however I could no longer keep my countenance and excused myself to quickly manoeuvre around the broken porcelain to the wooden door of the library beyond.
I opened it quickly and shut it behind me, leaning my back against it. It was then that my composure broke and I found myself overcome with amusement. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I could not help but laugh at the absurdity I had just witnessed—and from Miss Bingley! How unforeseen such an encounter was, yet I would not have believed it had I not witnessed it for myself. One of my hands tightly held the door handle while the other rested against the sore muscles of my stomach. Any attempt on my part to regulate and bring about an end to my laughter failed just as spectacularly when bits of stern voices would waft through the door. Or worse, I would recall the heated look on Miss Bingley’s face. One, I was growing certain, that was not entirely formed from being caught.
It was not until a sound nearby brought my attention immediately to its source that my humour subsided. Mr Darcy had stood at my entrance and was trying to make his way towards me. His knee had hit the low table placed near the sofa where he had been seated. I quickly forestalled him, and with a hand to his arm, brought us both back to the sofa.
“What a delightful sound. I love your laughter, Elizabeth. Care to share with me the source of your amusement?”
I certainly had every intention of sharing the shocking discovery I had just made, for Mr Darcy and I had often discussed privately the strange compatibility between Miss Bingley and my cousin. However, simply thinking of the scene and how I might describe it to my betrothed caused laughter to bubble up through me again.
“I could listen to your laughter for the rest of my days.”