Section I, Next Section
Originally Posted on Thursday, 6 January 2000
"It is no wonder that she has been so quiet and withdrawn," said Olivia Crenshaw, with a sigh. "Her heart is broken."
"And it could have not happened to a less deserving person than my dear Jane," replied Elizabeth, her voice tinged with bitterness. "The worst of it is that I do not believe that it is Mr. Bingley's fault at all. His "so superior" sisters had a hand in this, and Mr. Darcy, too. I am certain of it."
"Mr. Darcy? Fitzwilliam Darcy? Why should he want to--?" Elizabeth silenced Olivia with a sharp look as Mrs. Gardiner entered the parlor and began puttering around. Olivia Crenshaw was the daughter of Mrs. Gardiner's dearest friend, and she and Elizabeth had also developed a strong friendship over the years during Elizabeth's visits to London. Mrs. Gardiner, realizing that the two ladies had been deep in gossip about beaus or some other intriguing subject, did not tarry. She found her sewing basket and repaired to the library to give the ladies some privacy. As soon as they were alone, Olivia continued.
"I cannot believe that Mr. Darcy would--." She was cut off again by Elizabeth's vehement reply. Olivia was taken aback. As a young heiress with a modest fortune, she was often thrown into company with Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire. She had rarely actually addressed the man--he was far too intimidating--but she could scarcely believe what Elizabeth was suggesting. She let Elizabeth's comment drop.
"Oh, but what is to be done about poor Jane?" she cried. "It pains me so to see her like this." Jane Bennet had been in town with the Gardiners since January, and nearly two months had passed without any sign of Jane's melancholy abating.
"I do not know, Livy. I had hoped that her coming to town might change things. I suppose I thought that she might be able to see Mr. Bingley. I am certain that if they could just speak to one another again they might... And if not, well, there are so many distractions to be found in London this time of year." She stared at her hands for a moment, then leapt out of her chair in frustration. "Oh, Livy, I have never met two people more ideally suited to one another," she said with a passion that made Olivia smile. "If they could meet again, without the interference of those two harridans--or Mr. Darcy--I know they could work things out."
Olivia smoothed the silk of her mauve gown as she thought. "I do not know Jane's Mr. Bingley," she began, "But maybe if we were to take the carriage out and look for him..."
"There is no time to go searching for Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth cried with exasperation. "I am to leave for Hunsford the day after tomorrow!"
"I know that, but if we limit our search to places where he might be found, or perhaps if you and Jane were to join us at the theatre tonight--." Olivia assayed, but was cut off again.
"And drag poor Jane around town in a desperate search? No, she would never go along with such a scheme. And after all she has suffered I have not even the heart to ask her." Elizabeth pouted for a moment. "Even if we were to find Mr. Bingley, what would we say to him? How are we to persuade him? I wish there were some other way. If only there was more time." Elizabeth gracelessly plopped back into her chair.
"Is there no way to convince Sir William to extend his stay?" Olivia asked, but she knew the answer before Elizabeth spoke. Sir William was eager to see his newly married daughter, Charlotte Collins, and it would be unfair to ask him to postpone his journey. But Olivia had not given up. She rose from the settee and reached for Elizabeth's hands. Pulling the surprised woman out of her chair she began dragging her toward the front door. "Well then," declared Olivia. "Time is of the essence. If we only have a day and a half, we had better make the most of it. And if Jane will not join us, we will have to speak with Mr. Bingley ourselves."
"And say what?"
"That is the beauty of my scheme. We do not have to say anything! If he loved her half as much as you say he did, the sight of you will be more than sufficient to renew Mr. Bingley's interest in Jane," Olivia asserted confidently. She cast a glance at the doubtful Elizabeth as she struggled into her coat. "Well, at least we must try!" She said airily as she led Elizabeth to her waiting carriage. As soon as the carriage pulled away from Gracechurch Street, Olivia asked, "Now where does this Mr. Bingley reside?" Elizabeth searched her memory and named the street that Jane had spoken of in her letters.
"But what are we to do, Livy? Where are we to go? We cannot just go up to his door and beg admittance."
"Why not? You are acquainted. It would not be at all unseemly," Olivia replied reasonably.
"Oh, but we could not. Should not--it would be too awkward, our arriving suddenly, out of the blue. And I am certain Miss Bingley would not receive us..."
"Tush, Lizzy. I was only kidding. I happen to know that there is a lovely park just opposite Mr. Bingley's townhouse. Would you care to take a stroll with me?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. Elizabeth looked slightly alarmed. She was far from convinced that appearing in Mr. Bingley's neighborhood was a good idea. And should they encounter Mr. Bingley, then what? What would she say to him? Elizabeth glanced at Olivia and knew that attempting to reason with her would be pointless. Elizabeth had learned years ago not to try to dissuade Olivia Crenshaw once her mind was made up. The two ladies made small talk until the carriage reached _____ Square. They then grew silent and Elizabeth found herself looking for Mr. Bingley in spite of herself. As the carriage came to a stop, Elizabeth gasped as she spied Caroline Bingley coming down the steps of number 12 and crossing the street, headed toward the park.
"Oh, no!" gasped Elizabeth, sitting back into a corner of the carriage, lest she be seen. "It is one of Mr. Bingley's sisters!" Olivia boldly poked her head out of the carriage window and stared at the blood red-cloaked and befeathered figure across the street where she stood talking to another lady, swathed in green velvet and fur. She saw the two women link arms and walk in a direction away from the park.
"It is safe, now," Olivia declared, nodding at the footman, who opened the door to the carriage and handed her out.
"Are you sure?" whispered Elizabeth, still cringing in the shadows. Olivia let out a hearty laugh.
"Come on, then, time is wasting! Do you want to find Mr. Bingley or not?" Elizabeth slowly emerged from the carriage, blushing at the amused footman who handed her down the step. Caroline Bingley was the last person Elizabeth wanted to see. It had been Miss Bingley's fateful visit in Gracechurch Street that had destroyed all Jane's hopes of ever seeing Mr. Bingley again. No, it wouldn't do for Elizabeth to be seen by Miss Bingley.
"She would have her brother smuggled out of London in a barrel before she would let him share a single word with another Bennet," Elizabeth murmured to herself. Olivia took Elizabeth by the hand and led her confidently into the park. Elizabeth would have remained rooted to the spot where she stood, otherwise.
"Olivia, I do not know if this is a good idea," Elizabeth said for the fourth time, as the pair strolled through the park. "Perhaps--."
"Perhaps you should relax and enjoy yourself," countered Olivia. "It is a lovely afternoon, there is a hint of spring in the air, and the park is brimming with handsome gentlemen. One of them must be Jane's Mr. Bingley."
"If he is here, I am sure he is safe from us in this crowd. Oh, Livy, this is a fool's errand. I am sure of it. Maybe we should just let--."
"...Let our poor Jane suffer? Not while there is hope, Lizzy. And I am feeling very lucky today." Olivia grasped Elizabeth's arm and practically dragged her onto a wide path. The ladies were forced to slow their pace and join the throng of people out to enjoy the unexpected respite from the stormy March weather. Olivia smiled and nodded to a number of acquaintances, many of them young men, but she never stopped for more than a few seconds. She was determined to walk the length of the park and back, if necessary, to find her prey. Elizabeth, meanwhile, who had nearly given up at the sight of Miss Bingley, only half-heartedly searched the crowd. Her feet were beginning to ache and she quickly grew weary of watching fashionable ladies on parade. When Olivia stopped to speak with yet another male acquaintance, Elizabeth found herself wondering if her younger sister Lydia were not better suited to being Olivia's companion for the day. Lydia was always eager to meet men, particularly men in uniform. Sighing deeply, Elizabeth detached herself from Olivia--she wasn't interested in any more introductions to people that she would in all likelihood probably never meet again--and turned to look back the way she had come. What she saw made her heart leap to her throat.
Mr. Darcy! A voice was screaming inside her head, but she couldn't make a sound. Mr. Darcy was the last person she expected to encounter, and the sight of him was even less welcome than the sight of Miss Bingley. Elizabeth felt dizzy, and she was certain that her head would explode from the strain of her emotions. Staring at the tall, dark figure, she reached out and gripped Olivia's arm so tightly, that Olivia cried out.
"Are you all right, Miss Crenshaw?" asked her gentleman friend.
"Uh...yes. Yes," Olivia replied, glaring at Elizabeth, who was not paying attention. Panicked, Elizabeth abruptly released Olivia's arm and disappeared into the crowd. Mr. Darcy was only yards away now. She could not be certain that he had not already spotted her. "I think my friend is in need of me, Colonel," Miss Crenshaw said sweetly, as she stared after Elizabeth. "Would you excuse me, sir?" Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, ever the gentleman, had seen the distressed look in the eyes of Miss Crenshaw's companion. He did not hesitate to offer his assistance.
"May I be of service to you ladies?" he replied gallantly. As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of his cousin bearing down on him. Before she could utter a word, Mr. Darcy appeared and Olivia understood the source of Elizabeth's distress. She also knew that she had to extricate herself from these two gentlemen and find her friend.
"Miss Crenshaw, Fitzwilliam." Mr. Darcy doffed his hat to the lady and offered the Colonel a warm handshake. Olivia was impressed at his memory. The two had been introduced only once at some social function years ago. She curtseyed in response.
"Good afternoon, Darcy. I was just on my way to you," the Colonel said, "But as you see, I was distracted by the charming Miss Crenshaw." Olivia noticed, with some amusement, that Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes at Colonel Fitzwilliam's attempt at flattery.
"Far be it from me, Colonel," she said archly, "To keep you from achieving your objective. I should not have thought that a decorated military officer could be so easily diverted from his mission." Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed in a way that temporarily rendered Olivia weak-kneed. Mr. Darcy, remembering another young lady's slightly irreverent sense of humor, smiled briefly. The fleeting glimpse of his dimple immediately convinced Olivia that Mr. Darcy was completely innocent of any and all of Elizabeth's accusations. Lizzy! Olivia turned suddenly and scanned the crowd. Elizabeth Bennet was nowhere in sight.
"Oh dear, I seem to have lost my friend," she said and turned as if to depart, when she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam say, "Perhaps we should help you look for her. You will never find her alone in this crowd."
"Oh you are too kind, Colonel," Olivia smiled. "But I could not impose." She was growing desperate. How could she have forgotten that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were related? No! He--they--must not help her search. Her argument was fruitless. The Colonel felt responsible. He had selfishly detained Miss Crenshaw and her friend had become bored. Miss Crenshaw's insistence that her friend's defection had nothing to do with him didn't to weaken his resolve.
"Perhaps she had some other appointment, and suddenly remembered it," Mr. Darcy offered, although he privately considered abandoning a companion in such a manner a gross breach of etiquette.
"Yes, yes. That must be it. I will go back to my carriage. I am sure Liz--uh, Miss Brown left word with my footman." She rushed off, the two men a short distance behind.
"Allow us to escort you, Miss Crenshaw," said the Colonel, offering his arm. Mr. Darcy remained a pace or two behind. When they reached the carriage, Olivia held her breath and had a word with the footman, who loudly--too loudly--proclaimed that he had not seen the lady in question. Olivia's desperate plan to tell the men that her friend had left a message was dashed by the powerful lungs of her honest servant.
"Is the lady at all familiar with the park?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, growing concerned. "You said earlier that she was just visiting London. I would hate to think that the lady is lost and alone somewhere. We should go back into the park and make a thorough search. Are you coming Darcy? We could use an extra pair of eyes." Mr. Darcy nodded, and joined his friend. He was becoming curious about this mysterious stranger. He sidled up to Colonel Fitzwilliam and whispered, "It might help if I knew who I was looking for."
"A lady of about Miss Crenshaw's height and coloring, wearing a dark blue coat, a russet hat and scarf, and with the most incredible brown eyes I have ever seen." He glanced sidelong at Miss Crenshaw, hoping she did not hear that last bit. Mr. Darcy stopped in his tracks and for a moment he saw the woman his cousin had described. Elizabeth Bennet. Those eyes. That smile. That damnable tendency to infuriate and beguile... "Darcy? Do you see her?" asked the Colonel. Mr. Darcy shook his head and walked on.
After a little while, Elizabeth reached the edge of a small pond and stopped to catch her breath. She summoned up enough courage to look back. There was no sign of Mr. Darcy. Sadly, she realized, there was no sign of Olivia either. She sat down on a bench, assuming that Olivia would finish her conversation with the gentleman and come after her. She relaxed a little, and thought about her close escape. Mr. Darcy! Here, in _____ Park! She had never expected to see him again. But why should he not be here, she asked herself. I am the one who is out of her element. She laughed to herself. I am certain Mr. Darcy would agree with me on that sentiment. It would be the first time we have ever agreed on anything! She looked around and saw a young couple, obviously very much in love, strolling arm in arm. She sighed and wondered if she would ever see such a scene between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Not if I do not get myself out of this park, she concluded, and stood to survey the terrain.
Meanwhile, a dazed Olivia Crenshaw was anxiously searching for Elizabeth, hoping that she would not find her. All my life I have been told that men were inconstant and unreliable. Leave it to me to be saddled with the only two exceptions to the rule.
"I am beginning to think that Lizzy was right about this," Olivia muttered to herself. Mr. Darcy's head spun around. "My friend, Miss Brown," Olivia quickly improvised, "Suggested that the park would be far too crowded today." She didn't sound convincing even to herself, but Mr. Darcy seemed satisfied. Olivia wondered at his reaction, as Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, like two hounds on the trail of a fox, walked ahead of her, searching for the elusive "Miss Brown." Olivia reluctantly trailed behind. For a moment she considered diving into the bushes and disappearing herself, but she doubted that the good Colonel would let her stay lost for more than a second.
"There, Fitzwilliam! Is that the lady?" Mr. Darcy pointed toward an area near the pond. A stand of bushes impeded Olivia's view and she could not see over them, even standing on her toes.
"Yes, Darcy!" said the Colonel. "That is the lady. I am sure of it." They took off across the grass to intercept Elizabeth, much to Olivia's consternation. Aha, my two faithful hounds. Let us see if you are as good at retrieving as you are at flushing out your prey. As she struggled to catch up with the two men, she tried to calm her fluttering heart and prepare a defense. What if Mr. Darcy sees Lizzy? She has every right to take a stroll with a friend in the park on a lovely afternoon, does she not? Surely, he cannot find anything wrong with that? And why should my friend not have an alias? Olivia smacked herself on the forehead and strode on.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was completely lost. It was growing late and the crowds had thinned considerably, but since she had paid no attention to where she was going as she fled, she had no clue as to how to get back to Olivia. She considered exiting the park and walking along its perimeter to find the carriage, but the park was much larger than she had originally thought, and Olivia was probably still somewhere inside it looking for her, not to mention the fact that Elizabeth had no idea where to find an exit.
Perhaps I should stay put and let Olivia find me, she thought and resumed her seat on the bench. A moment later she was on her feet again; the prospect of sitting alone as dusk approached frightened her into action. She looked around and chose the most likely direction. She took a few paces and stopped. Mr. Darcy and the gentleman who had been speaking to Olivia were cresting a small hill not a hundred feet away. Elizabeth turned away and froze. She turned back again and prepared for the worst, but Mr. Darcy and the stranger had disappeared. She stared at the vacant spot for only a second then she lifted her skirts and ran.
"Are you all right, Darcy?" The object of Colonel Fitzwilliam's query sat up slowly.
"Where did that wall come from?" he asked, slightly dazed.
"It was a tree limb and you walked right into it. Are you all right?" the Colonel repeated as he helped his cousin to his unsteady feet. Olivia picked up Mr. Darcy's hat as she reached the pair.
"What happened?" cried Olivia.
"I seem to have found an errant tree branch," Mr. Darcy said sheepishly as the Colonel led him to the bench Elizabeth had recently vacated. Olivia looked around and saw no trace of Elizabeth. She didn't know whether to rejoice or be worried. She decided to worry. She hadn't seen Elizabeth in nearly half an hour and the sun would be setting soon. Neither of the ladies had informed Mrs. Gardiner of their departure, and guilt began to weigh on Olivia's conscience heavily.
"Darcy?" The Colonel followed his cousin's gaze, which was directed towards a fleeting glimpse of blue and white. He couldn't quite make out what his cousin was staring at, but Mr. Darcy was obviously not quite right in the head. "Are you unwell?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question. He waved a hand before Mr. Darcy's eyes. The dazed man didn't blink. Although she was sincerely concerned for Mr. Darcy, concern for Elizabeth overwhelmed Olivia and she seized the opportunity.
"Perhaps you should take Mr. Darcy home. I will continue to search for my friend," she offered, but Colonel Fitzwilliam's sense of honor forbade such a plan.
"That would be unwise, Miss Crenshaw. It will be dark soon and it would be unsafe for you to be alone in the park."
"I would not be alone if I found Lizzy," she retorted a bit loudly. Mr. Darcy snapped out of his reverie.
"Lizzy!" he cried, rising to his feet. He started to head in the direction he had seen her running, but he was stopped by the Colonel, who grabbed him by the back of the collar.
"Whoa there, Darce. Suppose you sit here a while with Miss Crenshaw and I will look for Miss Brown," he said as if talking to a small child. He scanned the area; Miss Brown had apparently disappeared again. "Drat," he said, as he first deposited Mr. Darcy and then Miss Crenshaw on the bench.
"Stay here, Miss Crenshaw. I will only be a minute." The Colonel walked off.
"Lizzy."
Olivia looked at Mr. Darcy, who had resumed staring down the path. Her curiosity got the best of her. "Mr. Darcy?" she said. After about ten seconds, he turned to look at her. "Tell me about Lizzy." Mr. Darcy looked at her for a second, then shook his head and stood up.
"I do not know anyone named 'Lizzy', Miss Crenshaw." He looked her in the eye then, and Olivia knew that he was in full control of his faculties once more. Oh, but you do, Mr. Darcy! she said to herself, as by silent mutual agreement, they took off after Colonel Fitzwilliam.
A quarter mile ahead of the Colonel, Elizabeth was furious with herself. "No amount of mortification is worth this! I should have stayed where I was. I would have encountered Mr. Darcy, that odious man, but so what? He need not have known my reason for being in the park. We had a perfectly innocent excuse! Stupid, stupid girl! My pride will be the death of me one day," she said as a gust of wind chilled her to the bone. "Oh, who knew a simple walk in the park could lead to such misery?" Elizabeth began to feel desperate. It suddenly occurred to her to ask for help, but when she looked around she saw no one. The sky was beginning to darken, and Elizabeth felt she was running out of time.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was relieved to see Mr. Darcy looking so well recovered, and he resumed his search for Miss Brown in earnest with a clear conscience. But Olivia's conscience continued to plague her. Mr. Darcy, walking behind Olivia, eyed the lady suspiciously, but Olivia was oblivious; she was truly worried now. The park was emptying rapidly and there was no sign of her friend. She heard the Colonel call "Miss Brown" and silently berated herself for her earlier deception. She knew that his calls would be futile. She glanced at Mr. Darcy warily, then joined the Colonel with cries of "Lizzy!" If Mr. Darcy had a reaction, he certainly didn't show it.
Mr. Darcy wandered away from the shouting pair. The lump on his head was throbbing. He looked toward the northern end of the park. Something glinted in the distance. He walked toward it and stopped to retrieve the object from the edge of the path. He picked up a small Sterling silver vial with an ornately decorated cap. He opened it and took a tentative whiff. Instead of the expected smelling salts, he found himself transported by the heady scent of fresh lavender.
"Elizabeth," he whispered, and suddenly she was before him again. Dancing with him. Challenging him. Enchanting him. The ivory color of her gown the perfect foil for the rose of her cheek. The mahogany ringlets he ached to reach out and caress. The flash of gold in eyes the color of rich chocolate. Her nearness in the dance. That intoxicating scent...
"You are a fool, Darcy," he said as he stood and closed the vial. As he walked back to his companions, he chided himself for indulging in such fantasies while Miss Crenshaw's friend was lost and perhaps in some danger. He tried to shake off all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet as he joined the Colonel and Miss Crenshaw and resumed the search. But a few minutes later he paused and took another whiff from the vial, then carefully placed it in his pocket. "You are a fool, Darcy," he repeated as he tried again to erase the image of the woman of his dreams from his mind.
Elizabeth walked back toward the pond. She was exhausted and not a little uneasy. She heard a noise behind her, but when she turned she saw nothing out of the ordinary. "And now I shall go distracted," she smirked and immediately regretted her choice of words, as the image of her mother came to her. She quickly suppressed it; she knew that if she began to think of her family she would quickly be overcome by useless emotions. She concentrated instead on devising methods of torturing Olivia. "Hare-brained, idiotic scheme! 'We will just go to the park,' Livy said. 'Well, we just have to try,' she said. 'We'll find your Mr. ...'" She was suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps behind her and froze in her tracks.
"Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth caught her breath, then willed her heart to beat again. Joy at being rescued overcame her pride and she turned to face Mr. Darcy. But it was not Mr. Darcy before her.
"Mr. Bingley!" She threw herself into his arms. Tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of exhaustion competed for the opportunity to flood Elizabeth's cheeks. Mr. Bingley was taken aback by her effusive greeting.
"Mr. Bingley," she said, stepping back to a more respectable distance, "I am so glad to see you!" She looked as though she might attack him again, so Mr. Bingley quickly grabbed her hands to hold her at bay.
"It is you, Miss Bennet. When you passed me on the path a moment ago, I was not sure."
"I passed you?" Elizabeth was stunned. "Oh, my dear Mr. Bingley, I am so glad to see you. I came to the park with a friend and we got separated and now I am completely lost. And my friend..." Elizabeth spoke in an uncharacteristic rush; her words were intermingled with sobs. All Bingley could gather was that Elizabeth had somehow gotten lost. The rest of it wasn't quite clear, but he decided to bring her to safety first and deal with the rest later.
"If you will come with me, Miss Bennet, I will take you to my townhouse. It is but a short distance from here," he said nodding in the direction from which Elizabeth had come. "I think you could do with a cup of tea and some rest. Then we will see to getting you back to your friends." Elizabeth was too tired to argue. She gratefully allowed herself to be led out of the park by Mr. Bingley. Sensing her exhaustion, he asked no questions. They walked silently, Elizabeth leaning heavily on his arm. In a surprisingly short time they were at the park entrance. Elizabeth saw Olivia's carriage, the coachman, and the footman. The men appeared to be involved in an animated discussion. She withdrew her arm from Mr. Bingley's and went to them. They had been growing concerned about the ladies and the footman was about to enter the park to look for them. Elizabeth explained the situation and was assured by the footman that Miss Crenshaw was in the company of two gentlemen. After telling him where she had seen her last, Elizabeth repaired to the comfort of Mr. Bingley's parlor.
As she entered the cozy room, the dread of encountering Miss Bingley returned. As if reading her mind, Mr. Bingley informed Elizabeth that his sister would not be home for some time, but that his housekeeper, a Mrs. Stewart, would join them as chaperone. Elizabeth could only smile at this nod to propriety. In truth, she was past caring; she was too tired, too cold, and too famished. Mr. Bingley poured her a glass of sherry and sent for tea. Mrs. Stewart entered the parlor discretely, and took a seat in a corner with her knitting. After tea was served and Elizabeth had consumed a sandwich to fortify herself, she looked at Mr. Bingley. Anticipation was etched on his face.
"I must thank you again for rescuing me, Mr. Bingley." He immediately protested and Elizabeth smiled at his gallantry. She took a deep breath then and began her explanation.
"I am in London visiting my aunt and uncle --and my sister--for a few days. On Friday, I leave for Hunsford to visit my friend, Mrs. Collins. You will remember her, Mr. Bingley: Charlotte Lucas. She married my cousin, Mr. Collins, late December last year." Mr. Bingley's eyes lit up at the word "sister." He smiled at her encouragingly, but Elizabeth paused to sip her tea.
"So you and your sister are off to Hunsford on Friday?" Mr. Bingley's attempt to appear casual was at once pathetically obvious and endearing. Elizabeth took pity on him.
"Oh, no, Mr. Bingley. Jane will be staying on in London for another six weeks yet." Bingley's smile outshone a dozen suns.
"Jane? Uh, Miss Bennet is in London?" Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup. Maybe Olivia was right. It was that simple! But as quickly as Mr. Bingley's smile appeared, it darkened. The sadness in his eyes moved her deeply.
"What is it, Mr. Bingley?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, Miss Bennet." He stared into his cup.
"My sister called here some weeks ago," Elizabeth said, trying to lift his mood. "Did your sisters never tell you?" She knew that they had not mentioned Jane's visits to Mr. Bingley. He looked shocked for a moment, then angry. But then he became glum once more.
"No, they did not mention it, Miss Bennet." Maybe his sisters had wanted to spare him the discomfort of seeing her again. He rose and refilled his cup. Elizabeth refused more tea and accepted a biscuit. She was dismayed by Mr. Bingley's attitude. She had not expected this!
After a few minutes, Mr. Darcy led his companions back toward where he had found the vial, reasoning that it might belong to Miss Brown. He did not mention the vial to his companions, however. He fingered the object in his pocket with guilty pleasure as the trio headed toward the park exit. Miss Crenshaw looked ahead and saw her footman approaching with a lantern. She went to him and drew him aside, determined to discuss things more privately this time. The footman's news was reassuring. Olivia returned to the two gentlemen and told them that Miss Brown had been found and was safe.
"Where is she?" asked Mr. Darcy, a bit disappointed. He had been chasing a phantom for the better part of an hour and was prepared to settle for nothing less than the sight of her as his reward. Olivia dissembled.
"She met a friend of hers who escorted her from the park. He is seeing her home as we speak." Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed pleased by this outcome. Mr. Darcy, on the other had, was greatly disappointed. The Colonel offered to escort Miss Crenshaw to her carriage. As she took his arm and followed the footman, Mr. Darcy struggled with a tangle of conflicting emotions.
Perhaps he had been deluding himself. What had he been chasing all afternoon: Miss Crenshaw's friend, or someone else? A real, live, flesh-and-blood woman, or a distant memory? Mr. Darcy chuckled to himself. Distant memory? Elizabeth Bennet is very much a part of my "present." And yet that cannot be. It...it must not be. He turned his mind to Miss Brown. He suddenly wanted very much to meet this lady. Why? Was it mere curiosity? Was he determined to meet this woman and find in her something to admire, something to fall in love with? Something to make him forget? He looked at his cousin and Miss Crenshaw walking leisurely ahead of him. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Was there something there before, or was this the work of an afternoon? He took off his hat momentarily and rubbed his sore temple. If they had found Miss Brown, would she now be walking on his arm? What would she be like? Beautiful, intriguing, lavender-scented? Would she have a sense of humor and a dazzling wit? Would she be dark-haired? Would she petite in comparison to his own tall frame? Would her eyes be haunting? Would she be someone similar to but decidedly not Elizabeth Bennet? Would someone "similar to" Elizabeth Bennet satisfy him?
"You are a fool, Darcy!" He shook his head. His headache was getting worse and musings of this nature were not conducive to relieving the pain.
"Are you coming, Darcy?" Mr. Darcy looked up again and saw that he had fallen far behind his companions. Feeling a bit foolish, he closed the distance with a short jog. The Colonel waited for him, and gave him a worried look when he had caught up. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, yes, Fitzwilliam. I am afraid my mind wandered for a moment." He looked across the street as the group came through the gate. "Look, there is Bingley's house. I think I will stop in and say hello. You will join me?"
"Do you think it would be wise, sir?" Olivia's voice was constricted by her suppressed gasp of alarm, and she involuntarily squeezed Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm. Mistaking her meaning, the Colonel was nonetheless useful in persuading Mr. Darcy to change his mind.
"Perhaps she is right, Darcy. It might be best for you to go straight home and rest after your injury. You do not look at all yourself, old man." Olivia hoped that Elizabeth would not emerge from Mr. Bingley's house while they stood there on the street and hastily offered to convey the gentlemen to Mr. Darcy's abode some six streets away. Noting the Colonel's apparent eagerness to accept the proffered ride, Mr. Darcy capitulated. He entered the carriage after the Colonel and it took off. All three occupants immediately realized how tired they were as soon as they sat down and they rode in silence. Olivia prayed that Elizabeth would forgive her. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who had his eyes tightly shut. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been staring at Olivia, followed her gaze to his cousin.
"Are you all right, Darcy?" he said. There was no response, but Mr. Darcy's eyes seemed to relax. A moment later, his entire body followed suit, and Mr. Darcy passed out.
Elizabeth heard the clock on Mr. Bingley's mantel chime six times and suddenly became aware of how late it had become. She thought of her aunt and uncle. Neither she nor Olivia had told anyone where they were going. They would be worried by now. Mr. Bingley, noting her distress, immediately offered to order his carriage for her ride home. Elizabeth found herself torn between wanting to return to Gracechurch Street and wanting to stay and chat with Mr. Bingley. Something was clearly troubling him, for all that he attempted to deny it, and she wanted to help him if she could. While they waited for the carriage to be brought around, the two chatted for some minutes about meaningless things while Elizabeth tried to think. Finally, an idea came to her.
"Mr. Bingley, would you do me the honor of escorting me to my uncle's house? I am sure that my sister, Jane, as well as my aunt and uncle would be happy to see you. Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria would also be happy to meet you again." Elizabeth tried to be impossible to refuse, as she had often seen Lydia behave at assemblies. Mr. Bingley hesitated for a moment, then smiled. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt at manipulating him. But it is for his own good, she reasoned. He allowed himself to be manipulated out of his happiness. Now he can let me manipulate his way back to it. A short while later Mr. Bingley escorted Elizabeth to his waiting carriage. Elizabeth noted that Olivia's carriage had left. She hoped that Olivia hadn't found some reason to take Mr. Darcy to Gracechurch Street.
If she had not been watching him, Olivia might have assumed that Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep, if such a thing were likely in so short a trip. But from her seat in the carriage opposite him, she had seen Mr. Darcy shudder and then slump awkwardly, as his beaver pitched forward and landed neatly in her outstretched hands. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who first saw Olivia's reaction and heard her cry of "Mr. Darcy!" immediately turned to his cousin and felt for a pulse.
"Darcy?" the Colonel cried, as Olivia grabbed one of Mr. Darcy's hands and rubbed it in a vain attempt to revive him. Before she or the Colonel was even aware of it, the carriage came to a halt outside Mr. Darcy's townhouse. Olivia leapt from the carriage and called for assistance. The footman and the Colonel carried the unconscious form of Mr. Darcy into the townhouse, where his own servants relieved them of their precious burden and carried their master to his chambers.
The butler, one Mr. Harris, escorted the distraught lady to a small parlor and sent her servants to the kitchen for some refreshment. The Colonel went in search of a doctor. Sitting alone in the parlor, Olivia had ample time to recall the events of the day and to regret her part in them. Oh, how foolish she had been! To cavalierly suggest to Elizabeth that they go out and search for Mr. Bingley! How arrogant had been her notion that restoring Jane's happiness was as simple as finding a man who had probably resolved to never speak to her again! For all Olivia knew, Jane might have made a similar resolution and might not appreciate her and Lizzy's efforts at all!
Olivia saw a small desk in the corner of the parlor. She went to it and drew out pen, ink and paper. She sat down and wrote two notes. One was addressed to her father. The other was addressed to Elizabeth. She rang for a servant to give the notes to her footman, then sank into an armchair near the fireplace. As Olivia stared into the flames, the full impact of her culpability began to weigh on her conscience. Mr. Darcy's condition was purely accidental, but he would not have been out searching for Elizabeth if--. Olivia squirmed in the chair, sinking deeper into the cushions, as she wondered at Elizabeth's flight from Mr. Darcy. Clearly, Elizabeth didn't like the man. She had made that much clear in their discussion earlier that day. But she had run at the sight of Mr. Darcy-Elizabeth, who was never intimidated by anyone! And Mr. Darcy just as clearly seemed to like Elizabeth, if her suspicions were correct...
She wondered if there was something more between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy than Elizabeth had revealed. Indeed, Elizabeth had told her nothing about her relations with Mr. Darcy. Olivia had only guessed that Lizzy had run off because of him. Olivia began to wonder if there were two romantic entanglements to be straightened out. Eventually, however, her mind came back to the reality of the present. She felt wretched. This whole scheme was my own doing, and I must bear the consequences of my folly. Olivia covered her face with her hands and wept.
At the sound of Elizabeth's voice, Jane sprang from her chair and rushed into the corridor, but when she saw Mr. Bingley all thoughts of her sister fled. Jane was only aware of the man who stood before her, equally transfixed. Elizabeth wished she could divert the wave of anxious people who immediately converged upon the spot where Jane and Bingley stood. But, alas, the shrieks of four children and a cry of "Lizzy, is that you?" quickly broke the spell.
Mr. Bingley was heartily welcomed by all the Gardiners as their Elizabeth's savior. He blushed and stammered at all the attention, and was ushered ceremoniously into the parlor. Sir William Lucas and his daughter, Maria, the only two people in the entire house who hadn't bolted into the entry hall, were reacquainted with their Netherfield neighbor. It took several moments for the clamor to die down, and for Mr. Bingley to be seated next to Elizabeth on the settee.
Oh, dear, thought Elizabeth. I hope that no suspects Mr. Bingley and me of any sort of attachment! But Mr. Bingley only had eyes for Jane, who sat demurely on the seat nearest the settee, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were well acquainted with Jane and Mr. Bingley's history in Hertfordshire. Mr. Gardiner nudged his wife and they shared a satisfied smile. Refreshments were soon served by a maid who was as delighted as the rest of the household to see her favorite houseguest safe and sound. Elizabeth was pressed by the Gardiner children to tell her story. Elizabeth knew that she would have to lie. She looked at her aunt and averted her eyes. She would have to make things right later.
"Miss Crenshaw and I decided to go out for some air," she began. "We went to a park, a very large park, with lots of paths with twists and turns," she continued, gesturing with her hands to make the story more entertaining to the children.
"Bigger than our park across the street?" asked Andrew, aged eight.
"Oh, much bigger!"
"Why did you not just go to the little one?" asked Elizabeth's four-year-old namesake.
Elizabeth hesitated. "Because we were on an adventure!" she said eyes wide. Well, that was not a lie, was it? "Anyway, we started walking through the park and it was so pretty. There were so many things to look at, that when Miss Crenshaw stopped to speak with a friend and I saw something very 'interesting'..."
"Was it a monster?" asked Edward, who at ten, saw monsters everywhere. Elizabeth smirked enigmatically before answering. She continued her tale, being careful to avoid mentioning the presence of Mr. Darcy or her own role in getting lost.
"It must have been dreadful," Maria breathed. "I should not have been as brave as you, Lizzy." Remembering her near-panic of just an hour earlier, Elizabeth blushed and smiled sheepishly. She glanced again at her Aunt Gardiner. The older woman looked somewhat troubled.
"And what became of Miss Crenshaw?" she asked. Mr. Bingley immediately rose to his feet, and Mr. Gardiner started to join him. But Elizabeth stayed them with a hand and quickly explained that in her last glimpse of Miss Crenshaw, she saw her with her gentleman friend. They seemed to be looking for her, but Elizabeth somehow lost sight of them.
"Fortunately, Livy's carriage happened to be waiting very near to Mr. Bingley's townhouse. I had a word with her footman and he went to look for Miss Crenshaw with a lamp."
"Do you think he will ever find her?" asked Edward. Elizabeth smiled at the boy, hoping to give a reassurance she herself did not feel. "Yes, Edward. I am sure she is safe at home with her Papa even now." Elizabeth's smile quickly faded and Mrs. Gardiner shooed the children from the room. They each kissed their cousins Jane and Elizabeth, then bowed and curtseyed to their other guests. Mr. Gardiner began to engage Mr. Bingley in conversation, and Mr. Bingley in turn drew Jane into the discussion. Fairly soon the two were chatting easily, but Elizabeth could not rejoice. She really had no way of knowing that Olivia was safe. When she last saw Olivia she was speaking with a man in a military uniform. She hadn't seen her since, it suddenly occurred to her-when she later saw the same man with Mr. Darcy later, Olivia was nowhere in sight. She had lied to Olivia's footman and her own family. True, her carriage had left, but for all she knew Olivia could have been found injured or worse...
A shadow fell over Elizabeth. She looked up; Mrs. Gardiner stood over her speaking in gentle tones. To her left, Mr. Bingley was nodding. He reached over and patted Elizabeth's shoulder. Jane came near and knelt at Elizabeth's knee.
"Yes, Lizzy," she said softly. "Perhaps you should retire. It has been a very tiring and distressing afternoon." Elizabeth stared at her for a second, and then found herself being raised to her feet by Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth mumbled an apology--she would not be able to recall what she'd said later--and was taken upstairs. It was only when she caught a glimpse of herself as she passed a mirror that she realized that she had been crying.
Mr. Bingley took Elizabeth's departure as his cue to leave, but Mr. Gardiner wouldn't hear of it. He urged Mr. Bingley to stay for supper, and Mr. Bingley offered little resistance. As Mr. Gardiner and Sir Lucas discussed politics, and Maria buried her head in a book, Mr. Bingley and Jane sat together on the settee as if no time and no malice had ever divided them. A servant brought in a note and handed it to Mr. Gardiner, who asked that it be taken upstairs to its proper recipient.
"There, there, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner whispered into Elizabeth's hair. "I am sure Olivia will forgive you, just as you will forgive her." She held Elizabeth more tightly as the younger woman continued to sob in her arms. Mrs. Gardiner sighed. The whole affair was too ridiculous, but she doubted that any serious harm had come of it. She extricated herself from Elizabeth's arms and tucked Elizabeth into bed. Mrs. Gardiner turned to leave, then had a thought that made her stop and turn back. She kissed Elizabeth on the forehead.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, you and Olivia will be laughing over this adventure at Jane's wedding." Elizabeth managed a weak smile, and Mrs. Gardiner smiled back. When she opened the bedroom door to leave she found a footman standing just outside, poised to knock.
"This just came for Miss Elizabeth, ma'am," he said with a short bow. Elizabeth sat up and eagerly accepted the note with the Darcy seal.
Mr. Harris had directed Colonel Fitzwilliam to a house two doors away from the Darcy residence, where the younger son of Sir James Spencer had recently arrived for a month-long stay. David Spencer was a physician, and he gladly left his supper to attend to Mr. Darcy. Returning to the townhouse, the Colonel had a servant escort Dr. Spencer to Mr. Darcy's rooms, while the Colonel paused to speak with Mr. Harris at the foot of the stairs.
"There is reassuring news, sir," said the butler. "Mr. Darcy regained consciousness almost as soon as he reached his chambers. He is complaining of headache, sir, but it does not appear that he is as bad off as we first thought." The Colonel accepted this news gratefully and headed toward the stairs to his cousin's room, nearly bumping into a young maid in the process. He paused when he overheard the maid address Mr. Harris.
"I took the tea things in to the lady as you asked, sir, and..." The maid paused, looking uneasy.
"Yes, girl," the butler prodded impatiently.
"She was crying sir."
The maid curtseyed and scurried off, and nearly bumped into the Colonel again as he descended the stairs. He strode past the butler to the parlor door. He paused, looked back at Mr. Harris, heaved a sigh, and entered the room. Inside, Olivia sat motionless, her eyes staring at, but not seeing, the fire in the grate. Colonel Fitzwilliam knelt by her chair, cupped her cheek in his hand and gently turned her face to him. He held her gaze with a smile while he drew a handkerchief from his pocket with his other hand. Dabbing at her tear-stained cheek, the Colonel clucked and said, "Miss Crenshaw, you look a fright." Olivia laughed in spite of herself. She sat up and allowed the Colonel to dry her eyes and to brush back an errant curl or two.
"How is Mr. Darcy?" she said in a whisper, taking the handkerchief from him. The Colonel reluctantly retreated to a chair opposite Olivia's.
"The doctor is with him now, but I am sure he is going to be fine," he replied. For a few moments the Colonel just sat and watched Olivia as she fingered the initials on the handkerchief. She seemed to be deep in thought and he was content to just keep her company. Olivia stared at the impeccably embroidered square of fine linen she held in her hands. She felt and suppressed a pang of jealousy, wondering who had done the needlework. The Colonel had two sisters, a mother, and at least two female cousins... She laid the handkerchief across her lap and continued to examine the fagoting around its edge.
"What is the 'T' for?" she said unexpectedly. The Colonel blinked at the odd question.
"Your initials--R T F. What does the 'T' stand for?" The Colonel sat back.
"Thomas."
"Oh," Olivia replied. A moment later, she was on her feet pacing, the handkerchief in her hand forgotten. "This is all my fault, Colonel! Mr. Darcy would not have been injured if I had not..." The Colonel was on his feet in an instant.
"You take too much upon yourself, Miss Crenshaw," he said grasping her hands and returning her to her seat. "You are in no way responsible for Darcy's accident, any more than I am. I am afraid he walked into that tree all by himself!" he added, trying again to lighten the mood. But she would not allow herself to be diverted.
"You do not understand, Colonel," Olivia said softly. The tears began to flow again. Olivia told the Colonel the whole story, from Mr. Bingley and Jane's budding romance in Hertfordshire to Olivia's notion of bringing the star-crossed lovers together again. "You see, I thought if I could just bring them together, well...I...perhaps...well, you understand." She flustered to a stop as the Colonel crossed his arms and shook his head, chuckling softly.
"So you two thought you would try and rearrange fate." Colonel Fitzwilliam grew serious. "But what has all this to do with Darcy's injury?"
"You and Mr. Darcy wouldn't have been out searching for Lizzy had it not been for me," Olivia replied. But the Colonel was still ready to absolve her.
"Perhaps not, but I still insist that Darcy's injury--." At this point, the doctor was shown into the parlor. He stayed only long enough to apprise the couple of Mr. Darcy's condition. Mr. Darcy had sustained a concussion, a mild one--but it was serious enough to warrant a few days' bed rest. Overexertion had caused Mr. Darcy to black out and strenuous activity was to be avoided for the next week at least. As the doctor prepared to leave, he asked the Colonel whether or not Mr. Darcy was married.
"No," the Colonel replied with an inquisitive look. "He is a bachelor. Why do you ask?"
"I gave Mr. Darcy something to help him sleep. As he nodded off, I thought I heard him ask for Lily or--." The Colonel's eyebrows shot up.
"Lizzy?" Olivia offered.
"Yes, yes, that was it. Yes. He definitely asked if 'Lizzy' had gotten home safely." The doctor bade the surprised pair a good evening and left the room.
"Well!" said the Colonel. "I take it that this 'Lizzy' that Darcy keeps mentioning is indeed your friend, Miss Brown? I should dearly like to meet this 'Lizzy' of his."
"Her name is Bennet, Colonel," said Olivia, her misery considerably abated by the doctor's good report. "And if you will call on me tomorrow, you shall." With that she gathered up her reticule and the Colonel escorted her to her carriage.
"What are your plans for today, Aunt Gardiner?" Elizabeth asked over a cup of tea. They were alone in the breakfast room enjoying a quiet tete a tete.
"I have a few errands to run this morning," her aunt replied. "Do you still want to go to the shops today? Perhaps you should rest. We are going to the theatre tonight and you have a long ride ahead of you tomorrow... You still look quite done in, my dear."
Elizabeth touched her napkin to her lips and carefully placed it on the table. "Actually, Aunt, I would like--I think I should go to see Olivia Crenshaw this morning." Elizabeth bit her lip, contemplating what lay ahead. She knew that she owed Olivia an explanation for her rash behavior the previous day. But she knew not what to tell her. Elizabeth had discovered the previous night that she could not justify her behavior even to herself. She had lain awake for hours trying to figure it out.
Why had she run away like a frightened child? Elizabeth mulled this question over as she went upstairs to prepare for her outing with the ladies of the house. True, she did not want to speak to Mr. Darcy, but she had never shied away from a confrontation with that man before. Indeed, in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth had on more than one occasion gone out of her way to provoke him. But Elizabeth was not in Hertfordshire. She was here in London, and yesterday she had trod in Mr. Darcy's realm. And she had quailed at the prospect of meeting him on his own ground. Elizabeth despised herself for her cowardice. Surely she wouldn't balk at the chance to do it again
Elizabeth had to admit that she relished her skirmishes with the arrogant Mr. Darcy. She enjoyed knocking him off his high and mighty pedestal. It made him vulnerable, more human. And Mr. Darcy, it seemed, was not afraid of their battles. He tolerated her assaults far better than Elizabeth ever expected him to. In fact, he seemed to enjoy them as much as she did. Elizabeth pulled on a pair of gloves as she pondered this. Mr. Darcy, indeed, seemed to enjoy arguing with her, except for their last meeting at Netherfield; when the subject of George Wickham came up, Mr. Darcy seemed to lose his sense of humor. The thought of Mr. Wickham quickly brought any and all charitable thoughts of Mr. Darcy to a screeching halt. Elizabeth started down the stairs to join her aunt. She paused on the steps and drew Olivia's note from her reticule. She paid no attention to its contents, which read: I hope this note finds you well and unharmed by your travails. Come to me first thing in the morning. Instead, Elizabeth stared at the Darcy crest embossed on the wax seal. How had Olivia come to be using Mr. Darcy's seal?
"Come Lizzy! The carriage is waiting!" Maria's voice cut through Elizabeth's agitated imaginings, and she hastened to the carriage where Mrs. Gardiner and Maria awaited her. Elizabeth smiled an apology as the carriage rode away from Gracechurch Street and wondered how her sister was faring after her encounter with Mr. Bingley the previous evening. Before Elizabeth had a chance to reflect on the matter (she cursed herself for being so caught up in her own misery to take much notice of what had transpired between the pair), she was deposited in ______ Street at Miss Crenshaw's door.
"Good morning, Darcy. How are you feeling?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with characteristic cheerfulness. Mr. Darcy cautiously lifted his head slightly and squinted at his cousin with one eye. After a second, he carefully lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly as the Colonel noisily pulled a chair close to the head of the bed.
"What are you doing here, Fitzwilliam?" Mr. Darcy asked. He was well aware of what had happened the day before--painfully aware that he had concussed himself while in pursuit of a woman he thought was Elizabeth Bennet. He had been lying awake the past half-hour recalling every memory of that lady. He was now convinced, very nearly, anyway, that he had indeed seen her in the park while he was supposed to be helping Miss Crenshaw search for her friend, Miss Brown.
"I thought you might need some looking after," the Colonel replied, crossing his legs and leaning closer to observe Mr. Darcy's countenance. "So I availed myself of Aunt Catherine's favorite guest room, a bit of your best port, and made myself quite at home last evening. By the bye, when will my favorite guest room be finished?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. Mr. Darcy smiled, but didn't open his eyes. Colonel Fitzwilliam noticed this and frowned.
"Are you all right, Darce?" The Colonel asked with genuine concern.
"I have a bit of headache and double vision. I can stand the pain, but the sight of two of you is more than I can stomach just now," Mr. Darcy said, still smiling. The Colonel made a show of being greatly offended. He knew that Mr. Darcy wasn't watching, but he got a chuckle out of him nonetheless.
"Well! I know when I am not appreciated," the Colonel cried in mock indignation. He rose and walked to the door. "I have better things to do today anyway. Not everyone is repelled by the sight of me."
"Miss Crenshaw?"
"She asked me to call on her this morning," the Colonel replied, thinking about the promise she had made him the night before. He wondered how his cousin might react if he knew that the Colonel was on his way to meet Elizabeth Bennet.
"Sounds serious," Mr. Darcy said, somewhat hesitant to pry. The Colonel was drawn back to his seat by the tone of Mr. Darcy's voice.
"Do you approve?" Mr. Darcy smiled reassuringly.
"She's a lovely girl, Fitz."
"That she is. But I haven't any serious designs on her just yet," the Colonel replied, wondering which man he was lying to. He was suddenly glad his cousin's eyes were closed. He didn't feel equal to the scrutiny of the formidable Darcy glare. As if on cue, Mr. Darcy slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times. But rather than fixing his eyes on the Colonel, Mr. Darcy stared at the fabric canopy draped over his head. He seemed to be deeply introspective.
"She may be the one, Richard. If she is, do not let her get away," Mr. Darcy said in a low voice. The two sat in silence for a time. Colonel Fitzwilliam mulled over his cousin's words but could not bring himself to pursue them. They seemed to the Colonel as much a confession as an admonition. The Colonel eventually rose and took his leave, more curious than ever to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Olivia fussed with a curl at the nape of her neck as she took one last look in the mirror. She sighed, declared her toilette complete, and carefully placed the ivory handled comb on the tray before her. She smoothed the fabric of her gown and turned around to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway.
"Lizzy!" Olivia squealed, and the friends shared a warm hug. When they parted, they sat on the bed, holding hands. Olivia spoke first. "Lizzy! What happened to you yesterday? You led us all on a merry chase!" Her tone was not accusatory. Olivia was more concerned about Elizabeth's future than she was about her past. Elizabeth's stomach knotted as she searched for words. She knew that sooner or later she'd have to tell Olivia the whole truth.
Elizabeth had always considered her sister Jane to be her best friend. But there are some things a girl just can't tell her sister, and Olivia had become a valuable confidant over the years. Corresponding by letter most of the time, Olivia and Elizabeth--or Livy and Lizzy, as they called themselves--cherished the precious few opportunities they had to meet in person each year. Elizabeth dearly wanted to confide in Olivia this morning, but she had reservations, not the least of which was that she didn't know the whole story herself.
"Us?" Elizabeth asked, with no small amount of dread.
"Yes. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy were kind enough to help me look for you yesterday." Elizabeth blanched. She pulled her hands away from Olivia's and went to stand by the window in a manner reminiscent of the man who currently occupied her thoughts.
"Oh. I had no idea I had inconvenienced your friends as well as yourself. I am sorry to have been so much trouble."
"You can apologize to the Colonel himself, if you wish. He plans to call this morning." Elizabeth's knuckles went as white as the lace of the curtain she had drawn back. But Olivia did not volunteer the information Elizabeth desperately wanted to hear.
"Why did you run off, Lizzy?" Olivia asked again, more casually this time, as if her answer would mean nothing to her at all. Elizabeth swallowed hard.
"I...I..." She turned and faced Olivia. "I don't know, Livy. I just panicked." There. The truth, as much as Elizabeth was willing to admit, was out.
"Panicked? Why should you have panicked, Lizzy?" Olivia asked with genuine curiosity. She knew, of course, that Elizabeth had run after seeing Mr. Darcy, but why should she have panicked?
"I...I was afraid that if Mr. Darcy saw me," Elizabeth managed, wringing her hands, "That he might mention seeing me to Miss Bingley. Surely they would suspect me of something, then, "she said, warming to the tale she was weaving. "I am sure they would have contrived to keep me from Mr. Bingley just as they did my sister. Seeing me would only have put them on their guard," she added with a flip of her wrist, "And ruined all chances of our achieving our goal." On the surface, this answer was plausible. If Mr. Darcy had indeed schemed with Miss Bingley to separate Mr. Bingley from Jane Bennet, then it may be supposed that neither person would welcome the sight of Elizabeth Bennet. And indeed, Elizabeth had been just as reluctant to confront Miss Bingley earlier. But something in Elizabeth's demeanor told a very different story and Olivia was determined to know every detail. The only question was how to unravel the delicate web of truths that Elizabeth had woven to get at--what? What was really going on between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet?
Elizabeth heard a carriage pull up outside the Crenshaw's townhouse, and looked out the window. The gentleman she had last seen with Mr. Darcy the previous afternoon was ascending the front steps. He glanced up at the window, and before Elizabeth could react, he smiled. He probably thinks I am Olivia, Elizabeth concluded as she turned away. She looked at Olivia, who was gazing at her abstractedly. Elizabeth grew uncomfortable, but the maid, who knocked at the door to inform Olivia that Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived, gave her a reprieve. Olivia took Elizabeth by the hand and led her downstairs to meet the Colonel. She wondered to herself if he could shed some light on the matter of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth got her first good look at Colonel Fitzwilliam as she entered the parlor, where he was sharing a hearty laugh with Olivia's father. A prominent attorney, Adam Crenshaw was a longtime friend of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. Mr. Crenshaw's older brother had been one of the late Mr. Darcy's closest childhood friends. As the youngest of three brothers, Mr. Crenshaw had not inherited title or fortune, but had made a name for himself through his profession. The Crenshaw family was also connected to Colonel Fitzwilliam through Olivia's older brother, also named Richard, who attended Cambridge with the Colonel. And Olivia's younger brother Edward was a lieutenant in the Colonel's regiment.
As Elizabeth entered, she observed the Colonel. He was tall, well built; ruggedly handsome, she supposed. Out of uniform, he vaguely reminded her of someone she knew. His smile was engaging, as was the earnestness of the gaze he returned with equal curiosity. The Colonel came forward and, to Elizabeth's surprise, introduced himself.
"Miss Bennet! I have been most eager to make your acquaintance. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at your service." He scraped a deep and dramatic bow. Elizabeth liked him immediately.
"I daresay your eagerness must stem from my unfortunate elusiveness yesterday. I apologize for denying you the pleasure of an earlier acquaintance, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth replied, her eyes sparkling with merriment. Mr. Crenshaw did not know what to make of Elizabeth's statement, and stared at her as she executed an elaborate curtsey to rival the Colonel's bow. The Colonel laughed delightedly, and then turned to greet Olivia. Mr. Crenshaw led Elizabeth to the settee and Olivia felt an unaccustomed pang of jealousy as the Colonel took a seat next to her. Olivia rang for tea and then sat in a chair by the fire.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, whose mind reeled with questions he knew he should not--or perhaps could not--ask, immediately engaged Elizabeth in conversation. He quickly inventoried Elizabeth's attributes as she assured him that she was not at all adversely affected by her adventure in the park. She's lovely: charming, nice figure, very pretty...and those eyes! he thought, as Elizabeth looked at the Colonel and smiled. She is amazing! And she has a sense of humor--not at all Darcy's type! Good for you, Miss Bennet! You've managed to crack the old boy's veneer.
"How did you come to know each other? " Elizabeth directed this question to Olivia, sensing that she was a bit put out at being ignored. Olivia did not answer immediately, and her father volunteered the information.
"Oh, the Crenshaws, Fitzwilliams, and Darcys have been friends for at least two generations. My father, the Earl, and the late Mr. Darcy were as thick as thieves as boys," he said with a laugh. He told a brief anecdote or two and remarked, "And now my youngest boy, Edward, serves under the Colonel." Elizabeth couldn't follow the entire conversation; her interest was piqued, however, by the mention of the Darcy name. The maid brought in the tea things. Mr. Crenshaw excused himself, pleading a business obligation, and Olivia got up to pour the tea.
"And how did you come to know the Crenshaws, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked, leaning a little toward her. Olivia banged the teapot onto the tray, causing the Colonel to flinch. He turned and eyed her curiously. Olivia sheepishly bowed her head.
"My Aunt Gardiner and the late Mrs. Crenshaw were lifelong friends. They grew up together in Derbyshire." The Colonel cautiously returned his gaze to Elizabeth.
"Really! Darcy and I were raised in Derbyshire. Where did your Aunt Gardiner grow up, Miss Bennet?" As the Colonel searched Elizabeth's face for any sign of a reaction to the mention of his cousin, Olivia handed the Colonel a cup of tea. Before Elizabeth could answer, Olivia inquired as to the health of Mr. Darcy.
"Oh, he's recovering," Colonel Fitzwilliam replied as Olivia surreptitiously glanced at Elizabeth. "I spoke with him before I left this morning and he seems much improved." The Colonel noted, with satisfaction, that he had gained Elizabeth's undivided attention. She opened her mouth, then closed it, attempting to hide the gesture behind her teacup.
"I do feel so sorry about his accident," Olivia said with a heavy sigh, as she sat down. The Colonel now eyed Olivia suspiciously. Elizabeth could not resist the bait.
"Has something happened to Mr. Darcy?" she asked. She tried to sound disinterested, but the note of alarm in her voice betrayed her.
"Oh! Of course, you would not have heard. Mr. Darcy was injured yesterday while he was helping us to search for you." Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned at Olivia; her tone was clearly intended to imply that Elizabeth was somehow responsible for his cousin's accident. What was she playing at?
"Oh dear," Elizabeth said, rising and putting her hand to her mouth. A moment later she recovered her composure and went to the tea tray to refill her cup. Olivia looked at the Colonel with raised eyebrows. The Colonel gave her a slightly disapproving look.
"Do you know my cousin, Miss Bennet?" Elizabeth had to fight to keep from spilling her tea. Fortunately, her back was to her inquisitor. She carefully put the cup down on the tray and pretended to busy herself with adding milk.
"Yes," she said, trying to sound unaffected. "I met Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire last autumn." She slowly returned to her seat, willing herself to be calm. After all, why should this bit of news unnerve her? She forced herself to look the Colonel in the eye. Of course! Same height, a certain inflection in his speech, something in his features...even similar mannerisms! She recalled his curt bow to her yesterday, and the way he stood as he spoke to Miss Crenshaw. And when Elizabeth had entered the room a while ago, he had looked at her with open curiosity in a manner reminiscent of Mr. Darcy's. The Colonel was gazing at her even now, twisting the signet ring on his middle finger. Even his coat reminded her of him! Elizabeth squirmed slightly, disturbed by the realization that she had such an intimate acquaintance with the habits of a man she claimed to despise.
"Yes, I remember him speaking fondly of his time in Hertfordshire." It was Elizabeth's turn to raise her eyebrows, but she let the remark pass unchallenged and inquired as to the nature of Mr. Darcy's accident. The Colonel quickly answered in order to forestall Olivia's response. He heartily wished that he had arrived earlier and had had a chance to speak with Miss Crenshaw before Miss Bennet's arrival. She was obviously as curious as he was about Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy, but Miss Crenshaw seemed to be out of sorts this morning and was going about things in a heavy-handed manner.
"We had been searching for you for some time when Mr. Darcy thought he saw you. We headed off across the lawn in order to cut you off, however, my cousin was waylaid by an errant branch." Elizabeth looked confused. "He walked into a low-hanging tree branch, Miss Bennet, and concussed himself." The Colonel sat back and folded his arms.
"Oh my!" Elizabeth replied. She neither knew what else to say nor did she trust herself to say anything further.
"Do you know my cousin very well?"
"No...no, not very well, although we were often thrown into company together." Elizabeth said, looking at Olivia, who seemed content to just listen to the interrogation.
"Darcy rather liked his time in Hertfordshire," Colonel Fitzwilliam repeated, enigmatically. This time, Elizabeth could not help herself. The words fairly exploded from her mouth.
"Really, Colonel! I should have thought that Mr. Darcy did not enjoy his time in Hertfordshire at all."
"Why should you think that, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked with interest. Olivia was equally intrigued.
"Well," she paused, slightly taken aback by the eager stares directed at her. She lowered her cup to her lap to quell the shaking of her hands. "He did not seem to get on at all with the locals there. I believe Mr. Darcy found our society...unsatisfactory." The Colonel threw back his head and laughed.
"Oh, I can certainly believe that, Miss Bennet. Darcy can be a terrible snob at times." He sobered slightly, and added, "But I distinctly recall him speaking very fondly of Hertfordshire in his letters so there must have been something in the district to make his tenure there tolerable." Elizabeth found herself blushing. The Colonel grinned like a Cheshire cat.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I should be delighted." Elizabeth placed a gloved hand into Mr. Darcy's and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The pair joined the line of dancers and began to move to the music. After an unsuccessful attempt at engaging him in conversation, Elizabeth chided Mr. Darcy."It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." Mr. Darcy was too close to rapture to think of anything clever to say. He just smiled, therefore, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."
"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?" Mr. Darcy asked, his eyes riveted to Elizabeth's.
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly, "For I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. Mr. Darcy glanced sidelong at Elizabeth. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." He prayed for a denial, but she continued to toy with him.
"I must not decide on my own performance." Elizabeth turned then, and Mr. Darcy fixed his gaze upon the bouncing ringlets at the nape of her neck.
"Your performance is...enchanting, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth stopped in her tracks momentarily, and then continued her steps in the circle. She was drawn by the dance a little distance from Mr. Darcy. She swallowed hard, not believing her ears. When she was reunited with her partner, she gave him an encouraging smile.
"You are too kind, sir."
"I speak as I find," Mr. Darcy replied, remembering Elizabeth's retort of a few weeks earlier. He felt a slight pressure: had Elizabeth just squeezed his hand? Was Elizabeth Bennet falling in love with him? This was too good to be true. No. This could not be happening. What was he thinking? He could not allow himself to be induced into an attachment to such a girl. She was probably an adventuress after all, like all the others.
"Blast!" Darcy bolted upright in his bed and immediately regretted it as the pain of his concussion was added to the painful memories of his last meeting with Miss Bennet. He had played the scenario over and over in his head, trying to work it out to a different conclusion. But it was to no avail. He could not make things right. He could not reconcile his emotional attachment to Elizabeth with his sense of obligation to his social position, his family, or his rarified standards of what his future wife should be. And yet he could not erase her from his mind. He knew she was the one. Elizabeth Bennet had won his heart, and he had lost her forever.
As soon as the door closed behind Caroline Bingley, her brother's smile returned. Like a beacon from a lighthouse, his smile was sufficient to illuminate all he looked upon, and from Charles Bingley's vantage point, the world looked wonderful. He had first found his smile as he left the Gardiner residence the previous night. His smile had lit his way home, accompanied him to bed, and greeted him in the morning when he looked in the mirror. Charles Bingley was grinning like a fool, but he didn't care. He had found her! Jane Bennet was in London. He had seen her. He had spoken with her. He had touched her. She was real and beautiful and welcoming. For the first time in months, Charles Bingley was truly happy. About the only thing that could cast a shadow on his happiness was the fear of discovery. When he entered the breakfast room that morning, therefore, Mr. Bingley had shuttered his smile behind a bland façade. Unable to completely contain his joy, he hid behind a newspaper, much to the annoyance of his sister.
"Charles," Miss Bingley was saying, "When I returned to the house last night, Thomas told me that you had gone out." She buttered a piece of scone and took a delicate bite.
"Yes...yes. I met a...an acquaintance in the park yesterday afternoon..." Unsure of how to continue without whetting his sister's curiosity, Mr. Bingley stuck a piece of toast into his mouth as a stalling tactic. His mind raced furiously as he chewed. "I met an old acquaintance in the park, whom I had not seen in some time. I invited 'him' back here, and then later escorted 'him' home in my carriage."
"Didn't he have a carriage of his own?" Miss Bingley asked abstractedly with a shrug of her shoulders as she buttered another bit of scone. To her mind, someone who did not own his carriage wasn't worthy of notice. Mr. Bingley ignored the remark and held his newspaper in such a manner as to barricade him from his sister's scrutiny. That effectively ended the intercourse, and he began to relax a bit and actually read the news. But Miss Bingley was in the mood for conversation.
"Oh, Charles! I saw the most delightful hat at Mme. Depardieu's shop yesterday. It has the most wonderful little beads along its edge, and I am sure that Mister--." Miss Bingley caught herself and looked at her brother. Rather than arouse his suspicions, she had not so much as gained his attention. "Charles," she whined, turning down a corner of the newspaper. "Are you listening to me?"
"Of course, dear," he said with a sigh. He lowered the paper and listened as she began to describe the hat. Before she had completed her second sentence, Mr. Bingley interrupted.
"Caroline, surely you do not expect to engage me in a conversation about women's finery?" he said with just a hint of exasperation in his voice. Miss Bingley threw down her napkin with an elegant pout, then suddenly remembered something.
"You are supposed to dine with Mr. Darcy today, are you not?" Mr. Bingley paled. He had completely forgotten about his plans for luncheon at White's. "Do bring him back here for tea afterwards, Charles," she purred.
"Caroline, we are to see Darcy this evening at the theatre. We cannot monopolize all of the man's time." Miss Bingley's pout returned; she stood regally and swept out of the room.
It was now safe to smile again, but Mr. Bingley was worried. The last thing he needed right now was a few hours in Mr. Darcy's company. If dodging his sister had been difficult, this would be an ordeal. Mr. Darcy's powers of observation were easily twice those of his sister's. Mr. Bingley carefully arranged his features in a mirror. How many times had he heard Mr. Darcy say that he could read his face like a book? Mr. Bingley adjusted his hat and sighed. He could not avoid the appointment. But under no circumstances could Mr. Darcy be told of Miss Bennet's presence in town. If she does not love me, I at least now have the opportunity to win her affections. And, by George, I will. I must! He reached for his walking stick and turned toward the door. I won't let Darcy or my sisters deter me this time. I will win Jane Bennet to my suit and they shall not interfere.
"Might as well grab the bull by the horns," Mr. Bingley mumbled as he made his way to the carriage. To the coachman he ordered, "To Mr. Darcy's townhouse."
Elizabeth gaped at Colonel Fitzwilliam in disbelief. His meaning was unmistakable. Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning. She could feel rather than see Olivia watching her every move. She blinked and looked down at the cup that sat forgotten in her hands. She carefully placed it on the table as she struggled for composure. Had Mr. Darcy spoken of Elizabeth in his letters? She refused to credit it--Colonel Fitzwilliam was apparently teasing her. Yes, she decided, it was some sort of joke. If the Colonel knew the true nature of our relationship he would have picked a more likely target for this charade. I could never be mistaken for the object of Mr. Darcy's affection! And Olivia Crenshaw--surely she did not believe such nonsense! But Elizabeth knew that Olivia had no reason not to believe the Colonel. She determined to set the matter straight.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said with a playfulness she did not feel. "Are you always such a terrible tease? You will have Olivia believing that Mr. Darcy and I shared a grand amour when in fact, we scarcely knew one another."
"Am I?" the Colonel replied, quite amused. This is most revealing! "I do not recall mentioning any names, Miss Bennet." The Colonel's eyes twinkled, and Elizabeth wanted to scratch the sparkle out of them as her cheeks reddened again. He had trapped her and she knew it. She stole a glance at Olivia who was sharing a knowing glance with the Colonel. Elizabeth gasped. The Colonel and Miss Crenshaw--her dear friend-- were obviously conspiring against her! Elizabeth was shocked.
Olivia rose and fussed with the teacups, purposefully breaking the tension. Elizabeth didn't know where to look, so she rose and went to the window. As soon as she reached it she caught herself and turned instead to the pianoforte in the corner. The Crenshaw's townhouse--although spacious and comfortable--had no proper music room; their evenings in town, therefore, were often spent listening to music in the parlor. Elizabeth sat on the bench and began leafing through the sheets of music. She knew she was being rude, but she felt unequal to returning to her companions at the moment. Olivia asked Elizabeth to play something, and Elizabeth gladly complied. While she played, the Colonel pulled Miss Crenshaw down on the settee beside him.
"Miss Crenshaw," he whispered, not turning his eyes from Elizabeth, "What are you up to?" Olivia was genuinely surprised by the question.
"Whatever do you mean, sir?" Colonel Fitzwilliam did not reply immediately. He waited until the adagio was completed, and spoke again when Elizabeth began a light, lyrical piece with sufficient volume to mask the sound of his speech.
"You practically accused Miss Bennet of luring Darcy into a trap. You know as well as I do that Darcy's accident was no more her fault than it was yours or mine!"
"What am I up to?" Olivia's voice rose as she colored. " You--. " The music stopped. Elizabeth was looking at the couple quizzically.
"I apologize, Miss Bennet," the Colonel said, rising. Olivia also rose, sheepishly staring at the floor.
"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked her conspirators. They glanced at each other, uncertain of how to respond. Elizabeth took pity on them. "I am afraid I must be leaving," she said as she closed the pianoforte and crossed the room. "Aunt Gardiner is expecting me to return early. I have to pack for my trip tomorrow, and then get ready for the theatre tonight." Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately offered Elizabeth the use of Darcy's carriage, hastily inviting Miss Crenshaw to join them for the ride. Elizabeth chose to walk, however. She craved fresh air and solitude. She hastily took her leave, perplexed by the scene she had just witnessed. She shook her head and started for Gracechurch Street.