Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (52 page)

Once beside him, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I see you are ready for our waltz? I originally thought that your agreement to my request was an indication we had put some of our differences behind us. I was concerned, and even angered at times, by your fear of me; and I believed I had assured you of my honour with respect your person.”

Elizabeth stared at him with great trepidation. She knew something had gone terribly wrong. “You did indeed, Mr Darcy. Are you questioning whether I still feel fear toward you?”

Mr Darcy narrowed his eyes, leaned toward her and gruffly whispered in her ear. “No, I am questioning whether you feel fear at all? I saw you in the middle of Meryton allowing Mr Wickham to kiss your hand. Your coy smile, and his leer, painted a pretty picture for the world to see. Is that the way you treat all recent acquaintances?”

Elizabeth wanted to run from the room at his harshness, but as she looked around, she saw that the scrutiny of those at the ball had begun. The mysterious heiress who never attended assemblies or balls was here, about to waltz with the man who had the most money of all those present. She could think of no other alternative but to complete the dance. They assumed the position, and were waiting for the first bars of music. They were one of only about ten couples who were daring enough to dance the waltz. Elizabeth noticed that Jane and Mr Bingley were dancing for the third time, but was too uncomfortable with her own plight to feel any joy for her sister. Noting that she and Jane were the only unmarried women attempting this risqué dance, she had a fleeting fear for the repercussion for her sister. Mainly her mind was occupied with hope more would join the assemblage and lessen the attention she and Mr Darcy had already garnered.

“No, Mr Darcy, I allowed Mr Wickham that privilege because I was trying to understand his intentions, and determined I might be better able to discern what he was about, if I did not appear suspicious. Perhaps after this dance we could go somewhere private and talk about Mr Wickham. I am concerned he knows something of my situation. He said he is a close friend of Lord Wolfbridge, and he was telling any who would listen about your unfair treatment.”

He could feel her trembling and looked down. He noticed just how beautiful she looked, but he was determined neither to be moved by her appearance, nor to be taken in by her feigned distress. The dance started, and they began to whirl to the music. Suddenly, his face clouded even more and he spat out, “This is the dress you wore the day you demanded money.”

One couple close by stared at them in response to his tone. Elizabeth prayed they had not heard his words over the music. She was close to tears, and tried desperately to think of something to say to calm his anger. Her dilemma was that she did not fully understand the source of his disapproval. As quiet as possible and still be heard by him she said, “Mr Darcy, please tell me what I have done to offend you. Are you jealous of Mr Wickham?”

Darcy’s face contorted into a sneer. “Of course not… you are nothing to me. You come here wearing the same dress… except, of course, you have had it altered to show off your assets. How much money have you and Wickham decided to take me for this time?”

Every bit of anger Elizabeth had ever felt toward his family came to her in a rush. She felt like the top of her head was about to explode, and she did not care who heard her words. This time she was guilty of drawing attention to them. Where a moment before she had been holding back tears, she now glared at him with glittering green eyes. “My assets… oh yes, as I remember you could not keep your eyes off them that day either. You were married, and yet you were eyeing a fifteen-year-old’s bosom… how ungentlemanly of you.”

Mr Darcy stopped mid whirl, and she crashed against his body. He looked around to see if anyone had heard and then looked down at her, stricken with mortification. He realized they had probably not been heard, but had succeeded in causing everyone in the room to look in their direction. He started to dance again and whispered in her ear. “I was only noticing that your body was changing.”

Elizabeth snorted, and then whispered back, but to him it sounded more like a hiss. “To be sure, Mr Darcy. Everyone tells me you are a good man… so I am sure you would never do anything dishonourable.’’ As she looked around, she suddenly realized just what a spectacle they were becoming and reined in her feelings. Her anger was replaced by a desperate desire to finish this dance and leave.

For the next few minutes, the room observed two stony faced individuals as far apart as her arms would allow, whirling about the room. He was looking at nothing, and she was forced to observe his chest. She noticed that the man, who habitually wore black, had donned a green waistcoat, the exact colour of her infamous dress, and a very dark green tailcoat. Lydia would think their ensembles looked lovely together. She wondered whether they should make her father listen to a description of his clothes. She let out a sort of strangled laugh, and he looked down at her. She put on her best false smile for him… the same one she had given Mr Wickham.

When the dance was over, she curtsied and turned to leave. She whirled back around and said with intense sarcasm, “I hope you enjoyed the lavender.”

Unable to think what to say, he hung his head. When he looked up again she was gone.

37 THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY

It was still a few minutes before dawn as Mr Darcy climbed the path to Oakham Mount. As he approached the summit, the sound of a flute like instrument drifted down. Sleep had eluded him the entire night, as the image of a child-like Elizabeth, her face filled with condemnation, had swirled behind his closed eyelids. Nothing he could do would stop the eventual outcome that played over and over again. His eyes would be drawn to her green silk enrobed décolletage just before she proclaimed to all that he was not a gentleman. In desperation to escape another repeat of her accusation, he had risen to prepare for his departure to the safety of Pemberley and those who loved him.

The idea had come to him that she might be in her place of contemplation, and he could accomplish a few private words with her. An apology was due for his rudeness the night before. As he had dressed for the ball, he had been certain he could conduct himself honourably despite seeing Wickham kiss her hand. But at supper, Mrs Bennet had shattered his resolve as she chattered on endlessly about her hopes of marriage for all her daughters—including Elizabeth. Even at its least sinister, she was a fool to be taken in by a man with only his charm to recommend him. A surge of anger shot through him that he had been thwarted again by his childhood friend. Was this cursed emotion simple jealousy or could a plot be afoot? He would demand to know what they discussed during that long private conversation her mother had mentioned.

Caliban heard him first, and began to growl. Elizabeth stopped playing the whistle and instinctively tensed. When the dog felt her stiffen, he changed his growl to a menacing bark. Despite the fiercest of animals by her side, fear was always with her. At least now she had a weapon, and she definitely planned to use it if necessary. The sound became Mr Darcy, and she smiled with both satisfaction and relief. Their parting last night had been filled with rancour, and she was pleased she had a chance to speak with him before he left Hertfordshire. He needed to understand the true nature of her dealings with Mr Wickham; and she must tell him her father knew the circumstances of their conspiracy. Most of all, she hoped to prevent him returning to Derbyshire thinking even more ill of her than when he arrived.

When they were together at Netherfield, she had found it curious that his opinion of her was altered from what it had been when they first met. That night at the theatre, he had seemed to be drawn to her mind and her joy… now she could only discern for certain an appreciation for her bosom and hair. Sometimes he seemed to be attracted by her eyes and wit, but other times he seemed to turn away from them in disgust. As for joy, she had very little of that anymore. How ironic… for a few days, she had actually felt something like pleasure in anticipation of their waltz—of course her fragile happiness had been tempered by fear of Wickham. Her father’s assurance that he would handle the lieutenant had allowed her to breathe easier as she prepared for her special night. As her erstwhile dancing partner approached, she saw he was not smiling. His dour countenance persuaded her to expect disapproval when she told him of her confession to her father.

Darcy had brought his own jug of tea and mug, as well as a blanket. After spreading his protection from the ground, he sat down and poured some tea before he spoke. “Miss Elizabeth, I was rude to you last evening. You had no desire to come to the ball, and I insisted you dance with me at least once before I left Netherfield. My actions have been inexcusably reckless with your reputation. I am not sure where my misplaced desire came from, but I assure you it will never happen again.”

Mr Darcy’s clipped speech persuaded Elizabeth that he had not completely rid himself of the belief she had provoked his childish behaviour. It was probably only his rigid sense of propriety that had dictated an apology. Hoping to diffuse his anger with some humour she said, “Mr Darcy, you and I both know there has always been some odd form of fascination between the two of us which neither has any control over. It is, as you say, misplaced. Despite our best intentions of dismissing the other as not worthy of our concern, we always seem to gravitate toward ‘reckless’ interaction… In my case, it is a bit like the way I bothered my baby teeth as a child just before they came out. Even though it was painful, I was compelled to keep worrying the tooth with my tongue.” She grinned and said, “Or perhaps it is not that at all; and we are instead the one documented case of Mesmer’s theory of animal magnetism.”

Elizabeth saw him struggling to hide his dimples from her. She refused to claim an easy victory and impetuously decided she must puncture his proper demeanour… he had come to her after all. “The attraction is definitely useless in my case. We have begun raising horses on the estate, and Mr Reynolds has taught me much about the subject. I am the female equivalent of a gelding.” She held his gaze, and her smile became sardonic. “Any semblance of desire ended almost six years ago, but you should feel gratified you made it to my list of half a dozen men whose touch I can abide; and if you must know, I am not counting Mr Wickham. What you saw…”

At her use of Wickham’s name, another surge of fury shot through him. He cut her off, and scowled, “Miss Elizabeth, you always say the most improper things. What would people say if they knew we were having this discussion?”

The appearance of a teasing grin proclaimed she would not be intimidated. “I would think they would be more concerned we are here alone, with blankets, than worrying about the fact that we are discussing raising horses.”

Mr Darcy looked down at the blankets and visualized the implication of her remark. He suddenly pulled himself out of his reverie and gave her a stern look as he spoke. “We will never agree on the importance of correct behaviour. You seem to enjoy ridiculing the natural order of our society, and have a disdain for tradition and proper authority.”

Elizabeth was trying to maintain her composure, but inside she thought he sounded like that pompous Edmund Burke, with his endless prattle about the value of time-honoured prejudices. She bit back a harsh retort and calmly replied, “You are correct. I remember a time when I was very worried about behaving properly, but my concern was misplaced, much like my attraction to you. Since I returned from Derbyshire, I have refused to allow tradition’s chains to bind me. My transformed attitude worked to your advantage, as that Elizabeth Bennet would never have agreed to waltz with you. Her strict adherence to society’s rules would have made your request impossible.”

She paused and turned over several wordings of what she wanted to convey before she spoke again. “Life taught me that the whole to-do over propriety is about the appearance of correct behaviour, and not at all about caring, concern, compassion and most importantly Christian charity for other human beings.”

She turned to him as she commented, “Mr Darcy, you are an exception. People I admire think you a good man… I know I said that in derision last night, but I do believe them. I am convinced you care both about propriety and about your fellow human beings.’’

His face softened, and she brought back her sweet smile as she looked at him. Her strategy was to try to make him see her point of view without being confrontational. “I want to clear up the misunderstanding over Wickham, but first let us talk about my dress.”

Unfortunately, Wickham’s name created the same reaction in him as before. An angry man is not a wise one. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, do tell me why you chose to rub my nose in our past antagonisms.”

Elizabeth realized just how difficult it would be to win him over. “Pray, why was I improper to come to the ball in an old green gown?”

He did not reply. She paused as she decided her best tactic was to once again to inject some humour. “I know you well enough to be sure you did not judge me as hopelessly out of fashion, as I believe Miss Bingley probably did.” She was unsure whether she saw even the hint of a smile at her words.

It was time for some heart-felt words. “I decided our friendship, and unfortunately, for one very brief moment, my attraction to you, was most important, and unwisely agreed to dance. By the time I arrived, I was in great anticipation of swirling about the room with you.”

Elizabeth looked down at Caliban in an attempt to hide any evidence from him of the melancholy his words and actions of last night had unleashed. “Instead of being pleased to see me, you concluded I was in league with Wickham, and that wearing a dress with unpleasant memories for you, showed a selfish disdain on my part. I apologize, but you must believe me; I did not hurt you consciously. It is the only silk dress I own. I thought it a waste of money to have a new gown made when I plan never to attend a ball again.” She was unsuccessful at banishing all disappointment from her voice, and stopped speaking for a few seconds.