Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (88 page)

“I guess that men support each other differently than women would?”  Elizabeth looked to Darcy. 

“We do.”  Darcy turned to Bingley.  “Are you going to vomit?” 

Elizabeth gasped while Bingley considered the question.  “No.” 

“Are you covered in hives, is your breath offensive, did you bathe?”

“No, I hope not, and yes.”  He smiled, and then laughed.  “Bloody fool.”

“Absolutely.  Stop this fit of nerves, do not act overeager, be a gentleman, put her at ease and take command of the evening.  Sweep her off her feet.”  Darcy climbed down.  “Elizabeth.” 

Smiling at the possessive note in his voice and placing her hand within Darcy’s palm, she turned back to Bingley before she stepped down.  “You will be brilliant, you know.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”  He winked and smiled, then ducked his head down to close his eyes for a moment of privacy before following them out and into the assembly hall.

“Familiarity breeds contempt.”  Darcy stared straight ahead and muttered as he tucked her hand safely under his arm. 

Elizabeth smiled and nodded to some old neighbours, then glancing at him, spoke softly, “Then I must find you intolerable.”

“And I must find you not handsome enough to tempt me.”  His eyes flicked over her and away, but his hand covered hers and their fingers entwined.

“As I find you, Mr. Darcy.”  Elizabeth squeezed his fingers and raised her chin. 

“Let us have at it.”  Bingley rubbed his hands together.  “Where are the others?”

“I just noticed Mr. Hurst going upstairs.” 

“You were looking at Hurst?” 

“Why would I look at you, Mr. Darcy?”

“Hmmph.”  He sniffed and gestured to the groups of people whispering around them.  “Everybody looks at me.”

“My, we are vain, and I suppose that you will enjoy how they remark on the size of your income and the number of carriages you own.”

“You know that I will.  I rejoice in having my every quality dissected and evaluated.”  He looked down to her and winked.  “And they will undoubtedly remark on how good I am for escorting a lady who is slighted by other men.”

“Slighted?”  She gasped.  “Why would you think . . .”

“Um, you two are just playing are you not?”  Bingley whispered.

Elizabeth started laughing and Darcy smiled.  “Yes.  I am very uncomfortable in these situations; Elizabeth is distracting me with a bit of argument.” 

“Come along, Charles.”  Elizabeth looped her free hand around his arm and they started up the stairs.  “We will behave until you are settled.”

“Look!”  Mrs. Philips cried.  “There are Mary and Lizzy!  Ohhh, look at them!  Does, oh my, what does Lizzy have in her hair?”

“I think they are diamond pins.”  Mrs. King gasped.  “Not too many, just enough to add sparkle . . .”

“Just enough to tell you she is wealthy without flaunting it.  Very tasteful.”  Mrs. George noted, “And her necklace, what is that?  Why it is nothing more than a locket?”  She looked around at the appreciative nods of the ladies.  “She wore more to dinner at the Lucas’s home.”

“That was a private affair.”  Mrs. Philips smiled.  “She does not wish to look beyond her company here, see, even Mary, she is not overdressed, neither is Mrs. Hurst, they all seem to fit in so nicely . . .” 

“How very considerate.” 

“But look at those gowns,
they
were not made in Meryton!”  Mrs. King sighed.  “Oh how lovely!  The fabric!”

“It must be that French modiste Lizzy uses.”  Mrs. Philips nodded.  “Not a bit of lace on any of them!  I can hardly believe it, I was always convinced that it was lace that made a dress look fine, but see how simple they are!”

“Do you think that they sew their own?”  Mrs. King whispered.  “They could not, could they?  You can tell from here how fine the stitching is.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy has ten thousand a year, I know, my sister . . .”  Mrs. Philip’s stopped, and closed her mouth.  Covering her embarrassment, she pointed to the doorway.  “Oh, look . . .”  There stood Mr. Bennet, a daughter on each arm.  As if on cue, they each kissed his cheek and then walked as sedately as their excitement allowed across the room to join Jane with Lucas.

“Where is Mrs. Bennet?”  Mrs. King asked.

“She does not seem to be present.”  Mrs. Philips said softly with her hand to her mouth.  The eyes of the ladies turned to Darcy and Elizabeth, whose faces betrayed nothing of their feelings. 

 “What has Mrs. Bennet told us of the Darcys?”

“And what of it can be believed?”  Mrs. Goulding studied Elizabeth, smiling and shaking hands, introducing her quiet and very stately husband to whoever approached, and welcoming her father who joined them.  “Where is Mrs. Wilcox, is she here?  She has been to their home . . .”

“And Mrs. Bennet has not.”  Mrs. King reminded them, and glanced at Mr. Bennet as he continued on alone to greet Mr. Philips.  “That Martin girl has been there, perhaps we can ask her?”

“I will not give her any more attention than is necessary.  Perhaps you have given up hope for your daughter and Mr. Bingley, but I most certainly have not.”

Mrs. Philips spoke in a low voice.  “Well at least my husband knows for certain
his
income, he helped out with the Netherfield lease.  So we know that he
does
have at least five thousand a year.”  The eyes of the ladies turned to follow Bingley’s progress as Sir William introduced him around the room.

“I would say if anything, Mr. Darcy likely has more than what Mrs. Bennet claims.”  Mrs. George whispered.  “Why would they tell her the truth of his fortune?  They do not like her, I would say that she plucked a figure out of the air and they liked it, so did not disagree.  See how modest Mr. Darcy is?  He does not like being the object of attention.  He is fortunate to have such a lively wife by his side.” 

The ladies turned to her with admiration.  “That is absolutely brilliant!” 

Puffing up, Mrs. George continued, “Imagine what else they have not told Mrs. Bennet, you know how she just blathers on and on . . .” 

“Brags.”  Mrs. Goulding sniffed.  “My daughters are the most beautiful, most successful, most admired . . .”  Again the ladies looked over to where Elizabeth stood with Darcy greeting anyone brave enough to approach.  Mary held de Bourgh’s arm and listened as he spoke to a man in regimentals, and Jane, blooming and smiling at her husband, the former best catch in the area, were easily entertaining their neighbours.  “Well . . . there is some truth in that.”

“But she is unwelcome to participate.  That is the point.  I understand that she is not welcome at Mrs. de Bourgh’s home either.”

“Really?”  They put their heads together to whisper when a flutter of conversation broke out.  Heads popped up and Bingley, in the process of being entertained by a matron and her daughter, followed the gazes.  An enormous smile spread across his face.  “Ohhh, look!”

Bingley bowed to his companions and strode straight across the room to where the Longs stood near the door with Abbey.  “There you are!”  He beamed and bowed to them, then took Abbey’s hand in his.  “Miss Martin, I was becoming quite concerned.  The musicians are about to take their places, and you did promise me the first set.”

“I am sorry, we were delayed.  The hack chaise was very busy tonight; there is only one driver in town.”  She looked down and blushed when he continued to hold her hand.  “Sir.”

“No, Miss Martin, I will not let go unless the steps of the dance require it.”  He drew in a deep breath, firmly placed her hand on his arm and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Long.  “I hope that you have a most pleasant evening.”  He smiled down at Abbey.  “Shall we?”

“Yes!”  She laughed and looked back at her beaming aunt and uncle as they walked across the room to take their places.  Before Bingley let her go, he took her hand in his and deliberately raised it to his lips.  All around him gasps were heard.  “Mr. Bingley . . .”  Abbey blushed and looked around.  “You are drawing attention!”

“I told you that I was going to make it perfectly clear tonight that you are my choice, Miss Martin.”  He stepped away from her and took his place in the line.  “Do you object?”

“Oh!”  Abbey put her hand to her heart.  “I would be the most foolish girl to do such a thing.  What happened to the little terrier of church?”

Bingley tilted his head.  “Do you prefer him?  He was a little exuberant.”

“He makes me laugh.  I much prefer that you be yourself, Mr. Bingley, the happy man who first impressed me at Pemberley.”  She smiled a little and looked around at all of the people watching them.  “Oh why can they not look somewhere else?” 

He spoke softly, “You are truly amongst friends, Miss Martin, please do not be nervous, even though I admit that I am as nervous as you.  I promise, now that I am free to be open, I will give you no reason to doubt me.”  Abbey sighed.  “I am sorry that it took so long to arrive at this point.”  The music began and they stepped towards each other. 

“I am glad for the wait, I think.  It is worth it, knowing that I was never forgotten.”  She spotted the Simkins family arriving, Jill was stunning and all eyes were on her.  Abbey turned to see that Bingley had noticed them as well, but returned his smile to her.  “She is everything that you need.”

“I suppose, in a calculating sort of way, she would be perfect for the life I lead.  She would slip in without missing a step, without a moment of hesitation or fear of failure.  She is the ideal and appropriate choice.”  He shrugged and smiled.  “But she is not what I want.  I do not want to be desired as a husband to save a family’s reputation or finances, or any other reason than to build a life and home together.”  He looked over to where the Darcys danced, focussed and clearly engaged in some rapid flirting argument.  Chuckling, he saw that Abbey was watching them, too.  “Miss Martin, you are observing my dearest friends, who have become unfathomably close by learning together.  Do you understand?”

“You come from the same place I do.”  He nodded at her encouragingly, “You feel safe in your position and free to make a choice of . . .your heart?”   She bit her lip and seeing his eyes crinkle in a smile, blushed over the forwardness of her question.  “It is only our first dance . . . and suddenly it has become so serious.”

Bingley took her hand, and as they turned in the steps of the quadrille he leaned down to her ear, “How dare you wear a gown that matches your eyes.”  His dimples appeared as his smile grew.  “Is this to pay me back for my impertinence of yesterday?”

Abbey smiled, then laughed, secure at last.  “And how could I anticipate that, do you think that I spent the night sewing?”

“Perhaps.”  He winked at her.  “You are an accomplished woman, you sew, you probably embroider very well . . .”

“I do, I own, but I did not rush to make this dress during the night to spite you.”  They turned and took up holding hands again.  Abbey looked down to them and stopped moving.  

“What are you thinking, Miss Martin?”  Bingley asked softly.

“Now I understand why you never want to let go of my hand.  I was too worried about doing something wrong to just . . .”  The dance ended and he raised her hand back to his lips.  “ . . . enjoy the pleasure.”  She shivered and he felt the frisson travel between them.

“Oh, I like this.”  Bingley beamed and stepped away.  “I really like this!” 

“Miss Lydia, why are you not dancing?”  Robinson took a seat next to her and smiled.

“I am not out yet.”  She asked curiously.  “Why are you not dancing?”

He pointed to his armband.  “I am not out, either.”

“Oh!  I am sorry.”  She blushed and then tilted her head.  “You should not be here at all.”

“Neither should you.”  He smiled and laughed when she giggled.  “My brother and yours thought that I should come, and I gave in to their urging.  And your excuse?”

“My sisters wanted me.”  She watched Elizabeth and Darcy begin the second of the set.  “They have never wanted me before.  And I understand why.”

“hmm.  We are similar in that, I have never felt so welcome before.”  He scanned the room and smiled at Hurst and Louisa dancing together.  “Self-improvement is the key.”

“That is what I did!”  Lydia turned to him.  “What happened to you?”

He chuckled at her eagerness.  “I discovered what was important, and valued the gifts I had received.  And learned to forgive, I suppose, including myself.”

“I am still working on the forgiveness part.”  She said thoughtfully.  “But for the rest, I am doing my best.  I want my sisters to be proud of me.”

“I understand; it feels good to be part of a family.”  They smiled at each other and sat comfortably together.  “If I could dance and you could dance, I would have been pleased to ask you for a set, Miss Lydia.”

“Really?”  She sat up straighter and beamed.  “Thank you!  Oh!”  Her eyes opened wide.  “Miss Simkins and Miss Emily!”

“Miss Simkins?”  He sat up and looked through the crowd, “So it is.”

“Do you know her?”

“Um, yes.”  He nodded.  “Do you?”

“I know their sister, Jessica.  She moved away.”  Lydia’s expression changed.  “She is happy where she is.”

“I am glad to hear that.”   Robinson sighed.  “She is safe.” 

Lydia’s head tilted, “Oh.  It was your home . . .”  His eyes cast down.  “She was grateful that you took her off of the streets, Mr. Robinson.”

“I am glad, but I am not proud to have frightened her.” 

“No.”  Lydia nodded thoughtfully.  “You should be ashamed, but it all worked out in the end.  After all, what did she do to put herself in that position?  And you did give her a decent home and job.  She could just as easily have wound up in a brothel or dead.  You might have scared her, but you also saved her life and gave her the chance to write to me for help.”

“I am without words, Miss Lydia.” 

“Oh, I know a lot of things, it could have been me, you know.”  She pointed over to de Bourgh.  “He once told me that I dress like a trollop.”

“De Bourgh did?”  Robinson stared.  “Why?”

“I did.”  She shrugged.  “I was pretty horrid, and now I am trying to do better.”  Smiling she looked out over the dancers.  “Who do you think is the prettiest girl in the room?”