Georgiana
Part IX
The great iron lock of the massive wooden doors clattered shut resounding its intention to hold against any force. The interior of the cavernous hall was strangely compelling in its simplicity. Its vast hewn-stone walls remained forever cool, tainting the air with a peculiar scent from the persistent dampness. Small rectangular openings cut high into the rock bent shafts of light into the room with the effect of hazy illumination. The flames of torches mounted amongst the pillars and posts burned their shadows into the rock with their soot and smoke. The steel, lining the walls in frames designed to impose as much as to display, warned all who entered this place was for no soft purpose. Here a man learned the skill of requiring another man's mortality.
The figures, thrusting and parrying through the choreography of their respective matches might easily have been those of knights from ages past--for ancient was their arena and ancient was their intent as the shadow of their movements rose and fell over the very stones once known to the valiants of the Realm.
The medieval whispers of the great room stirred urges and fancies long since subjugated into more rational purpose and reasoned deportment of the gentleman who allowed its affect as he observed the scene. Urges that make man seek out struggle in the desire for conquest. And fancies that cause a young boy to wield a stick as a lance as he battles the likeness of a ferocious dragon or beats back the shadowy image of a cowardly knave.
"Mr. Darcy, sir, you are come at last. We had thought you were not to come when you did not arrive at your usual time. But now it is all the worse that you are here, for Master Baines is not, sir," the boy spilled out in one long breath.
Bradford had always been an odd sort of fellow in Darcy's estimation, full of quirks and ticks. But he supposed one might rightly expect that from a fencing master's assistant who was often required to place his well-being in peril as he supplied practice for the novice and skilled alike, each inflicting his own particular terror.
Before Darcy could inquire, Bradford offered a faltering explanation, "He was called away...uh...suddenly. And I am to give you his regrets."
Darcy's leg had stiffened considerably with its lack of use while riding and he had hoped a light match would restore its mobility.
Seeing the esteemed gentleman's slight frown, the boy hurried to add, "But Master Baines does hope you will find it suitable to practice with another gentleman whose appointment he also is forsaking." Bradford nervously took a slight step back with a bow, allowing for the addition of another gentleman to their circle. "Mr. Darcy, may I present Mr. Stuart Harrell. You will find him an excellent partner, sir. His skills exceed many of those assembled here." The smile of Bradford's simpering regard quickly pinched into humbled contrition as that gentleman's cool eye silenced him.
A covered cough spoke his embarrassment from the boy's effusive introduction as he raised his face to Darcy. With a warmth not found there only just before, "A pleasure to know you again, sir."
A twitch of confusion crossed Darcy's brow as he admitted, "Your forgiveness. I do not recall a prior introduction?"
"No forgiveness is necessary. I assure you, sir. We met some 5 years ago, when I was a lad of just 16. You may remember the occasion when I tell you we met briefly as you dined with my father and mother. My father is Sir Andrew Harrell."
"A pleasure," Darcy nodded politely, as he searched his memory for the occasion. While the son shared a few familial characteristics with the father, Darcy could not honestly own any remembrance of him. Though that was no indictment of the young gentleman. He was not unremarkable in his person. In truth, the features distinctive to his Danish ancestry made Harrell rather striking in his appearance. But from the year following his father's death, Darcy remembered very little of society or its occasions.
"I believe you are to dine with us again, sir, the fortnight following the next."
Darcy wondered skeptically at Harrell's attentativeness to an engagement so distant. He was vaguely aware of the invitation, but would not have been able to identify the date had he been pressed.
"Perhaps then I may make amends with Mrs. Darcy for my absence from Pemberley. I was honored to receive invitation along with my father and regretted my inability to attend Miss Darcy's occasion."
A glimmer of weary amusement passed through Darcy's eyes. Yes, of course. Miss Darcy...a gentleman of age and standing...a pattern with which I am becoming well familiar...
"I am only just arrived myself. Regrettable Baines is not here. Would you honor me with a match, sir, as he suggests?"
At nine-and-twenty, Darcy did not consider his age of so great a difference from Harrell's, but from that gentleman's tone and respectful address, Darcy felt more like his elder than his contemporary. And at that moment, the growing stiffness of his body and the pain developing in his leg seemed to confirm the former. Darcy shifted stance, relieving the weight on his left knee.
"But then is it for the best to remain at rest, sir?" Darcy's grimace had not gone unnoticed. And for the first time, Harrell noted the dried mud staining not only Darcy's boots, but the entire length of his clothes, including traces of it in his hair. "Perhaps the morning has already provided enough exertion."
Darcy bristled. "Not at all. I met with trivial delay en route. Though it may not appear so, it does not require consideration, I assure you."
"I'll fetch your swords while you change!" Bradford cried, rushing off before actually hearing the gentleman agree to a match.
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Darcy's expectations for a lightly engaging match, calculated on his opponent's desire for his approbation were to be greatly mistaken. Steel sliced the air in tribute, with Harrell making the first challenge. Darcy received the attack, parrying with ease and appreciation. Harrell's opening move was clearly one of a skilled swordsman as Bradford had stated. Still Darcy did not press, choosing to hold his position, returning Harrell's moves with expense of little energy.
But as Harrell's press increased in fervor and intensity, Darcy found it increasingly more difficult to keep his own aggression in check. The gentleman's moves were swift and filled with intent. His thrusts were well-aimed and strong, requiring Darcy to exert himself in his defense and use more of his leg than was comfortable. Flashes of pain had distracted his concentration more than once with near serious result. While each wore the usual protective garb, a "hit" was to be avoided with as much effort as if the point could actually find the vulnerable target of flesh in the other's chest.
And then it happened. As Darcy rebuffed another advance, Harrell's sword sliced through the unprotected fabric of Darcy's left sleeve. Darcy blanched briefly at the pain. As the scarlet, from the tearing of his skin, filtered through to the surface of the white of his sleeve, Darcy momentarily appraised his young opponent. His stance was strong and his regard firmly defiant as if warning he would not be underestimated.
The struggle began in earnest. Looking from his blood staining his shirt to his assailant, Darcy now held nothing back, plunging into the combat with not only skill and strength, but also resolve powered by aggression.
Darcy was only mildly aware of the attention they drew as others forsook their own matches to admire that between he and Harrell. Soon the pair were the only two locking swords as the remainder cheered them on with groans of pleasure and dismay at the spectacle of attack and defense. Wagers naturally and quickly entered in with the merits of each gentleman being openly pronounced.
All the hall knew their battle as Harrell proved himself quick and cunning in his movements, using pillar and post to his advantage. His unconventional strokes were at times troublesome in their return, especially when calling on the strength of Darcy's vulnerable leg.
But in the end, it was Darcy's patience and keen observance of his opponent's foibles that gave him the victory. Recognizing Harrell's propensity to approach from the right from behind a pillar, Darcy approached from the left, causing Harrell to spin in surprise to find the point of Darcy's sword triumphantly at his chest.
Harrell's muscles relaxed, his weapon coming down to his side in acknowledged defeat as he slumped breathlessly against the support of the post. Cheers resounded through the air. "Well done, Darcy!" "Good show!" "Glorious duel!"
Darcy received the congratulations with a diffident smile as he supported his own recovery with his hands on his thighs. Watching with keen interest as his vanquished partner straightened from the post, Darcy stood himself. A moment of tense uncertainty lay between the two silent and serious figures. The assembled crowd waited motionless, eager to know what was to come next. A murmur of general approval circulated through the crowd as Harrell offered a deep bow of concession.
Darcy's smile was broad and sincere as he offered his hand, "Well done, Harrell! Very well done, indeed." A hearty clap on the back, sealed Darcy's approval as he led his young friend to the benches.
Uncertain as to its source, but grateful just the same, Darcy and Harrell each accepted the glass of spirits handed to them as they took a well-earned rest. Their breath was spared as the gentlemen assembled about them exchanged their personal endorsements of various moves and thrilling moments. Still basking in the satisfaction of the moment, Darcy focused little attention on Bradford as he anxiously tended to his bloodied arm.
Harrell's serious concern broke through the merriment, "Will you allow me to send for a doctor, sir--your arm..."
"No, I am quite well. A scratch, really." Darcy deferred as Bradford tied strips of cloth about the wound. "However, I am reminded I must be on my way." Darcy rose stiffly to his feet. "Bradford, my things, if you will."
Though waistcoat and coat clothed him again, Darcy was not his usual picture of impeccable attire as he prepared to take his leave, but his satisfaction in the day's turn was evident in his dimpled grin. "I shall thank Baines for his absence the next time I see him. Without it, I should never have known the satisfaction of our duel. Good day, Harrell. And my regards to Sir Andrew and Lady Harrell."
Harrell rose quickly to return the gentleman's bow. "Good day, sir."
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Georgiana's and Elizabeth's eyes met briefly as they left the face of the clock sounding its hour. It's chimes were light and delicate and might otherwise have given pleasure to its listeners. But while its tone sweet, its message was not, as it signaled the passing of another hour without the return of the one for whom they waited.
Georgiana knew not what words to speak. She herself had undergone such change of emotion and mind in her brother's absence, she now knew not what to make of it.
When first arriving home and finding him still away, Elizabeth had not uttered a word of disappointment, but it had shown in her eyes. Georgiana had kindly offered that it was yet early and perhaps a rest would be refreshing. But with the lengthening of the morning, her charity toward William had begun to give way to mild vexation and wonder at his seeming insensitivity to the feelings of his family on this occasion.
She had not imagined he would not know her eager anticipation of this evening--her first ball in Town. Though it was certainly not his first, she had thought he would show enough interest to wait with them until the appointed time. And though Elizabeth had exchanged pleasantries with relative ease, her furtive and frequent glances at the turning of the clock's hands told Georgiana she had hoped for his presence as well.
Georgiana had begun to wonder if the cause of the disquietude at dinner and breakfast and the still evident awkwardness between her sister and brother were not of greater consequence than she had hoped. Does he stubbornly stay away from Elizabeth?
His cool reserve, from the day prior, filtered into her mind, suggesting he would find very little pleasure in accompanying her into society with the Langs. Or does he stay away from a task he deems unpleasant in its fulfillment?
Now with the changing of the hour once again an unease crept into her considerations. But what if he stays away not for any of these, but out of need? Is he somehow injured and unable to seek help? But would she not be adding alarm to distress if such possibility was suggested?
Georgiana quietly excused herself, leaving Elizabeth to continue the composition of her letter while she made inquiry of Mr. Crane and retrieved her stitch work. If her mind was to be so active in its worry, her hands required the same consideration.
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Outside, the glare of direct sunlight caused Darcy to pause as he squinted to see the time of his watch.
"Good God!"
Darcy shoved his watch into its pocket, grabbed his horse's reigns from the boy and leaped onto his horse in one fluid motion. But as he turned his horse, ready to call him to action, the animal's hesitation reminded him of the risk of any great speed.
Blast!
Darcy knew if he returned to -----street in time to even change without being late, he would be fortunate. The roses would have to wait.
And Elizabeth?
Damnation.
Darcy nudged his horse forward at the greatest pace he dared.
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Bradford scurried along side as the young gentleman made to leave, "What am I to tell Baines, sir? He will demand explanation!"
"That is your concern, not mine. Here, this ought to compensate for your trouble." The heavy coins flew into Bradford's hurriedly-cupped hands. "Thank you, sir," Bradford called after the gentleman's receding form with appreciative awe, "thank you!"
...Jane, what does he mean by staying away so long?
I had hoped this evening would bring some change in his behavior to me, that Aunt Gardiner's certainty of his direction would show itself sooner than later. She instructs me though he will keep his own counsel until he is ready to speak. But must he take so long? I do not understand his need for such prolonged solitude or distance from me. Even if he means to be severe upon me, must he be uncivil toward Georgiana? I cannot believe him to be so. However, if I am merely convinced by my own wishes and he means to continue this abominable separation, must I accept it so willingly?
I know you would not feel so ill-used, though I wonder that you and Bingley ever find yourself in such a state. You would suffer this with sweetness. But I find I do not have such store of patience.
Before resuming her letter, Elizabeth exchanged a strained smile with Georgiana as that woman quitted the room.
Jane the hour has just sounded and still no return of Mr. Darcy. I hardly know what to feel or think. He is never gone this late if we are to go out. What if he is come to some harm? Georgiana does not say it, but she considers it as well. I am filled with dread to think of it!...
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A sharp sensation cut through the center of his leg at the twisting of Darcy's knee as he dismounted. The sides of the saddle gave him balance as his leg threatened to give way under his weight as it reached the ground. Darcy silently cursed his increasing feebleness.
"See that he receives a warm rubdown with special care of his left foreleg and watch for any sign of lameness," Darcy instructed succinctly, not waiting for reply as he tossed the reigns to his boy.
The horse nudged the stableboy's shoulder in friendly greeting as the boy stood with his mouth gaping and the leather loosely in hand, watching the master make for the house with as much speed as a limp allowed. He had never seen the master in such disarray!
Darcy chose to enter through the servant's door knowing it to require fewer pain-filled steps and to be the quickest way to the upper floor. Passing his housekeeper, who stood in silent amazement at her master's laborious haste, Darcy requested without stopping his ascent of the backstairs, "Mrs. Hobbes, please send Mr. Crane to my chambers at once."
Mrs. Hobbes' hands propped on her hips as she watched him hobble up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing for support. "What's become of this place? The mistress goes flying out the back with a bang and a clatter... The master comes sailing through looking like some battered bird blown by the wind and storm...And me left without so much as a notion of what all the to-do is about..." Mrs. Hobbes made her way to the pantry where she knew she would find the one person who very likely could explain it all, but most probably would not.
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The sound of the outer-chamber's door opening and coming-to summoned James from his work. (His fretting if truth be known.) Having made certain for the fifth time his master's clothes possessed no flaw or defect in appearance, he had taken to occupying himself with the condition of Mr. Darcy's other clothes. While his industry had benefitted the object of his labor, it had accomplished little good in calming his worry.
As James entered the chamber, he visibly started at the figure he beheld giving way to the support of a chair nearest the door. His appearance was deplorable! His hair clung to his face with perspiration; his collar hung open unbuttoned with the tail of his cravat hanging limply from the coat pocket in which it had been hastily shoved rather than tied about his neck; he was stained with mud from head to boot. With his head resting against the back and the features of his face drawn up tightly under a furrowed brow, he appeared to be in great discomfort.
"Sir, what has happened?" James immediately set to work in relieving his master of his boots. James asked with great concern at Darcy's wince, "Your leg is hurt, sir?"
"Yes,"Darcy admitted, gingerly rubbing his knee, "but I must wash and change. I have not a moment to spare. I am intolerably late."
"I will trouble it as little as possible, sir." James asked no more questions, but set to work. James decided the injury must be grievous, indeed, for Darcy made no effort to remove from the chair for him to remove his coat. The beckoning at the door interrupted his progress, "Will you receive any one, sir?"
"Yes. I suspect it is Crane as I requested." Darcy continued his undress, unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat as James saw to the door.
"Mr. Crane, Mrs. and Miss Darcy are dressed and waiting below?" Darcy winced again as he pulled the remains of his torn shirt from his body.
"Your arm, sir!" James cried in alarm as he immediately left Crane's side to kneel in inspection of his master's wound. The blood had seeped through the white cloth and was in desperate need of changing.
"Yes, it has been quite a day, James. Much of it I would not wish to experience again." Turning his attention back to his butler, "Please ask Mrs. Darcy to come directly. I wish to speak with her."
James exchanged a quiet look with Crane before discretely clearing his throat.
Darcy's manservant directed his attention to the length of mirror standing across the room as he looked at him in question. His reflection left little question as to James' meaning.
The man in the glass more closely resembled a wild gypsy after a hard-fought struggle than a proper English gentleman wishing to recommend himself to the good opinion of a genteel lady. The small flush of Darcy's cheek showed his momentary embarrassment at the rashness of his request.
Though he wished more than anything to see her, he conceded, as he looked away from his image, "No, you are quite right. This is not the time. Mr. Crane, please inform Mrs. Darcy of my return and my intention to join her in a quarter hour."
"Sir, will you have a bath? It is drawn, but I am afraid it is grown tepid and will take some time to warm it again." James continued to unravel the bandage with care.
Darcy considered momentarily. A fatigue was beginning to weigh heavily upon his limbs and dulling the workings of his mind. If the cold restored a measure of his senses he would suffer it, though it might do little for his leg.
"Make that half of an hour, Mr. Crane. James, we must work quickly."
Darcy's right side provided all the strength as he rose slowly and stiffly from his rest. While Crane sympathetically doubted his master's ability to comply with his own wishes, he merely nodded acknowledgment of his instructions.
"Mr. Crane, one more thing. I need you to purchase roses--white and red--one dozen each." Darcy caught sight of his image and thought again of the hour of his return. "Make that two dozen each."
Crane showed uncharacteristic hesitation, "Sir, the time of day--the shops will be closed..."
Darcy looked at him with mirthful surprise. It was not often he had the opportunity to tease his able butler. "I should think that such detail would prove insignificant for a man of your abilities, Mr. Crane."
He was not to be deterred from his purpose as he continued more seriously, "I care not what the cost. They are to be in Mrs. Darcy's bed chamber before our return. Have Ellen arrange them if you wish. But see that a white and a red be wrapped together with ribbon and placed on her pillow."
Mr. Crane knew not to argue with the master and in truth was secretly amused by the young man's insistence and happy to comply. Apparently a greater state of harmony was soon to be known between the master and his wife and Crane was heartily glad of it. "Yes, sir. I will see it is done."
"Not a word of any of this to Mrs. Darcy or my sister."
"As you wish, Mr. Darcy."
"And Mr. Crane..." Darcy remembered one other detail from his day.
"Yes, sir?" Crane contained his smile, glad he had once again resisted the temptation to try to quit the room.
"A man named, Grady, will call tomorrow with his wares. If the quality meets with your approval, purchase several casks. If it is only tolerable, purchase one or two and we shall give it away."
"Yes, sir." As his master slowly made for the waiting tub, Crane finally judged it safe to take leave. Crane closed the chamber door behind him, wondering in what way "Grady" figured into the mishap of the master's day.
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As he gingerly lowered into the water, Darcy wondered that this had been the best remedy--whatever warmth the water had once possessed had now entirely escaped, leaving the water very cold on his skin. This was to be a quick bath, indeed.
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"Mrs. Darcy," Crane began carefully so as not to startle her as she wrote.
"Yes, Mr. Crane?" Elizabeth quickly set down her pen, looking to their man with a mix of hope and fear in anticipation of his intelligence, "you have news of Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes, ma'am. He wishes me to inform you he will be pleased to join you in half of an hour." Crane thought his one small addition to the message might be permissable.
Elizabeth stood in astonishment, "He is here?!" Wondering more to herself, "And how is it I did not hear his return?" For the past hour, she was certain she had heard every creak, shift and rattle of the house in her attentiveness to hear the sounds of the door at his entry. "Mr. Crane, he is well?"
"Yes, ma'am. He is changing and will join you directly."
Her relief was palpable as the sensation flooded over her. "Thank you, Mr. Crane. Please inform Miss Darcy of his return that she may be ready for our departure."
Elizabeth sat down to quickly finish her letter.
I have just had word he is come. And he is well! I must close that I may be ready.But Jane, I possess no certainty of his approbation. Oh, how I long for your assurances at this moment.
I shall write again very soon.
Your loving sister,
Lizzy
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As Elizabeth consulted her reflection in the peering glass, she had no need of any artificial means of producing a hue of pink in her cheeks, such was the agitation of feelings showing in her countenance. The emotion of her nervous anticipation at his coming was not unlike that when first he called again at Longbourn--before she could be sure of his opinion of her.
But this was not just any gentleman coming to call, this was her husband, the man to whom she owed all her happiness. She knew what it was to feel the encompassing warmth of his smile and the scintillation he created so easily with tender touch. The separation made so long by the hours of the day--and worse, the withholding of his own feelings--had made her care for his presence more than anything else she could desire.
A door could be heard closing somewhere in the hall as Elizabeth's image finally suited her.
But the relief and longing so keenly felt and uppermost in her consideration of their meeting soon knew again the confusion of another feeling. But you have been very sly with me, Fitzwilliam Darcy. How is it you have come to be home so secretively? In the passing of less than two days time, her husband had made it his practice to avoid her through every means at his disposal. Will you not face me? The pink of her cheeks puffed out before releasing her pent up breath. Her vexation at his extended absence had yet to be appeased.
Elizabeth retrieved her gloves from the table with a sigh of resolve. But this is to be Georgiana's evening. I am determined to do as Jane and hold my tongue!
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James looked upon the gentleman with pride as he watched from a discrete position above the stairs. He had delivered the master to an evening with his lady with a press and polish defying the inadequacy of time with which he had been given to properly see to the many details of a well-turned out appearance. Even Mr. Darcy himself had seemed bent upon bringing failure to the plan by requesting two items of apparel in exchange for those he had prepared. But James, having employed his labor well, produced the waistcoat and breeches in condition ready for his master's wearing. And now, none would be the wiser as to the state of Mr. Darcy's well-being, unless otherwise informed, as his stately pace only served to add distinction to his air--though James knew it to be for the pain he endured.
James had done all he knew to do, having applied liniment and lotion to the respective injuries. He doubted though that anything but time and rest would heal either. He had even ventured to persuade the master to forgo the rigors of the evening for the comfort of his bed. But the master had insisted his arm would not suffer while the bandage was in place and that his leg...well that his leg must wait.
James could only wonder how Mr. Darcy was to fare with an evening's obligations that must surely only increase his pain.
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Elizabeth's heart leaped up at the figure coming toward her on the stairs as she came into the hall, wiggling her fingers down through the length of her glove. It was a feeling of such admiration and joy as to wantonly overthrow her every objection to her circumstance and fill her with great felicity in coming into his presence again. One word and she would willingly have run to him...
But her happiness soon felt betrayed by the reserve he exhibited as his steps carried him slowly down the final steps.
Nothing had changed.
Catching the inside of her mouth, she looked away to school the emotions welling up inside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Darcy's blood raced as he beheld the woman emerging from the recesses of the doorway. He felt as though he had not seen her for the passing of many days, making his perception of her all that more acute. The flood of information from his intent appraisal left him with one vivid image. She was simply elegant.
Darcy concentrated all his powers on controlling his limp and constraining the pain from his countenance as he continued his approach with a sudden nervousness gripping him as he drew near. He had never composed in his mind what he might say. He had only known he must be with her. And now with her so near and seeing the suddenness of her turning away, the words he needed would not come to mind.
The tips of his fingers found the cool surface of his ring, feeling uncertain as her eyes continued to avoid his.
Dropping his hands to his side defenselessly, he murmured softly,"Elizabeth..."
She turned her face to him, her chin tilted in resistance with the design of protecting against the expression of her feelings.
His brows twitched together as he stepped closer, confused by the guardedness he saw. Only that morning, she would willing have received him.
Suddenly busying herself with the donning of her other glove as she looked down, Elizabeth informed him with feigned casualness, "I believe Georgiana waits us below. She is most eager. Shall we not take our leave so we are not to be late?"
The difficulty her hand was having in finding the end of her glove, instructed Darcy there was more feeling behind her polite tone than she was prepared to express. Nodding his head slightly as he breathed a silent acknowledgment, Darcy recognized he apparently had much to do in making amends. Perhaps it was miscalculated to not have stopped for the roses after all.
Deciding it best not to test the vehemence of her current humor by pressing his position, he stepped back, extending his arm with respectful deference. Asking with genuine question in his voice, "Pray, will you allow me?"
Georgiana sighed wearily as she observed the pair descending from the stairs, it was plain to be seen nothing had changed between them. While Elizabeth accepted William's escort, there was not an ease between them. Her hand barely rested upon his arm. And his manner was stiff and controlled. With the distance maintained between them so far removed from its usual intimacy, an air of disunion hung about them as they approach. Extinguished was the small hope she had yet tended upon learning of his safe return.
"Good evening, Georgiana."
Georgiana raised her cheek in perfunctory acceptance of William's brotherly kiss.
"Good evening, William," Georgiana returned pallidly as a wave of lament flooded her senses, washing all color from her voice and skin. My first London ball... With such a beginning, little good could be believed for its end, and its course expected only to bring unhappiness.
Darcy studied his sister's spiritless countenance. He had hoped her calling at Benttree and her anticipation of the evening would restore her to good humor even if only a little. Is anxiety what I find?, he puzzled. She is unusually pale...
"Georgiana, are you unwell?"
"No." Georgiana replied with no improvement.
Darcy was not convinced. Tilting his head as if to see into her thoughts, he coaxed gently, "Moppet?"
The intimate appellation, so tenderly applied, worked an opposite affect than the one intended. Her loyalty already so far divided by his apparent coolness toward Elizabeth found insupportable any gesture of warmth he might extend to herself while excluding Elizabeth. A smouldering vexation gave way to physical response as she closed herself more completely within the folds of her pelisse.
Darcy stepped closer, convinced by her apparent chill and sudden flush, "You are unwell. Come sit down. Mr. Crane, bring Miss Darcy a glass of wine," Darcy instructed over his shoulder as he began leading Georgiana, her elbow gently cupped in his hand.
"No, William," Georgiana twisted her arm from his aid, insisting emphatically, "I am well."
Darcy stiffened as his hand returned to his side, surprised by her resistance. But he did not remove from his position.
Her reason warned he was under no obligation to justify his day's occupation. But it was precisely the motive of his delay that her feelings demanded to know. And yet, knowing might be more injurious. To be certain of his aversion to tonight's society would be to put another constraint upon her spirit which she could not exert herself beyond. But the mix of concern and confused hurt in his unyielding gaze proved all-powerful in its press, persuading her to confess what she feared must be impertinent.
"Why did you...Did you not give any thought...that is..."
Georgiana sighed with frustration as she looked to the smooth material covering her worriedly clasped hands. Recollecting herself from the swell of emotion, she turned her charge to more of a confession, "I...we had come to fear for you--you stayed away so long."
The quiet tone in which she delivered her admonition did not diminish its effectiveness. Rather, it was all too keenly felt by its recipient, disabusing him of his previous interpretation of her actions. Had fear for his person been the singular sentiment of her confession, her eyes would have been benevolently searching his to know he was well. But as she stood before him now, eyes averted and cloaked tightly within her wrap, he recognized the symptoms of another feeling she attempted to constrain within. Georgiana was not ill. She was angry. Or resentful, Darcy considered. And Georgiana had said we.
Seeking evidence of Elizabeth's sympathy with Georgiana's feelings, Darcy intuitively looked for the expression of her eyes. But his inquiry was rejected as she quickly turned her face from him, with the sound of her fan punctuating her message as it was sharply opened.
He swallowed roughly as he puzzled over his vulnerable position, the floor becoming his point of focus. Standing between Napoleon and Wellington might be more desirable than spending an evening in close company with two women of whose anger he was clearly the target. His extended absence was resented and nothing short of a revelation would likely satisfy the demands of their wounded feelings. And yet even that is fraught with peril. How would Elizabeth react knowing he had allowed a fencing match to so distract him from his obligations to her and Georgiana? He most certainly could not reveal his resulting injury. She would think him foolish indeed...Though he might look gallant if he only spoke of the Lady's rescue...Darcy frowned unconsciously, rejecting the cowardice of his thoughts. No, I must apologize...
Darcy swallowed roughly as he looked up. And directly it would appear, Darcy decided as the methodical thrust of her fan sent waves of vexation from angry eyes.
However, though he had come to his conclusion in the span of only a few breaths, it had taken too long. Believing his frown to signify his refusal to admit any wrongdoing, Elizabeth had already come to her own conclusion. Snapping her fan closed, Elizabeth commanded, as the fullness of her pelisse swept past Darcy, "Come, Georgiana. Kitty will be waiting."
Georgiana's deep disapproval embodied in her sigh was soon after Darcy's only company as she followed Elizabeth to the door, neither woman waiting for his escort nor for his lead. The footman hurriedly opened the door, taken by surprise by the prematurity of their exit and the uncharacteristic composition of their party.
A dark cape was solemnly draped about the shoulders of the suddenly solitary gentleman. With measured forwardness, Crane assured the master in a quiet voice as he handed him his hat and gloves, "The roses will be as ordered, sir. I will see to it personally."
Darcy watched the figures disappear into the shadowy darkness. Nodding ruefully, "Thank you Mr. Crane."
They might just as well be tossed out with the rubbish if my behavior tonight can not sway their current prejudice. Not only must his manner this evening be civil, it must be uncommonly civil, especially to Lang...and the others.
With an ironic twitch of his brow, Darcy accepted what would be used for more than fashion until he must give it up. Allowing himself a moment of indulgence, Darcy leaned heavily upon the cane as he limped into the night.
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The carriage ride to the Gardiners was quiet and tense and by no means improved by the sentiments immediately expressed by Elizabeth's sister upon entering the conveyance.
"Lizzy, I thought you should never come!" Kitty complained peevishly, though in muted voice she thought to be unheard by her host.
As Darcy took his seat opposite, removing his hat, he offered conciliatorily, "Miss Bennet, the fault is mine. I hope you have not been inconvenienced."
Kitty startled. Her complaints at home rarely if ever received such civility. And she never expected apology from him. Her pout dissolved into a grateful smile as she returned an amiable apology of her own, "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. But you must have good reason. Lizzy is always telling me to not exhibit so much impatience."
Darcy accepted her sentiment with an understanding and excusing nod.
Elizabeth's astonishment at the exchange was silently expressed in the rolling of her eyes as she turned to the window. How gallant you are, Mr. Darcy with my sister. I wonder that you find it so convenient with her, but with neither Georgiana or me!
Georgiana thought the affect of her brother's demeanor remarkable and silently wondered that this was the same person with whom she had just felt so much disappointment.
Her courage bolstered to speak more, Kitty attempted conversation with Georgiana and Elizabeth, but soon discovered neither possessed any inclination. When her forays with her new brother elicited only halting responses, she finally fell silent, nervously fingering her fan. She could not understand why innocent inquiries after his day should cause her three companions so much disquiet.
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"Lang," Farrow chided leisurely, "I thought you said your winsome maiden was to make an appearance tonight.
Lang's demeanor shared little of his friend's calm, as his agitation increased with the growing hour. Only a paltry number of guests were yet paying their compliments to his parents, with the majority of the people who were expected already mingling about, politely deciding whose society they preferred for the evening and whom they should ever so politely snub.
"Ah, look, I believe the Raleighs have just come. He was with Miss Darcy at Pemberley was he not?" Farrow's tone oozed with delight, knowing the presence of another eligible suitor would provoke his friend into a frenzy.
Lang pivoted sharply, unconsciously puffing up like a cuckoo preparing to defend his claim of his chosen female.
"Steady-on man" Farrow buffeted his friend with a slap to the back. "You have nothing to fear. After all you have the advantage..."
Lang threw him a curious look.
"...Her brother has already taken a great liking to you has he not?" Farrow laughed at his friend's expense.
"Hrmph. Delight in my suffering if you will, Farrow, but know you will be paid back in full when your time comes," Lang warned distractedly, dividing his attention between the tracking of the younger Raleigh's movements and his watchfulness of the ballroom's entrance.
"Ah, but you are wrong, my friend. I should never be target of your revenge. You are far too sentimental and vulnerable when it comes to marriage. I on the other hand possess no such liability and pursue the fairer sex only for the sport of it."
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Kitty fidgeted to gain a better view as a congestion of lavishly-appointed boxes lining the way, told her they were very near. "Oh, Georgiana, is it not exciting?!"
Kitty's buoyancy caused Georgiana to feel more enthusiasm than the agitation of her spirit would have otherwise allowed had it not been for the influence of her genuine emotion. "Yes, Kitty," Georgiana agreed, smiling mildly until Kitty turned back to her anticipation of their arrival.
The Lang's London home was all Kitty had imagined and more as she entered the great hall, eagerly taking in the finery adorned for the evening's gaiety. All about her were ornamentations designed to enchant as they enhanced the already modish decor. Nothing was in place that was not of the newest London mode. Every detail from the print of the walls to the objects of display made real the images Kitty was known to longingly pour over in hope of some day having such grand possessions. The affect was not lost on the woman. Feeling the tumult of doubt in her stomach, Kitty walked a little more closely next to Georgiana. This was not the assembly hall in Meryton or just another country dance.
A footman approached the party, resplendent in his crimson livery, applying to Lizzy to help with her wrap. A rush of gratitude relieved Kitty's anxiety, as she realized the adornments she wore were again not unlike Lizzy's as they would have been in Meryton. However, now they were the result of her brother's great consequence rather than the modesty of her father's.
"Georgiana, I cannot wait for you to see," Kitty confided, as another footman bowed his intention to her. "I do think you will approve."
"Marvelous, Kitty!" Georgiana exclaimed through her hands, as her gown was revealed on the other woman.
"Do you really think so?" Kitty's enthusiasm agreed with Georgiana's as she posed a semi-turn to show a glimpse of the back.
"Kitty, you are lovely." Elizabeth's delight in her sister's appearance was sincere. She had never seen her younger sister look more handsome or poised. She was very happy for Kitty and gave her thanks to the one who had made it possible through her unstinting generosity.
"Yes, Georgiana. You have been so very kind to me. Now, you really must show us your gown, since you would not last night," Kitty complained good-naturedly.
Darcy's appraisal of Kitty's appearance had been equally complimentary, but it remained unspoken as his attention was arrested by the image of his sister as it was unveiled from beneath her cloak. While her figure was not given to extremes, it was soft and womanly and the line of her gown had been cut to make the most of her features. The contrast of the deep amethyst against her alabaster skin drew one's eyes to a feature men often found compelling in their wish to become better acquainted with a woman. Had Elizabeth been wearing the gown, the cunning design would have garnered an appreciative response. However this was Georgiana. And his only impulse was to snatch the wrap from the footman and hide her again in its folds. His resolve for the evening, so newly formed, was to be sorely tested, indeed.
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Despite the exasperation he had excited, Georgiana could not prevent herself from caring for William's opinion as she sought his reaction even as she accepted the admiration of her sisters. She had planned for him to see her in her new gown while at ease--comfortably situated at home. Though Elizabeth had approved of its fashionableness, Georgiana had fretted the daring of its style would be something with which William would need to become accustomed.
Her teeth caught her bottom lip as her hand caught up the necklace laying against her skin as William tugged violently on the hem of his waistcoat. His peculiar mannerism of determination was matched only at that moment by that reflected in his eyes. It was as she had feared. He disapproved of the gown.
Already convinced of his dislike of the evening, Georgiana imagined all manner of mortification as he approached, certain he was to act upon his disapprobation. Georgiana silently pleaded Elizabeth's aid.
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"Then Dinsmore--you recall-- the chap who won it for us last match..."
"She is come!" Lang proclaimed, every muscle tensing in his readiness to spring forth to his discovery.
"Who is come?" Farrow queried, irritated by the interruption of his compelling story. Following the bead of Lang's sight, he knew of course who it must be. "Mr. Darcy is come at last," Farrow approved sarcastically. "But with him are three ladies? Mrs. Darcy I might guess," Farrow conjectured. "Darcy has done well for himself. Pray which is the Siren who bewitches you? From your effusive description, I should think she stands slightly to Darcy's side?"
"Yes." Lang sighed adoringly, finally breathing again. "Have you ever beheld a more comely creature?"
"Well...there was Miss Leach and Lady Emilia..."With a sly grin Farrow began counting off the names of women whom Lang had once declared as the paragon of beauty.
Lang ignored his friend's sarcasm, charging him instead, "Quickly, I must engage her before Raleigh. You dance with Miss Bennet so Miss Darcy's thoughts need not be for her welfare."
"But for yours, eh Lang?" Farrow eyed the other young woman carefully. "She is not so intolerable herself. All right then, Lang. I shall entertain her while you woo Miss Darcy. But do not think her all to yourself. I should think to be in company with her quite pleasant myself. Shall we welcome them?" Farrow clapped Lang on the back with an evil smile.
His friend's competitive sentiment left Lang momentarily unable to move. He and Farrow had often added the element of competition to increase the satisfaction to be found in the pursuit of a conquest. But this time, Lang had no intention of permitting his friend's interference. Using long determined strides, Lang hurriedly closed the distance between he and Miss Darcy's party.
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"Have you spotted Mr. Lang?" Kitty's whispered inquiry interrupted Georgiana's thoughts as she considered what had just taken place.
William had not bidden her back into the carriage (impolite as that might have been to their host, she had imagined it his probable reaction), and he had not disparaged her apparel. Indeed, his words and actions had been of great economy. When he had spoken, whatever resolve she had seen was in no way reflected in the manner of his address. He had seemed entirely unsure of what to say. Resorting to a curt bow, generally addressed to their party, he had weakly suggested they pay their respects to their host. What can this mean? Georgiana knew her amazement at his timidity was not unshared. Elizabeth's furtive scrutiny of William as he had led her to the Langs had been filled with curiosity.
"Mm, no, I have not," Georgiana replied, redirecting her attention to the room's occupants.
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Farrow increased his stride to keep pace with Lang's as he was overtaken.
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Kitty's hand caught Georgiana's arm as she giggled with delight, "Georgiana look to the left. It is your gentleman racing another!"
"Kitty, I think we are to be bowled down!" Georgiana warned as she drew her companion back a step, even as she appreciated the zeal of their approach.
Darcy also moved instinctively at the sight with an entirely different appraisal, placing more of his body in front of his sisters to protect them from the wild charge.
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His sudden insertion made Lang woefully aware of the indiscretion of his racing steps, causing him to wish with some urgency for his feet to stop. Had it not been for the polish of the wooden floor and the smooth surface of the soles of his shoes, the result he desired might have been delivered. Rather than merely ceasing their approach, Lang's feet skidded noisily across the short span, landing him not before the object of his intentions, but beneath the very tall and formidable stance of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Lang gulped air from his embarrassment as he stepped backward to attain a proper distance between them, endeavoring with greatest distress to affect some tone of decorum, "Mr. Darcy, sir...UMPH." Lang caught himself from colliding into his guest as momentum brought Farrow sharply against him, making him look the fool once again. His withering glance warned Farrow no little vengeance would be exacted after the whole affair was through.
Glancing heavenward, Elizabeth gave up for naught any hope that her husband would attempt any modulation of his view of Georgiana's suitors. With such evidence, she could not blame him.
Elizabeth looked anxiously from husband to suitor and back again, her instinctual desire to redeem the situation for her sister's sake constrained by her disharmony with her husband. Without certainty of success, any attempt to prevent her husband's certain rebuke must be imprudent and likely further endanger any happiness to be found in the evening.
Desperately attempting to conceive words to extricate himself from his mortification, Lang sputtered, "Mr. Darcy...I...You..." An audible sigh punctuated his despair with the heaving of his chest, as he retreated to the refuge of a proper introduction, "Mr. Darcy, you may recall my friend, Mr. Farrow. Mr. Farrow, Mr. Darcy." Lang thought he might as well take his leave for his chambers then and there, knowing any hope of approbation had been dashed.
The edge to Lang's pronunciation of 'friend' did not elude Darcy's understanding of the disfavor in which the gentleman was held, nor did he at that moment possess any greater regard for either man as they attempted to recollect themselves from the ill-affects of their rivalry. Indeed, had it not been for Darcy's own mission for the evening, he might have acted as his wife expected. He was determined however to prove himself amiable when in society of Georgiana's gentlemen even if it was required of him to overlook the foolishness of ones too much in her power.
Darcy's acceptance displayed no hint of material damage to either's reputation as he bowed politely, "Mr. Lang, Mr. Farrow." He continued easily, "When last observed, you were few moves from certain victory. Pray tell me, Mr. Farrow, what was your success?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Georgiana's down-cast gaze snapped up sharply to meet Kitty's in astonishment. The illness her brother had earlier supposed had threatened real imposition at the reckless sight of Lang answered by the squaring of her brother's shoulders. Unable to watch, she had allowed the barrier of his back to obscure the ridiculous scene as she wondered at the proper length of time she must endure before pleading headache and quitting the presence of all involved. Now she listened with open curiosity to William's effortless entry into conversation with the very gentlemen she had supposed he would either censure or reject.
"Why, I won the match, sir," Farrow replied wondering at Lang's description of the gentleman. He found him uncommonly civil.
"Ah, well done. I had wondered that your leg might prove some distraction? You seemed to be suffering some injury from your game. But I see it was a passing distress."
Farrow had no manner of reply as he exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Lang. He was beginning to understand his friend's wariness in his dealings with Mr. Darcy.
Darcy allowed the silence until a slight pressure on his arm reminded him of his duty, "Mrs. Darcy, you remember Mr. Lang. May I also present Mr. Farrow."
All exchanged gestures of respect, happy for the distraction until the first strains of music bid all who would dance come thither to the floor. Lang covered a meaningful cough, glancing nervously beyond Darcy's shoulder. Being certain of that gentleman's resistance to yielding the ladies they sought, the young men could only hope for Mrs. Darcy's intervention.
To their immeasurable surprise, it was indeed Darcy who provided the introductions as he stepped aside, "And now Mr. Lang and Mr. Farrow, may I present Miss Bennet, Mrs. Darcy's sister. And my sister Miss Darcy. Catherine, Georgiana, Messrs. Lang and Farrow."
Visibly charmed by the gentleman, Kitty did not long relinquish his gaze as she returned his show of respect. "Mr. Farrow, a pleasure, sir."
Georgiana's curtsey was not so quick as she pondered how one injured one's leg playing chess. And when did this match take place? Recently? Today? And why did William's mentioning of it cause them visible discomfort?
Lang eagerly stepped forward to receive her obeisance, "Miss Darcy, may I say I am exceedingly glad you are come tonight."
"I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Lang."
Darcy huffed silently inside, Why does he just stand there grinning like an idiot?! Steady on, his conscience warned, Do not allow your cynicism hold or it will surely be your undoing.
Kitty observed meaningfully as she looked past the gentlemen, "The music is inviting...I always find the first dance exciting."
With such an opening, in the setting of the decorous parade of couples processing to the floor, Darcy waited expectantly for the gentlemen to petition the obvious. But neither spoke. Farrow appeared to have lost his nerve and Lang...
Ask her to dance, man! Darcy's thoughts insisted.
Lang's infatuation danced in his eyes as they held hers, seemingly oblivious to the mounting tension. His step gained him more intimacy as he asked, invitingly, "And you Miss Darcy, do you find a minuet to your liking?"
Darcy's discreet cough excused him from Georgiana's demure glance, recognizing he attended too closely to their exchange for her to feel at ease.
"Aye, it is a beautiful dance, sir," Georgiana could feel the color rising in her cheeks.
"Ah...Good." Lang hesitated again, momentarily lost in her presence. "Then, may I be so bold as to request this dance...and the next, Miss Darcy?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darcy felt a twinge of satisfaction as the gentlemen escorted their partners to a position of prominence amongst the others with Georgiana's backwards look informing him she had forgiven him...at least a little.
And what of his own partner? With her arms linked across her, chewing the inside of her mouth, she was anything but the picture of tranquillity, though she no longer appeared angry. With a delicate wrinkle creasing her brow, she looked perplexed as she watched the couples walk away. If his manner, thus far improved, had only confused her, then he had merely done enough to persuade her feelings, but not actually restore her good opinion of him. Darcy realized he had gained small ground, but was still in jeopardy of failing the broader mission.
His leg objected painfully, even as the intention formed in his mind..."Mrs. Darcy, will you honor me..."
"Darcy! We meet again," the man greeted noisily, insensitive to his obstruction of the younger man's purpose. "Not dancing I see," he concluded as the first steps of the dance began. Smiling conspiratorially, he suggested, "Leave that to the poor saps who must secure their fortunes, eh?" After barely, taking a breath, he dismissed, "You know my wife...And you must be Mrs. Darcy," the man's eyes roamed leisurely over her every feature, "I assure you, Madame, your husband's boasting does not do you justice."
Darcy's bristled stance faltered as did his color, as the archness of Elizabeth's silent inquiry both questioned his innocence and accused him of guilt.
rdinarily, Darcy would not have dignified the insinuation with a response, knowing it to be a ridiculous assertion he would make sport of his wife with vulgar proclamations intended to amuse or bolster perceptions of his virility. But it had been made for Elizabeth's hearing and had not been inconsequential in its turn of her feelings. To allow this marplot to add another strike on a list of transgressions Elizabeth apparently held against him was insupportable! Darcy knew he must immediately answer for himself or any gains he had made in redeeming himself would be lost. But the design of his retort was not without difficulty. He could neither sound as though he did not delight in Elizabeth's attributes, but nor could he sound as though he admitted to the implied guilt! With the stress of composing his response under the demand of her glare, Darcy was sorely tempted to revert to a childish defense and blurt out, He lies! I did not!
"A delight to be in company again today, sir," the lady addressed Darcy, while returning her husband's slight by completely ignoring him.
The intonation of the woman's purr was unmistakable. Though momentary and discreet, the unconsidered roll of Darcy's eyes expressed his misfortune of encountering this woman again and most particularly in his present circumstance. Darcy reluctantly turned from Elizabeth with the intention of acknowledging the woman and removing from her, and her husband, as soon as possible.
"Mr. Darcy." With her fan fluttering alluringly just below the overflowing line of her gown, the woman assumed the deepest of curtsies, providing him with greatest vantage from which to admire her charm.
"Lady Thistle...," Darcy faltered at the sight assailing him. First the husband, now the wife! Dear God, will you not help me? Darcy bemoaned inwardly, as he continued his show of respect with averted eyes, They will have Elizabeth believing me not only inconsiderate, but inconstant as well!
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But help did come. And from a quarter from which Darcy could not have hoped. A new impression had formed quickly with the sweep of Elizabeth's contemplation over the scene, punctuated by the gentleman's "snort" in response to his wife's display. A spark of insight persuaded Elizabeth's feelings to a more sympathetic bent, softening her countenance into a deceptive complaisance as she responded to her own courtier.
"You must know the difficulty yourself, sir. One may not laud to full measure the qualities of a treasured wife without being accused of acting the Part of the lovesick fool... or inciting too much admiration from one's listener. Though I believe one may reveal, without ill effect, the name of one's wife? Or, one's own name?" Elizabeth suggested politely, though not without the fine sting of wit.
Darcy looked upon his wife with surprised admiration...and doubt, as the other gentleman recovered from a greater state of bemusement.
"Sir Harold, Lady Thistlewaite, may I present my wife."
When they were not his own, Elizabeth's talent for turning another's words to her advantage was a wonder. Are her feelings changed? Does she believe me innocent of these offences?Darcy pondered as he continued.
"Mrs. Darcy, Sir Harold and Lady Thistlewaite."
"Mrs. Darcy," Lady Thistlewaite acknowledged chastely and briefly, before regaining her game. "Mr. Darcy, it was a horrid trial we suffered at the hands of ruffians was it not?" Lady Thistlewaite sympathized with a flirtatious pout.
"Indeed." Darcy agreed guardedly, uncomfortably aware of Elizabeth's attentiveness to Lady Thistlewaite's words and satirical response to her demeanor.
"Mrs. Darcy, you are the most fortunate of women. Your husband is so gallant...," she informed Elizabeth without ever relinquishing her admiration of Darcy's face.
"Is he?" Elizabeth silently questioned him once again, though this time openly amused at her husband's expense.
Lady Thistlewaite's fan batted his arm, as she reproached teasingly, "You have not apprised your wife of your heroic deed? Humble as well as gallant, then." Her fan assumed its slow undulation as her tone communicated her last words as physical strokes.
Sir Harold, having heard the recounting no less than three times if he had heard it once that day, had no intention of suffering it again. As the last notes sounded the end of the first dance, he denied his wife's satisfaction of glorying yet again in the heroic deeds of Fitzwilliam Darcy. "Mrs. Darcy, if your husband does not have the good sense to dance with you, surely I do. Will you dance the next with me?"
Darcy's eyes shot to Sir Harold, reflecting his shock and repulsion from the unexpected turn. A possessiveness surged through him, objecting to the loss of another opportunity, while a protectiveness demanded he shield his wife from the lecherous impositions he imagined would characterize that gentleman's mode of conversation. Despite their intensity, however, Darcy's feelings were suddenly rendered impotent as Elizabeth accepted Sir Harold's offer. With the flare of his emotions, he entirely missed the impish glint in her eye as Elizabeth allowed Sir Harold's escort to the floor.
Note: Thanks for your kind reception and for not giving up. You are the greatest! Here's another snippet
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The glitter and gilt of the dancers' raiment surrounded her with the aura of lavish elegance as the rhythm and notes of the music's accompaniment evoked the grace of their steps. The earnestness of her partner's regard attended closely in their tour across the floor. And so with all that was supposed to satisfy a young woman's heart, Georgiana found herself perfectly wretched as she acknowledged the end of the second dance.
Guiding her from the floor, Lang glanced at Georgiana, guessing with no little disquiet at the source of her unhappiness and desperately hoping it not of his infliction. Of course civility dictated her acceptance of his wish to engage her as his partner, but he thought her genuinely inclined. However, from almost the introduction of the first, she had appeared discomposed, and he had thought even at times displeased. His confidence engendered by his skill at the dance was not undeserved. And, the nature of his conversation had not been ill received by partners of the past...
Lang felt the heat of panic as his contemplation gave heed to a less trivial and more painful cause. Was the source of her displeasure...Heaven forbid!...her rejection of his very person?
No!
The fervent stirrings he felt as he gazed upon the delicate line of her profile would not allow him to believe her so resolved. Her affections must be a purpose he could affect. His happiness depended upon it!
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Kitty covered what was another expression of mirth in succession of many others. She found Mr. Farrow an excellent dancer and a very witty partner, certainly more so than Mr. Grenle or Mr. Smalley of Meryton. And the gentleman appeared quite satisfied as well with his easy affect on the girl, as they sought the company of her relation.
"Miss Bennet, it is now my great misfortune to give you up for another man's taking. But as it is very likely to be Lang, then I shall not fear. His intentions appear to lie elsewhere..." Farrow allowed Kitty's understanding of his insinuation as he escorted her to the other couple.
As they joined Lang and Georgiana, Farrow continued to please the object of his evening's diversion, "May I be so bold, though, to claim one more dance before we must say adieu?"
Kitty's exuberance sparkled in her eyes, "You may, sir."
"And now, Miss Darcy, as Lang may not monopolize more of your time, may I be so bold as to engage you for the next two dances?" Farrow requested with every appearance of being accepted and without much attention to the countenance of the person he asked.
"Forgive me, Mr. Farrow," Georgiana paused a breath, searching for an excuse. What does Mrs. Annesley recommend in times such as this? Oh, yes... Reaching her hand to the nape of her neck, she demurred politely, "I fear I must tend to the catch of my necklace. It threatens to give way. I must beg your indulgence until I return." Georgiana looked purposefully at Kitty before quitting them, "I hope I may fix it..."
Kitty suddenly understood the other woman's meaning. "Oh! Yes. I will just go and help. Please excuse me." Kitty bobbed quickly in order to follow Georgiana, leaving the gentlemen only enough time to execute surprised bows of their own in acknowledgment of the ladies' exit.
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Georgiana's steps slowed to a thoughtful pace once outside the room, enabling Kitty to overtake her without much effort. "Georgiana, stop here. I will fix your necklace."
"Kitty," Georgiana explained dully, "my necklace is well."
Kitty interrupted impatiently, her naivet» not seeing through Georgiana's ruse. "I do not understand. You said..."
"Not here, Kitty," Georgiana instructed mildly, while looking about the corridor. "Please, let us repair to the Ladies' Room." And with that Georgiana proceeded to the lounge prepared for the comfort of the ladies while attending the ball. Kitty scurried to follow, her curiosity begging to know more.
Lang consulted his watch yet again, sighing at the turn of it's hands. For the sake of a catch, does one require so long? he doubted, hopelessly. Shifting in his chair, Lang returned the timepiece to its pocket, though he might well have kept it in his fingers for the immediacy of his next inspection. He had taken up what he hoped to be a better station after becoming dissatisfied with the effect of his nervous pacing, but the product of his constant stirring was hardly an improvement.
From his seat in the hall, he could hear the third dance commencing and imagined Farrow enjoying himself with his present partner. Look, Lang, Miss Battney is in want of a partner. Surely you will not abstain from such pleasure? Farrow had supposed, confident his friend was not so taken with Miss Darcy he would forgo his former flirtations with the very obliging maiden. When he assured Farrow his intention was indeed to wait upon the young lady's return, he had received a look of astonished pity as Farrow left him, making himself available to Miss Battney in his place.
With a sigh of dejected surrender, Lang silently acknowledged his plight of wishing to make right whatever wrong he had committed, but being rendered powerless to do so by Miss Darcy's elapsing absence.
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Georgiana twisted into a knot the delicate cloth she rung in her hands as Kitty sat and waited for more explanation. But how could she? How could she confess more, revealing what she had observed between William and that woman? The cloth suffered another twist from Georgiana's hands as they gave expression to her heart's desperation. William, who is she?!
From the moment Georgiana had noticed her, the woman's every movement--her very countenance had inspired in Georgiana a dislike so immediately formed it had alarmed her. Supposing herself to be victim of her own over-wrought emotions, Georgiana had chastised herself for the rashness of her judgement of one who must only be a passing acquaintance and endeavored to give her attention again to the dance.
But that had proved impossible. At every turn, the woman had been there talking with William to the obvious exclusion of Elizabeth and the other gentleman, and with a look of familiarity and solicitation that had transformed Georgiana's dislike from precipitous to implacable.
And then Georgiana had been completely undone with dismay. Surveying those intending to dance the second, she had found Elizabeth placed not opposite from William, but from the other gentleman. And lower down, William stood opposite-- that woman!
What power does she hold, inducing you to forsake Elizabeth and dance with her instead? Oh, William what are you about? A welling of tears threatened to spill over again. She was sorely confused. Never had she thought it possible to suspect her brother of any impropriety and certainly never inconstancy.
Kitty fidgeted in place, not knowing how to act. From what she could make of the small detail she had confessed between her sighs and tears, Kitty could only understand Georgiana to be saying she feared Darcy had said something (or was it not said something?) to Lizzy and now the two were quarreling (which Kitty immediately felt explained their strange actions earlier in the carriage.) But she could not understand that this should have so very great affect on Georgiana. Were not Mama and Papa always bickering over something? And from Lydia's letters, was it not just the same between she and Wickham? Jane and Bingley were the only married people she had ever known who did not squabble continually, but then Jane never fought with anyone.
"Papa is forever ignoring Mama's feelings," Kitty observed evenly. "And Mama is forever reminding him of it. She says husbands delight in vexing their wives and take pleasure in never having to apologize later."
As Georgiana dabbed a few tears from her eyes, Kitty pleaded kindly, "Do not worry for Lizzy. If she is angry, it shall pass. She never stays angry long. And she would not wish it to cause you pain. Please Georgiana, Mr. Lang is ever so handsome. He must be wondering what has become of you. Let us go back to the ball."
Georgiana sighed, "Kitty, I cannot." She simply could not act as though all was well. However, realizing the burden she placed on her sister, she gently urged, "You go. I would not ruin your evening."
Kitty frowned. For all her desire to return to the gentlemen, she could not leave Georgiana in such a state. "I will send for Lizzy. She will set your mind at ease. I am sure of it. Wait here." With an assuring pat to Georgiana's hand, Kitty quitted the seclusion of their conference in search of one sister before the other could object.
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Continued in Part 4
Part X
Part XI
Part XII
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