Page 18 of Searching for Elizabeth
Mr. Darcy’s smile was boyish; he looked much younger. “A secret handshake?”
Lizzy laughed. “Yes, and it culminates with us saying, ‘Two sisters versus the world.’”
“Oh, my. Well, I wish to be on your team, if you and Miss Mary will have me.Two sisters and one gentleman versus the worldis quite the captivating motto, do you not agree?”
Lizzy continued the tease: “Mary and I will need some references before we agree to your membership on our team. Written testimonials would be preferred, sir.”
Mr. Darcy laughed with her.
Lizzy remembered that Mary had pointed out that their mother had attempted to pair Jane with Mr. Darcy, and their discussion the day before on Jane’s apparent acceptance of the match and subsequent flirtations with Mr. Darcy. She felt a surprisingly strong emotion, something she had never felt before, something she was not sure she wanted to label. Whatever that unlovely feeling was, Lizzy found herself contemplating Mr. Darcy’s emphasis on not wishing to court Jane. She wondered….
She said, “I have to admit, I am not feeling at all close to Jane right now. I feel as if I have never known her.”
“I am sorry. I fear I was too forthcoming about her behavior toward me.”
“If I may ask, sir, why is it that youcertainlywould not want to court my sister Jane? Not that I want you to! Please do not misread me! But I have always thought that Jane is ten times more beautiful than the rest of us, and a hundred times more sweet and good. I cannot understand why any man wouldnotchoose her.”
Mr. Darcy looked serious again. He sat down; Lizzy followed. He said, “It is you, Miss Elizabeth, who is the more beautiful sister. You are the handsomest woman of my acquaintance,and I assure you that, although many men will be mesmerized, at least at first, by Miss Bennet’s rather bland and ordinary kind of prettiness, I am fairly positive that most men would be more taken with your extraordinary magnetism, your lively and fascinating brand of beauty. The comparison of your figures alone would ensure that the majority of men would flock to you. And that is aside from your much, much greater charms as a conversationalist, as a witty and well informed woman rather than….” Mr. Darcy paused and grimaced. “I apologize; I do not wish to speak ill of your sister, but her personality is innocuous to the point of…being…boring. In my opinion, at least.”
Lizzy shook her head. “My being the preferred Bennet has not been my experience. All the men in our little community prefer Jane.”
Mr. Darcy just shook his head slowly. A little smile started twitching the corners of his mouth upward, although he appeared to try to tamp down his amusement. “You forget,” he said, “I have been to gatherings and assemblies and balls with both of you. Trust me when I say that you have attracted more notice and approval. I am certain that many men, including those who live in this part of Hertfordshire, are intimidated by your intelligence; even Bingley, despite his education at Eton and Cambridge, said once that your conversation twists him up into utter befuddlement. Another time he told me that you might be the most intelligent person, male or female, he has ever met.”
Lizzy shot him a questioning look, and the corners of his mouth lifted again in his most enigmatic smile. “Yes, I believe that you guessed his next comment; Bingley added, ‘excepting you, Darcy.’”
Lizzy considered his words. It was hard to imagine that Mr. Darcy could be correct about Jane’s and her relative beauty, and he surely must have misread her attractiveness to boys and men! She shuddered a bit and decided not to consider the idea of her more appealing figure all that carefully. She said, “Well, physical beauty aside, you cannot argue that I am the sweeter sister. Mr. Bingley knows that; I have heard him call Jane an angel.”
Mr. Darcy barked out an unexpectedly loud laugh. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. You just…you have no idea how many tall, slender women with blond hair and pretty faces Bingley has called an ‘angel.’ That is his way of indicating the woman he is currently infatuated with.”
Lizzy’s heart sank in the face of this further dashing of her romantic view of the great and abiding love between Mr. Bingley and Jane. She asked, “Mr. Bingley has had more than one ‘angel’?”
“He has had more than one per month, most of the time I have known him, since he was thirteen and I was fifteen.”
“Oh! But…has he lavished as much attention and praise on his other angels?”
“Some of Bingley’s infatuations lasted longer than others, but when in the throes, yes, he tends to lavish—your word—attention and praise on his current angel.”
Lizzy wanted to cry. “And are all rich gentlemen so inconstant? Areyou?”
After a moment, Mr. Darcy replied seriously, “I believe you know very well that I am not given to flirtations and flattery. Before you, I have never attempted to court a woman. I hadsome very minor fascinations with girls my own age while I was still at Eton, perhaps fourteen years of age, but I never even held a girl’s hand; I certainly did not embrace or kiss any girl or woman. My father took me to a courtesan at eighteen, in what he insisted was a crucial rite of passage; I admit I shared intimacies with her and, that same year, two other courtesans. I learned many things from those women, but of course there was money, not emotion, between us. Since I was eighteen, I have not lain with any woman, and I assure you that I have never loved a woman until you.”
Lizzy could not tear her eyes away from Mr. Darcy’s impossibly handsome face. She thought the vulnerable look in his eyes indicated that he had gone further than he intended in sharing his past actions and current affections.
She stared. He blushed. She blushed. He gazed.
Finally, Mr. Darcy addressed Lizzy’s last point. “You claim that you are not as sweet as Miss Bennet. I do not know how to assess relative sweetness, since that is not a value I hold especially dear. But I will say that your kindliness, your generous efforts on behalf of others, and your genuine care about friends, family, and even tenants and townsfolk—you are unequaled in regard by so many, including me. It is you, not Miss Bennet, who is called the Angel of Longbourn.”
Lizzy felt a shift inside her. She felt seen, known, appreciated.
Loved.
It was astonishing.
Chapter 17: Darcy
—the next morning—
Fitzwilliam Darcy woke up feeling better, he thought, than he had ever felt in his entire life. He remembered so many moments, as yesterday’s sunny afternoon trembled toward a chilly evening, when he felt ecstasy such as he had never felt before:
