Page 25 of To Love And To Cherish
“Chi ti ha nominato giudice della bellezza?”
Before he could form a reply, she turned and walked away with quiet dignity, joining her two younger sisters, both of whom had overheard his slight and welcomed her into their midst with sympathetic nods.
Mr. Darcy remained rooted to the spot, struggling to grasp the meaning of what she had said.Was that Italian?Judge… of beauty?
And then he understood.
Who appointed you judge of beauty?
Had he truly said she was onlytolerable? He must be mad. The woman was among the handsomest of his acquaintance.
When,he wondered bitterly,would he learn to hold his tongue when it concerned Elizabeth Bennet?
He was not the only one discomfited. Around the room, glances turned toward him, some curious, others distinctly unfriendly. Her neighbors, well acquainted with her visits, her cheerful heart, and tireless nursing care, cast him cool looks of disapproval. Even Sir William Lucas narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased.
Miss Bingley, having observed the exchange, glided toward him, fan fluttering in hand. “Mr. Darcy,” she purred, “I had no idea you were acquainted with Miss Bennet.”
He flushed, the line of his jaw tight. “I am not. I refused to dance with her when your brother pressed me to, and she overheard me.”
“She scolded you?” Caroline's eyes widened, scandalized. “What impudence! Who does she think she is? She should not have expected that a gentleman of your station would stoop to notice her.”
Darcy turned his gaze from her, guilt tugging at him. “She had every right to expect civility, Miss Bingley. I gave her an insult when I ought to have offered respect. Your brother hadpromoted her with such warmth, I had no call to publicly disparage her.”
Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes. “Charles is far too quick to admire a pretty face, regardless of pedigree. If Louisa and I do not temper him, he will tie himself to some rustic chit and bring shame to us all.”
Darcy stiffened. He had spoken too freely. A gentleman ought not discuss a lady so, especially one absent and undefended. The knowledge made him feel like a traitor.
He excused himself without ceremony.
Caroline watched him depart and then turned to her sister with evident satisfaction. “He is quite out of humor. I believe Miss Eliza Bennet had the audacity to reprimand him for some imagined slight.”
Louisa raised a brow. “Indeed?”
Together, they looked across the room and smirked.
Elizabeth, from her place beside Miss King and Charlotte Lucas, saw it all. The tilt of Caroline’s chin and the gleam in Louisa’s eyes required no great imagination to know she was the subject of their amusement. Her cheeks flamed, but she lifted her chin. Whatever tenderness remained from the past was scorched away by fresh insult. In that moment, Elizabeth resolved to burn the letters, his letters, the ones she had cherished like sacred relics during the painful years of estrangement from her mother. Each page had offered solace, a whisper of connection to something softer, better, and wholly apart from the petty world her mother had created. They had seemed, at one time, a quiet testament to his affection for her and the Gardiners. But now,they were nothing more than ink and parchment, stripped of meaning.
They were worthless papers. Ghosts. Skeletons of bygone sentiments, no longer infused with warmth or affection.
Yes, she would burn them. As soon as she returned home, she would take them out of the little lacquered box in which they lay, creased and handled, beloved, and feed them to the fire.
Perhaps by doing so, she might finally root out the feelings she had so carefully buried beneath reason and resolve. The affection and the love that had burned like a steady light in her heart all these years. The hope had comforted and sustained her, but now he had betrayed her. The light must be extinguished.
It was time to put away childish things.
It was time to face a world, like a woman full-grown.
She stood straighter, lifted her chin, and smiled, forced at first, but warmed by the gentle support of Charlotte’s good sense and the quiet kindness of Miss King. She threw herself into conversation with them, determined not to betray the sting of humiliation still fresh in her breast. But within, she made a solemn vow.
If Mr. Darcy ever asked her to dance, she would refuse him.
He would not, of course. She was far too low and not nearly tempting enough for his taste.
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted across the assembly and settled on Mr. Bingley, who stood engaged in cheerful conversation with Jane. Even her sister, never given to outward displays, was not her placid self tonight. She was smiling at whatever nonsense Mr. Bingley was reciting to her, her eyes bright with amusement. Afew moments later, Elizabeth saw her laugh softly, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.
As the evening progressed, Elizabeth observed that Mr. Bingley had taken Jane in to supper and, though he could not dance with her more than twice, they sat out two sets, content to remain in quiet conversation. Elizabeth spotted them tucked away on a low couch, conversing with quiet animation, heedless of the dancers and music swirling around them.
A tender smile touched Elizabeth’s lips.Jane is in a fair way to falling in love,she thought.And he, he cannot look at another woman.
