Page 58 of Her Whole Heart
He knew that he had one person to thank for this nearly miraculous change: Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
As Georgiana leaned in to kiss his cheek and then disappear up to her chambers to dress, Darcy’s mind drifted back to the day on the street, the terror that had gripped him as he watched Miss Elizabeth fling herself into harm’s way to save his sister. He remembered with complete clarity the feeling of her in his arms, how perfectly she fit, how she had refused to allow her fear to overcome her as he carried her to safety, the overwhelming relief that had washed over him when he was certain they were unharmed.
Not just Georgiana. Both of them.
Miss Elizabeth might not be the high-born lady he had always imagined himself marrying, but she possessed qualities far more valuable than any title or pedigree. Her courage, her compassion, her fierce loyalty to those she loved—those were the things that truly mattered, that he wanted for himself. They made her more noble in his eyes than anyone who carried a title that denoted nothing but their parentage.
He was still pondering what he had learned about Miss Elizabeth from the earl, that she had saved Lady Henrietta from the fire at Mrs. Buxton’s. Not only that, but she had alerted his cousin and then gone back again for her when it was clear that her first warning had not been heeded. It was the same sort of courage she had demonstrated when she dashed into the street to save Georgiana. No, his prejudices had done him no good. In Miss Elizabeth, he might have found a woman worthy of his admiration and respect not only as a friend, but—dare he allow himself to think it—a wife.
He smiled. It was certainly a prospect more enticing than any he had contemplated before.
Chapter Eighteen
“You all know your parts?” Lady Carlisle inquired again as they arrived at the theatre.
The girls nodded.
“I hope none of this is required,” Jane said softly, but a sceptical glance from Lady Carlisle made her sigh. “I know it likely will be, I just wish it was not.”
“There are many performances that occur in the theatre, Jane.” Lady Carlisle adjusted one glove. “It is better to write your own lines than have them written for you.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. “I am ready, Lady Carlisle.”
“Good. Amelia?”
“Ready, Aunt.”
“The men should have arrived—ah, here they are,” Lady Carlisle said as Lord Carlisle opened the door to the carriage himself to assistthe ladies out.
“Good evening, ladies,” Lord Carlisle said. His voice might be a little louder than usual, but not so much that anyone would think something amiss.
The Carlisles were soon joined by Mr. Darcy and the Fitzwilliam men. Lady Henrietta was not with them, and it was that, and not Mr. Darcy’s presence, Elizabeth told herself, that gave her such relief. Lord Matlock was introduced to the Bennet ladies. Lord Carlisle took his wife’s arm, and Lord Matlock offered his to Elizabeth. Resolute, she took it, noticing that Mr. Bingley had arrived to take Jane’s arm and that Lord Milton was offering his to Amelia. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy took up the rear of their party, presumably to ensure they were not accosted by anyone they did not wish to see.
The fashionable crowd milled about them on the pavement as everyone made their way inside, eager for the evening’s performance to commence. Inside, the air was electric with excitement. A decision had been reached—by whom, Elizabeth did not know—that they would all head to Mr. Darcy’s box. Lord Carlisle and Lord Matlock had boxes in this theatre as well, but the boxes with actual doors and walls were reserved for those of titled families. Alas, privacy was not what was called for this evening. Mr. Darcy’s box, situated at the railing and separated only by a half wall from the parties on either side and behind him, was the better option.
To the Darcy box they strolled, not in a hurry, but not stopping other than for the lords and lady to nod graciously at a few friends and acquaintances as they passed. Elizabeth would have found the almost royal procession amusing had she not been at the centre of it all.
At last they settled in their seats, Lord and Lady Carlisle and Lord Matlock sitting in the back row of chairs so that they were slightly elevated and their presence was easier to detect. Even so, Elizabeth began to hear a susurrus of whispers rippling through the surrounding boxes. She couldnot pretend that there were not more than a few pairs of eyes darting towards her and their party, some widening in recognition, others narrowing in speculation.
She squared her shoulders and attempted to appear unaffected, though her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“Is that not the same Miss Elizabeth Bennet whom Mr. Darcy was seen sweeping off her feet in the street?” The question came from a matron in the box immediately to their left, who sat in the row nearest the railing and therefore could not see the titled personages sitting just to her right and above her. Even amidst the buzz of many voices as the patrons took their seats, she was murmuring behind her fan loud enough for the occupants of several boxes around to hear. Perhaps she believed holding a fan before her mouth would disguise who was speaking?
It did not.
From the corner of her eye Elizabeth saw the occupants of the box on her right lean towards them, the ladies fluttering fans but no one there speaking. She wondered if those sitting directly behind would recognize the earls and Lady Carlisle and refrain, or whether the on-dit would be too tempting to resist.
“All due to his sister’s fragile nerves,” her female companion replied with a sniff, snapping her own fan open and waving it about. “Poor Mr. Darcy, to be saddled with the care of a girl so weak-headed that she flees into traffic at the slightest provocation. Perhaps that is the true reason he has yet to marry.”
Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr. Loughty and Diana in the same box with the women who had spoken so cruelly, though as to the brother she could not be shocked. Poor Diana, forced to accompany her shallow brother if she ever wished to go out. Elizabeth could barely see her profile as she was hidden behind the rest of her party—but by the way Diana’s hands were clasped so tightly on her lap, Elizabeth could see that her friend was very unhappy.
Mr. Loughty, who was also located in the front row though on the other side of the women, leaned forward with no attempt at disguise at all. “I must say that even her brother may not be enough to shield Miss Darcy from the consequences of her own instability. And as for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, well . . .” He trailed off with a meaningful smirk and a quick glance at Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth pretended not to notice, leaning away from Mr. Loughty’s party to say something to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was seated between her and Jane. She further feigned a significant glance at Mr. Loughty and then she and the colonel both chuckled, which had the gratifying effect of making the man frown.
There was a lull as all those around them seemed to collectively hold their breath. Elizabeth’s heart swelled with affection when Diana stood and moved to her brother’s side to hiss, “Hold your tongue, Brother.” Her voice carried and everyone about them listened in. “You speak of matters you know nothing about, and I will not stand for such uncharitable gossip. Miss Darcy is a lovely, amiable, accomplished young lady, which I know because I have actually spent time with her, unlike you. And Miss Elizabeth is my very good friend who put herself in danger’s way to rescue Miss Darcy, something I am sure you would never do for me.”
