Page 30 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Georgiana said, “Mr. Wadham must have been very rich to hold balls with such sophisticated themes.”
Richard, who knew about Elizabeth’s two-pronged plan to confuse as well as discredit Miss Bingley, chimed in and said, “Mr. Wadham…. I knew a man by that name, once. Was thisfellow Mr. John Wadham, or perhaps his brother Mr. James Wadham?”
Elizabeth said, “I am sorry to say that it never occurred to me to wonder about his first name, and I do not believe that I ever heard it. He was always just Mr. Wadham to me.”
Miss Bingley, who had been apparently considering mummies as a controversial addition to the Egyptian theme, interrupted the Wadham chat to say, “I would not display a mummy, even if I could procure one without myself travelling to Egypt. However, I would make a showcase of a single spectacular relic, something truly ancient. With my superior taste, I will ensure that ‘old’ need not equate to dust and muss.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I am certain that you will carry elegance and restraint throughout, Miss Bingley.”
“Thank you,” she preened. Just as she had a few days before, she was startled to realise who it was that she was thanking, and she changed her self-satisfied smile into a scowl.
This particular evening, there was a separation of the sexes, and Darcy sipped port as Richard smoked a cigar and drank three glasses of brandy.
Bingley was his usual friendly self and asked about each of the Fitzwilliam family by name. Richard gave a good report on the health of his brother, the Viscount Graynard, and his sister Sara, who had just entered confinement, with her first child due soon. When Bingley asked after the health of the earl and countess, Richard proved his acting skills once again. Knowing that their host was not privy to anything about the blackmail nor the plans to thwart the blackmailer, Richard acted more serious, more hesitant, but conveyed a cautiously positive report on their health.
Bingley looked surprised at Richard’s manner and shot an inquisitive glance towards Darcy. Darcy kept his face carefullyneutral and gave a slight shake of his head, trying to convey the silent messagedo not ask.
Almost as soon as the men rejoined the women, Miss Bingley asked her sister to play for them. After pouring out tea for everyone, she sat next to Richard on a settee, and as they talked softly, she sent many smiles at Richard and several penetrating glances at Darcy.
Darcy sighed. He wondered at his cousin’s ability to bear their hostess’s flirtation, and he was incredibly grateful that his own part—keeping an impassive expression on his face—was something at which he was quite accomplished.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth
After Georgiana’s worries about the colonel flirting with her the night before, Elizabeth was amused to witness his current blatant flirtation with Miss Bingley. She had the feeling that he indiscriminately flirted with women of all sorts, and possibly of any age and marital status. She had been very sure that his flirtations towards her had zero serious intent behind them, and now she was convinced of the same as he flirted with Miss Bingley.
But Elizabeth had noticed that Miss Bingley still looked at Mr. Darcy a good deal, and she was quite certain that their hostess was flirting with the colonel because she wished to make Mr. Darcy jealous.
When the gentlemen returned to the drawing room, Miss Bingley sat almost shockingly close to the colonel and began to whisper and smile. As he responded in kind, Miss Bingley demurred and tittered and hid behind her fan. Then, as Elizabeth had expected, Miss Bingley sent a quick glance towards Mr. Darcy, as if attempting to gauge his response.
Of course, he looked entirely unconcerned.
Mrs. Hurst reached the conclusion of her musical offering and rose from the pianoforte to polite applause. Thankgoodness, Miss Bingley did not attempt to press Georgiana into exhibiting, but instead moved to the instrument herself. As Elizabeth had assumed he would, the colonel insisted on accompanying her so he could turn the pages. He managed to look completely attentive to her progress through the piece and fully charmed by her playing, and Miss Bingley managed to send only three searching glances Mr. Darcy’s way.
Elizabeth was impressed by the colonel’s acting ability and resolved to never assume he was sincere about anything, at any time. But she also remembered that Mr. Darcy tended to wear the same neutral expression, no matter what was happening; perhaps he was as skilled an actor.
On second thought, she remembered many times when Mr. Darcy’s face showed no particular emotion, but his eyes displayed warmth or anxiety, hope or discomfiture. She decided that his impassive mien was a mask he used, likely by long-standing habit, as a sort of self-defence. He was not a skilled actor, she surmised, but neither was he accomplished at communicating his feelings.
Speaking of Mr. Darcy…Elizabeth’s heart rate increased as he approached her during Miss Bingley’s second piece. “What do you suppose is happening here?” he asked in measured tones and a low voice. He barely nodded towards the pianoforte to indicate the “here” he referenced.
“I think our hostess is endeavouring to awaken a ‘green-eyed monster’ in your breast,” Elizabeth said.
“You know your Othello,” Mr. Darcy murmured appreciatively.
“As do you, apparently,” Elizabeth said. She studied his facial expression—which expressed little—and his dark brown eyes—which expressed, she thought with surprise, a great deal of admiration. She flashed him a smile and watched his eyes lightup with pleasure. She decided that gazing into Mr. Darcy’s eyes might be her favourite new activity.
“My sincere esteem goes out to a woman who has never had the chance to attend school nor learn from a governess, as you once told me, yet who has read so many varied books and understands so much about art, literature, and the world. I have benefitted from every educational opportunity that was denied to you and yet, I feel, have accomplished no greater understanding.”
Elizabeth felt a blush climb her chest, neck, and face. She protested, “I do not deserve such praise. I am of a mind to think you know a great many things I do not.”
He chuckled and flashed his dimples in a wide smile that made Elizabeth catch her breath. He said, “I may know things you do not, given my advanced age and also the fact that I am a man and am, therefore, permitted to engage in activities you may not. For example, I imagine that I know more than you about fencing.”
Recovering well enough to gasp out a little laugh, she agreed: “Yes, sir, I imagine you do.”
But Mr. Darcy, who rarely uttered any words at all, wished to continue: “On the other hand, I believe that you know things that I, by my sex, have not had the opportunity to learn. Surely it is foolish to pretend that there is some sort of lifelong competition in which we stack up bits of knowledge and accomplishments, and compare our stacks with others. Rather than such an unnecessary contest, there is pleasure to be found by sharing ideas with other people who also read widely, think carefully, and communicate clearly.”
Elizabeth was dismayed by the enormity of the feeling that enveloped her as she listened to Mr. Darcy. Could it be that these sensations, this focus she experienced, this tingle of awarenessas his eyes rested on her face or his ears tuned in to her voice—could it be that this was love?
