Page 7 of Love Among the Shadows
“Just one. A sister.”
“What is his sister like?”
Wickham’s expression darkened further. “Miss Darcy is not so different from her brother as one might suppose. To those who do not know her well, she appears all sweetness and accomplishment—an ideal young lady. But do not let appearances deceive you, Miss Bennet. Beneath that polished exterior lies a nature as proud and calculating as Mr Darcy’s own.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment was palpable. “You mean to say she is no better than her brother?”
“In many ways, no,” Wickham said gravely. “Though young, she has already learned to wield her position to her advantage, much like her brother.”
Elizabeth allowed Wickham’s words to settle uneasily in her mind, but her curiosity remained unabated. They spoke further on Darcy’s character, with Wickham elaborating on his pride and coldness, painting a picture of a man who sought control over every aspect of his world.
Elizabeth found herself both fascinated and repulsed by this description. Yet, as the conversation began to edge into uncomfortable territory, she subtly guided it to lighter subjects, inquiring about his time with the militia and his impressions of Meryton society. Wickham answered with ease, making her laugh more than once with his sharp observations of the townsfolk.
When the card players finally rose and the evening drew to a close, Wickham bowed deeply. “I trust we shall have another occasion to speak soon, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth returned the gesture, a small smile on her lips. “I hope so, Mr Wickham.”
As she left with her family, Elizabeth’s thoughts lingered on all that had been said. The conversation with Mr Wickham had revealed much about Mr Darcy, yet it left herwith more questions than answers. By the time they reached Longbourn, her head was filled with Wickham’s words, and though the subject had changed by the end of their exchange, the image of Mr Darcy as a man of such pride and calculation was firmly imprinted in her mind.
Five
The arrival of an invitation to a ball, much like the arrival of a new neighbor, was an event guaranteed to stir the Bennet household into lively agitation. And so it was when, on the following morning, a neatly folded note from Netherfield Park was delivered to Longbourn—a prospect that Mr Bingley had, in confidence, hinted to Jane only days prior. The announcement was received with rapture by most of the family. For Jane, it promised another opportunity to enjoy the company of Mr Bingley; for Lydia and Kitty, the prospect of mingling with the officers of the militia, who would doubtless be invited, was enough to set them agog with excitement. Mrs. Bennet viewed the occasion as the perfect opportunity to parade her daughters before the assembled gentlemen, each one a potential suitor, while Mary, with her usual solemnity, expressed pleasure at the thought of the music. Even Mr Collins, ever eager to ingratiate himself, declared his delight at the chance to converse with the leading families of Hertfordshire society.
Only Mr Bennet and Elizabeth appeared unaffected by the prospect. The former, possessing little fondness for such diversions, amused himself by observing the enthusiasm of the others. Elizabeth, however, felt a distinct unease at the thought of the ball, for it would mean encountering Mr Darcy again. The very idea of being confined to the same room as that insufferable man, with his proud airs and calculating nature, was enough to temper any enjoyment she might otherwise have derived from the evening.
Despite her reservations, Elizabeth dressed with particular care for the evening of the ball, donning one of her finest gowns and a bonnet that complemented it well. Mr Collins, assuming the role of their escort since Mr Bennet had declined to attend, carried himself as though he were, in truth, the head of the Bennet family. His manner was one of self-importance, made evident by his every gesture and pronouncement upon their arrival at the ball.
He had no shortage of opinions throughout the evening. He expressed disapproval at Lydia and Kitty’s animated exchanges with the militia officers, found fault when Mary lingered too long at the pianoforte, and took it upon himself to advise Jane to smile more frequently, remarking that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had declared it a hallmark of a lady’s public grace.
Elizabeth, for her part, chose to remain silent on the matter of Mr Collins’s officiousness. Firstly, her mother seemed entirely in agreement with most of his remarks, which rendered any opposition futile. Secondly, she reasoned that engaging in debate with Mr Collins would only encourage him to seek her company more persistently—a prospect she was determined to avoid.
While Mr Collins busied himself with offering unsolicited advice to the Bennet sisters, he appeared equally fixated on ingratiating himself with Mr Darcy. Elizabeth watched, half-amused, as Mr Collins edged his way into Mr Darcy’s circle, announcing loudly enough for all within earshot that he was Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s clergyman, and thus bound to her esteemed nephew through his noble patroness.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr Darcy seemed to endure the intrusion with more patience than she would have expected. His countenance, however, betrayed his feelings; the rigidity of his posture and the tension about his mouth suggested that hewas enduring the conversation out of necessity rather than any genuine interest. Elizabeth found herself wondering whether Mr Darcy’s restraint was born of a desire to preserve decorum in the wake of the rumours surrounding Mr Edwin Harper’s death. Perhaps the shadow of that unfortunate affair had caused him to reconsider his treatment of others, though Elizabeth doubted he would ever admit as much.
The speculation surrounding Mr Darcy’s involvement in Mr Harper’s death had begun to wane in Meryton and the neighbouring villages. Whispers now circulated about Harper’s drinking habits and his precarious financial state, leading some to conjecture that he had chosen to end his life with the very substance he was known to indulge in. Yet, despite the shift in public opinion, Elizabeth could not wholly dismiss the matter from her thoughts. Mr Darcy’s rumoured involvement remained, for her, a point of unsettling fascination.
As she observed him from across the room, his gaze momentarily followed Mr Collins, who was gesticulating with enthusiasm as he continued his endless chatter. Elizabeth allowed herself a fleeting smile at Mr Darcy’s apparent discomfort, but her amusement turned to discomposure when he suddenly turned and caught her watching him. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Elizabeth felt as though she had been caught eavesdropping—not on his words, but on his thoughts.
Flustered, she turned her gaze away, but not before noticing the faintest flicker of something in his expression—curiosity, or perhaps challenge. It was enough to unsettle her further, and she resolved to avoid his company for the remainder of the evening, though she suspected it would not be so easily accomplished.
Aside from Mr Darcy’s lingering glances, which seemed to flash to her and back again throughout the evening, and MrCollins’s effusive attentions, one of the notable disappointments of the ball was the absence of Mr Wickham. Elizabeth had looked for him among the militia officers present when the Bennets arrived, her eyes searching the faces, but he was nowhere to be found. Later, when another group of officers entered, she was again disappointed to find him absent.
Elizabeth, however, could not fault him. Though he had spoken boldly of not allowing Mr Darcy’s presence to drive him from Meryton, she thought it entirely understandable that he would choose to avoid being in the same room as the man who had wronged him so grievously. Indeed, she herself, with no such personal affront, found the mere thought of sharing space with Mr Darcy vexing. She could not, therefore, hold Mr Wickham’s absence against him, though she was certain Mr Bingley’s invitation had extended to the entire regiment.
This reflection cast a bitter shadow over Elizabeth’s mood for much of the evening, a sentiment not eased even as the dancing commenced. To worsen matters, Mr Collins was the first to request her hand for a set. The ordeal of enduring his clumsy movements and pompous commentary was made only slightly more tolerable by the brevity of the dance. When he approached her for the second set, Elizabeth, feigning fatigue, excused herself under the guise of needing rest.
It was during this reprieve that an incident arose to further cement Elizabeth’s low opinion of Mr Darcy. The dance was midway through the second set, and, as she had anticipated, Mr Darcy had found an excuse not to participate. Seated on the sidelines, Elizabeth allowed her gaze to wander across the room. She noted Lydia laughing as she danced with an officer, Kitty paired with Mr Samuel Reed, and Jane, all glowing smiles, engaged in conversation with Mr Bingley. Her gaze eventually fell upon Mr Darcy, whose eyes, to her discomfiture, were fixedupon her with an intensity that seemed both disconcerting and impenetrable.
At that moment, a servant entered the room in haste, his face marked by worry. He approached Mr Darcy with hurried whispers, and almost immediately, Mr Darcy’s countenance darkened. Rising abruptly, he began to speak to the servant in low but unmistakably sharp tones, his gestures animated and his voice firm enough to draw the notice of those nearby.
Mr Bingley, observing the disturbance, approached Mr Darcy with evident concern. After a brief exchange, Mr Darcy’s posture seemed to relax, though his displeasure was still apparent. The servant bowed repeatedly, his expression one of abject apology, before retreating from the room.
Whispers soon rippled through the assembly, traveling from one cluster of guests to another, until the news reached Elizabeth’s ears: Mr Darcy’s horse, which had been securely tied with a rein in the stable, had somehow come loose and was missing.
Elizabeth found the matter puzzling. A horse securely tied would not ordinarily free itself unless the rein had been carelessly fastened. Perhaps the stable boy, in a moment of inattention, had tied it loosely, allowing the horse to wander off on a merry jaunt of its own. But, she thought, could such a mishap truly warrant Mr Darcy’s ire? While she pondered this, another servant entered the room, his manner brisk and purposeful. Elizabeth noted the immediate change in Mr Darcy’s expression. His features, so recently taut with displeasure, softened into a semblance of relief as the servant spoke in hushed tones.
The room seemed to exhale as the news spread: the horse had been found and returned to the stable. Elizabeth, however, could not shake her lingering questions. Was this truly an occasion for such severity? What kind of temper did Mr Darcypossess, that he should so openly chastise a servant over what might have been a trivial accident?
