Page 25 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“How quaint,” Elizabeth remarked numbly. “I did not know that a wager was the customary way to choose your dance partner in town.” It was fortunate that despite the shock, her sarcastic wit never failed her.
“Of course you did not. You can have had but little opportunity to travel to town and frequent our sphere.”
“You are correct in that assumption,” Elizabeth readily agreed, primarily because their paths had never crossed, which led her to assume that Miss Bingley’s supercilious behaviour was not founded in reality. Mr Bingley’s fortune was from trade and could therefore not be regarded as of the highest circles. But the main reason was that she did not have the wherewithal to spar with Miss Bingley. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. The most magical evening of her life had been a lark to Mr Darcy. The lump in her throat grew to unmanageable proportions. If she did not escape, she would disgrace herself.
Elizabeth rose abruptly.
“Pray, excuse me. I must see how Jane is faring.”
“Certainly. Your devotion to your sister is admirable,” Mr Bingley praised. “Shall we play that round of billiards now, Darcy?”
Elizabeth hastened out of the door just as Mr Darcy agreed to the sport. Her feet thundered up the stairs. She bent her head to the floor and did not greet the unliveried manservant she passed. Staggering into her chamber, she tumbled head first onto her bed and buried her face in the pillow. The desire to scream was quashed, but the tears were allowed to flow freely in the privacy of her room.
She had been wretchedly blind and had allowed a childhood fantasy to abscond with her reason; but she would be a fool no longer. Oh no! Her time as an advocate of romantic twaddle was to become a distant memory soon enough. There simply had to be another possibility than marriage for a genteel lady, for the gentlemen she had met did not induce her towards matrimony. Her grandmother sprung to mind. She might not oppose having her granddaughter’s company, but she was in Limerick, and their return to town had been delayed. She was not due to arrive in London before the twenty-seventhof November, which felt like eons away.
She was doomed to suffer the unpalatable company of Mr Darcy for nigh on another fortnight. It was insupportable with the counterfeit Mr Darcy and hisfakespearianquotes. Elizabeth leapt from her bed. She was in urgent need of a copy of Twelfth Night to confirm her suspicions—that it was music and not poetry that was the food of love. But to get to the library she had to pass the billiard room where the glib Mr Darcy was engaged in a game, and he was the last man in the world she would like to see. Pacing the room seemed to be her only choice until the house quieted.
With the blindfold removed she was able to see clearly. Young Mr Darcy had rescued her from the untamed stallion to act as a hero to impress his friends. The tale would be enhanced and exaggerated at the boys’ leisure, as was the wont of the Lucas boys. A young John Lucas had once pushed Charlotte into the pond with the sole intent of acting the hero when he rescued her. The tale was less impressive when you knew that the pond was only knee deep at most. But John had boasted about his heroic action until Lady Lucas had boxed his ears for ruining Charlotte’s dress.
Another disturbing thought entered her mind: she could not remember whether it was Mr Darcy or his mother who had entered the enclosure first. Had he rescued his mother and cared not for the child who was attacked? And she, fool that she was, had conjectured a fairy-tale from her imagination.
But what made her heart ache in sorrow was that the gentleman she had met in the Argyll Rooms was but a mirage of what she had thought him to be. He was a fictional character worthy of a mawkish romance novel. No, he was worse than that. He was an imposter who had willingly preyed upon her heart and duped her into falling in love with him.
An onslaught of fresh tears assailed her. She slumped into the window seat and buried her head in her hands.
How she would endure another minute in Mr Darcy’s presence was unfathomable, and her mind reeled with designing opportunities for her escape. Feigning an illness was more likely to force her to remain. If only she could think of a plausible reason to beg her father to call her home. Preferably one that would not engender any probing questions.
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Jane recovered and by the next day deemed herself well enough to endure the carriage ride home. A dispatch was quickly penned, and Mr Bingley was glad to send a boy to Longbourn with the note. Elizabeth became desperate when Mrs Bennet’s reply stated that the horses could not be spared. It was obviously a lie, and in a fit of pique, Elizabeth begged Mr Bingley for the loan of his carriage. The gentleman acquiesced but only if they remained for another day. Elizabeth could have cried if her emotions had not already been numbed by pain. By the evening, Jane was well enough to join the party for a short spell in the parlour, and Elizabeth was mollified when Mr Bingley behaved as solicitously towards her sister as only a true gentleman could. Surely his feelings were so much engaged it would overcome his capricious nature…
She was not as fortunate when she went to the library to borrow a book. Mr Darcy already occupied the room. She turned on the threshold and did not leave her room until Mr Bingley’s carriage was ready at the bottom of the steps.
Chapter 8 The Days in Between
A letter from her grandmother awaited Elizabeth when she returned to Longbourn. The perceptive old lady had detected a melancholy in her granddaughter that Elizabeth had deflected by enquiring after what she knew about Mr Bingley. She had explained that the gentleman, who was handsome, agreeable, and well situated to support a wife, was currently pursuing Jane. His only known disadvantages were two supercilious sisters, who could not be overlooked when one was unmarried, and a self-admitted tendency towards capriciousness.
Unfortunately, the widowed Mrs Maeve Bennet had no idea who Mr Bingley was but promised to investigate once she and her brother returned to town.
Elizabeth counted it as a particular blessing that her sisters had yet to relate the sordid encounter with Mr Darcy to her grandmother because hermóraí[5]did not mention him. Either they had not written or they assumed that she had informed her herself.
Elizabeth’s respite at home was short lived. Mr Bennet’s cousin, a Mr Collins, arrived unexpectedly. Judging by the parson’s greeting, her father had been informed about his visit but had chosen not to tell his family. His motives were easily discovered when Mr Collins turned out to be a tall, heavy-looking man of five-and-twenty, who needed no encouragement to speak with little sense.
“Dear enchanting cousins! As you know, I am heir presumptive to Longbourn,” Mr Collins declared before he had even been served his tea.
“You are misinformed,” Mr Bennet drawled. “My father and I broke the entail the year I came of age.”
Mr Collins spluttered and spat, whilst his face took on an alarming shade of red. “I do not believe it! My father—”
“Was mistaken,” Mr Bennet interrupted. “I shall happily show you the documents at my solicitor’s office on the morrow. According to my will, my first-born grandson will inherit Longbourn. But let us not bother the ladies with tedious talk of business.”
Mr Collins’s eyes took in the incredulous countenances of the ladies present and nodded reluctantly. He did not gainsay his host and chose instead to expound upon his obsequious admiration for his exalted patroness. He had not been long in their company before everyone but Mr Bennet was heartily tired of hearing his voice. The patriarch found his cousin to be highly entertaining, and as a result, he spent more time with his family.
Elizabeth was not amused, and as Mr Collins droned on and on about his venerable patroness, she was wool-gathering. She stared vacantly out of the window and paid no heed to the raindrops’ slow descent down the windowpane.
“…in the point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the fairest of her sex.”
Elizabeth listened to the raindrops patter against the glass, but Mr Collins’s pitter-patter occasionally intruded upon her thoughts. Especially after her mother mentioned the new additions to their community.
