Your devoted niece,
Elizabeth
She sent the letter with Jones, who had of late had little to do beyond accompanying the ladies around town. Jones had a sweetheart in the princess’s household—Elizabeth knew he would be pleased to see her.
After concluding her correspondence, she left her chambers to see Charlotte. The dear girl was terribly lonely. Having both Elizabeth and her cousin in residence had been a great pleasure. They took tea together when they could and dined in their shared sitting room when the ladies were not out for the evening.
Charlotte answered at the first knock, and Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon regaling her young friend about the ridiculousness of London society. The princess was highly amused by the stories and hung on Elizabeth’s every word. When it came time to dress for dinner, she grew visibly upset. Elizabeth promised to arrange a day soon where she and Jane could remain with her at Carlton House for the afternoon. This mollified the girl. She embraced Elizabeth, promising to finish the work her tutors assigned so nothing impeded their enjoyment.
Chapter Thirty
Darcy’s focus over the next weeks was scattered. Guilt filled him, pressing him to call upon Bingley and explain what he had learned, but in his pride, he resisted. He also felt a desperate need to see Elizabeth again, though he hesitated to call on Lady Hertford. He had questions—so many questions—and the only person who could answer them in full was Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh. Darcy needed to know if he had a chance at winning her favor.
The need was not merely curiosity, nor even longing—though there was plenty of that—but a gnawing uncertainty that left him restless and ill at ease. Every partial truth he possessed only sharpened his awareness of what he did not yet understand. Elizabeth had stepped fully into a world he thought he knew, and in doing so she had overturned every assumption he had made about her place within it.
De Bourgh.He still could hardly believe that the lady with whom he had fallen in love—the thought surprised him, for he had not voiced it even in his thoughts until then—was connectedto his formidable aunt. Lady Catherine seemed determined to ignore her niece’s existence.
The denial itself now struck him as willful blindness, and the more he reflected upon it, the more untenable it seemed. Elizabeth bore the name openly, carried it with ease, and moved within society under protection far stronger than Lady Catherine’s own. That his aunt could pretend otherwise spoke less to Elizabeth’s insignificance than to Lady Catherine’s pride.
I wonder how she would feel if she knew my affections were now entangled with the niece she longs to forget.
The thought brought him no satisfaction. He did not wish to wound his aunt—only to live honestly. Yet honesty, he was discovering, was often the most disruptive force of all.
Elizabeth’s association with Lady Hertford meant her connections were above and beyond his own. Was he to be relegated to the position of unworthiness by comparison? It was truly ironic how Providence sought to humble him.
He had always moved through society with the unexamined confidence of rank and fortune, assuming himself secure. Now, for the first time, he felt the awkward sensation of being evaluated from above rather than below—and found the reversal deeply unsettling.
She ought to have told me.He had left Hertfordshire, afraid he had raised her expectations—fearful that if he lingered, he would succumb to her charms and offer her his hand in marriage.I struggled to conceal my preference. She had to have known.
When he replayed their conversations, he could not find a single moment when she had actively deceived him. She had answered what was asked, withheld what was not demanded, and carried herself with a reserve that now appeared less like concealment and more like self-protection.
Perhaps there was a reason she had not given the truth of her circumstances. Whatever the case, Darcy wished for a private conversation with the lady.
Not in a ballroom, not under watchful eyes, but somewhere she might speak freely—and where he might listen without defensiveness.
Darcy began to attend far more society events than was his wont, in hopes of seeing Elizabeth. Rumors began to swirl that Mr. Darcy finally sought a wife, such was the change in his usual behavior. Still, he never saw Elizabeth and her party.
Each disappointment weighed heavier than the last. He arrived earlier, stayed longer, forced conversation where once he would have retreated. He smiled—often awkwardly, sometimes too late—and endured engagements he would previously have declined without hesitation. Still, Elizabeth remained elusive, her absence more conspicuous with every night she did not appear.
Desperate, he begged his aunt to accompany her to more exclusive events—ones where he had once received invitations, but no longer did, thanks to his frequent refusals. As his aunt had frequently cautioned, access to exclusive events was not a given for one of his standing. If he continued to refuse, he would lose his access to the most fashionable events. Connections must be maintained, and he had done an abysmal job of that.
The irony was not lost on him. He had once disdained the very machinery of society he now strained to re-enter, all because he had believed himself immune to its consequences.
What a fool he had been! In seeking his own comfort and avoiding uncomfortable situations, he had essentially crippled himself in his quest to see Elizabeth. In his arrogance, he had believed it would not affect him—that the lack of invitations would do nothing damaging long term.
Now, each reclaimed invitation felt like penance.
“I warn you,” Lady Matlock said for the fifth time as the Matlock carriage arrived at the portico. They were to attend Lady Sefton’s private ball tonight. “If you do anything to my detriment, I shall never forgive you.”
“Yes, Aunt, you have made that abundantly clear.” Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. Her lectures had begun the moment he climbed into her carriage and had not ceased. “I promise, I shall take heed to your sage advice more readily in the future.”
“See that you do.” The door opened, and a footman handed his aunt down. Darcy followed, impatiently entering the house and handing his things to the butler. The receiving line was long, and he struggled to contain his impatience.
“Mr. Darcy, it is very good of you to join us.” Lady Sefton’s tone sounded somewhat…condescending. He smiled—something he rarely did—and watched as the lady’s expression softened.
“I am very pleased you graciously included me in my aunt’s invitation. It has been far too long since I engaged in the season.”
She smiled wryly. “Indeed, it has. Does this mean we shall see more of you?”
