Page 25 of Mr Darcy’s Quizzing Glass

In a voice purring with a sickeningly intimate tone, Miss Bingley scolded her brother. “You must not discuss business and trade in society! You know the superior mind and character of Mr Darcy and should not need reminding of his wisdom here.” Her gloved hand darted towards Mr Darcy and grabbed the quizzing glass, waving it at Mr Bingley. “This, this is what you must have to aid your discernment and behave as a gentleman ought!”

Heedless of Mr Bingley’s shocked expression, she stepped back triumphantly; Mr Darcy, his neck trapped by the thin black ribbon, was pulled awkwardly towards her. Suddenly the fibres gave way, and as Miss Bingley stumbled into Jane, the eyepiece fell from her hands, bouncing off the soft satin of Elizabeth’s slippers and onto the carpet. Amid gasps of shock and dismay, Elizabeth bent to retrieve it. Without thinking, driven by both an impulse to see the world as Mr Darcy did and an instinct to ensure the quizzing glass was not damaged, she lifted it to her eye as she rose.

“Oh!”

Darcy moved quickly to Elizabeth and gently took the eyepiece from her hand. Her beautiful eyes, clouded by uncertainty, sought his, clearly intending to ask about the peculiar view through its lens. Disregarding the stares and murmurs of his guests, he slid the glass into his pocket and, still holding her gloved hand, said, “Thank you.”

There was much more he wished to say—needed to say—but her confused expression told him this was neither the time nor place; he could only hope the events of the previous few minutes would be forgotten by the rest of the party.

“Caroline, look what you have caused.” Bingley, his voice harsh, pulled the torn ribbon from Darcy’s shirtfront before giving Miss Bennet a tender look. “Are you well, my dear? My sister did not harm you with her hijinks?”

The irritation sweeping Miss Bingley’s countenance was likely to emerge in her voice, but just then, the music began, signalling the beginning of the second act. Unwilling to let go of Elizabeth’s hand, and equally uncaring as to what society might think, Darcy tucked it in his arm. He felt her tense, but her hand remained. Clearly, her thoughts were elsewhere, and beyond a brief nod when asked whether she was well, she spoke not another word to him all evening. He suffered through the next hour and a half of music, hearing nothing of the singing or the piquant violins, caught as he was in his own dark thoughts. Though furious at Miss Bingley’s untoward actions, he was also livid with himself for bringing attention to the glass by his imperious tone and behaviour.

I long ago decided against those who would accost me in society, especially those presuming upon acquaintances with the deceased, who can no longer verify their claims. And I have heard Tremblay’s name before, associated with fraud. I did not need the glass to confirm any of that. Why did I think to bring it here at all?

With misery now overtaking his anger, Darcy rubbed his hand over his eyes.

What had Elizabeth seen?

NINETEEN

Elizabeth heard hardly a note after sinking back into her seat. She was as unequal to the conversation as she was to understanding the sensations that assailed her when she peered through the glass at the gentleman Mr Bingley had mentioned. A darkness, feelings of unease, boredom, greed, and contempt, swirled around him—through her—overtaking her sensibilities. Had Aunt Gardiner not insisted she eat a light dinner before the theatre, Elizabeth might have swooned; as it was, the feelings simply robbed her of speech, and she could do little more than force a smile and avoid Mr Darcy’s anxious gaze.

He should be anxious! What on earth is this device he calls a quizzing glass? This is what he perceives through it?

She stared at the stage, mindless of the performance unfolding there until Aunt Gardiner’s hand squeezed hers, returning her to her company. “Are you well? Should we return home?”

Elizabeth shook her head. Much as she dreaded the supper they were to attend at Darcy House, it would provide the opportunity to speak to Mr Darcy about what had occurred. He might wish to beg her silence, but she would push him to explain the quizzing glass and what was clearly a dark secret. If he asked for her discretion, she was not certain she could give it.

No, Elizabeth Bennet did not believe in charms or spells or magic. But something was very strange about that glass, and Mr Darcy was fully aware of its powers—else he would not have been so anxious to retrieve it. If once she was amused to think he wore a quizzing glass as an affectation, now she could only wonder at its true purpose.

During supper, Darcy was chagrined to see Elizabeth was altered from the cheerful demeanour she had had when the evening began. Although she was engaged with her aunt in regaling Georgiana about the performance, her glow was dimmed and her smiles strained. Thankfully, Bingley had carried off his sister, returning her to Hurst’s townhouse rather than risking Darcy’s further ire at supper. Such an act should have lightened everyone’s mood, but Elizabeth seemed hardly to notice Miss Bingley’s absence.

He wondered, as she spoke to his sister and steadfastly avoided his gaze, what she now thought of him. Whether she now distrusted him, or worse, thought him a practitioner of magic.

Or did she think herself mad? If he could speak to her, alone, and explain... Explain what exactly?

His chance arrived after supper when no one in the small party wished a separation of the sexes. They gathered in the blue sitting room, where the Gardiners immediately engaged in conversation with Georgiana and Miss Bennet. Elizabeth stood alone, gazing at a landscape Darcy recalled his mother particularly admired. Coming to stand beside her, he asked, “Are you well? I apologise for earlier this evening. I would never have anticipated Miss Bingley’s actions, nor⁠—”

“Nor mine? I was presumptuous putting your personal quizzing glass to my own eye. Clearly it was not meant for any eye but your own.”

The disturbance in her voice nearly undid him. “It has been my habit in town to carry it, but I should not have worn it.”

“I did not understand what I saw,” she whispered. “The gentleman Mr Bingley sought to introduce to you—there was more than just a man...I sensed something.”

Conscious of the others sitting across the room, he replied in a hushed voice. “His nature.”

“In those few seconds? How? The colour⁠—”

“Was there darkness surrounding him?”

“Yes! And a feeling...of avarice, a coldness.” She turned to him, her expression troubled. “I do not believe in the dark arts, but is it a-a form of magic?”

He shook his head, and seeing a slight ease in her, felt a little relief as well. “It is not magic, but an aid to perception and understanding.”

Her nose crinkled in confusion, and Darcy realised he would need to tell her everything—all of it—but his desire to reach out and soothe that soft skin was muddling both his thoughts and his ability to speak. Hearing a noise behind him, he glanced over at the rest of the group. Mr Gardiner was hiding a yawn as he rose; the evening was coming to an end.

In a near whisper, he asked, “May we speak tomorrow, privately, so that I may explain it?”