Elizabeth took her place in the set opposite Frederick Yorke, who was doing a fine job of making himself agreeable. It was a great shame he should be wasting all of his considerable wit and charm on a partner who attended him with only half an ear. She tried her best, she gave the expected answers to his queries, but she couldn’t think of anything particularly clever or surprising to say and he must have thought her quite dull. A few couples to her left, Georgiana smiled across at her and Elizabeth felt a little under siege by Fitzwilliams and Darcys. He had come to Bath after all! She pondered the look Mr Darcy had given her in greater depth than it really deserved - for it had been over in a moment and his countenance had been set, his feelings unreadable. Yet, she thought perhaps, to her relief, he had not looked as if he truly despised her. And he had not looked away immediately, as he would have done if his intention was to ignore her.
Was Mrs Darcy here? Elizabeth looked about the ballroom but there was no sign of Anne Darcy. It meant little of course, she might be in any one of a number of rooms. Elizabeth swallowed and thought of what she might say to his wife, and him, of course. A brief enquiry into the health of Lady Catherine seemed in order, and if he were still haughty and disagreeable, and his wife still sullen and silent, she would consider her duty done and walk away. In a place as busy as Bath, they might see each other often, yet never have cause to exchange more than a few words and polite nods. And tonight, after she returned home, she would get rid of his letter, consign it to ashes. It meant nothing after all.
Mr Yorke danced beautifully, laughed readily and looked at her in such a way as to make no secret of the fact he admired her. At the end of their half hour together he led her carefully, with great attention and politeness, out of the ballroom. Their progress down the hallway was halted though when the master of ceremonies declared it to be the tea hour. There was then a great crush in the direction of that room, and she and Yorke were thrown every which way by the crowd, before beating a safe retreat by flattening themselves against the wall. Elizabeth looked up at Mr Yorke with a smile. “Never come between an Englishwoman and her tea.”
He laughed as the last of the tea goers went by.
Then Mr Darcy was suddenly standing before them.
“Miss Bennet.” He was grave and solemn and offered the smallest, stiffest of bows. “May I enquire as to your health?”
“I am very well, thank you, sir.”
“And your parents?”
“In excellent health, also.”
“That is good, and your sisters?”
“All very well.”
He looked over her head at the wall and there was a great and awkward pause before he spoke again.
“And your mother and father?”
Had he not already made that enquiry? Elizabeth heard a small, nervous laugh escape her. He frowned, and she, afraid he would think she was laughing at him, spoke to relieve her unease. “Everyone is exceptionally well, yes and you, sir? I heard you might be coming to Bath from your sister, who I have recently become acquainted with, but then that must have been well over se’enight ago. I thought your plans might have changed, but here you are. Do you mean to stay long? Does Mrs Darcy join you?” She knew she was prattling and blathering, growing ever flustered, but she could not stop. She was asking question after question, without drawing breath, and not giving him the slightest opportunity to answer her. “It is my first time in Bath. Do you and Mrs Darcy find it to your taste? I hope she is well. I remember she sometimes suffered from ill health, perhaps the waters will do her good and then she might persuade even you to stand up with her! Though I know you hate to dance, and now you are an old married man you are probably even less inclined.” It was during this unforgivably stupid ramble that she saw his face harden and change. His mouth formed a firm line and then she saw what she ought to have seen when he had first approached her - the black band around his arm, the grey coat and waistcoat. Horror filled her and at last, she stopped talking.
“I am afraid Mrs Darcy is… she is no longer with…Mrs Darcy passed away. You’ll excuse me, Miss Bennet, I was on my way to the card room.” He bowed quickly again and walked away before she could respond.
Mr Yorke, who had watched their exchange in silence, touched her arm lightly. “Might we find somewhere closer to a window? You look as if you would benefit from some air.”
She allowed herself to be led to a small alcove where she pressed her forehead against the window pane to cool herself. Yorke waited patiently and she was thankful for it. When she eventually recovered she sought to explain herself. “I had not heard, about his wife,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Obviously.”
“I made a terrible fool of myself, didn’t I?”
“Not at all.”
“Did you not hear me? How is Mrs Darcy, Does Mrs Darcy like Bath? It was horrendously bad.”
“I did try to give a little cough or two but you were quite set on talking yourself further into it.”
Elizabeth groaned. “You know him?”
Yorke shrugged. “We are a little acquainted. We are members of same club in Town. We fence, play billiards, drink together on occasion.”
“When did it happen?”
“Last summer I believe. She succumbed to scarlet fever. Her lungs were not very strong and she could not fight the infection.”
“How could I have been so flippant?” She turned away from the window.
“Please, Miss Bennet, you are too hard on yourself. It was a little unfortunate, but nothing really. You did not speak with malice, but ignorance. Darcy is a good fellow. He will not regard it at all. Come now, let’s struggle through the hordes and I will secure you a cup of tea.”
Still miserable, she let herself be led into the tea room by Yorke.
“May I ask how you know Darcy? I thought I detected some tension. I hope I am not prying.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It is no great secret that Mr Darcy and I do not see eye to eye on some matters. In fact, the last time we met we had quite a ferocious argument.”
“Ah well, that is good for me,” Yorke said. “I feared he might be a long lost suitor I would have to fight off.” He gave Elizabeth a long flirtatious look.
“You need have no fears at all on that account. I shan’t imagine Mr Darcy will ever be speaking to me again, not after my shocking display of insensitivity.”
Mr Yorke chuckled. “Really, it was not so awful.”
When they reached the tea room, the Fitzwilliams, and Lady Winslow and her party, were all seated together. There was no sign of Mr Darcy who, true to his word, must have fled to the card room. Georgiana Darcy, however, was there and made space beside her at the table for Elizabeth. Yorke sped away to secure her refreshment.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Bennet?”
“I have had better evenings,” she said ruefully.
“Oh” Miss Darcy’s eyes were wide. “But you danced the last so beautifully and you had such an agreeable partner. Mr Yorke has very happy manners.”
“Aye, he does.” The room was loud and jovial and space at the table was limited. They rubbed shoulders as they sat and had to lean in to hear one another as they talked. It was not uncomfortable though and as they chatted, Elizabeth felt herself predisposed towards the younger girl. She suddenly felt a yearning for one of her sisters, any of them; even Lydia might have been a sort of balm to her unease! “You know, you need not be so formal with me. I would be happy if you would call me Elizabeth.”
Georgiana looked pleased, coloured and ducked her head before returning the compliment. She then asked Elizabeth if she knew whether Mr Yorke intended to stay long in Bath.
“For some time, I believe. He expects his family to join him soon.”
“Oh really, I should dearly love to meet his sisters. I have heard they are very amiable.” Georgiana looked up towards Mr Yorke and her face seemed to Elizabeth to wear a kind of wistfulness. “Perhaps my brother will fall in love with one of them. I should so like to see him happy.”
Elizabeth stared down at the tablecloth, her finger tracing the pattern in the lace. “Georgiana, will you do me a very great favour? I had not realised Mrs Darcy had passed away and I made quite a fool of myself when I spoke to your brother just now. Will you tell him how deeply sorry I am?”
“Of course, but you will see him again many times more while we are in Bath, I am sure. You may tell him yourself.”
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth, a little desperately, “but I should like him to know tonight. Will you tell him how deeply sorry I am and that he has my most sincere condolences?”
“I will.” Georgiana nodded.
“May I ask, were there any children?”
“No, none. It was a shame. My brother would have liked children. He is such a kind and good man, such a wonderful brother and he would have made a good father, I think. He has suffered much sadness.”
‘Kind’ and ‘good’ were not words Elizabeth was used to hearing about Mr Darcy, but Georgiana’s love and respect for him was evident.
Yorke returned with Elizabeth’s tea and spoke with Georgiana, exchanging all the usual civilities. Everyone else was engaged in conversation and Elizabeth was glad of the chance to sit and say nothing, lost in her own thoughts. Just before the dancing was about to resume, however, Yorke caught her attention. “Do you think the very pillars on which society stands might crumble, Miss Bennet, if I were to ask you to dance again?”
Though her spirits were very low indeed, she managed a smile in response. “Two dances in a row, Mr Yorke! We ought not risk it. Think of the scandal! However, I am not the only lady in the room without a partner for the next set.” Although she looked around her in general, she was pleased to note that Mr Yorke took her meaning immediately and bowed before Georgiana to ask for her hand. Her new friend’s smile was wide and her pleasure was obvious as she accepted and they moved towards the ballroom.
Colonel Fitzwilliam came to sit beside Elizabeth and looked at her with her a puzzled frown. “Are you not to dance with Darcy, Miss Bennet? He went to look for you I am sure. Did he not find you?”
She knew not what to make of this and shook her head. “What I mean is, yes, he did find me. But no, we are not to dance.”
“Oh, I see. Well perhaps I mistook his intentions.”
Elizabeth felt sure of it, but the Colonel’s countenance was all embarrassment, which seemed to suggest otherwise. He then stood and bowed rather gallantly. “Well, in that case, I feel I should do my duty. Will you honour me with the next? You should snap the offer up, you know, for soon I shall be forced to give up dancing with pretty girls.”
She arched a brow at him. “I thought I was to censure such flirting?”
“Oh that is right, you are. It is a hard habit to break where some ladies are concerned. Though, Miss Bennet, I think you are actually quite safe from me. I imagined I would be quite content to leave the future Mrs Fitzwilliam in London with her shopping, but I woke up this morning and missed her terribly. She does suit me you know?”
“Well that bodes very well for married life.” Elizabeth accepted his arm and they walked together. “While we are dancing, you must tell me all about her.”
She danced with the Colonel, and again with Mr Yorke, then with an agreeable young naval captain. Yet while she smiled and laughed, the thought that Mr Darcy had perhaps been seeking her out to dance and that she had deflected him with her ridiculous ramblings and crassness before he’d had the chance, was uppermost in her mind. And she realised how flattered she would have been - how grateful to him for forgiving her all the petulance and acrimony she had shown when rejecting his proposal; for overlooking all the unjust accusations she had thrown his way. What civility it might have shown after all that had passed between them. She had ruined the opportunity, missed the moment and she was certain in would never come again.
An invitation to dine at the Fitzwilliams’ was received and accepted without any reference to Elizabeth. Her aunt, after all, could have no reason to believe she would have any objections. They were to go there on Friday, almost a week after their meeting at the assembly rooms. Elizabeth, on hearing the plans, wondered how she could anticipate an evening with such equal amounts of pleasure and dread, and she spent an inordinately long time agonizing over her ill-judged comments to Mr Darcy. However, it seemed the Countess and Mrs Mountford had struck up a friendship based on remembrances of the past and had spent much of their time together at the assembly discussing mutual acquaintance and catching up on news. Seeing Georgiana, Elizabeth and the Colonel also on friendly terms had further spurred on the invitation - and so to Milsom Street they were to go.
The attentions of Mr Yorke, however, did give Elizabeth something else to occupy her mind - the ladies of Laura Place received three calls from him during the intervening days. In addition to this, Elizabeth saw him at a card party, where they had spent most of the time ignoring the attempts of others to draw them to the whist table, and instead engaged in close conversation, much to the exclusion of everyone else. Elizabeth overheard the comments, saw the looks that were sent their way and where she once might have withdrawn to avert gossip and deter speculation, now she did not care. Let people say what they wished, she liked Mr Yorke. When it had been time to leave he had walked her to the hall, helped her on with her wrap, and whispered a soft goodnight.
During Mr Yorke’s morning calls, Mrs Mountford would discreetly take up needlework, remember correspondence that needed attending to, or claimed the housekeeper required instructions; absenting herself either from the room altogether or to a distant part of it, reasoning that love required opportunity to blossom as well as inclination. Mrs Mountford had made subtle enquiries about Elizabeth’s admirer among their general acquaintance and since nothing she’d heard had raised any concerns – the gentleman did appear to be a gentleman - she was not of a mind to interfere and left her niece to use her own good sense and judgement.
On Mr Yorke’s third visit, which was the morning of the dinner at the Fitzwilliams, he informed them of his sisters’ arrival in Bath the previous day and how they were planning to walk in Pulteney Gardens at eleven o’clock. He proposed walking down to meet them. Mrs Mountford declared she was busy; and was indeed engaged with her steward, who had arrived from Oakdene that morning wishing to confer with his mistress on business that could not be delayed. She had no objections, however, to Elizabeth walking with Mr Yorke, given the hour of the day, and so they set out - Elizabeth as keen to meet his sisters as he seemed to be to introduce them to her.
They spoke freely as they walked, covering all manner of topics. She enjoyed his conversation and there was no awkwardness between them. When they reached the subject of his own estate in Devonshire, he spoke with enthusiasm and love, describing the house and park to her in detail. “It is not substantial and nothing compared to somewhere like Pemberley, and truly, some improvements are needed, but it is a fine home,” he told her.
“Well, I cannot make any comparisons to Pemberley for I have never been there,” Elizabeth replied.
“Have you not? I was assuming that you know the Darcys as well as I do. I was at a shooting party there two years ago. When Mrs Darcy was still with us of course.”
The questions Elizabeth wanted to ask upon hearing this were great in number; the only one she actually ventured was his opinion of Pemberley.
“Large,” he smirked. “I could not find my way from the boot room to the drawing room without a map, and as for the park, why it must be at least ten miles round. There was some very good fishing in the lakes, why I caught a carp there…” He stopped. “Oh, now I have lost your attention. Of course I have, what do you care for carp? I will start talking about braces of pheasants and sizes of gun next and what do ladies care for such things. You will tell everybody you know of what a bore I am.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You do not bore me at all. I am sorry, my mind had wandered. Could you tell?
“I believe I am beginning to become very intimate with all your expressions.” He spoke in a low tone and covered her hand with his where it rested on his arm. “Now, if you do not wish to hear of sport, what next?”
She wanted to ask more of Pemberley, not interested in its size, but in its situation, the feel of the place and if truth be told, what kind of relationship he had witnessed between its master and mistress. Instead she said. “I confess I do not understand why men spend so much time nurturing, protecting and encouraging pheasants to live upon their land, only then to be determined to shoot them all to pieces when the right time of year comes. It makes little sense to me.”
“Aye, I suppose. But then I will never understand why a woman might spend months completing some complicated needlework, only to pick it apart and start all over again.”
“No muslin is killed in the process, sir.”
“Oh and I suppose you have never enjoyed a fresh pheasant with game sauce for dinner?” He teased, laughing at her.
“I confess I have,” she replied. “Perhaps more than I ought to, given my sympathies towards the poor bird.”
It was a truly beautiful spring day and Elizabeth enjoyed their walk; how could she not be happy? She was being escorted by a handsome and amusing man through Bath at its most picturesque. Light reflected off the yellow stone of the grand buildings and everything was bathed in a warm glow. They stopped on Pulteney Bridge to admire the view. The flow of the River Avon commanded their attention for a good while. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders through her dress and Mr Yorke smiled indulgently at her. If she were to fall in love, it would be a perfectly fine moment to do so. She decided she would not resist or shy away from his attentions as she had done with other men; she would endeavour to enjoy them. Did she prefer him above anyone else? She honestly could not say, but she resolved to try him on for size, to see if they fit together. He seemed as likely a candidate for her heart as any she had met in such a long time and he certainly seemed determined to fall in love with her in return.
They looked for fish and watched the play of the birds as they swooped, ducked into the water, and rose again into the trees. Mr Yorke’s countenance suddenly turned serious and Elizabeth saw him swallow hard, his shoulders straighten. He reached for her hand. “Miss Bennet…”
Elizabeth felt panicked and drew back, despite her good opinion in his favour. If he were about to say what she thought he was, it was a step too far, too soon. She silently pleaded with him, her eyes desperately trying to forestall, to warn him not to try. He looked at her for such a long time.
“Miss Bennet, do you suppose…? Do you think it might be possible?” He smiled again. “Do you think we might go a whole day in Bath without rain?”
Her smile was wide, her relief palpable. “I think anything is possible.” She allowed him to hold her hand briefly in concession as he assisted her down the steps into the riverbank gardens, where she met with his sisters.
She was amused and delighted by the Yorke sisters. She had thought their brother’s first description of them, the day they had stood beneath the print shop gable to escape from the rain, as being rather cruel, but she realised they were exactly as he had said - one fat, one thin and both very sweet and amiable. Harriet was almost as wide as she was tall, yet had a most beautiful smile and such an open expression and a wonderful gaiety that Elizabeth liked her immediately. Sophy was more reserved but with excellent manners. While Elizabeth’s figure was on the slimmer side of what was now considered fashionable, Sophy was very thin, her wrists impossibly small, her neck and face rather birdlike. She had a timid speaking voice and at once threatened to be overpowered by her sister, but waited patiently for her chances in the conversation and when she had the opportunity to talk, she did so freely, displaying both intelligence and good taste.
It was Harriet though, who immediately grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and walked ahead with her, leaving Mr Yorke to escort his other sister. “Now I’ll wager that if you hadn’t known we were sisters before, Miss Bennet, you would not have guessed it.”
“I own that I would not, but it happens that I am one of five sisters and, regrettably, I look nothing like any of them. They are all fair and tall. I am the runt of the litter.”
“Oh, Miss Bennet,” Harriet giggled. “You must not speak of yourself so. Why, Frederick has had us up half the night describing your charms to us and I felt sure he must be exaggerating. How delighted I am to meet you and find you just as he described.”
Elizabeth ducked her head.
“But I embarrass you. I am sorry. You must tell us what’s to do in Bath, since we are just arrived.”
“Oh you will not be wanting for entertainment. In fact, there is a concert tonight at the assembly rooms you should consider attending if you like music. There are some beautiful songs to be performed.”
“Will you be attending yourself?”
“No, regrettably my aunt and I are engaged to dine with The Earl and Countess of Matlock this evening.”
“Regrettably, Miss Bennet! How can an invitation to dine in such fine company be a source of unhappiness? Or maybe I should not ask.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Perhaps you ought not. I shall pretend that I regret only missing the concert, Miss Yorke.”
“My brother tells me Mr Darcy and his sister are also in Bath, with Lord and Lady Matlock. Will they be dining with you too?”
“I assume so, yes.”
“I am very interested to have a sight of Mr Darcy. What a tragic figure he is, his wife having died so young.”
“Harriet reads a great too many novels,” said her brother, who had caught up with them and overheard the last. “Men must have a dark secret, a mysterious past, a haunted soul, or they are nothing to Harriet.”
“Frederick thinks nothing of novels. ‘What are you reading’ he says, ‘oh, is it only a novel, ‘why do you waste your time on such dramatic nonsense’ he says.”
“Do you indeed, Mr Yorke? How undervalued the labours of the poor novelist are these days.”
“Do you read novels then, Miss Bennet? I would not have thought you a fan of Udolpho, a champion of all the Cecilia’s and Camilla’s?”
“I like to read a great many things, but I confess I like nothing better than whiling away a Sunday afternoon with a novel. I have read some of the greatest truths in novels; the intricacies of human nature laid out and explained in a way that no great tome of essays or history book can ever do and in such beautiful language, as to make me laugh or cry. I think a well written novel to be a rich source of treasure for the mind.”
Harriet clutched Elizabeth’s arm more tightly. “Well, I could not have expressed it as well as you do, Miss Bennet, but I see we feel the same way. We shall defy Frederick and read to our hearts content.”
Mr Yorke laughed, “I think Miss Bennet’s taste in novels might not be quite the same as yours though, Harriet. She probably does not insist every book she reads has black veils and skeletons in closets. Harriet will be most disappointed when she finally meets Mr Darcy and finds him a regular sort of gentleman.”
Elizabeth smiled mischievously. “Or maybe she will not. For he is quite dark, with a brooding temper, most silent and mysterious, he may well have a deep, dark secret.”
“And is he handsome?” Harriet stopped walking and waited breathlessly for an answer.
“Aye, I dare say he is. I have heard many people say so.”
“My goodness! Well I may fall in love with him at first sight,” said Harriet with a gasp and a delighted laugh.