On entering Lady Winslow’s rooms, Elizabeth noticed three things. Mr Darcy was wearing a dark green coat, rather than a black one, the mourning armband had gone from his sleeve, and he was engaged in earnest conversation with Sophy Yorke. Then her attention was caught by Frederick Yorke, leaning against the fireplace as if he had been waiting for her, his smile intimate. It was clear he wanted her to go to him. She frowned and pursed her lips and gave a small shake of her head. His smile grew wider, beckoning her to him, but she moved instead in the direction of their hostess to pay the proper compliments. It was perhaps a full twenty minutes later when she eventually gave into his entreaties and joined him.
When she did, she looked over at Mr Darcy and Sophy Yorke again. “Your sister and Mr Darcy are having quite the conversation. I wonder what they could be speaking of.”
Frederick Yorke leaned in closer to her. “I could not care less, as long as I am speaking to you. I have been waiting for you for nigh on an hour.”
“Well, perhaps you ought not to wait for me. Perhaps you ought to employ your time better by being sociable elsewhere. I confess I did not even expect to see you this evening.”
He agreed. “The invitation was a surprise to me to. It only came this morning. My sisters are delighted. I think I have you to thank for it.”
“Me? I assure you I do not have any control over Lady Winslow’s guest list.”
“Ah, but she is very fond of you, I think, and therefore probably wanted to have a look at me. She has probably heard the rumours.”
“And what rumours would they be?” Even as she asked the question, Elizabeth sensed it was dangerous.
“We are the talk of Bath, the needlework circles have us secretly engaged already. It will be a summer wedding. I will look handsome in a new waistcoat, while you’ll be beautiful and the church will be full of flowers. We won’t be in Bath next spring of course, because you will be confined.”
She tried not to be shocked by him. “You ought not to listen to idle reports. I have known many a match which existed only in the minds of others. Such talk might be entirely without foundation.”
“Yes, but you, of all people, must know I am hoping it isn’t,” he ventured.
Elizabeth had not heard him, her attention was already diverted from his words by Sophy Yorke’s laugh and she looked over immediately to where she still sat with Mr Darcy. She wondered what he had said to make Sophy laugh so.
“Miss Bennet?”
“Mmm.” She looked absently back at Mr Yorke. “I am sorry, I was not attending, what did you say?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s of no matter. I wondered if I might introduce you to my father?” He indicated to the back of the room where a group of elderly gentlemen sat around a table with a decanter of wine in the middle of it.
Elizabeth assented and was led over so the introduction could be made. The elder Mr Yorke did not stand in response to her curtsey. He told her by way of hello that his foot was gouty which was why the family had come to Bath. The deep lines across his forehead suggested he wore a permanent frown. There were none of the usual polite enquiries into her health; instead she was examined slowly from head to toe. His eyes were hard and when he spoke, his tone gruff. “So, Miss Bennet, you are related to the Viscountess I hear?”
“Only by marriage sir, it is not a close connection.”
“Miss Bennet is Mrs Mountford’s niece, Mrs Mountford of Oakdene in Staffordshire,” his son said.
“Oakdene, well I have heard of it. Brings in a few pounds I daresay. I should hazard a guess at four or five thousand a year.”
Elizabeth knew exactly the income provided by her aunt’s estate, almost down to the last pound. She knew also it was considerably more than Mr Yorke’s guess, but as she found the enquiry so rude and offensive, she dissembled. “I have no idea, you must forgive me. We ladies take no interest in such matters.” She found her gaze crossing to the other side of the room again. Mr Darcy and Sophy Yorke had now been joined by Harriet Yorke and Caroline Bingley. Mr Yorke, meanwhile, began expounding deeply on his son’s finer qualities, till Elizabeth felt as if he she should be tugging a forelock in gratitude at being the recipient of his attentions. She listened with only half an ear and at a convenient pause in his eulogy, bobbed another curtsey, said a brief ‘excuse me’ and walked away - leaving both father and son a little bewildered.
She looked around the room for Georgiana Darcy. A promising friendship had been developing between them and Elizabeth knew she had been a little rude, as her aunt had suggested, in not returning the younger girl’s call. She thought to amend the situation by seeking her out now, but saw Georgiana also being drawn into the little group of Mr Darcy, the Miss Yorkes and Caroline Bingley. She felt a little odd, an outsider, as she watched them laugh and talk together and so hid at the back of the room. It was not like her to shy away from company but a few moments solitude seemed to be somewhat in order. She found herself leaning against the pianoforte and started flicking through the sheet music for something to do. His voice, as steady and sure as it always had been, made her jump.
“Am I to have the pleasure of hearing you play again tonight?”
“Mr Darcy.” He was on his own and appeared to have crossed the room with the sole purpose of talking to her. “I could not say, I do not know if there is to be music.”
“Well, I hope there is. I very much enjoyed your performance the other night.” He tugged at his cuffs.
“Thank you. I think we are faced with the prospect of cards however.”
“If I remember right, you are no card player.”
She smiled and made a little grimace but said nothing. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments and he shuffled and gave a cough.
She bit her lip.
He seemed to be about to walk away, so she gathered her courage. “I hope you will forgive me for speaking so personally but I could not help but notice you are out of mourning. It must be very difficult for you on occasions such as this, to be without, to come alone…” She trailed off not knowing exactly what she wanted to say, but she felt great sympathy for him.
“Thank you for your compassion. I feel it is the right time. I cannot hide behind it forever and my sister has rebuked me. Georgiana believes I was using mourning dress as a suit of armour.”
She smiled in understanding. “For a widower in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.”
To her relief, he laughed. “I have thrown myself back into the lions den, have I not?”
“Lions den is very apt.”
“Though perhaps now, not such a dangerous place for you. I have been speaking to the Miss Yorkes; they are hoping your acquaintance might become one of a more intimate, familial nature.”
Elizabeth shook her head and demurred.
“I am sorry. I have spoken out of turn.” His voice was very low, almost a whisper. “But should such an event happen, you should know that I bear no ill will. I truly wish you happy.”
Feeling slightly tearful and frustrated at the growing assumptions about her and Yorke, Elizabeth was uncollected and burst out. “I am not engaged,” she cried.
He looked surprised then nodded. They fell silent again before Miss Bingley joined them. “Now what are you two talking of so seriously?”
“Marriage.” Mr Darcy smiled directly at Elizabeth, gave a small bow and walked away.
“Oh, Miss Eliza, yes, I have been hearing of your success. Now, don’t look so coy. When will it be announced? I will say not a word of it to anyone until it is official of course. He is a catch for you I think. You must know you can confide in me. I soon hope to join you in the happy state myself.”
“Is that so?” Elizabeth was brought out of her irritation by surprise.
“Oh yes, I will not reveal too much. He is a very private man, but his inviting me to Bath as a companion to his sister is a clear indication of his intentions.”
“You are speaking of Mr Darcy? I had no idea.”
“Why of course, and now he has thrown off the mourning coat, there is no impediment. There has always been a frisson between us, Miss Bennet. You must have witnessed it in Hertfordshire. Was the air not positively charged at Netherfield? Of course he was prevented from following his heart’s desire; he had to do his duty by Anne. He had no choice; it having been arranged since her birth. Yet now he is free.”
“Yes, how convenient for you that she died, and so very promptly,” said Elizabeth.
Caroline Bingley smiled. “Undoubtedly, I might have been waiting for many years yet.”
For the second time that evening, Elizabeth cut someone off with a curt ‘excuse me’ and walked away. Supper was announced and Frederick Yorke, who had escaped from his father, looked rather longingly at her from where he was already sat at the table. There was a space next to him but she instead chose a seat between Sophy Yorke, whose plate was surprisingly well stocked for such a thin girl, and an older gentleman she did not know. They chatted for a while on various subjects without consequence and she was introduced to the gentleman, who quickly turned back once the civilities had been performed, to his other dining partner, leaving the ladies be. Sophy then mentioned Mr Darcy. “We had such an interesting conversation. I was surprised. He was so much more talkative than yesterday at Mollands. I think perhaps he is the type of man who only speaks when a subject truly engages him. He was telling me of the art at Pemberley. He has some very fine pieces. Have you ever been to Pemberley? It sounds very grand.”
“No, I haven’t had that pleasure.”
“I did wonder because Mr Darcy said he had been acquainted with you for some years and that you had met in Hertfordshire. I have to say though, Elizabeth, he was not very gallant by you. He said you had altered so much he would hardly have known you.”
Elizabeth felt as if she had been struck, such was the wound this comment gave her. She could not blame Sophy Yorke for repeating it, for the girl knew nothing of the effect it would have. Elizabeth made no reply but glanced briefly down the long table, to where Mr Darcy was talking with her aunt. Then she hung her head. What else was there to do with a face that was altered beyond his knowledge! She had never perceived herself as fantastically handsome, she had not a tenth of Jane’s beauty, but she still thought she saw some prettiness about her features. She was often told she was pretty, but had she, in Mr Darcy’s eyes, lost the bloom of her youth? Did she no longer look like the woman he had once ‘ardently admired and loved’? It was a blow to her vanity and pride. She felt as she had before, that evening many years ago at the Meryton assembly rooms, when he had disregarded her and described her as ‘tolerable’. She rose from the table and Sophy looked at her with concern.
“I feel a little odd. I might go out into the hallway for some air.”
Her new friend was alarmed. “You are unwell? Might I get your aunt for you?”
Elizabeth squeezed Sophy’s hand. “I am fine. I will be back presently.” Never having been so glad to quit a room, she found her way to the hall, where she gripped the stair rail and took a deep breath, berating herself, feeling ridiculous. ‘Why do you care, Lizzy, what does it matter? Go back in and make a joke of it. Repeat it back to him, make him embarrassed. Tease him. That is what you might have once done’.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr Yorke. “Miss Bennet, I saw you leave the table. Is all well?”
She found a smile for him and drew herself straighter. “I am fine. Forgive me. I am not usually so dramatic. I became a little warm.”
He stepped closer and brushed his hand down her arm. Feeling lost and hurt she found herself strangely grateful for it. At least he still admired her. She could not be so horrific looking.
“I think I know what has upset you. All this talk of us, the rumours, I should not have teased you earlier. Indeed, I ought to have been more circumspect altogether, more discreet in showing my attentions when we are in the company of others. I apologise. I curse myself to think how I have hurt you.”
“I confess, it has unnerved me, but I feel a little ridiculous now, to be causing such fuss and concern. I am fine, shall we go back in?” She motioned to the drawing room.
He clasped at her hand and held her fingers. “By all means, but while we have a moment of privacy, I wish you to know that although I regret any embarrassment I have caused you, I am delighted at the talk. I am yours for the taking. You might only say the word. I have been yours since the first night I saw you, on the stairs at the operetta. I have never been so enchanted by a woman. Elizabeth, I have no hesitation but that I feel your hesitation.”
She was taken aback at his familiar use of her first name and looked properly up at him. He was handsome, witty, a very good match in every way. Was there something wrong with her that she could not just welcome his love? Perhaps a leap of faith was required. Maybe the all-consuming passion she longed to feel would come later. “Are you proposing?”
“Do you wish me to?”
For some reason she could not say yes. The word would not form on her lips. She was not in love! Whatever she was supposed to feel, she did not, not yet. “I think I need a little time. We have not known each other long.”
“Of course, I have been hurrying you. You must take as long as you wish.” He leaned even closer, until she felt his breath on her forehead and then he placed a lingering kiss to her temple. He pulled away slightly to smile at her and looked down at her lips, his own slightly parted. His intention to kiss her became clear. While her heart certainly quickened at the thought, she was not sure whether it was from fear or desire. Should she let him? Other ladies she knew allowed far more, and with much less of a promise than Mr Yorke had given.
The sound of footsteps spared her the trouble of making a decision and they jumped apart. Mr Darcy was suddenly in the hallway with them, his gaze studiously averted towards his highly polished shoes. He looked as embarrassed as Elizabeth felt.
“Forgive my interruption,” he began. “Your aunt sent me to find you when she heard you were indisposed.”
“I am not indisposed,” she said coldly. “I am very well, thank you, Mr Darcy. Come, Mr Yorke.” Sheb made a great show of taking his hand. “The interminable business of cards will be arranged soon and if we are quick we might get seated at the same table and ease one others suffering.” She brushed past Mr Darcy with a quick angry look, pulling Mr Yorke after her.