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“You will write to me, won’t you?” Sophia asked as she clambered into a carriage. She had not wanted to wait a moment longer, but acting with the fervour of a new convert, had confessed all to everyone gathered in the Huntington’s parlour. She had assumed Elizabeth Bennet’s name in error, and then with a tiny amount of glee and malice, for which she now bitterly repented. Much of the gossip was proven to be just that, gossip, and Mrs Huntington spoke on behalf of her guests, in declaring that not one of them took any delight in spreading gossip, particularly that which was discovered to be untrue. With this, an exhausted Sophia had bid leave to go home, and the Huntingtons had generously offered their own carriage.
“I shall leave for Scotland tomorrow, and send you a note of the address.” She waved, and Elizabeth watched the carriage disappear into the darkness.
“The mystery resolves itself!” Mrs Huntington said, leading Elizabeth back towards the house. “As I knew it would!”
“You planned it so,” Elizabeth said, accusingly.
“I may have intended there to be some dramatic show-down.” Mrs Huntington’s eyes danced. “Now my dinners will be well attended all the rest of the season. That is publicity that cannot be bought!” She laughed. “But, my dear, I hope you do not think me unkind. I wished for your sake to discover the truth. I did not imagine you actually knew each other, although I had my suspicions that your paths must have crossed, for two young ladies of a similar age with identical names is somewhat unusual, particularly when I heard you had relatives in London. It would have been known about if it were coincidence alone.”
“She is unhappy, I think, and acted out of her unhappiness.” Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose now I must try to live with the consequences, such as they are.”
“That will soon blow over!” Mrs Huntington led her back into the busy parlour, and the sound of conversation reached Elizabeth’s ears. “You see, already you are yesterday’s news, and people find something new to talk about.”
“Indeed!” Elizabeth smiled, relieved to bid her hostess farewell and return to her aunt’s side, where she might step out of the centre of attention for a moment and gather her wits once more.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
A moment, only! she thought, fixing a smile on her face, and turning to greet Mr Darcy, who had remained, it seemed, by Mr and Mrs Gardiner’s side during her absence.
“Lizzy, dear, I have been acquainting myself with Mr Darcy, for I spent many years in my youth in Derbyshire, and knew of his father!” Mrs Gardiner beamed.
“How interesting.” Elizabeth turned towards Darcy, expecting to see forbearance and irritation etched into his features, but instead noticed only genuine interest and something that might have been concern, as he looked towards her.
“Your aunt tells me that they are planning a visit to the lakes in the spring, and I have insisted upon them calling at Pemberley. You would be most welcome to join them if you remain with them into the New Year.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth was so startled by the genuineness of his offer that she could not reply straight away. “You are very kind.”
“Of course, Lizzy might well return to Hertfordshire before then, as you are set to do, Mr Darcy.”
“Oh? You will go back to Netherfield?”
“Before the week is out, Miss Bennet.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth was surprised at the disappointment she felt upon realising that Mr Darcy would be departing before her, that she would be alone in London after all, without even him for companion. Since when have I considered Mr Darcy a companion? But before she could inquire further of herself, Mr and Mrs Huntington began to usher their guests through to the dining room.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!” A tall, slim young man hurried forward, and Elizabeth frowned at him for a moment, before recognising him as William Prior, who had so recently accompanied Sophia Radcliff to the gathering. “I wonder if I might escort you in to dinner, and in so doing apologise for any part I may have played in furthering the young Miss Radcliff’s deception. I had no idea, of course, that she was not precisely who she said she was, that is, that you even existed and were not she, and I -” He grew increasingly flustered in his attempts to excuse himself, and eventually Elizabeth put him out of his discomfort with a gentle smile.
“It is quite alright, Mr Prior. You owe me no apology. The matter is settled.”
“Indeed, but I feel so very, very sorry! The shame of it, the embarrassment -”
“Miss Bennet has done nothing to be ashamed of,” Mr Darcy said, icily, his mouth inches from Elizabeth’s ear. “Her reputation is her own, any damage done to it was caused by another, and she ought not to feel anything but pity for such a person.”
Lizzy lifted her eyes, then, turning from Mr Prior to Mr Darcy, surprised to hear the vehemence of his comment.
“Come, come, everyone!” Mr Huntington said. “Darcy, do not hold the party up!”
At his call, everybody hurried into motion, and Elizabeth found herself swept along by Mr Prior’s side, quite in spite of herself. She glanced around, trying to locate Mr Darcy, but he had fallen some way behind them, and there would be no chance for her to speak to him now.
***
“Are you truly so little acquainted with London, Miss Bennet?” Mr Prior’s voice was thin and reedy, yet somehow it carried well above the rumble of conversation so that Darcy’s ears detected it without even trying. “We must do our best to remedy that, while you are here.” He laughed, an irritating, girlish laugh that made Darcy’s fingers clench around his knife and fork.
He endured, rather than enjoyed, his meal, making conversation where he must with the few friends that were sitting close enough to attempt to draw him into conversation, yet he was uncomfortably aware of Elizabeth Bennet, sitting just a little away from him, and he wished that it might be he her eyes were turned upon, he who she made conversation with, and not the odious Mr Prior.
As if she had heard his thoughts, she glanced up, and he saw his own discomfort at Prior’s prattling reflected, momentarily, in her gaze. He was forced to swallow what might have been a laugh of his own.
Recalling all that had passed already that evening, he felt more than a little ashamed that he had been so inclined to think ill of Elizabeth Bennet, and so quick to expect his worst fears confirmed. Would I even have gone to Hertfordshire, if I had not thought her and her sister engaged in some scheme to entrap my friend? The answer was a resounding no, but the fact was that he had gone, and had come away more confused than ever.
There was a pause in their conversation before Mr Gardiner spoke directly to Mr Prior and engaged him in conversation long enough that Elizabeth looked about her, left quite alone for a moment. Darcy saw his opportunity, and leant forward, that his quiet question might easily be heard by her.
“How does your cousin enjoy Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet?” he asked, wishing that, instead, he had found some more interesting topic of conversation. Still, he reasoned, with satisfaction. This was a reminder of our previous connection, something that Prior might not have, despite all the obsequious apologies in the world. Instead of replying with an amused comment, as he had expected, Elizabeth started, and dropped her fork, laughing only to cover her nerves at such a reaction.
“How clumsy of me!”
Darcy was surprised to distinguish that her tone of voice had changed. This was not the confident, care-free Elizabeth who seemed to delight in tormenting him with comments he could never entirely determined the true nature of, criticism or comedy. Her voice shook, so little that it would be scarcely noticeable, had he not been sitting quite close to her, or paying her such intent, if covert, attention. It was a perfectly innocuous question, he thought, his frown deepening. And yet it provokes such a reaction?
“Mr Collins is my father’s cousin,” she said, quickly, to the people sitting near them, as if in an attempt to draw them into the conversation and yet, Darcy rather fancied it was more an attempt to buy herself some time to formulate a satisfactory answer to his simple enquiry. At length, she turned back to him with a deferential smile.
“He seems very fond of Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy, and is already making plans as to what he shall do when Longbourn reverts to him.” Here, her voice sharpened, and Darcy could not fail to miss the heavy criticism she levied at her absent cousin. He, too, was angered on her behalf. All concerned might be well aware of the eventual fate of the estate: he was no stranger to entailments and the perverse provisions of wills and property, but that was no invitation to waltz into a family home and claim it, while the patriarch of that family was still hale and hearty.
“I hope your sisters do not find his presence too upsetting,” he said, thinking that whilst Elizabeth might be of strong enough constitution to turn Mr Collins’ snide comments back on himself, and rather enjoy doing so, Jane would certainly take his words to heart. Another thought flitted through his mind, but he attempted to ignore it. Still, it bade him ask a question.
“He is not yet engaged, I believe?”
This caused Elizabeth almost to choke on her meal, and it took her a moment to reply, her voice strangely choked when she did.
“No, sir. He is not engaged.”
She did not meet his gaze. In fact, she seemed to engage all her efforts in purposely avoiding his gaze. He looked up at Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who seemed likewise unsettled by the comment.
Understanding dawned, and his brow furrowed even further. A proposal - worse, a failed proposal. No wonder Elizabeth had escaped to London at her earliest opportunity. Had Mr Collins heard the rumours of “her” behaviour - or rather, the behaviour of the other Elizabeth Bennet, and attributed them, as he had done, to her? Sympathy welled up in him, for it must have stung to be so misjudged b a member of her own family, worse still than by a stranger. Yet he also felt somewhat nettled by the thought of any action of Mr Collins’s causing Elizabeth Bennet distress. Surely she did not care what that oaf of a man thought of her? Surely any failed engagement between them would be a source of relief to Elizabeth, at having escaped a future joined forever with him? He returned to his meal, puzzling over the mystery that a woman of such character and intelligence as Elizabeth Bennet could ever in a hundred years wish to marry the idiotic Collins and yet - he drew in a breath, and glanced up, anxious that this reaction might have caught the interest of his dining companions, but noted with relief that the two couples had moved on to other topics, and Elizabeth had once more been engaged by Mr Prior in listening to him expound the virtues and vices of London society at that particular time of year. Nobody had noticed his shocked realisation, and he was free to return to it. Elizabeth might loathe and despise Mr Collins, might rail at the thought of marrying him, but if he was to inherit Longbourn upon Mr Bennet’s demise then the only security she could offer her family would be in securing Mr Collins himself. Perhaps that had been her plan all along, a plan ruined by the actions of Sophia Radcliff in her disguise as “Elizabeth Bennet”.
Darcy was not a calculating man. He had never needed to be. He had fortune, position and masculinity on his side. Although he did not wish to fall victim to a penniless woman’s schemes, he did not entirely misunderstand her reasons for doing so. Security was a scarcity for a woman. It was why he guarded Georgiana like a lion, why he had been willing to risk everything to secure her safety and ensure her reputation remained intact after George Wickham had attempted to run away with her. Elizabeth Bennet had no older brother to secure their family’s safety, and if marrying Mr Collins would do it, he had no doubt that she would be cool-headed enough to do so, and keep her mother and sisters safe, no matter what she thought of the man himself.
“Have you -” he began, seeking once more to engage her in conversation and in some way distract her from the influence of the odious Prior. That man paused for breath, and Darcy launched himself into the breach. “Have you any plans for your time in London, Miss Bennet?”
“Not very many,” she admitted, smiling cautiously at him. Her features still betrayed a hint of her anxiety, but she was almost entirely herself again. “I hope to visit some of the museums and galleries.”
“And you doubtless have friends you wish to spend time with.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, with a philosophical shrug. “I do not have very many acquaintances in London at present, and left my two dearest companions: my sister Jane, and my friend Charlotte, at home in Hertfordshire. Fortunately, I am not discontent in my own company.”
This answer surprised Darcy, for he felt certain that every woman craved the contact of other women. He almost always came across them in packs, if unmarried, or coupled with their husband once wed.
“I find it is often best to plan a solitary visit to a museum, for then you may go at your own pace, and enjoy whatever exhibitions speak most to you without worrying about what your companion finds dull, or would prefer to be viewing.”
“But then you have nobody to talk to about it!” Elizabeth said.
“Ah yes, I forgot,” Darcy permitted himself a small, slightly teasing smile. “Miss Bennet has many opinions and dearly loves to share them.”
“Whereas Mr Darcy forms only a few and holds tight to them as if they were a prized pearl, never to be surrendered or replaced with anything else.”
“I happily exchange my opinions when they are proved to be wrong, Miss Bennet.” He smiled at her contritely, an apology in a glance. “I am not incapable of owning when I have been mistaken. I am very sorry for confusing you with the false Miss Bennet, for judging her actions as your own. It was wrong of me, and I shall do all in my power to ensure nobody else makes the same error.”
“I doubt it can be prevented,” Elizabeth said, with a sigh. “Although I think it rather cruel that I must face the judgement and punishment for Sophia’s foolishness, it will take time for the truth to become known, and I am in no desire to ruin her to do so.”
“You are too generous,” Darcy said, frowning. “If anyone had tried so maliciously -”
“Oh, I do not think her entirely malicious.” Elizabeth smiled. “Misguided, foolish, but not malicious.”
“In any case, she ought to be held to account for her actions...” Darcy trailed off, wondering how Elizabeth could so easily excuse actions that had caused her such harm. He readily held a grudge and would continue to bear ill-will against all those who had hurt him. Such mercy was a surprise to him, and he said as much.
“We have all made mistakes in our past, Mr Darcy. I like to think we might all be afforded the opportunity to move on from them.”
Darcy nodded, thinking of Georgiana, and Wickham, and wondering if Elizabeth Bennet might not have much still to teach him on the matter of forgiveness.