A Summer in Brighton, page 15
“Well,” said Blanche, “I should like to come to know you and your opinions much better, Mr. Darcy.” She almost seemed to give Mr. Darcy a significant look before adding: “No man should be allowed to keep his secrets to himself for long.”
“That sounds like a curious double-standard, madam,” said Mr. Darcy, his brow furrowing slightly, though he did not appear to be displeased.
Elizabeth frowned, wondering what the look Blanche had given Mr. Darcy meant. It was the sort of look that seemed to have the primary purpose of communicating something that would only be understood by the giver and the receiver.
Elizabeth was thrown into further confusion when Mr. Darcy went on to say: “But be that as it may, I should like to see more evidence of your fine intelligence myself.” He, too, almost appeared to attribute some special meaning to his words, as if he were conversing with Blanche on a different plane.
Elizabeth did not understand what was happening in the slightest. Blanche and Mr. Darcy had just met. How could they already be speaking in some sort of strange code? Though it was nothing new for Blanche to speak in a mysterious fashion, Mr. Darcy was not fond of socializing with new acquaintances, and as a result, he would have had no reason to engage in any sort of veiled conversation with someone who was barely more than a stranger to him. Of course, perhaps Elizabeth did not know him as well as she thought. The Mr. Darcy she had known in Hertfordshire was nowhere near as amiable as the one before her. Was he simply trying to change how he normally handled social situations for the better? And if so, why would he be so eager to do so? He was a great enigma to her, and she was not comforted by the fact that Blanche had suddenly become one to her as well.
As she stared at him, she wondered what exactly he had meant by “fine intelligence.” It seemed such an odd thing to say.
“I do not know if I should call my intelligence ‘fine,’” said Blanche slowly, “but I suspect that I know a thing or two that you do not, Mr. Darcy.”
“I suspect every woman knows things a man does not,” inserted Harriet, who did not appear to have seen what Elizabeth was seeing. The reason for that was likely because she was too busy looking at Elizabeth with a grin on her face, no doubt thinking of what she had been told about Mr. Darcy’s proposal.
“Many men are scoundrels,” said Blanche with much firmness, “so I think it would be beneficial for most women to have a greater awareness of the dangers in becoming too close to some of them. To be suitably wary, a woman should need to know things the man does not. Unfortunately, however, some women do not seem to take the threat seriously enough. Perhaps they believe no real harm will ultimately befall them.”
“Men and women alike can fall prey to the whims of fortune hunters,” said Elizabeth, who was trying and failing to gain some grasp of the conversation, “so I should think that men would need to have some secrets of their own.”
“And I believe they do,” said Harriet confidently. “Men and women both thrive on secrets, though they may dislike owning it. Gossip, after all, is so integral to our lives, and it should not be quite so pleasing were it not for the sense of untold secrets being revealed.”
“Perhaps it is good for some secrets to be revealed,” said Blanche in response. “Regardless, I know I should do everything in my power to help someone dear to me if that person were in trouble.”
“And you are a great friend,” said Elizabeth softly, wondering if the conversation was finally losing some of its hidden meaning—and if she had simply imagined that meaning to begin with.
Blanche gave her a fond smile. “Friends must watch out for one another, must they not?”
Elizabeth smiled in return and pleasantly turned the conversation to the other matters. At last, Mr. Darcy left, but not before Blanche said something to him in a low voice that Elizabeth could not hear. Then, he was on his way, and Elizabeth moved toward Blanche, frowning as she thought about the look she had just seen on Mr. Darcy’s face.
“Blanche, what did you say to Mr. Darcy? His expression was almost stern.”
“Ah, I merely spoke some nonsense about his shoes which I suppose he did not find very amusing,” said Blanche dismissively.
“His shoes?” said Elizabeth doubtfully.
“I did not notice his shoes,” said Harriet. “I was too busy watching his face. My, he has changed from Hertfordshire, has he not, Elizabeth? There, I do not believe I ever saw a smile on his face! Here, however, he seemed to be approaching what I might call ‘happy.’”
“He seemed amiable enough to me,” said Blanche. “Do you like him, Elizabeth?”
“I do not quite know how I feel about the man,” said Elizabeth cautiously. “He is usually not so agreeable as you saw him today. He is normally much more taciturn.”
“Well, perhaps he has decided to shun taciturnity and embrace something more pleasant.” Blanche smiled, and the three women talked for a few moments more before Blanche, too, left.
“This has certainly been an eventful morning!” cried Harriet. “And to think, the day has only just begun!”
“Yes,” murmured Elizabeth. She was too busy thinking about Mr. Darcy’s shoes—and how she did not believe they had been the subject of Blanche’s comment to Mr. Darcy.
But whatever Blanche had truly said, Elizabeth would obviously not find out any time soon, so she had best move on to other thoughts and leave well enough alone.
Chapter X
For the next few days, Elizabeth and Harriet spent time in their normal pursuits, and if Elizabeth’s thoughts dwelt more on the gentleman from Derbyshire, it was also true that she was able to rein them in to some extent—she did not constantly think of Mr. Darcy, though sometimes she felt it a near thing.
Of the gentleman, they saw much, for since he was a well-known figure in English society, his good will was immediately sought after by those members of high standing in Brighton. And since Blanche was a member of such circles, by associating with her, Elizabeth was able to meet in company with Mr. Darcy as well.
And that was not all. The colonel, having made an acquaintance of Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire, was eager to include him in the society of the regiment, which resulted in Mr. Darcy’s receiving invitations to dinner at the Forster townhouse. Elizabeth learned through Harriet that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Forster had discovered that they shared a mutual connection—the colonel had been a good friend of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s before the demands of rank had separated them. However, they still maintained a friendly correspondence with one another and considered themselves close friends. And as Mr. Darcy had seen his cousin recently in London, he was able to impart more current intelligence about Colonel Fitzwilliam’s movements than Colonel Forster currently possessed.
It was during a dinner at the Forsters’ residence that Elizabeth saw Mr. Wickham again for the first time since Mr. Darcy’s arrival, and though she still did not fear him, he continued to make her uneasy. Fortunately, he did not approach her, and when he was not engaged with speaking to someone else, he merely contented himself with watching her from across the room with a slight frown upon his face.
His countenance, however, changed dramatically when Mr. Darcy arrived for dinner. Elizabeth happened to be facing in his direction when the gentleman entered the room, and as Mr. Darcy moved directly to her side to greet her, he was immediately visible to Mr. Wickham as well. At the sight of the man he had used so ill, Wickham’s face turned completely white, and he gulped down the drink he held in his hand in one swallow. However, his color heightened alarmingly when he realized that Darcy had stopped specifically to speak with Elizabeth, and a scowl remained painted on his face for the rest of the evening.
Mr. Darcy, however, did not spend long with Elizabeth—after exchanging a few pleasantries, he excused himself to greet his host. For a moment, Elizabeth was afraid that Mr. Wickham was about to break the colonel’s decree. But then Mr. Denny approached to greet her, and her fears were allayed.
“Miss Bennet!” said he. “How do you do? I must say you look remarkably well this fine evening.”
“I thank you, Mr. Denny,” replied Elizabeth with pleasure. Even setting aside his assistance with regard to Mr. Wickham the previous few weeks, Elizabeth thought Mr. Denny was a delightful conversation partner.
Denny glanced about furtively, noting Wickham’s presence, before he leaned forward and addressed her in a quiet voice: “I apologize for my tardiness. I am afraid I had a matter of regiment business to attend to before I arrived. Mr. Wickham has not imposed upon you in my absence, has he?”
Elizabeth glanced in the other man’s direction, noting that while he was now speaking with another group of officers, his eyes frequently darted toward her. “No, indeed, Mr. Denny. He does not appear happy, but he has not approached me.”
“Very good, indeed!” said Denny, moving back to a more respectful distance. “I would echo the colonel’s suggestion, though—if he does come to speak to you, I should very much appreciate it if you would inform either the colonel or me. I have been tasked with your safety, after all.”
Elizabeth laughed at the wink and the outrageously playful manner in which he addressed her, as though he were guarding a great secret which he would share with her alone.
“And I thank you for your protection, Mr. Denny,” said she. “It makes me feel truly at ease to know that I have such a gallant young man looking out for my welfare.”
“Excellent, Miss Bennet! Now, if you will excuse me, I see one of my fellow officers with whom I would very much like a word.”
As he left, she shook her head and smiled to herself.
For the rest of the period before dinner, Elizabeth mingled with the other diners, enjoying herself and the society immensely. It was as dinner was approaching when Mr. Darcy once again approached and engaged her in conversation.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy as they separated slightly from a group of several others with whom she had been conversing, “I do hope that your time since we last met has been spent agreeably.”
“Indeed, it has, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. Though she perhaps did not realize it herself, her voice and manner were enthusiastic, and her behavior toward the man was quite different from that of the previous autumn—or even that of the spring when they had been together in Kent. “Harriet and I have continued our exploration of the city and have even gone sea bathing yet again. I cannot dream of calling any time in which I have been able to sea bathe anything but delightful!”
Mr. Darcy’s responding smile was genuine and held a hint of tenderness, provoking a fluttering within Elizabeth’s midsection. “Ah, so you enjoy sea bathing, do you?”
“I do very much. There is something so very relaxing and carefree about the pursuit, and I find that the sea water does agree with me very well indeed.”
“So you sanction the activity, then. In that case, I should very much like to try it myself. I am sure it cannot be anything but delightful if you approve of it.”
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, even while a large smile bloomed on her face. “You put so much stock in my good opinion, do you?”
“I confess I do,” was the prompt response. “You do not bestow your good opinion frivolously or to please the world. Therefore, I believe your judgment to be sound and trustworthy.”
By this time, Elizabeth’s cheeks were fairly burning. “I thank you for the compliment, Mr. Darcy.”
“It is not unearned, Miss Bennet.” Mr. Darcy’s smile was friendly and his eyes kind as he regarded her with a gentle expression on his face. “As you well know, I abhor any kind of deception.”
The reference to his words that night at Hunsford brought a laugh to Elizabeth’s lips while simultaneously causing her to mentally sober at the thought of what had occurred. She could not repent of her refusal—she would do it again if she found herself in the same situation—but she could regret the manner in which the refusal had been delivered. To respond to his less than tactful proposal with contempt and derision did not, after all, make her performance any better than his.
Suddenly nervous, Elizabeth focused on her gloved hands, even as she sought desperately for the words of the apology which she suddenly knew she must make. Mr. Darcy, perhaps sensing her discomfort, did not speak or press her to respond—instead, he waited patiently, though what he was thinking, she could not say, as she was unable to peer up into his face. At length, she began thusly:
“Mr. Darcy, I did not think I would ever have the opportunity to speak with you thus, but I am thankful for your arrival in Brighton. It affords me the chance to express my regret for my behavior at Hunsford—what I said was unconscionably rude and uncalled for, and I apologize for it most fervently.”
Her declaration finally made, Elizabeth found the courage to glance up at his face, and she was surprised to see an expression of utter compassion and regret directed back at her.
“I will accept your apology, Miss Bennet, if you will accept mine. Had I not provoked you to say what you said—indeed, if I had courted you openly as you deserved—I do not doubt you would never have been put in a position to respond with such acrimony. Neither of us behaved in a manner which was strictly above reproach, and I fear I own the greater share of the blame.”
“Mr. Darcy—”
“Miss Bennet, I should prefer that we do not allow this to linger between us. I forgive you with all my heart and ask the same of you. I should prefer to begin anew, now that our regrets have been dealt with. Do you not agree that it would be best?”
There was something in Mr. Darcy’s eyes which at once frightened her and filled her with a warmth the likes of which she had never before felt. He truly was a handsome man, and he was gazing at her with such earnest intensity that she could not help but respond in a like manner. Indeed, had she still been in the midst of her bitter feelings for the gentleman, she doubted she would have been capable of perpetuating her grudge and withholding her forgiveness. So she did the only thing she could do—she reciprocated his smile and agreed with his request.
“I do, Mr. Darcy, and I extend my own forgiveness in kind. In fact, I believe your proposal is very much in agreement with my own personal philosophy: think of the past only as it gives you pleasure.”
“A very good thought indeed, Miss Bennet. In the matter of our past, I shall endeavor to follow your advice most particularly. Now, as I believe dinner is about to be served—and I believe our hostess would not mind should you prefer not to be seated according to rank—I should be very happy if you would agree to be my companion for dinner.”
It appeared the man still possessed the ability to astonish her, though Elizabeth was rapidly becoming somewhat accustomed to the unforeseeable nature of his behavior. She had thought on the possibility of making her apologies to him at some point in the future, but she had deemed it unlikely that she would ever be in his company and able to do so.
Yet here he was, visiting the same city and partaking in the same society as she was, and rather than avoiding her, he was seeking her out, speaking to her more than he ever had before—and much more amiably!—and asking her, with the greatest of civility, to dine with him! Could his previous preference for her have survived the bitter recriminations she had leveled at him less than three months before? It defied all logic. Part of her wished to explain it as his desire to prove to her that he could be civil and agreeable in company, but Elizabeth could not be certain. Further study of his actions was in order before she would be able to come to any kind of conclusion.
“I shall be glad to, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth at last, an uncharacteristically shy smile upon her face.
“Excellent!” said he. It was that moment when the company was called to dinner. Elizabeth grasped his proffered arm and allowed herself to be escorted into the dining room at his side. The situation seemed almost a dream. Why was Mr. Darcy escorting her to dinner?
After they were seated, the atmosphere between them continued to remain amiable. Elizabeth was not certain, but there appeared to be a spark of life in his eyes that she had not noticed before. As she spoke with him, they discussed what had transpired in their lives since they had been in each other’s company in Kent. Their conversation remained pleasant, and despite the presence of Mr. Wickham, she was able to enjoy the evening. Denny was not even required to come to her rescue, as Darcy seemed intent on remaining by her side. Perhaps Wickham’s face was even darker than usual when he glanced at her from the opposite end of the table, but he appeared to be attempting to keep his eyes away from her to some extent.
At the end of the evening, as she was readying herself for the night, she found her thoughts consumed by Mr. Darcy. She still was unable to completely fathom the reason for his attention to her, but she was glad for it. She found it to be immensely pleasing that they had been able to move past their disastrous argument in the parsonage. It was fortuitous indeed that she had come across Mr. Darcy in Brighton.
Elizabeth saw much of Mr. Darcy from that day forward. His renewed acquaintance with Colonel Forster was such that he would often arrive for a morning visit and spend some time in the colonel’s study, and it soon became evident that both men were pleased with the acquaintance. As for his time with the ladies, Mr. Darcy took care to ensure that he did not interrupt them on their frequent outings to see the sights of Brighton. He would often ask in advance concerning their plans, and he would avoid visiting on days when he knew they would be out.
This consideration endeared him to Elizabeth all the more, for it showed that while he took pleasure in her company, he remained sensitive to her own desires and pleasures and had no intention of suspending them for his own selfish purposes.
Of Wickham, Elizabeth saw nothing. Whether he was now cowed by the colonel’s blistering set-down, had decided that she was not worth the effort, or was simply biding his time, Elizabeth could not say, but she enjoyed the freedom his absence allowed her.
One morning perhaps two weeks after Mr. Darcy had first appeared in Brighton, he arrived to call on Elizabeth and Harriet during the normal morning visiting hours. The two young women had not planned any outings for that day, as they had determined that it was to be a day of rest—they had hardly stopped to take a breath during the previous week, and they were both looking forward to such a respite from the pace of their adventures.
