Page 11 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
But she was gone, stealing out as silently as she had entered. No sooner had she disappeared than Bingley strode in from the main hall.
Darcy had thought before that Miss Elizabeth was peculiar. Strangely, he did not think so now. Miss Elizabeth lived with a scornful mother and shameful sisters. She was in her right mind, but somehow also believed she had a fairy godmother.
How extraordinary.
She could not have expected him to believe her. Absolute balderdash. Even had such creatures as fairy godmothers existed, why would the Bennets have one? The Bennets, of all families?
No, as kind and lovely as Miss Elizabeth was, there was also something decidedly odd about her. Although, inventing a woman who cared for her—it was something his sister might do.
No. Miss Elizabeth was not at all like Georgiana. He would dismiss the entire conversation from his mind.
Bingley was speaking, and Darcy was determined to listen.
“Shall we perhaps ride out to the ruins tomorrow if the weather is fine, Darcy? I am told there is good sport to be had in that area.”
This Darcy understood. This was why he had come.
“Yes,” he said emphatically. “I shall look forward to it.” When his eyes strayed to the door he was sure Miss Elizabeth had passed through, he frowned.
The door was no longer there.
“I waiteduntil Mildread was with Priscilla to speak to Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth moaned to Jane, who was finally able to sit up and take some broth. Priscilla appeared. She did not say anything, but simply sat near the window. “He would not listen.”
“Lizzy,” Jane said with a soft sigh, “you cannot have believed that he would. It is too far from his experience.”
“We had established a truce, I thought,” Elizabeth replied pensively. She plucked at the bedclothes until Jane raised the bowl for her to take. “A somewhat friendly acquaintance, even.” He had wanted to speak in her defence. She was only attempting to do the same for him. “I had hoped he would do as I asked, even if he did not believe me. Is it so very much to request he be polite? Mildread has something very dreadful planned for him, I am afraid.”
“Perhaps you ought to let Mildread alone,” Jane observed mildly. “Do you not think she knows what she is about?”
Priscilla nodded sagely from the window seat before staring blankly out of doors.
“That is what I fear the most,” Elizabeth responded.
Jane gave her a shrewd look before dabbing a handkerchief against her reddened nose. “Whyisthat, Lizzy?”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth inquired, setting the bowl down on the tray for the maid.
“What if Mildread were to do this dreadful thing you are concerned about to someone else? Timothy Lucas, for example?”
Elizabeth frowned. “She has done so, on more than one occasion.”
“Mm,” Jane assented. “Yet you did not protesthistreatment.”
“But he . . .” Elizabeth stopped. Timothy had been a terrible tease and rather conceited. Why, no one could say, for he was not his father’s heir nor was he particularly gifted with superior looks or any unusual intelligence. Although Elizabeth knew she was dazzling on her first night out after Mildread’s arrival—the fairy had made sure of it—Timothy Lucas had flatly refused to stand up with her at her coming out because she was not as beautiful as Jane. His boorishness had quickly dashed his pretensions. Not only had Jane flatly refused his hand and told him he was never to ask again, all the women in attendance that night had determined that none of them would dance with him, either. Even today, some five years later, if a woman turned Timothy down for a dance, the neighbourhood did not require that the lady sit out.
That was nothing to Mildread’s anger, though. Timothy had disappeared for a few days following the assembly, and Elizabeth was certain, from something the fairy said, that Mildread had turned him into a frog. Within a week he was home, but for a few days after his return, he was unable to speak. At the next three assemblies, she gave him, literally, two left feet. Another time, she had chosen two locks of his hair and made it so that they could not be tamed—they curled straight up from his crown like horns. And once, she had apparently given him dreams for a week that kept him weary all day long. She had not tortured the man in some time, but she had never truly forgiven him.
He might keep it to himself, but Timothy Lucas certainly believed the Bennets had a fairy godmother.
Elizabethstillfelt the man had earned every bit of his trouble. Mr. Darcy had not. She pursed her lips as she tried to reason her way through the contradiction.
“You have a tendre for Mr. Darcy,” Jane told her. If she was the tiniest bit smug, Elizabeth knew it was only because her elder sister was pleased.
“I donot,” Elizabeth protested. The very notion!
Mr. Darcy’s insult had been spoken to Mr. Bingley, not the entire room. Only Mildread had even heard, though she had repeated it to Mamma, and now everyone knew. Elizabeth was irritated, but notonlywith Mr. Darcy. She suspected that Mr. Darcy was stubborn and would not be forced to dance. They had that in common. She did not care to be forced into things either, even if shewantedto do them. It was a perverseness in her character, she supposed.
She frowned. A little sympathy for the man was not evidence of her favour. Even were it so, he certainly was not enamored of her, particularly after their last encounter. Besides, his position in society was far higher than her own. Even if he wished to, he could not offer for her. It would be the height of foolishness to give her heart to such a man.
