Such Peculiar Providence Page 3

  “Very well,” she said. “We must invite him to dine.”

  “At the very least!” Charles said. “Darcy is a dear friend of mine and it has been quite some time since we were last together. When did he visit us, can you recall? It must have been June last year...”

  “March,” Caroline corrected, automatically.

  “March? Really? As long as that?” Charles frowned.

  “You could not shoot, remember? He intended on visiting us only a day or two but the rain kept him for with us almost a week.” She smiled. “I remember you two pacing about the house like bears with sore heads because you could neither ride nor shoot and were instead forced to sit in the drawing room and be social with a houseful of women.” She pursed her lips, recalling her brother’s dismissal, and how Mr Darcy had tempered it, by suggesting that there was nothing so very disagreeable about being pressed into company with such accomplished young ladies. He had been being polite, of course, for Charles and Caroline’s cousin Lucy was staying with them at the time, and no amount of charity could possibly stretch to call Lucy Fairfax accomplished. Caroline had taken that compliment entirely to herself, and she had dared to think that perhaps Mr Darcy might see in her even a glimmer of the attractions she had noticed in him right away. Men could be slow about these things, of course, and often required a little time before acknowledging their own feelings. True gentlemen took still longer to act upon them, yet she had haunted Charles’ study like a moth hopes she might overhear some mention of her by name and thus deduce that Darcy’s feelings were what she hoped. He had not spoken, alas, and still more woe! The rain had cleared that very evening so that he departed the next day for Pemberley and she had not seen him since. She had given up hope of his pursuing her then, but still nursed, in some corner of her heart, hope that perhaps the next time their paths crossed, things might be different. He was still unmarried, of course, and she...well! She would be in company with his dear friend and he had asked specifically that she join them. Surely that must mean something!

  Another thought struck Caroline, and she turned it over, examining it first one way and then another, before speaking it aloud to her brother.

  “Does Mr Darcy say when he will arrive?”

  Charles shook his head.

  “Soon,” he said vaguely. “I expect it will be a few days yet. Why do you ask?”

  “There will be an assembly next week.” Caroline glanced up at her brother innocently, striving with all her might not to let her features betray her thoughts. “Do you suppose Mr Darcy will wish to attend as our guest?”

  “I doubt it!” Charles snorted. “You do not know him as well as I, Caro, dear, but Darcy is not a gentleman for dancing and conversation with strangers.” His features lit up with wicked amusement. “Which is precisely why he must be pushed into doing it! Very good, Caro. We shan’t breathe a word of it until he is here, and thus cannot avoid accompanying us. La! What fun we shall have, our party of three!”

  Caroline returned her brother’s smile with one of her own, her mind already dancing a jig at the thought. Mr Darcy would have to invite her to dance, even if his own affections for her rendered him shy. It would be expected. And then...! Carline sighed. Providence may have snatched Mr Darcy away from her once before but now, praise be! He had come back again...

  WHEN THE DAY OF THE assembly arrived, Mrs Bennet had abandoned all pretence of contentment with her plan not to attend and wailed like an older version of Kitty at being kept from the play.

  “It is such a shame that I must not go with you!” she cried when the girls came down to the parlour to bid her good evening.

  “But Mama,” Elizabeth protested. “We did not think you wished to attend, not without father.”

  “Your father!” Mrs Bennet shook her head. “Of course I shall always mourn him. But I do not see why that means I must stay at home, on my own, while all of you go out to a revel.”

  “I can stay with you, Mama,” Mary offered, looking somewhat delighted at the opportunity to escape the evening’s entertainments.

  “Oh, Mary.” Mrs Bennet’s despair vanished, and she fumbled for an excuse. “I would not dream of asking you to forsake the assembly on my account.” She patted her middle daughter on the arm. “No, no! You go with your sisters. I know you will hardly enjoy it, without your mother there, but do try, girls.” She sniffled. “It is so very important to me that my girls enjoy this evening, even if I am to be prevented from going with them!”

  “Now, Mama, we shall not be away long,” Jane said, summoning a tray with refreshments, a book, a deck of cards, and a recently arrived letter from Lady Lucas, that Mrs Bennet had read once, and exclaimed over. “Here is everything you might need for an enjoyable evening!” she said, brightly. “And you’ll see, you shall hardly notice our absence. We will be home quite early, I do not doubt.”

  “Speak for yourself!” Lydia declared. “This is the first revel we have had in ages, and in London too! I certainly do not intend on coming home before I have danced with every gentleman present.”

  Elizabeth glared at her sister, who seemed determined to undermine every effort to cheer their mother, and to conveniently forget the propriety that dictated that although the girls might attend the assembly, they ought to do it with a modicum of sobriety. Each of the five was dressed in silver or grey, rather than their usual colourful array. Lydia had pushed the boundary, with a bright hair ribbon, and more jewellery than was strictly necessary, but Elizabeth, struggling to deal with Mrs Bennet’s despairing, could not bring herself to chastise her sister. If people wished to comment on the girls, let them comment. It did not seem likely they would be in London long, anyway!

  “Well, my dears?” Mrs Gardiner hurried in, praising each of her nieces in turn, and clapping her hands in delight their collective beauty.

  “Do not they look lovely, Madeleine?” Mrs Bennet sniffed. “If I am not permitted to be there alongside them, at least I know my daughters will be the most admired in attendance.”

  “Oh, indeed!” Mrs Gardiner said, putting one arm around Jane, and the other around Lizzy, and herding the group of girls out into the corridor. She turned at the doorway, to bid her sister-in-law farewell. “We shall not be late home, dear, and do please entertain yourself with anything you desire. The children are all sleeping, and the servants know not to bother you.”

  Mrs Bennet opened her mouth to reply, her accompanying sniff warning enough that another wail was about to break free, and quick thinking Elizabeth pulled the door closed behind them with a thud.

  “Are we all ready?” Mr Gardiner asked, with a bright smile.

  The party made their way out into the street and began to walk.

  “Oh!” Kitty cried. “Are we not take a carriage?”

  “Yes, you cannot mean us to walk! Ouch!”

  Elizabeth had managed to get close enough to her sister to elbow her roughly in the side at this perceived display of ingratitude.

  “Oh, there is no need for a carriage!” Mr Gardiner said, with a laugh. His warm tone set Elizabeth’s nerves at ease, although she silenced her two youngest sisters’ complaints with a look. “The assembly rooms are scarcely any distance. It would take us longer to climb in and out of the carriage than it will to walk. Besides, hardly any of our friends will take a carriage this evening. I say, my dear, there are Mr and Mrs Billington. Good evening!” Mr Gardiner moved away from his quarry to walk a step with his friends, and Elizabeth lowered her voice in addressing her youngest sisters.

  “Do not be so rude!” she hissed. “It is generosity indeed that we are even attending this evening, and we shall attend on foot and enjoy it.”

  Kitty looked suitably chastened, but Lydia lifted her chin, plotting a response, which was forgotten when her eyes caught the figure of a gentleman walking a little way ahead.

  “You are quite right, Elizabeth,” she said, with a penitent kiss on her sister’s cheek. Grabbing hold of Kitty’s hand, she dragged her sister to the front
of their group, in hopes they might catch up to the mysterious gentleman’s long stride. Elizabeth observed this, annoyed by her youngest sisters lack of propriety, but unwilling, at that moment, to take either of them to task. Instead, she walked on in silence, a few paces behind her aunt and four sisters, and admiring the first few stars out that evening. Despite her original reluctance to attend the assembly, she was glad to be going, now that it was here. It was not the same as Meryton, and she mourned the loss of friends such as Charlotte Lucas. She mourned, even, the gaggle of young gentlemen she would have expected to see at Meryton. Not one of them might have made a suitable candidate for marriage, but most of them were friends or acquaintances. Here, in this particular part of London, they knew no-one, and Elizabeth, not prone to shyness, nonetheless felt a flicker of dread rise in her chest as they drew closer to the assembly rooms. They fell into step with more people until the distant sounds of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels grew louder. The family stepped aside, allowing a neat, elegant little carriage, to draw pass them.

  “You see?” Kitty could be heard to exclaim, but they had reached the doorway before Elizabeth had time to silence her.

  “Well, Lizzy,” Jane said, linking elbows with her sister. “I know decorum dictates we must not be too merry, and truly I miss having Mama and Father with us, but I must confess I am eager to dance again.”

  “Then, dance you shall!” Elizabeth declared. She recalled her plan, seemingly forever ago, in Hertfordshire. Perhaps this would be the very evening that Jane met a gentleman who would become her husband. It would not solve the family’s accommodation problems, but it might offer one bright spot in an otherwise dreary future. The idea cheered her, and her smile, as they entered the assembly rooms, was genuine.

  Chapter Four

  Darcy stared dully around the crowded assembly room, feeling a glimmer of regret that he had not been quick-witted enough to devise a reason to excuse his attending this evening. He had been close when, after Charles Bingley’s enthusiasm for the promised assembly - “and on the very night you arrive, Darcy! I call that Providential, indeed!” - his sister had offered him an escape.

  “It is only a general assembly, of course, so anybody might attend!”

  Charles had grinned and dismissed her concerns with a laugh.

  “Poor Caro means residents of Cheapside, of course. What horrors!” and the matter had been put to rest. If Darcy had cared less for his friend, he might have said that in this instance, he rather agreed with Miss Bingley’s assessments and had no great desire to mingle with hordes of poor Londoners, angling for a beneficial match. He had been with his friends scarcely an hour or two, though, and that had been time enough for even Fitzwilliam Darcy to deduce it would not serve him to show partiality towards Caroline Bingley, and he had swallowed his objections, smiling grimly at Charles’ assertion that the three would go together to the assembly and make a party. Now that the dread evening was here, Darcy positioned himself at his friend’s shoulder and began the studious counting of the hours, until such time as his friend bored of society or at least desired to retire. Darcy had his own house to consider, of course, and might make his excuses and leave before either brother or sister. That thought cheered him, and his relief must have been evident on his features, for Miss Bingley chose that moment to mention it.

  “Something pleases you, Mr Darcy?” she asked, turning her head towards the door, which he had subconsciously sought as his means of future escape, to see what provoked his smile. Before Darcy could correct her or fabricate an excuse, the bustle of guests arriving caught his eye and he did, indeed, smile just a little to see a gaggle of women with but one poor elder fellow accompanying them - likely their father. They were dressed modestly, in charcoals and silvers that contrasted with the palette of colours adorning every other young lady present, and the lack of frills and feathers distinguished them still further.

  “Do you see someone you recognise?” Caroline asked, archly. Her tone was enough to startle Darcy back to full consciousness, and he straightened, clearing his throat and looking away.

  “No, no.” He turned back to her. “Recall, I came only at your brother’s invitation, Miss Bingley. There is nobody here I particularly wish to see.”

  Her features fell, and he briefly considered amending his words. Except for you, of course. Why would I want for company when I am with two such good friends as you and your brother? Every suggestion that briefly entered his mind he dismissed almost immediately as being too informal, too close. In short, they would offer Miss Bingley a hope that he cared for her rather more than he did. He had no desire to encourage Miss Caroline Bingley’s affections, which seemed inescapable even without his acknowledging her more than politeness dictated he must. Desperate for some distraction, and to find an excuse to take a step away from his companion, he turned to her brother.

  “Charles! I do intend on visiting my club while I am here. You will join me, I hope?” The thought of warm fires, good brandy, and the smooth smell of leather and pipe smoke was as soothing a panacea to Darcy’s nerves as any amount of solitude would have been at that moment, and he successfully managed to engage Charles in a moment’s conversation while they planned their visit.

  The energy in the room shifted, and it became clear that the dancing would soon begin. This change pleased Charles Bingley, who straightened and began to look around the room for his choice of young lady to engage for the dance. Darcy viewed the change with rather less enthusiasm, and began to wonder if it was too early in the evening to find a card-table he might haunt. He would be forced to dance once or twice, he did not doubt, but he certainly did not intend to seek any young miss out for the first dance. Doing so had implications, and he could sense Miss Caroline Bingil eyeing him expectantly. When he did not immediately turn towards her and ask, she grew impatient. Did he imagine it or was she standing closer to him, now, than she had been a few moments earlier? He stepped away, eager to increase the space between them, and cleared his throat, intending on engaging Bingley in some conversation once more. Before he could speak, though, his friend strode way, intent on his prize. Darcy stared after him, resigned but unsurprised to see Charles speaking earnestly to a pretty fair-haired young lady. He frowned, his eyes travelling over the rest of her party and he realised that she must belong to the gaggle of young ladies he had observed arriving shortly before.

  “Who is that?” Caroline hissed, closing the distance between them once more, and, Darcy wagered, grateful to seize hold of a topic that might be of interest to them both if it afforded her an excuse to speak to him directly.

  “Perhaps some friends of yours, Miss Bingley?” Darcy asked. “Certainly, your brother seems intent on becoming acquainted with them.” He paused. “Shall we join him?”

  Before Caroline could speak again, Darcy strode after his friend and was not surprised to hear her heels click after him as she hurried to keep pace with his long strides.

  “Here he is,” Charles said, glancing up as Darcy joined him. “This is my friend, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy, this is Miss Bennet and her sisters. They are staying with Mr and Mrs Gardiner.”

  Darcy exchanged a brief nod with the elder Miss Bennet, who seemed to have utterly enchanted Bingley with one smile, and turned to greet her sisters, of whom there were many. The two youngest had already scurried off to secure their own dance partners, he supposed, and one other looked rather as he felt. She was as plain as her sisters were pretty, and made a great study of the gathering musicians. She did not seem eager to dance, and her perpetually down-turned lips suggested she would be unlikely to be asked, in any case.

  There was a ripple of whispers amongst the crowd, and Charles Bingley took it as his cue.

  “Well, Miss Bennet. Shall we?”

  The two were about to depart, and Darcy sensed an expectant Caroline, breathlessly waiting at his shoulder. In desperation, he turned away, his gaze landing on the dark-haired, bright-eyed young lady who had first caught his attention.
Another of Miss Bennet’s sisters.

  “I do not suppose you care to dance, Miss...” he asked, his eyes barely resting on her before dropping tot he floor. It was not an enthusiastic invitation, nor even a particularly genuine one, and yet she seemed to be considering it carefully. She was silent for a moment and Darcy wondered if she had heard him or if he would be pressed to make the request a second time when a delicate, musical laugh forced his eyes back up to hers.

  “Thank you, Mr Darcy. I would.”

  Surprised to hear an answer in the affirmative, it took Darcy a moment or two to recall himself to motion. He offered her his arm and the two walked together to where the crowd of dancers were amassing. Darcy glanced over, apologetically, towards Caroline, feeling now that he had done her a disservice in not inviting her to be his partner, yet knowing that, if he had, she would have read altogether too much into the gesture. A particularly ugly scowl settled over her features for half a moment, falling only when a gangly red-haired fellow made the offer she had been hoping for from Darcy. With resignation, she plastered a polite smile on her face and followed him into position.

  The music started, and Darcy, sensing he was being observed, glanced across at his partner. Elizabeth looked away as soon as his eyes met hers, and he wondered what was passing through her mind that caused her to smile as if she recalled a particularly amusing joke. The question burned on his lips, but he could not quite make the words come forth and was saved from trying by the first notes of music.

  LIZZY FELT A FLICKER of guilt to be dancing at an assembly, while still clad in the pale grey of mourning. If Jane had not accepted first, she rather thought she would have refused, particularly when this gentleman did not seem the least bit interested in actually dancing, nor in her! She wondered, idly, what had compelled him to invite her in the first place, then recalled a tall, dark-haired lady lurking next to him. Mr Bingley’s sister had scowled at Elizabeth, her features darkening when she had sailed off on this Mr Darcy’s arm. A laugh bubbled up in her throat and she strove to dismiss it, subduing her smile with effort. The noise must have caught at Mr Darcy’s ear, in spite of this, for he glanced over at her at that moment, and Elizabeth looked away, fearing she would not be able to maintain her composure under scrutiny. She certainly felt under scrutiny from those dark eyes of his, nestled beneath a fierce brow. She had seen him standing next to Mr Bingley when they first arrived at the assembly. Indeed, they made a striking pair, these handsome gentlemen, surveying the crowd with aloof disinterest. Well, Mr Darcy had been aloof, in any case. Mr Bingley, at least, seemed pleased to be there, and happy to be dancing - and dancing with Jane! Lizzy could not contain a little skip as she proceeded through the steps of the dance. Their very first assembly and Jane had already caught the eye of so handsome and wealthy a man, for it was rumoured, at least on Mrs Gardiner’s lips, that Mr Bingley was worth four thousand pounds a year, and his friend, Mr Darcy, was richer still. Some curiosity had flickered over her aunt’s face at the name Darcy as if it was familiar to her. Lizzy made a mental note to inquire of her as soon as this dance was over. If Mr Darcy’s silence and scowl were anything to go by, he would not ask her for another, and that fact suited Elizabeth perfectly well. She dearly loved to dance, but would happily resign her slippers for the evening, if it meant being able to observe and draw her own conclusions of those who frequented the assembly. She had hoped to find someone who might help them in their pursuit of a home, but that sort of dreaming was foolishness. Life was not a fairy-tale, and there was no wealthy landowner with cottages to spare. What a pity Father could not have possessed one of those for a cousin!