Page 18 of A Most Favourable Match

While Elizabeth had been trying to observe good in the man, as advised by Charlotte, the afternoon had shown her too many echoes of his intolerably ill-mannered performance at the Meryton assembly rooms. Each time Mr Darcy looked to Jane and Lord Grantchester, his expression seemed to become one of self-important disapproval.

Worse than that, Elizabeth had several times noticed Mr Darcy purposefully trying to draw Lord Grantchester away from Jane’s side. Once, she had heard him make a distinctly dismissive sound as Lord Grantchester was talking to the Netherfield Park party about some uncontroversial aspect of the wedding plans. Mr Bingley’s unhappy look to Mr Darcy told Elizabeth that she had not imagined this new slight.

What right did Mr Darcy imagine he had to blight the happiness of his friend and Jane? It did not bother Lord Grantchester that Jane had no claim to great fortune, title, or social connections. Why must Mr Darcy take it upon himself to find fault where Lord Grantchester did not?

“Do you detest marriage in general, Mr Darcy? Or only the match between your friend and my sister?”

Although her tone was civil and her small bow perfectly proper, Elizabeth went straight on the offensive with her words and saw Mr Darcy’s face flush with surprise and perhaps irritation. Good, let him be annoyed, and let him also learn that he could not slight her mild and sweet-tempered sister with impunity.

“Every marriage must be judged on the compatibility and suitability of the parties involved, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy pronounced, his tone so serious that it bordered on the pompous.

“This is true, but with adults of full age and sound mind, only the parties involved have a right to make that judgement,” Elizabeth insisted, her ownirritation rising in response to Mr Darcy’s statements.

And perhaps, though Elizabeth hated to admit it, also in reaction to his close proximity and the infuriating certainty of expression on his handsome but unsmiling face.

“There are cases where others have a duty to make their views known,” he countered, entirely unbending in the face of her attack. “I doubt you are someone to overrule your conscience any more than I, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You believe this to be such a case?” Elizabeth challenged. “You are mistaken, Mr Darcy. What can it be to you if your friend has fallen in love with a woman who does not meet your personal standards in rank or fortune? My sister is of gentle birth and virtuous character. I see no reason she should not prove a most loving and supportive wife to Lord Grantchester.”

“With all due respect, Miss Elizabeth, you cannot know what you are talking about,” Mr Darcy retorted. Such a flat statement of dismissal spurred her ire to even greater heights.

“You believe I know nothing of love, and you may be correct, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth conceded angrily. “But are you any more an expert in matters of the heart? I have seen nothing that leads me to believe you could ever understand —”

“Mr Darcy, Miss Elizabeth…”

Elizabeth fell silent as soon as she heard Lord Keeble’s affable voice addressing them both and saw Mr Darcy look away deliberately at the same moment. Hadshe been shouting at Mr Darcy?! His face looked red with emotion, despite the tight control of his answers to her, and Elizabeth felt her own cheeks burning too.

“…can I interest you in a game of charades on the upper lawns? We need a few more players yet to make the game worthwhile.”

“I should love to play,” Elizabeth agreed, thinking it best to remove herself from the present situation before she said anything she might later regret.

She hoped that the game would prove beneath Mr Darcy’s dignity. Certainly, he seemed far too proud to ever be playful. She was not disappointed in his response.

“Charades?!” Mr Darcy repeated, with an expression of distaste. “No, thank you, Keeble. I have seen enough charades in ordinary life of late to want any more of them.”

As Mr Darcy’s tall, dark figure stalked away from them, Lord Keeble laughed and offered Elizabeth his arm as she stared after the departing man. “You must take no notice of Mr Darcy, Miss Elizabeth,” he told her, as good-humoured as ever. “He has never been a man for fun and games, but he has virtues that make up for it in other ways.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Elizabeth murmured doubtfully, drawing another chuckle from Lord Keeble.

∞∞∞

Finding Charlotte Lucas alone again as the afternoon was drawing to a close, Elizabeth sighed with relief as she took her friend’s arm and walked with her through an open gate and into a slightly overgrown apple and pear orchard.

By throwing herself into charades and then further games with Lydia, Kitty, and other younger guests, Elizabeth had been able to distract her angry spirit for a while. Still, she remained very conscious of a dark-haired figure silently glowering somewhere nearby in every direction she seemed to turn.

It seemed that her challenge to Mr Darcy had drawn some of his fire from Jane and onto herself. Elizabeth supposed that she ought to see this as a partial success, but his attention had a strange effect on her, simultaneously needling her and making her want to go back and confront him all over again.

“I have had my fill of food, company and my mother’s matchmaking,” said Charlotte with a smile. “Poor Mr Bingley does not realise the extent of her ambitions.”

“Yes, it has been a fine day for a garden party, but I am glad it is almost over,” Elizabeth confessed. “I suspect that your mother will have to do battle with mine for the privilege of offering an unwilling daughter to the equally disinterested Mr Bingley.”

“Poor Mr Bingley,” Charlotte said again, amused, but also with real sympathy in her tone. “But before we come to him, how did you find Mr Darcy today? Has his character improved in daylight?”

“Not at all!” Elizabeth replied forcefully. “I do believe that I dislike him more than ever after today. It is an incurable case, I fear.”

But though Elizabeth then confided the outline of her encounter with Mr Darcy, and its equally infuriating and humiliating conclusion, Charlotte only laughed.

“Many might consider Mr Darcy’s fortune and good looks to mitigate any flaws in his character,” she offered, not seeming to take Elizabeth’s grievances very seriously at all, and becoming even more flippant in her own responses. “For ten thousand pounds a year, I think I might quickly learn to tolerate a great deal of brooding and ill-temper in a husband.”