Page 17 of Fortuitous Encounters

“Pardon me, sir,” she said, trying her best to keep from either blushing to death or breaking out in tears.

The answering voice, deep, resonant, and kind, surprised her no end. “No harm done. You seem distressed, Miss Bennet. How may I help?”

She finally looked up… and up… and up… into the very worried eyes of Mr Darcy, who was looking at her in concern. For once in her life, she decided to treat Elizabeth’s opinion as less astute than her own. For Jane’s part, all she had ever seen of the gentleman was that he was taciturn, and he put his foot in it once or twice a month, compared to her family’s dozen per hour.

“I will—” she said, but then had not the slightest idea how to say what she may or may not do.

The gentleman continued calmly, “Pray, tell me if I overstep, for I am not the social man your Mr Bingley is, but even I can see your distress. I would consider it a great privilege if you might accept my aid. If nothing else, at least allow me to lead you to a private parlour to restore yourself and fetch Miss Elizabeth.”

She did not know whether to cry or scream, but remaining an easy target for her father—or God forbid, Mr Collins—was certainly not an option.

“My distress regards my sister,” she said, then stared at him to see his reaction. It was about what she expected, as he looked far more alarmed than a man who disliked Lizzy would.

Fortunately, he was a man of action, so he bowed and offered his arm to establish the fiction that he was helping with refreshments or some such. He was a man Mr Bingley trusted, so Jane was willing to extend her trust as well. As he led her across the ballroom, he subtly nodded to one of the maids, who followed them to a door on the far side.

He led Jane and the maid through a side door. “Mrs Hughes, this is Miss Bennet. We require your services as chaperone if you do not mind.”

“Of course.”

Jane noticed that the gentleman knew the maid’s name in advance and spoke respectfully to her, while the maid answered with respect but not the slightest hint of fear. Having been in houses full of servants all her life, she could read the situation as well as anyone, and it made her doubly certain that Lizzy was far too hard on Mr Darcy. A man did not get that sort of reaction from the staff unless he earned it. After all, servants knew everything!

They approached Mr Bingley’s study, and another minute found them inside. Mrs Hughes walked quickly to the other side of the room out of hearing, took up a small book of verses from a side table, and sat down to read.

Mr Darcy turned to her with an intensely businesslike expression, and for the first time, she understood there was far more responsibility in the position of Master of Pemberley than she had given credence to. After all, it was reportedly five times the size of Longbourn, and he had taken responsibility for it and a much younger sister while her age.

“We can trust Mrs Hughes implicitly. When you leave, it will become common knowledge that she was assisting you in some feminine tasks requiring seamstress skills that I could not comprehend—especially since I was never here. We have a few minutes before I need to be seen in the ballroom. If you would be so kind as to tell me your troubles, I will ensure Bingley is fully informed and does not panic, Miss Bingley does not start any gossip, and someone comes for you before the opening dance, which I believe you share with Bingley. Is that plan agreeable?”

Straightening her spine for the ordeal she knew was ahead, she told Mr Darcy in succinct terms everything he needed to know. She spoke quickly, but comprehensively about her father’s indolence, the entail, her mother’s ambitions, that she and Elizabeth had sworn to only marry for love and respect, Mr Collins’s position and behaviour, the clergyman’s assault, her parents’ bizarre reactions, and Elizabeth’s abrupt departure from the carriage. It was a stunning violation of propriety, but she judged the time for timidity was long past, and her allies thin on the ground.

Darcy stared in silence a moment, stunned by the turn of events.

“I must confess, that many of my more uncharitable thoughts regarding your family seem correct, or even optimistic,” he sighed. “Are you certain you and Miss Elizabeth were not dropped into the family by fairies? You stand out like roses in a dungheap, if you will pardon the vulgar analogy.”

His little joke, so extremely out of character, caused her to blush and laugh, which she suspected was his intent. Lizzy will just die when she hears that one!

The man looked pleased with himself and she answered his curiosity.

“It is our aunt’s influence more than anything, the one in trade. She hails from Lambton, so she must be my explanation. I do appreciate your observation, and I look forward to being right in a dispute with Lizzy for once.”

“Dispute?” he asked.

She groaned at what had to be done but did not shy away from the disagreeable task.

“I have told her several times that you are not an ogre. I suggested your slight at the assembly—while mean-spirited and more than a little humiliating—was probably just a bad night. You had the poor luck to echo what our mother says every day, so while she keeps up a brave front, she is sensitive about it—her appearance, that is. I also said she should not put so much stock in Mr Wickham’s tale, but she—”

Darcy’s shock made Jane nervous again.

“Oh, dear… too much?”

“I suppose she dislikes me?” he asked resignedly.

“She does, but I think the two of you could well be friends if you could abandon your pride long enough to explain a few things, and she might get over her prejudice against you. She can nurse a grudge with the best of them, but her resentment is not implacable. Perhaps you could even be good friends. Would you allow me to facilitate a reconciliation, or would I be exhibiting too much of my mother’s influence?”

Darcy shook his head in consternation and confusion. “I should be pleased to be removed from your sister’s brown books long enough to earn her friendship. It would mean a great deal to me. That can wait until we rescue her, though.”

“How will you do that when she does not trust you? In fact, after tonight I doubt she trusts anybody but me, and even I may be on probation.”

He thought a moment. “I cannot leave the ball without being noticed, which would compound her problems, so I shall send an emissary. Can you give me a question and answer my man could give her to show the message comes from you?”