of my life! I am to wed the most magnificent man in the world, and my two best friends will marry my brother and my cousin. ’Tis too much! By far too much! Oh, why is not everybody as happy?”
“Well, I am, most certainly.” He remembered there were other people in the room; and he took a quick glance at them before adding, “And if I am not mistaken, there are lots of other joyful people here as well. Just look at all the beaming faces surrounding us, Georgie. Like your father said, love actually is all around us tonight.”
Charles Bingley and Miss Anne de Bourgh may not have been as well coordinated as Darcy and Elizabeth, but at least they did not tumble down like several other unfortunate colliding couples. Bingley and Anne merely laughed away their missteps and awkwardness and waltzed on. They spoke on many topics and found they truly had much in common. Both had a close female relative with ‘issues’, and those ladies had caused considerable embarrassment over the years. They also discovered those same women, coincidentally, had equally set their caps on Fitzwilliam Darcy. Bingley’s sister had pursued Pemberley’s heir hoping to become Mistress of the estate he would someday inherit, and Lady Catherine aggressively promoted a match between her daughter and nephew.
“Miss de Bourgh, I have often heard Darcy and Fitz make mention of you in a most complimentary and affectionate manner. Why would you not want to wed someone like Darcy? He is handsome, I suppose; wealthy, certainly; and quite intelligent, really. Is that not what a girl wants in a husband?”
“We are more like brother and sister than cousins, Mr. Bingley. Besides, Fitzwilliam is far too taciturn and staid for my liking. Although I appreciate the importance of being earnest, I prefer being in the company of more fun-loving, frivolous people.”
“I am frivolous, and I love fun. For all the years I have known Fitz and Darcy, I am rather surprised our own paths have not previously crossed, Miss de Bourgh.”
“Well, sir, I am seldom permitted to spend time in Town. So, unless you have crossed Rosings Park’s pathways, it may be pathetic but not really surprising our paths never crossed until tonight.”
While they danced and enjoyed being in one another’s company, Mr. Bingley and Miss de Bourgh discussed literature, the arts, items in the newspaper, and the latest gossip.
“Miss de Bourgh, have you read the novel about the musician in treble? It was a real cliffhanger.”
“Oh, Mr. Bingley! You ruined it, sir. You were supposed to say
“Oops. Drat! Sorry. Just the same, I did hear of some treble at the new music store on Bond Street. It was robbed, and the thief made away with the lute. Speaking of loot, have you heard Miss Pearl Loyne is suspected of stealing a brooch from Miss Plaist?”
“Oh, dear. What happened, Mr. Bingley?”
“They could not pin it on her. They did, however, pin a famous writer for stealing an idea for a stage drama; and he is now considered a playgiarist.”
“Tsk, tsk. Before writing his final version of the play, he should have had a pre-text.”
“Yes. I suppose authors’ lives are punctuated with good writing periods. Nonetheless, in my opinion the fellow should have been more pen-sive. My sister, Caroline, usually mends my pens for me, but she will soon be going away to live with our aunt and uncle. I suspect my handwriting shall suffer, and it is already nothing to write home about.”
“Mr. Bingley, to write with a broken pen is pointless.” Anne gave him a teasingly coy smile and exaggeratedly batted her eyelashes. “I mend pens remarkably well, sir.”
“Do you know, Miss de Bourgh, you make a good point for furthering our acquaintance? Please allow me to ask you a question point-blank. May I please call on you tomorrow?”
“I hope you make a point of it, sir.”
Whenever Bingley and Anne stepped on the other’s toes, they apologized for the misstep. Step-by-step, they became accustomed to dancing together; and it was a step in the right direction. When they parted, the young gentleman had a spring in his step as he silently recited from Alexander Pope’s
Miss de Bourgh made a mental reminder to jot down her feelings later. Her daily journal was like a confidante, and she had named the diary ‘Brigette Johns’.
An avid reader, Charles Bingley recalled a section of a letter from Werther, the main character, to his friend, Wilhelm, in the book
A duchess, who was quite stricken in years, exchanged curtsies of common courtesy with Miss Elizabeth and complimented her. “I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Miss Elizabeth. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident you belong in our first circles. Allow me to say, however, your handsome partner does not disgrace you. I hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when certain desirable events, my dear young couple, shall take place. Three upcoming weddings in one family! What congratulations will then flow in. Have you two set a date yet?”
Darcy replied, “Your Grace, Elizabeth and I plan to marry before Christmas. We will then journey to our estate in Northumberland and spend at least a month in the country.”
“Winter in the North Country! Brr!” The elderly woman shivered. “How will you keep warm?”
Darcy and Lizzy did not have to say anything. Their eyes, which were locked on one another, and their blushing cheeks painted a picture that spoke a thousand words. The duchess smiled fondly at the couple. “Oh, yes, … to be young again and in love! But let me not interrupt. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitchment of one another. I believe your bright eyes are upbraiding me. I am done to a cow’s thumb anyway and shall soon take my leave. Enjoy the rest of the waltz, my dears.”
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy. “That interruption has made me forget of what we were talking, my dearest, loveliest, loveable Lizzy.”
“I do not recall we were speaking at all. Her Grace could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say. We have tried two or three subjects already without success at keeping our train of thought, and of what we are to talk next I cannot imagine. Just keep looking at me the way you have been, hold me, spin me, and waltz me around the room, Fitzwilliam. I never want this dance to end. I am surely in heaven here and now.”
“We will be in sheer paradise when we arrive at our estate, my love. What think you of living in the rugged wilds of the North with me?”
“What are rocks and mountains to the man I love? I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Fitzwilliam. Oh, what hours of transport we shall spend! You give me fresh life and vigour.”
“Elizabeth, you already have enough life and vigour for three people, which is fortunate. We have a lot to accomplish in the next two months. Northumberland may not be another country, but the climate is quite different up there. You must prepare and shop for a cold winter … warm boots, gloves, scarves, hats, muffs, and a pelisse or two. To plan ahead is pre-fur-able.”
“Will I have to witness the return of your frosty disposition?”
“Elizabeth, when we are alone together up there, ice-olated, just the two of us … ”
“Fitzwilliam! Just the two of us? Shall we not have servants? Am I to do all your cooking and cleaning? What have I gotten myself into? What have
“Elizabeth, are you getting cold feet already? There is a whole household of servants, my love … an excellent chef, housekeeper, butler, footmen, and maids galore. There is a fireplace in every room, and a thousand acres of wood to fuel them. We have trunks full of blankets, bricks for warming, and cozy beds in our chambers. We shall be neither cold nor hungry, and I promise to keep you warm.”
“I am quite warm right now, so perhaps we should waltz often while up north.”
“That can be arranged; and it is, indeed, a very good idea. As you are already aware, I tend to forget if I do not practice.”
“Practice makes perfect, Mr. Darcy; and I know you do strive for perfection.”
