An Engaging Friendship Read online

  spiteful attitude evolve. She would not have been able to remain friends with him even if he had wished it. Determined not to let him ruin her night, she began again, politely asking, "How is Geor... Miss Darcy."

  Darcy pursed his lips tightly for a moment, then said, "My sister is well. She has accompanied me, but since she is not out yet, she remained at Netherfield with her companion." The couple separated briefly. "Does your father attend the Assembly?"

  "He does." she clipped.

  Shortly thereafter, the dance ended and Darcy escorted Elizabeth off the floor.

  Before her hand was claimed for the next dance, he bowed over it and said,

  "Until next time."

  If there is a next time, Elizabeth stewed.

  Not feeling equal to the crowd gathered, Darcy retreated to the punch bowl, reflecting on his conversation with Elizabeth. They had fallen into their old habits, but something was still not right. While they had teased each other, she

  had seemed distant, and even cool towards him. But could he really blame her?

  Their separation had been his fault. He would not have been surprised if she had slapped him or cut him. She would certainly have been justified in doing so.

  He took a sip of the punch, and his jaw tightened at its tartness. He watched the new set of dancers take the floor, focusing on one in particular. She was

  smiling gaily with her partner, as if she had not a care in the world. She had remained her usual bright and cheerful self. That part of her had not changed, and he was glad for it.

  Seeing her playful manner while interacting with others only intensified his need to talk to her and explain. How desperately he had wanted that spirit to help him during those trying years, and again this past summer. Could they

  ever get back to what they once had? He certainly hoped so. It was a good sign when she inquired after Georgiana. Perhaps she was what his sister needed to bring her out of current doldrums. Before he could risk reintroducing the two, however, he needed to explain the past.

  He looked around the room, seeking Mr. Bennet. He had hoped Elizabeth

  would have done the honours, but she was occupied. and probably too angry to provide the assistance. A familiar voice called to him, and before he could turn to identify the voice, his arm was accosted by Miss Bingley.

  "Certainly not the finery of the London, is it Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley said haughtily.

  "I did not expect it to be."

  "Pray tell me, Mr. Darcy, who was that little country miss?" Caroline simpered.

  "Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he deadpanned. He knew it was not what she wanted to know, but it did answer the question.

  "You know her?"

  Darcy nodded the affirmative. "Our families were acquainted with one

  another."

  Caroline stifled a choke of surprise. Then, clearly fishing for more information on the new rival, she asked, "You are no longer acquainted?"

  "We have not been in communication as of late."

  Miss Bingley visibly relaxed, believing Elizabeth to be less a threat than she originally thought. Changing the subject, she said, "I do hope Charles intends to return to town before Christmas. I could not bear remaining in this savage country for the holidays!" She batted her eyelashes coquettishly.

  Darcy felt the urge to roll his eyes at Miss Bingley's thinly veiled hint. It was a bit early to discuss Christmas, but Miss Bingley had been attempting to secure an invite to Pemberley for Christmas for the past five years. He was well aware that Pemberley at Christmas was widely discussed amongst the Ton, and that it

  was considered the highest honour to receive an invite, which was always reserved only for the Earl of Matlock, Lord Blakeslee and their families.

  Especially given recent events, Darcy knew that even if he had wanted to invite Bingley to Pemberley for the holidays, Miss Bingley would no doubt

  misconstrue it and expect an engagement announcement soon after. That was

  something he would never allow.

  Not having any other response for Miss Bingley, and knowing he was obligated to dance with her once this evening, he set down his glass of punch and asked her for the next set, which she readily accepted.

  Throughout the dance, he half listened to his partner spout the many praises of Pemberley. How he regretted having paid any special attention to her in past months. Now she was insufferable!

  His duty to Bingley's sisters complete, Darcy once again searched the room for Mr. Bennet. He spied him in a corner of the room, chatting with Sir William Lucas. Darcy grimaced at having to speak to that man again, but there was

  nothing for it. At least Sir William would be able to perform introductions, and ease the situation. Darcy approached the two, his rigid stature belying his nervousness. As he neared, the two gentlemen turned.

  "Ah!" Sir William exclaimed, "Mr. Darcy. I am informed you are already acquainted with Mr. Bennet."

  Darcy bowed to Mr. Bennet. "I am. Mr. Bennet, it is good to see you."

  Mr. Bennet looked the young man over. "Mr. Darcy. It has been a long time.

  How are you and your sister?"

  "My sister is well, sir. Thank you for inquiring."

  "Sir William tells me you have already seen Lizzy this evening."

  "Indeed, I have. She honoured me with the first set." Darcy hoped Mr. Bennet would not ask any further questions. The last thing he wanted to do was share his past with a ballroom of people.

  In response to Darcy's silent plea, Mr. Bennet smirked, but his eyes betrayed the amusement he felt.

  With not a little chagrin, Darcy correctly surmised Mr. Bennet was sorry to have missed the interaction. It only fuelled his belief and disquiet that he may not be able to reconcile the past with Elizabeth.

  "If you are available tomorrow, it would be an honour to have you at

  Longbourn again," Mr. Bennet said.

  Darcy bowed in acceptance. "The honour would be mine. I am at the leisure of my host, but I shall try to call tomorrow morning." He took his leave, grateful for the invitation. If things went well, Elizabeth would be home when he

  called. He would speak with her then.

  The rest of the evening, Darcy spent standing near the edges of the room pondering what the next day would bring.

  Chapter Two

  Despite the late night, the morning after the Meryton Assembly, Elizabeth rose early. The blazing orange morning sky was giving way to a blue one, and the sun could be seen through the mostly barren trees. Elizabeth dressed hurriedly.

  Such mornings were fleeting, and she was intent on taking advantage of her

  good fortune. She tied her hair up in a simple chignon and threw on her

  simplest morning gown. She did not take much care in her appearance, as she was not expecting to see anyone.

  When she exited the house, she inhaled deeply as she secured her pelisse and pulled her shawl tightly around her. The morning air was cool, but refreshing, and she could smell the fresh bread already baking in the oven. As soon as she was out of sight of the house, she tore off her bonnet and verily skipped down the lane. She lifted her face skyward, basking in the feel of the morning sun.

  She listened to the pleasant song of the birds over head, and breathed in the earthy smell of fallen leaves.

  Suddenly, the sound of a horse and rider grabbed her attention, and she stepped off the main road, into some thin trees, hoping to remain relatively unnoticed.

  She watched, waiting for the rider to pass her by so she could continue on her way. To her great shock, as the rider neared, she recognized him as Darcy. The reminder of his presence in Hertfordshire, further fuelled by his disturbance of her morning walk, caused her ire of the previous evening to return in full force.

  He was the last man she wished to see at the moment. Hoping to escape a

  conversation with him, she turned onto a smaller walking path that headed

  deeper into the woods, knowing a horse would have difficulty following
her.

  Unfortunately for her, Darcy had already spotted Elizabeth, and fully intended on taking advantage of what he viewed as his good fortune. Seeing her attempt at escape, he called out, "Miss Elizabeth!"

  Elizabeth stopped for a moment. The polite thing to do would be turn around and acknowledge the caller. However, perturbed at Darcy's sudden

  reappearance into her life, she continued on her way without so much as a nod.

  "Li'l Beth! Wait! Please!" Darcy called, jumping from his steed, ready to follow her.

  Elizabeth froze at the appellation. It was a name used only by him, her friend.

  It had started out as a joke with all the Darcys when Georgiana was just a

  toddler and could not pronounce her name. As nicknames are sometimes wont

  to do though, it stuck, but only with Darcy; and it was only used when they were alone.

  Never one to turn her back on the call of a friend, Elizabeth turned, her lips pursed. Her emotions battled within her, and only her gentle upbringing forced her to finally bob a curtsey. "Mr. Darcy," she murmured, not willing to look at him.

  "Li'l Beth, please. I want to talk to you. I want to apologize and explain what happened."

  Elizabeth finally looked up at him, though her eyes were narrowed with

  contempt. With an audible huff, she folded her arms across her chest and

  offered a clipped, "Very well. Proceed."

  Darcy rolled his eyes. Apparently the years had done nothing but increase her stubborn streak. "Can we find a place, perhaps a little more private, or would you prefer any passer-by to hear me humble myself?" He did nothing to hide his annoyance at her obstinance in his tone.

  Elizabeth exhaled forcefully, stomped her way back to the main road, and

  directed Darcy down a path that could accommodate a horse and led to a small copse.

  The two walked in silence. Elizabeth silently bemoaned the loss of her morning solitude, while Darcy fought to gather his words. As they neared a fallen tree that could serve as a bench, Darcy said, "Li'l Beth, please hear me out. I will understand if you are still angry at me, but I beg of you to give me a chance."

  "You do not owe me an explanation, and you have made your sentiments

  clear," she said, standing near the make-shift bench with her arms folded.

  Darcy paced slowly in front of her, attempting to recollect his words. This was not at all how he imagined the apology. He had hoped to find a more willing audience. Instead, he was facing an angry Elizabeth, who was putting up one barrier after another. Coming to the conclusion that words would be

  inadequate, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to her. "I believe this is yours."

  Elizabeth glared at the white cloth for a moment. At Darcy's insistence, she snatched the proffered cloth from his hand and gave it a cursory examination.

  As recognition dawned, though, her eyes grew wide. It was hers! Her

  embroidered initials were proof! As she lovingly fingered the familiar stitches, the memories from when she had given it to him flooded her. Instantly, the

  walls crumbled and her heart melted. "You kept it all this time?" she whispered.

  "Of course I did," Darcy said softly. "It was given to me by one of my dearest friends."

  Elizabeth nodded and gently traced her initials with her thumb. She did her initials differently now, a sign of the age of the item. It seemed like such a long

  time ago, and at the same time like it was only yesterday. She swallowed, feeling tears gathering in her throat. "Then why?" she choked out. Immediately, she castigated herself remembering her resolve to never let him know how

  deeply he had hurt her.

  Darcy took a fortifying deep breath, and guided her to the fallen tree before beginning his explanation. "After my father passed, Lady Catherine stayed at Pemberley with Georgiana and me for several months. At the time, I was

  thankful. I was struggling with management of the estate, the house -- as

  Georgiana was too young to become its mistress -- the execution of my father's will, and being guardian to Georgiana." Darcy sat on the bench next to Elizabeth. With a hint of bitterness, he continued. "I am certain you remember Lady Catherine was displeased you were my father's goddaughter, and that you spent as much time as you did with our family."

  Elizabeth snorted lightly at the reminder of Lady Catherine. How could she

  forget a lady who never let an opportunity pass to inform her how inferior her family was to that of the noble Fitzwilliam line? Even now, she could hear

  Lady Catherine's exclamations. "No governess! How is that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a

  thing."

  Darcy continued. "I never knew the extent of her displeasure, however, until it was too late. During those first few weeks, she forbade Georgiana and me to correspond with you. Georgiana, being so young, obeyed, but I did not. I could simply not imagine it. I wrote you several letters."

  Elizabeth interrupted, "But I received only two."

  Darcy nodded, and creased his brow. The anger he had felt upon discovering

  his aunt's interference burned anew in his chest. "I found out the Easter after my father's passing -- quite by accident I might add -- Lady Catherine had

  bribed several postal workers to redirect all correspondence between

  Longbourn and Pemberley to Rosings. The staff there was instructed to burn

  it."

  Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock. "You mean..."

  Darcy nodded. "I wrote you several letters, but when I stopped receiving letters in return, I thought I had angered you somehow and stopped writing as well."

  He kicked a mound of leaves and watched as they floated back to the ground

  before continuing. "By the time I discovered Lady Catherine's interference, almost a year had passed since I last heard from you. I had thought to write you, but I was too embarrassed; not only by my aunt's officiousness and

  judgment of you, but also because of my doubt in you and my failure to

  discover the interference sooner."

  "Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth cried, "I had no idea! I thought..." She hung her head in shame. "I thought you had decided our family was beneath you once you were Master of Pemberley," she muttered.

  Not caring about the propriety of the situation, Darcy took both her hands in his and pulled them to his chest. "You were my friend, Li'l Beth. A very dear friend. You could never be beneath me. I know I should have come to

  Hertfordshire sooner and spoken to you, but I was too ashamed... and too

  afraid." He dropped her hands, realizing they could be seen, and not wanting to cause a scandal.

  "Afraid?" Elizabeth asked, not understanding.

  Darcy dropped his eyes to the ground and murmured, "I was afraid of your anger towards me. I do not know how I would have reacted if you had told me you never wanted to see me again. I thought it was best to just let things go quietly. At least that way I could still believe we were friends."

  Elizabeth brushed away a tear that had fallen with the handkerchief Darcy had returned. "I am so sorry, Fizzy. I should have had more faith in you. I should have known something had happened to make you stop writing."

  Darcy smiled at the nickname. She had given it to him in response for her own; though while hers was more of an endearment, his was teasing. It had taken her the better part of a day, to decide upon one. Despite his protests, she would not relent in her use of it. As nicknames sometimes do, it grew on him, and now he found it a symbol of their bond. With that one word, he knew he was forgiven, but he still needed to hear her say it. He took her hands in his once again. "Li'l Beth, can you ever forgive me? Can we be friends again?"

  Elizabeth smiled, "It is I who should be asking for forgiveness, Fizzy. I was the selfish one. It hurt when you and Georgiana quit writing, but I had no right to be so angry. When I think of what you were going through at that
time, I

  should have been more understanding. I have missed you too, and would dearly like to renew our friendship."

  As there are no words for such a moment, the two simply smiled at each other in understanding. As the silence lengthened though, and began to become

  uncomfortable, Elizabeth stood. "I should return home before my mother has an attack of nerves," she said with a smirk.

  Darcy stood, picking up the bonnet Elizabeth had placed on the log. "You are still not fond of these, I see," he said with a smirk.

  Elizabeth snatched it from him. "They are as bothersome as ever." With an arch of the brow she added, "And I see you are still just as inclined to steal it."

  Darcy laughed heartily as they walked towards the main road. When they

  arrived at the place they needed to separate, Darcy said, "Your father has asked me to call on him this morning, but I am afraid I must postpone that honour until tomorrow. Will you tell him, please?"

  Elizabeth nodded, "Of course."

  Before they parted, Darcy said, "It is good to see you again, Li'l Beth."

  Elizabeth smiled brightly and a mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. "We shall see about that."

  Darcy laughed openly. "So we shall." He bowed formally. "Until tomorrow."

  Darcy returned to Netherfield, his heart feeling lighter than it had at any time since the events last summer, quite likely even earlier. Elizabeth had forgiven him, and they had even shared in a laugh or two. For the first time in many months, he could feel the wounds of the past begin to heal.

  As he neared the breakfast room, he heard Miss Bingley's shrill voice. She was upset about something having to do with Netherfield and Hertfordshire. He

  shook his head slowly, wishing not for the first time Bingley would have left her in London.

  After his successful meeting with Elizabeth, he was not in the mood to suffer Miss Bingley, but his stomach growled, telling him he had no other option. He entered the room, hearing Bingley say dreamily, "The family of the blue-eyed angel."

  He noted Bingley's mooncalf expression and sent his eyes skyward. St. Peter, help us. Here we go, again. "Pace yourself, Bingley, lest you fall in and out of love with every maiden in Hertfordshire within a fortnight."