Chapter 18 Happy Was The Day

Carriages lined around the block down Bridges Street, all waiting to deposit their occupants in front of the newly reopened Theatre Royal of Drury Lane. 

Lurch after lurch unsettled Elizabeth’s nerves as she sat next to Mr. Darcy on one bench with her father holding the honor of the bench across from her. Sensing his lady’s discomfort, Mr. Darcy allowed his hand to fall between them and rested so the back of his hand leaned against hers. It was the only sign of affection he braved in front of her father, but he desperately wished he could comfort her in other ways.

“I hear Robert Elliston is to play Hamlet tonight,” Mr. Darcy said, to offer conversation as a distraction. 

“Have you seen him perform before?” Elizabeth asked, closing her eyes. 

Outside, shouts could be heard and a horse’s whine, followed by more raised shouting. She had wanted to ride to the play with Mr. Darcy and her sister, Mary. But her father had forbidden such an arrangement after she descended the stairs. Gone was the confidence she held in the room with her aunt and sister about being dressed in the height of fashion. She endured the icy, disapproving stares of her father the entire trip.

“I am not very often in London,” Mr. Darcy answered, and Mr. Bennet pounced on the opening.

“Where do you spend most of your time, sir?”

Mr. Darcy averted his gaze from Elizabeth’s décolletage and without embarrassment, stared back at Mr. Bennet with equal dismissal of the man who he knew to be the source of his intended’s distress.

“My estate in Derbyshire. Pemberley.”

“Not much in Kent then, eh?”

“Kent? No.”

“I’m surprised. From the way your aunt is so protective over your interests,” Mr. Bennet began, and his daughter interrupted him.

“Papa, Lady Catherine, while well-meaning I am sure in her regard for Mr. Darcy, holds no sway over his decisions,” she proudly announced, repeating the sentiment he had voiced to her anytime the same worry arose from her.

Mr. Darcy nodded, unaffected that Elizabeth had spoken for him. Still, Mr. Bennet did not relent.

“Can you not express your thoughts yourself, sir? I have had one letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins, the one I shared with you, Lizzy, about the rebuke of your engagement–“

“Which did not exist,” Elizabeth said, but her father shushed her.

“No, just most conveniently existed not two weeks later. A coincidence, then. And yet . . .” Mr. Bennet allowed his voice to trail off.

“What are you implying, sir?” Mr. Darcy asked, revealing his frustrations more than he intended.

“Only this,” Mr. Bennet said as their carriage began to move again, just to stop once more within a moment. Outside, the lights had brightened and the crowd stood thicker upon the walkway. They were near enough to the drop off point that this conversation would end one way or another very soon. “I have had more time to think about my cousin, Collins. The man comes back, with his wife, to escape the wrath of your aunt–“

“Mr. Darcy can hardly be responsible for his aunt’s behavior,” Elizabeth said flatly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. A rising anger dissipated her embarrassment in an efficient manner. 

“Yet has he bothered himself to write one line to his aunt on behalf of the Collins? Or has he worried more about buying your affections with pretty gowns, jewels, and trips to the theatre?” Mr. Bennet accused, and his daughter gasped at the rudeness of his sentiments.

“I cannot believe you dare to insinuate Mr. Darcy has not done enough for our family,” Elizabeth said, matching her father in bluntness. Her eyes narrowed as she fought to keep her voice from raising in volume. “And to believe that I could be so affected by jewels and fineries that I would accept a man beneath my understanding of a gentleman . . .”

“Do not lecture me on the sensibleness of your heart, my daughter,” Mr. Bennet continued his argument with Elizabeth, chiefly, with poor Mr. Darcy shuffled as a side concern. “Your old father may be a slower than you a tick, but I think I have puzzled out a great deal. I had forgotten you were smart on that Wickham fellow and must have felt it keenly when your youngest sister absconded off with him. And your affections, sir, led you to pay a good amount of coin to preserve my family’s reputation. But was your aim to buy the object of your affections, with your rival safely out of contention?”

Mr. Darcy licked his lips and leaned forward so that he could speak low, and not risk Mr. Bennet’s misunderstanding him. “Are you asking if I would have aided your youngest daughter without my love for your elder?”

“Something to that effect,” Mr. Bennet said, frustrated that his questions in their most simplified forms sounded rather ridiculous logically.

“No. Had I no feelings for Elizabeth and the same circumstances occurred, I might have offered employment to one of your daughters out of charity, but I would not have involved myself as much as I have. My question to you, sir, is why does this matter? What is done is done, cannot be undone, and are we all not the better for it?” Mr. Darcy asked, unprepared from Mr. Bennet’s sly smile. When Darcy looked to this right at Elizabeth, he spied a single tear falling down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away and sniffed to prevent any further crying.

Further conversation was prevented as the Darcy carriage came to a stop and a footman opened the door. Mr. Darcy motioned for Mr. Bennet to take precedence, the elder gentleman huffed at such theatrics, but took his exit all the same.

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy whispered in the brief moment they were allowed before Mr. Darcy was expected to descend from the carriage.

“Please, don’t,” she said, forcing a smile upon her face as the crowds around the theatre were very keen to see who was arriving in Mr. Darcy’s carriage.

After Mr. Darcy reached the ground, he turned around to help Elizabeth out of the carriage. His eyes locked with hers, and he winced at the pain he could see in her gaze, despite smiling as though she had won a game of cards. Behind them, the Gardiner carriage dropped off Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Mary, who kept turning her head in so many directions at the crush of people around her. Mary had never visited this part of London, and she silently strived to take it all in.

“Shall we?” Mr. Gardiner said, warmly, unaware of the disagreement that had occurred in the Darcy carriage moment before. 

The party of six entered the front lobby of the theatre with both Mary and Elizabeth noticing a few ladies staring at them and pointing. When they attempted to look closer at anyone gawking, the ladies flipped fans and turned away, with a tinkling of laughter.

“Is this how it was for you and Jane all the time?” Mary said, quietly as she leaned closer to Elizabeth, walking with Mr. Darcy’s escort. 

Elizabeth shook her head, not braving her ability to speak in the moment. 

“My family’s box is stage right,” Darcy explained as he nodded toward the far staircase.

“How lovely,” Mrs. Gardiner said, through a forced smile. Unlike the gentlemen standing there looking obtuse, she was quite keen of the talk and spectacle her nieces provided the socially elite around them. Mr. Darcy was too well known and not out at events enough that to appear in such a conspicuous moment as the opening week of Royal Theatre with an unknown lady and company, sparked more lies and speculation than his usual appearances. 

When Elizabeth declined refreshments, as she also blushed at the increased scrutiny, Mr. Darcy leaned over and whispered into her ear. 

“You are by far the loveliest lady here tonight,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

This only served to make Elizabeth blush more, and she was eager when they entered the darkened staircase to find Mr. Darcy’s subscribed seating.

Inside, the magic of Shakespeare’s drama unfolded. Every surface painted with gold refracted light of the candelabras hanging from the ceiling from chains large enough to secure a vessel to the pier. The seating was a partition of a larger box, two columns away from the boxes directly in line with the stage, and lacked independent curtains. However, Elizabeth quickly noticed their party was the most shabbily dressed, and as though she almost sensed such a thought, Mrs. Gardiner sat in the front row with Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, while Mr. Gardiner, Mary, and Mr. Bennet sat in the row behind them, partially obstructed from view. Elizabeth, however, suddenly felt she was on stage even after actors began the opening scene of the night watch changing guard, afraid of the ghost. 

Familiar with the story, Elizabeth attempted to focus on the company below, but found herself far more preoccupied with looking at the other patrons. Twice, she was certain she saw fingers point in their direction, but when she looked closer at the movement, all she saw were ladies with opera glasses turning quickly to the stage. In the dark, Mr. Darcy did brave clasping Elizabeth’s hand with his own, and she allowed such affection for a short time, before removing her hand to keep them comfortably folded in her lap. She did not wish to antagonize the man, but nor was she pleased with his answer in the carriage or suddenly becoming such a spectacle beyond her wildest expectations. 

Eventually, by the third act, after her head pounded most fiercely from reviewing all she knew about Mr. Darcy, and the kind of man he was in private, she started to think he had come to Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley only to avoid London society entirely. She remembered Mr. Darcy voicing his deficient abilities in speaking with others he did not know well, and now she understood he was being kind. How could anyone welcome the friendship of others so fascinated with wealth and position that their judgments were made before even a proper introduction? In her case, her status was thought wanting. Still, she saw a direct connection between those wagging tongues because she was too poor as those gossiping about Mr. Darcy because he was too wealthy.

“Are you enjoying the performance?” Mr. Darcy interrupted Elizabeth’s stoicism, catching her off guard.

Weakly, she smiled at him, but found little joy in the entire situation.

“I understand now why royalty has at times insisted on private performances,” she said, widening her smile so that those intent on staring from afar were at least given a good show.

Mr. Darcy frowned.

Mrs. Gardiner witnessed the conflicting attitudes and leaned forward to address Elizabeth around Mr. Darcy’s person.

“Do you find the theatre uncomfortable?” she asked, politely, raising her eyebrows and hoping her niece had the good sense to tell the truth.

Elizabeth nodded. “Everyone is staring up here and when I look at them, they look away, but it’s very disconcerting.”

Mr. Darcy exhaled the breath he had been holding and the right side of his mouth twitched. Mrs. Gardiner, feeling proud of herself for dissipating a misunderstanding between the young couple, coughed to avoid laughing as she caught Mr. Gardiner’s twinkling eye in the row behind her as she sat back.

“Lizzy, how much is left?” Mary asked, leaning forward and trying to whisper in her sister’s ear, but mostly succeeding in practically yelling because the rest of the crowd had become listless and chattered away, even as the actors were still on the stage.

Elizabeth held up two of her fingers in a V-shape.

“Two more hours?” Mary whined.

“No, two more acts,” Elizabeth said, as another fruit seller stuck his head into the box up at the top and offered his wares. 

Mr. Darcy signaled for refreshments for everyone in the box, this time not asking anyone’s preference. 

“Actually, it is closer to two hours, as there is a pantomime after. But we may leave whenever we are ready. We arrived very early,” he said.

“I have no wish to stay for the encore,” Mr. Bennet complained, grumbling as he accepted Mr. Darcy’s offering.

A footman entered behind the fruit seller and Elizabeth suddenly realized the point of coming to the theatre did not seem to involve watching the show as a priority. He handed a note to Mr. Darcy, and waited.

Darcy opened it and read the contents, but he did not share them with anyone else. No one wanted to appear rude and so no one talked as the salesman was paid and the footman dismissed without an answer.

“My aunt and uncle are here tonight. They want to know why I did not alert them I was in town,” Mr. Darcy explained, quietly.

The earlier feelings of inadequacy and Mr. Darcy’s statement about only helping Lydia because of his feelings for Elizabeth came rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

“Why didn’t you tell them you were in town?” Mr. Bennet asked, leaning forward in his chair, far more interested in the answer to the note than the play.

Mr. Darcy’s posture stiffened. He did not answer and at first, Elizabeth felt a great melancholy. Then, she remembered her terrible moment in the dress shop and how her aunt and Miss Oliver taught her to aggressively seize social position.

“Father, that is a silly question. Mr. Darcy is not in London to visit his aunt and uncle. He is here on his personal business and how could you fault him? Weren’t you just saying we had too many distractions from the subject at hand?” Elizabeth finished, refusing to wilt in her posture as in her head, she was not certain at all that was the reason Mr. Darcy did not visit his relations. She only knew of his aunt in Kent, and if the aunt and uncle he referred to were anything like her, then she saw no reason for him to wait on them at all.

Behind her, Mary gasped and placed a hand on her shoulder as they neared the end of Act Four and the death of Ophelia. Elizabeth patted her sister’s hand. But the reaction of her sister reminded her of what sheltered lives they had lived in Hertfordshire, and how much she had taken for granted the privileges afforded to herself and Jane by her aunt and uncle. Suddenly, the anger she had felt for the last few months against Lydia melted away. Swiftly her anger became replaced with utter disappointment that her father had not heeded her warning about sending Lydia off without family. 

Watching the machinations of Gertrude and Claudius on the stage send Hamlet and Ophelia into confused rages, she turned to her right to spy her father in the row behind her. He did not meet her gaze and instead smiled at his favorite play acted out below him. The grin on his face struck Elizabeth with a jolt of horror to her heart. The conversation in the carriage replayed in her mind and she could now see past her initial pain of worrying if Mr. Darcy was a good man. What was more important to her in that moment was the startling revelation that her father was not a good man, nor did he endeavor to improve. He shunted off all guilt of throwing young Lydia to the wolves of the world, and expressed no compunction in aiming to drive division between herself and Mr. Darcy. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she turned her head quickly to catch Mr. Darcy’s gaze beside her, startling him with her swift movements that he could not slacken his lines of worry fast enough to escape her notice. Elizabeth felt a stab of pity; the man truly worried she might abandon her affections for him at any moment!

Leaning to her left, she whispered into his ear. “I shall be home tomorrow morning and would dearly love to walk.”

The need to join the applause prevented him from speaking a response, but he nodded.

As the fifth and final act began, and Mr. Darcy grasped her hand, Elizabeth held his back with an equal grip. She felt quite desperate to be through this courtship period with every fiber of her being.