An Excerpt from Chapter 7 of Unravelling Mr. Darcy
Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy’s arm and allowed him to escort her from their supper box and toward one of the numerous paths in Vauxhall Gardens. The vast number of people that filled the supper boxes and paths was astonishing, and then when the torches were lit, and the orchestra was playing while waiters scurried back and forth making certain that all in attendance were happy, it was nearly overwhelming. She had heard stories of this place, but until now, she had never truly imagined its grandeur.
Darcy drew Elizabeth closer to his side as they strolled. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely.”
Darcy smiled at how the word was more breathed than spoken. “I had wondered. You have been rather quiet.”
She looked up at him. “I am awestruck by my surroundings. There is nothing quite like this in Hertfordshire.”
“Most assuredly,” he agreed with a chuckle.
“I am surprised you would venture into this vast sea of humanity,” she teased. “Our little assembly with its gathered throng was a great trial to you.”
He saw her lips twitch, and he waited for her to complete her tease before he refuted her.
“Perhaps,” she said, cocking a brow in a rather beguilingly impertinent fashion, “that is because the residents in the country are unwashed savages.”
“Oh, indeed they are,” he replied with a smile. “I have it on the greatest authority.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Do tell,” she prompted.
He leaned his head near her ear and whispered, “Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“I assure you it is true because her sister verified the fact and some rude man lent his voice to the assessment if I am not mistaken.” He bent toward her ear once again. “You will forgive me for such ungentlemanly behaviour, will you not? I am attempting to improve my ways.”
There was such contrition in his whispered words that she gave his arm a small squeeze and readily bestowed her pardon. Mr. Darcy had over the last four days been the perfect gentleman. Both her aunt and uncle had been duly impressed by his manners. According to Aunt Gardiner, there was nothing of grandeur about him, save for the way he carried himself when walking. However, it was not deemed arrogant but rather dignified. Aunt Gardiner had spoken at some length of how of anyone she had met, Mr. Darcy was justified in thinking of himself in lofty ideals since she had seen his estate and knew many of his tenants. The man was of no small fortune, and he was, to her knowledge, always just in his dealing with tradesmen in Lambton. Bills were not left unpaid, and even lowly delivery boys were given a nod when he saw that they were doing their work well.
Elizabeth had heard enough arguments in Darcy’s favour to settle her more firmly in her new belief of his being among the best of men. Then, having observed him in her uncle’s home as well as when she and Jane had gone to Darcy House to have tea with his grandmother and Georgiana, she was beyond convinced of her correctness in viewing him in such a light. So convinced was she of his noble character that she allowed her heart to be open to his declaration to her, and though it was little more than a fortnight since that horrid evening in the parsonage, she found herself quite certain that should he offer for her again, she would accept with alacrity. For her heart spoke of love, though her mind had yet to fully comprehend it.
Darcy stopped to greet an acquaintance and introduced Elizabeth to them as well as Bingley and Jane, who followed close behind.
“I say, Darcy,” said Bingley before they began walking again, “it will likely be noted in the paper that you were seen in Vauxhall with a lady on your arm.”
Darcy shrugged. “They had best describe her as beautiful,” he said with a grin.
Bingley chortled. “I seem to have misplaced my friend whose greatest desire was to shun all of society.”
“He is not misplaced.” Darcy raised a brow at Bingley. “He has, it seems, found his good sense in a rather forceful fashion.”
Bingley chuckled. “Yes, I dare say your appearance will also make the society page.”
“Have you no pity for him at all?” Elizabeth asked in feigned disbelief.
“Not a jot,” Bingley declared.
