When the Bennets’ carriage arrived at Netherfield, Elizabeth was struck by the beauty of the house, which was ablaze with candlelight and, to her fancy, resembled a fairy palace. As they entered, the air was scented with costly perfume, and the ladies' gowns were of every color and fabric.
Upon entering the grand hall, Mr. Bingley stepped forward and took Jane’s hands in his. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I am delighted to see you both.” His bow was stately. He greeted the other members of the Bennet family, but his eyes lingered on Jane. Drawing nearer, he asked, “I trust you are well this evening?”
“Very well, thank you,” Jane replied, looking directly into his eyes.
Elizabeth, seeing how happy her sister was, felt her own spirits lift.
When the Bennets moved on into the ballroom, Caroline took her brother by the elbow to speak to him privately. She tapped her fan impatiently against her palm. “Charles, I entreat you to restrain yourself where Jane Bennet is concerned. You forget she and her sisters are country girls with neither dowry nor connection. They have nothing to offer that could advance our family in society.”
Bingley frowned, his good humor undisturbed yet resolute. “Caroline, Jane is an angel. I care nothing for such considerations.”
“You ought to care,” Caroline hissed. “We have worked hard to establish ourselves among people of consequence. Will you throw it away on a family with vulgar relations and no fortune?”
Charles straightened to his full height, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening. “Let me be clear, Caroline. Mercenary considerations will not guide me. Jane pleases me exceedingly, and that is all I require in the woman I wish to marry.”
He bowed courteously to a passing guest before turning back to look for Jane. He left his sister standing alone. She was irate and looked like she would happily box her brother’s ear.
Elizabeth and Jane stood together with their backs to the wall, their eyes taking in the beauty of the floral decorations and the strains of music. Mr. Bingley had spared no expense.
Sir Lawrence approached the sisters, amusement in his eye. “I can see for myself that the woodland dryad is as radiant in the evening as she is at dawn.”
Elizabeth flushed. “Sir Lawrence, you are too kind.”
He looked intently at her, his gaze sweeping her form. “I speak as I find, Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam walked up and bowed to the two sisters.
Mr. Darcy said, “I need not ask how you fare, Miss Elizabeth, for I can see for myself that you look very well.”
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
Richard chuckled. “Miss Elizabeth is one of those rare women who look as lovely with their hair loosely bound for a morning walk as when dressed elegantly for a ball. Save that thewoodland dryad looks scarcely out of the schoolroom, while the elegant lady before us is stunning.”
Elizabeth blushed to her hairline. “Colonel, your praise is extravagant. You will make me insufferably vain.”
“Never. You have not an ounce of pride in you. I daresay you do not even know how beautiful you are.”
Darcy, irritated, cut in. “The music begins, Richard. Have you no partner who awaits you?”
Sir Lawrence stepped to her side and led Elizabeth to the floor. His ease of manner soon had her laughing. After the set, he brought her a glass of lemonade.
Mr. Darcy approached the pair to claim his dance.
He extended his arm, and Elizabeth placed her hand upon it. She felt her pulse quicken as he led her onto the floor. When the musicians struck the opening notes of a waltz, she started in surprise and looked up to see his reaction.
“They are playing a waltz, sir.”
He looked into her eyes. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth. I had hoped for your supper dance, but since Richard claimed it, I arranged instead to dance my favorite waltz. I did not wish to lose the opportunity of sharing it with you.”
She could not look away from him. “Sir, you paid for the waltz?”
“It is nothing, Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly, his resonant baritone voice pitched for her alone. “Only that I wished to dance this waltz with you.”
He placed his hand upon her waist, warm, large, and possessive, and drew her close enough that the heat of his body seemed toenvelop her. When his fingers closed firmly about her hand and he guided her through the sweeping turns of the dance, she felt as though the floor had vanished, that she moved only at his command and within his power.
The faint, clean scent of him, linen and something distinctly his own, stirred her senses, and she longed to lean against his form. He looked down into her eyes, and she found she did not want to look away. His eyes were dark, deep pools that seemed to draw her in, leaving her to wonder what thoughts lay behind them.
Elizabeth struggled to resist the sensations he was awakening in her; she tried to remember it was only a dance, nothing more. Yet with each turn, she surrendered a little, for he drew her closer still, his head inclining nearer and nearer to her own. By the time the waltz ended, she could only stand gazing up at him, while he looked down at her, his hand still upon her waist, her own enclosed within his.
