When they heard the first notes of the music, Darcy led Elizabeth to the floor. He was dressed in black evening wear and looked striking. His dark hair was perfectly arranged, save for the familiar forelock that fell across his brow. Elizabeth could not look away from him. His gaze never left her eyes, and her lively observations made him chuckle more than once. He complained that the figure ended all too soon, and he frowned at his cousin when he escorted her to his side. “Do not flirt too much with her, Phillip. Have a care for propriety.”
Phillip was as tall as Darcy, but fair where his cousin was dark. Elizabeth met him quip for quip, keeping him in continual laughter until the dance was over. When it ended, he bowed over her hand.
“Have you an unmarried sister, Mrs. Darcy? I should very much like to marry her if you do.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Alas, sir, none are remaining. All my sisters are married.”
He then returned her to Darcy’s side with mock severity. “You have taken the last Bennet sister, Darcy, and I am left bereft.”
Darcy’s reply was as dry as dust. “You arrive a day late, Phillip, and a pound short.”
Sir Lawrence claimed the third set. Darcy’s jaw tightened as he watched the man hold Elizabeth too closely, his shoulder inclining towards her with a familiarity that could not be mistaken. When the dance ended, the man lingered on the dance floor, and he did not immediately return her to her husband. He lifted Elizabeth’s hand slowly to his lips and pressed a kiss upon her glove before glancing at Darcy with deliberate insolence.
Elizabeth saw her husband’s distress, and when she had returned to his side, she slipped her arm within his, then lifted her eyes and smiled. He smiled down at her and relaxed. He bent close and murmured, “Darling, I am undone by possessive fancies. I am surely paying for past sins, but what they could be, I can’t think. I have never intentionally made any woman suffer in this way.”
Elizabeth lifted a brow. “I can speak for one woman. I have never suffered so much since I met you, Fitzwilliam. You have run me through hell and back.” She grinned at him, but he only stared back at her, not understanding why she would say such a thing.
Anthony Brook arrived and led Elizabeth away, while Darcy watched with a jealous eye. Phillip remained close to his cousin, intent on teasing him.
He murmured. “Jealousy becomes you, Darcy. I will be sure to attend Richard’s ball. I would not wish to miss a second display.”
Darcy frowned, but since the cousins stood nearly eye to eye, Phillip merely chuckled and added, “This is retribution for those countless women whose hopes you dashed with that cool reserve of yours.”
Georgiana remained close to Lady Helen during the early part of the evening, with the Countess keeping vigilant watch over her young charge. Mr. Bingley led her out for a country-dance, and Phillip secured a later figure, while both her brother and her uncle each claimed two sets. Georgiana was allowed to remain until supper, and then she was to return to her chamber.
Chapter 63: Vixens
Many who attended the ball did not look kindly on Elizabeth. A group of unmarried young women watched her throughout the night and began to whisper about her.
One young woman observed, “Mr. Darcy never smiled at me in that way, not once in seven Seasons.”
Her friend turned to her, surprised. “Did Mr. Darcy ever dance with you, Clarinda?”
“Well, no, but he might at least have smiled at me in passing.”
“I did not know Mr. Darcy capable of smiling,” another woman observed. “He is ever so grave, and looks as if he detests the ballroom.”
Clarinda interjected, “His wife is a mere child. What conversation can he possibly hold with a girl of her years? She looks to be seventeen, while he must be nearer seven-and-twenty.”
A third lady murmured, “She must have cast some net. There can be no other explanation for his sudden marriage.”
“If her gown be an example of her taste,” Clarinda added with a curl of the lip, “then we may guess how she ensnared him. That neckline is cut so low one fears all will tumble out should she incline too far.”
Later that evening, Elizabeth danced a second set with Viscount Stafford. From his place at the edge of the floor, Darcy observed the pair gravely. His cousin possessed wit, elegance, and goodlooks, and Darcy could not repress a surge of jealousy as he watched his wife in the arms of his titled cousin.
At last, the supper dance, a waltz, was announced, and Darcy stepped forward to claim his right. He looked down at his wife, and his expression altered.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, his tone was disapproving, “that neckline is too low. No wonder the men are staring at you. I can see the swell of your bosom.”
She glanced down, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Lady Helen insisted upon this pattern, Fitzwilliam. I could not oppose her.”
He relaxed. “No, you could not. She is too overbearing, and she knows the prevailing styles better than either of us.” He raised a brow. “My apologies, darling. You look stunning. Of course, my friends are staring at you. With your fine eyes and beautiful features, you look like that mythical Dryad who lives among the Oaks. Forgive me for letting my jealousy run on Elizabeth. You will always attract attention, and I must learn to accustom myself or die of a jealous fit.”
The music began, and his arm encircled her waist while her hand rested lightly in his. They moved together into the turn, and Elizabeth felt as though the floor itself had fallen away, and she was floating on a cloud. Within the strength of his arm, she felt carried away. She breathed in his scent of fine cologne and a fragrance that was uniquely him, her eyes never straying from his face. The stern line of his mouth had softened, and the intensity of his eyes drew her in.
As they passed by, two women, verging on spinsterhood, took note. Lady Eleanor leaned toward her companion with wideeyes. “Who is she, and where did they meet? I have never seen him look at a woman in that way. He almost seems human.”
Lady Fletcher snapped her fan. “She dropped from the clouds and snatched him before any of us had drawn breath. I intend to call upon her. I must discover whether she has a thought in that pretty head of hers.”
