Between them, they kept her engaged for a large part of the evening. Darcy, with a quiet word to his friend, secured another set for her from Mr. Bingley, who was only too happy to oblige. Miss Bingley, to her disappointment, was not asked by either of the cousins.
Mr. Bennet, standing nearby, chanced to hear Elizabeth speak in excuse of her younger sisters. He decided to take action and drew Kitty and Lydia aside. He spoke briefly and very plainly, forbidding them from drinking the punch, and he warned them straightly that childish behavior would result in their being sent home at once. The firmness of this address, so unlike his usual indulgence, produced the desired effect. Mrs. Bennet was nursing a toothache, and she remained sitting quietly among the matrons, wishing she had taken her husband’s advice and stayed at home.
Chapter 3: Alexander Is Jealous
As the evening drew to a close, Alexander searched the room for Elizabeth and, at last, found her standing by an open window. His bow was brusque, and he was frowning. “Elizabeth, may I have a word?”
“Of course.” She looked into his face and saw that he was angry.
“I returned from town last week. Papa wished for me to learn town ways. The only thing I have learned is to endure late suppers and later mornings, and to pretend I am wiser for it.”
“I imagine you enjoyed yourself in town, as London can be very diverting, especially for young men. I had hoped you would stop by to join us for tea. I missed your company.”
“Yes, I will confess that I enjoyed myself exceedingly.” He paused and then added, “Since my return, I have been much occupied and have had little leisure to call upon you. I have not yet claimed a set with you this evening, either. You must think me sadly neglectful.”
She looked up at him, and he saw the unhappiness in her eyes.
“You have been very attentive to Miss King this evening. I daresay between the dancing and her conversation, she kept you much engaged.”
His color rose. “Those sets meant nothing, Elizabeth. I was going to ask you as well.”
Before she could reply, Mr. Smith approached with a bow. “Miss Bennet, this set is promised to me, if you please.”
“So it is,” she said, and with a courteous little smile to Alexander, allowed herself to be led away.
When Mr. Smith restored her to her friends, Alexander returned at once. He bowed. “Miss Bennet, may I have your next available set?”
She consulted her card. “The next is Mr. Darcy’s,” she said, “and Colonel Fitzwilliam follows. But the one after that is free.”
“Thank you.” He stepped back, then drifted to the side of the room, standing along the wall to watch her dance with Mr. Darcy, his brows drawn together despite himself. His impatience mounted as he watched Colonel Fitzwilliam flirt with her throughout the set that followed. At last, Elizabeth was free.
Across the floor, Darcy said to his cousin, “That young man, the Lucas boy, must be what, one-and-twenty?”
Richard glanced over. “About that. He appears to have a tendre for Miss Elizabeth. He has not taken his eyes from her since she began dancing with you.”
“Yes,” Darcy said quietly. “I noticed. He was paying particular court to the new heiress earlier.” He paused, then added with a faint, wry smile, “A young pup, feeling his oats. He will not fall truly in love for some years yet.” He straightened his cuff. “This set is mine,” he said, and went to find Elizabeth.
When he claimed her hand, he asked easily, “Tell me, who is our young observer along the wall?”
Elizabeth flushed a little. “Alexander Lucas. We are lifelong friends, and so sometimes he forgets the proprieties. He will use my given name if I do not scold him, and he has long taken it for granted that I shall save a waltz.” She tried to smile. “But he has been much in company with Miss King of tonight.”
Darcy said nothing, but he took note. After their set, Colonel Fitzwilliam danced with Elizabeth and drew her out so often that he set her to laughing more than once. Both Darcy and Alexander watched them; one with a tightening heart, the other with sharpened bitterness.
When Richard returned her to her party, Alexander presented himself and offered his arm. “A dish of punch, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you.” He handed her the glass and stood a little too close in his old, familiar way.
“What is this, Elizabeth?” he said under his breath, striving for humor and failing. “Those men are over-familiar with you. Are you trying to make me jealous?”
She looked at him, surprised into candor. “No, indeed. They asked me to dance, and I accepted. You know if I refuse one partner, I must sit out the rest of the evening. I like to dance. I had three open sets because no one asked me.” She gave him a pointed, though gentle, look. “You could have asked me, you know.”
He averted his gaze. “I was occupied.”
She sipped and said, almost lightly, “Is Miss King’s uncle expected soon? I heard he may be traveling down from Scotland.”
“She is unsure, perhaps by the end of summer,” he admitted, flushing again. “And just because I spoke with Miss King does not mean…”
“I know,” Elizabeth said, smiling to soften what she was about to say. “You and I have no understanding between us. There is no engagement. You are perfectly at liberty to attend Miss King,and I am perfectly at liberty to dance with whichever gentleman asks.”
