Or perhaps one day his heart might heal, warmed by the love of a maiden honest, fair and true, who could devote herself to making the handsome and wealthy gentleman forget the terrible losses he suffered under… and also to tolerating the brat.
Such was the attitude of the room.
Beyond a doubt Mr. Darcy was more fascinating than Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley’s brother-in-law Mr. Hurst was particularly unworthy of remark as he was neither wealthy nor a bachelor.
But even had he been both, a man with his rotund figure and sottish love of wine could not have fascinated the romantic female.
The interest Elizabeth had in Mr. Darcy was to a great extent reduced by the general fascination he held for her sex — there was that in her which wished to be contrary whenever opportunity arose. Her immediate sensibility of him had reflected no unique perspicacity, but instead was an ordinary liking that any woman might, and would, develop.
Elizabeth began to suspect, as wended the evening course, that Mr. Darcy was in fact a rude gentleman, disinclined to mingle in the mirthful merrymaking out of a haughty belief in his superiority to those around him, and that he refused to dance with anyone who was not a member of his own party out of a disdain for the beauties of Hertfordshire, and not due to the tragic memory of that last happy dance he’d danced with his dead wife.
Midway through the night, Elizabeth suffered the disappointment of not having acquired a partner. She settledinto a chair not so far from where Mr. Darcy stood, examining in minute detail a portrait of his Majesty, King George III.
She leaned back and studied the glittering chandelier. The evening had not been near so bad as she’d feared. After the early part, she had begun to even enjoy herself. Papa would have wished for her to do so.
And she had danced once with Mr. Bingley — unfortunately, though he was charming, personable, and friendly, there was no affinity of mind between them.
Elizabeth felt an aching absence. Thisneed. She wanted someone with whom she could simply talk, someone who she could be truly herself when in the presence of.
She knew by instinct that Mr. Bingley never could be that person. Even less likely was the hope that his supercilious silken and laced sisters would meet the criteria.
A pleasant enough evening.
The music had a friendly sound. A pretty Irish jig, a tune Elizabeth knew and liked. Her foot absently tapped along. Relaxation filled her.
“Must have you dance.” A loud cheerful voice to her side drew Elizabeth’s eye to Mr. Bingley. He stood next to Darcy, while Kitty, who was his partner for this dance, stood behind him, watching helplessly. Bingley continued, “I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
Darcy’s reply was spoken firmly, but quietly enough that Elizabeth could not catch any word from it butpunishment.
Bingley replied quietly, but with a rising tone. His first words were inaudible, but he ended with shouting, “As you for a kingdom! Upon my honour.”
Elizabeth did not catch the rest of Bingley’s sentence, but Mr. Darcy’s reply of “There is not a single handsome girl inthe room” was sufficient to establish his character wholly and completely.
He was the rude person she’d imagined him to be, not the heartbroken and romantic widower that was imagined by the rest of the room.
“Oh, my current partner is perfectly pretty, and one of her sisters sits just behind you, who is also very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me and my partner introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?” Mr. Darcy then turned around and looked directly at her.
Their eyes caught, and Elizabeth felt something jump in her chest.
He withdrew his eyes and coldly said, in a voice that she could distinctly hear, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to temptme.”
The rest of the speech was lost to Elizabeth’s ears.
She felt a cold flush of hurt, this followed by a roaring anger in her ears, and then she began to laugh at both herself and Mr. Darcy.
Before this speech, she had deduced that Mr. Darcy was an awful, vain, rude man. Intolerably proud. And now Bingley had pushed him to dance with her — contrary to his clear and general will?
Nothing else could have been anticipated.
Elizabeth only rather wished that Kitty had not also clearly been able to hear. Both her sister and Bingley had returned to their dance. And Mama would be sure to hear about the story, and she’d not hear the end of it for two weeks at least.
Despite this, Elizabeth’s own hurt and sense of seething resentment towards him was ridiculous — though the ridiculousness was no reason not to cultivate it. She would happily swear to despise him forever.
The gentleman himself was of course absurd.
What sort of man would say such a thing to a woman he had never been introduced to?Orto one after he had been introduced? And yet Mr. Darcy clearly believed himself to be the greatest exemplar of good breeding.
