She realized more clearly than before that he had not said anything in particular about her appearance when he proclaimed her not tempting enough, but that what he had said had chiefly been a testament to his disinclination for dancing.
Ridiculous man. What was he doing in a ballroom if he did not wish to dance?
Mr. Darcy studied her seriously, dark eyes intent on her.
Elizabeth wiped at her eyes once more, feeling enormously more cheerful, and she smiled at him. “Mr. Darcy, I foresee two paths: We shall either be enemies, or we both must accept that the other has his peculiarities and progress from that point.”
His study continued for what seemed a long minute. Elizabeth more than half expected him to bow stiffly, and then leave in a huff, having been fatally offended by her literally laughing at his apology.
Then he shrugged and smiled ruefully. The gesture made him look both younger and more friendly than before. “I have in fact been standing about in a stupid manner the whole night. It was a mistake to attend, but it seemed awkward to not do so, especially as Mr. Bingley had hoped to bring a larger party to the ball. Besides…” He shrugged.
“You thought you ought to go?” Elizabeth spoke a little heedlessly from her current high spirits, the more unchecked because she had been in tears a few minutes before. “You thought that you ought to delight in scenes of gaiety and lightheartedness, to put aside, for a night, the unending grief over your losses? If I speak too lightly, forgive me, the real reason for my tears is that I had been reminded of my father who died not half a year past, and he delighted in laughing at everything.”
That confession visibly relaxed Mr. Darcy.
As she looked at him, it was impossible not to notice once more that he was quite attractive.
“My disgruntlement comes from a different source than myunending grief— I confess,” he added in a tone of actual annoyance, “to having heard spoken in a half whisper as I walked past groups of chattering persons ‘miserable widower’ while I was pointed at least a half dozen times this evening.”
“Fie, fie! And to then tell me I am not tempting in a manner in which I would overhear, simply because you had heard so much commentary on your own fine self this evening. Fie, fie.”
Mr. Darcy’s reply was a grin. “Had that been my motivation, it would have been both petty and unkind.”
“You deny my speculation?”
“As it is merely speculation,” Mr. Darcy replied, “you ought to feel free to judge its own merits without interference from me.”
“No, no — but enough onthatsubject. What is your real reason for despising our ballroom — Besides the deficiencies of the band, the buffet, and the company, of course.”
“Are those not sufficient?” A pause. His head cocked questioningly.
Elizabeth stifled a giggle at his dry manner.
Then Mr. Darcy added, “You ought to judge me if I say so much. But I do not know anyone here. I never enjoy a party when I am not closely acquainted with the majority of those who attend.”
“You have confirmed my speculation that you think very well of your own merits in comparison to ours. But do not worry,everyone else in the room believes that you are grief-stricken, and I shall not lay bare your vanity to the crowd.”
“I am proud, not vain. And pride, where there is real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation.”
Elizabeth could not stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. She ought to have merely smiled and turned away to hide it.
To her surprise, after a pause, Mr. Darcy exclaimed with a smile, “By George, I must sound conceited — and you can have no basis for knowing if I have any of the good qualities I attribute to myself or not.”
“Except, of course, for that conceited speech, and your disinclination to conversation. And while Iforgiveyou for what you said upon how tempting I am, it still doesinformmy portrait of your character.”
“Jove!” Darcy shook his head and then leaned his elbows on the balustrade and looked out at the moon and the houses of the town around them. “I would excuse myself by saying I am out of practice in company, but I do not believe that such an excuse is sufficient.”
Elizabeth did not think there was much that she could add to that. She leaned her elbows on the stone balustrade next to Darcy, and looked out at the dark street, lit by the candles from within the houses and the lamps swinging from the few persons walking about.
She was delighted with this conversation and that Mr. Darcy had been so far off balance, probably due to the awkwardness of having determined to make an apology, that he revealed as much of himself to her as he did.
Papa would have grinned so widely when he heard her describe this conversation.
“It is our second night here,” Darcy said after a delay, “and I do not like to leave Emily to be put to sleep by the nurse, and I cannot cease to wonder how she does.”
“Your daughter?”
Mr. Darcy nodded.
