“You know, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam as he stood watching Elizabeth on the dance floor with some minor lordling, “if I had a woman like your wife, I too would be jealous of her attention. Half the men in attendance appear to look on her as if they think they can hoodwink her with a few pretty words, while the other half regard her as if she were diseased.”
“That is not unexpected,” grunted Darcy, reflecting that Fitzwilliam had the right of it. “Though I did not move in the higher sets often, even the second circles have those above their company and dangers aplenty.”
After Darcy had danced the first with Elizabeth, regretting giving her into another man’s arms for the second sets—even if that man was Fitzwilliam, whom he had grown to trust implicitly—he had put Elizabeth’s suggestion into practice, dancing a fewtimes himself. For a time, he had successfully distracted himself, even if he remained aware of where Elizabeth was at all times. As they came together in the times between dances, it had not been difficult to keep track of her partners, for they must brave his displeasure to secure a dance with his wife. After Fitzwilliam, she had danced with several more men, and none had been objectionable, Elizabeth reporting pleasant conversations when she had returned to him. Until now, that was.
“She does not appear happy with him,” observed Fitzwilliam as she passed them in the set, her stony glare at them speaking to her displeasure.
Darcy snorted his annoyance. “Nor did I suppose dancing with him would prove pleasurable. If not for that damnable convention preventing her from dancing again, she would have refused his application with relish.”
“Elizabeth can handle him,” said Fitzwilliam. “Douglas is the sort of man who considers himself a predator but has only the pretense rather than the reality. There are many of his ilk in society.”
Darcy grunted as he watched them continue through the steps. Arthur Douglas was a man perhaps two or three years Darcy’s elder, a baronet if he recalled correctly. The man was not so notorious as several other highborn rakes, a few of whom were in attendance that evening, but he was not without renown either. Unmarried, he had the reputation of setting his sights on married women, for all that Darcy thought his rate of success was far inferior to any rumor about him. Such a man would find Elizabeth an irresistible attraction, for she was inexperienced in society, and her husband was a man newly raised to his current estate. If he thought he could collect Elizabeth as one might a trophy, the man would come to regret any improper overtures he might make.
“Elizabeth has become a popular partner for a dance,” said Darcy, little liking the truth. “I might have expected more would ignore us until we proved ourselves.”
“For that, I believe you can thank your wife’s character,” said Fitzwilliam. “The novelty is an element, of course, but her effervescence is as much a lure as any curiosity.”
“That Elizabeth would draw many to her was one part of our elevation I never doubted. Unlike me, she is comfortable in all aspects of society, whereas I struggle to find comfort, especially in a company such as this with whom I am not well acquainted.”
Fitzwilliam chuckled and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “I do not suppose that any of us ever find true comfort, for there are far too many objectionable aspects for that. Though I have always found general ease in society, there are certain parts, people, and activities that I do not enjoy. Even those who profess their belonging in such circles know when to remain wary.”
“Such as when their wives are dancing with Arthur Douglas,” murmured Darcy.
“Oh, do not concern yourself for Douglas, for he is naught but a puppy. It is men like Lord Winchester that you should watch, for they are far more dangerous than the likes of Douglas.”
A gesture accompanied Fitzwilliam’s comment, and when Darcy followed it, he could see the man of whom he spoke. Lord Winchester was an earl and one of the most notorious men in the kingdom. It was said that his activities were wide-ranging, as were his appetites, his scruples nonexistent. His lordship was in a group of other men of his level of society, and though he appeared to be concentrating on his discussion, Darcy saw his gaze flicker to other parts of the room. On at least one or two of these occasions, Darcy was certain his eyes fell on Elizabeth, and he did not think Winchester lacked appreciation for what he saw.
“If he thinks he will charm Elizabeth, he is mistaken,” was Darcy’s curt comment to his companion.
“Winchester can be among the most depraved men I have ever known,” said Fitzwilliam. “Yet I cannot suppose he will act with such disdain toward Elizabeth’s boundaries. Father does not like him, but they have cordial relations and mutual respect—Winchester knows of my father’s approval of you and your wife and will not wish to provoke his displeasure.”
“I hope so,” said Darcy. “If he or anyone else steps out of line, I have no compunction about calling them out.”
“Well, you might need to exercise that determination, for Elizabeth does not appear happy with Douglas at all.”
Darcy’s eyes found his wife again, and he saw at once what Fitzwilliam had seen. Douglas was scowling at Elizabeth, who was saying something to him, and even from this distance, Darcy could see that the exchange was not at all pleasant. At that moment, the dance ended, and Elizabeth remained in the middle of the floor, appearing to berate the man, whose fury was growing by the moment. Darcy stepped forward to support his wife, noting with appreciation that Fitzwilliam did not hesitate to join him.
Though they had not needed to defend themselves many times since coming to London, there was little choice but to show their mettle when the occasion demanded. In this way, they might persuade others not to trifle with them. Elizabeth’s character and courage were her most important assets, for others could see her determination on such occasions. Darcy had never been prouder to be her husband than he was at that moment.
CONTRARY TO DARCY’Sexpectations and opinion of Mr. Douglas, Elizabeth found the man duller than anything. As theydanced, she attempted to maintain a cordial discussion but was repulsed when the man appeared content to boast of his virtues and position in society. It was a tedious conversation, and Elizabeth longed to be rid of him so she could return to William.
“The Douglases are long connected to the Earls of Lindsey, you understand,” droned the pompous man.
What followed was a long and convoluted explanation of Mr. Douglas’s connection to the current Lord Lindsey, of which Elizabeth heard only one word in ten. The man was jealous of this connection, for she did not suppose he would explain it in such detail if it did not mean so much to this family—or if he did not wish to prove his position in society. It was one facet of London society that Elizabeth did not appreciate, for other than the connection to good people, such jealous guarding of standing meant little to her. Was it not more than a little ridiculous to emphasize a connection to a twelfth cousin, fourteen times removed through marriages, adoptions, claims of friendship, and other such fictional devices? Were Elizabeth to guess, the current Earl of Lindsey was only vaguely aware of this man’s existence, and only when he must fend off the man’s toadying.
“That is... fortunate for you, indeed,” said Elizabeth when Mr. Douglas ended his discourse, his eyes upon her as if expecting her to fall at his feet and proclaim his superiority. “I commend you on it, though such things are new to me. Our connection to the Matlock earldom is of a much newer variety.”
Mr. Douglas sniffed with disdain. “Such a connection is hardly analogous, Mrs. Darcy. Why, you are not a blood relation, and from all that I have heard, no one in your family line possesses even a hundredth of the nobility.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” agreed Elizabeth, sensing her cheerful attitude had irked him. “Yet the roots of my family’s history as gentlefolk extend back several centuries.”
“Minor country gentry little better than farmers.” A wealth of disdain oozed from the man’s critical denunciation.
“Perhaps so,” said Elizabeth, determined not to rise to his overt conceit. “As my father has often said, the Bennets have been buried in Hertfordshire since the flood. We have no pretensions to higher society, as my father does not even like London. For all that, I believe we are content and have our measure of respectability.”
The man understood his comments were offensive, for he retreated, though he appeared unaccustomed to tact. “Yes, well, I suppose we must all live in those circumstances in which we were born. You are fortunate to have stumbled into a situation where your consequence has risen beyond what you could have dreamt before.”
“Good fortune, I believe, is a matter personal to us all,” said Elizabeth, wishing to pierce this lordling’s vanity. “Should my husband have remained in his previous situation, I would not have repined it.”
