“Mr. Darcy.” Her voice held the faintest hint of irony, as if she had already perceived his reluctance to be introduced and found it amusing rather than offensive.
The warning echoed again in his mind:Never trust a Bennet. But how could this enchanting creature pose any threat to his family’s interests?
“I trust you are enjoying your stay at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Elizabeth asked, her tone suggesting polite interest rather than the breathless enthusiasm he usually encountered.
“It has been… educational,” he replied carefully.
“Indeed? And what particular lessons has Hertfordshire provided?”
The question was innocent enough, but something in her manner suggested she expected more than a conventional response. The silence went on too long, and since she said nothing, he forced himself to reply, “I find myself quite amused by the quality of Hertfordshire society.”
Those intriguing eyes of hers brightened. “I confess I had wondered what might amuse a gentleman of your evident refinement. How fortunate that we poor provincials serve admirably as objects of entertainment.”
The words were perfectly proper, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested she was laughing at him. Darcy felt an unfamiliar stirring of unease. Why was he conversing with this… this Bennet?
But surely, she was a harmless country maiden. He was in no actual danger. Not at all.
The music signaled the beginning of the dancing. Bingley immediately claimed Miss Bennet’s hand with an enthusiasm that made Caroline’s expression sour considerably.
“The first dance is forming,” Miss Elizabeth observed, glancing toward the assembling couples. “I believe Lady Lucas is hoping you might partner her daughter, Charlotte.”
Darcy followed her gaze to where Sir William’s daughter, a plainbut pleasant-looking young woman, stood conversing with her mother. The thought of dancing with an unfashionable lady held little appeal, but he recognized his social obligation.
“If you will excuse me,” he said with a slight bow.
Miss Elizabeth inclined her head. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. I would not wish to detain you from your duties.”
The formality of country dancing provided a welcome respite from conversation. Miss Lucas proved a competent partner who did not attempt to engage him in trivial chatter, for which he was grateful. As they moved through the patterns of the dance, Darcy’s gaze was drawn to Miss Elizabeth, who danced with a local gentleman of no particular distinction.
She, however, danced with enjoyment. Her movements were graceful and spirited, her face animated as she conversed with her partner. When the figure of the dance brought her near to where Darcy and Miss Lucas passed, he caught fragments of her conversation—witty observations about the assembly and good-natured teasing that made her partner chuckle.
For the second set, Darcy was obligated to stand up with Mrs. Hurst, who spent the entire dance complaining about the heat, the unrefined company, and the inadequacy of the refreshments. By the end of their dance, his headache had intensified to the point where even the thought of continuing was painful.
“Darcy!” Bingley appeared at his elbow, his face sweaty and glowing. “I must say, this is a delightful gathering. The people are so friendly, and the dancing is most energetic.”
“Your standards for delight are remarkably low,” Darcy replied, rubbing his temple surreptitiously.
“And yours are impossibly high,” Bingley countered good-naturedly. “Have you noticed Miss Bennet? She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”
“Which Miss Bennet? There appears to be an abundance of them.”
“The eldest, of course. Miss Jane Bennet.” Bingley’s eyes soughther across the room. “Such gentle manners, such a sweet disposition. And her beauty! Like an angel.”
“She smiles too much,” Darcy observed, though he acknowledged privately that Miss Jane Bennet was indeed a handsome woman.
“How can one smile too much?” Bingley laughed. “Though I must say, her sister Elizabeth is quite striking in a different way. Have you noticed she looks nothing like her siblings? They are fair, while she has those remarkable dark eyes and such spirit in her conversation.”
Darcy stiffened. “I had not noticed.”
“You must have,” Bingley insisted. “She stands out among them like a rose among lilies. Not that lilies aren’t lovely,” he added hastily, “but there is something particularly engaging about Miss Elizabeth. She is simultaneously delicate, graceful, and has an unusual quickness of mind.”
“If you find impertinence engaging, then certainly.”
Bingley looked surprised. “Impertinence? I found her refreshingly direct. I had thought to dance with all the Bennet sisters this evening—it seems only proper as a new neighbor—but I find myself quite reluctant to leave Miss Jane’s side.”
“Your attachment forms with alarming speed,” Darcy remarked dryly.
“When something is right, why delay?” Bingley’s smile was unfailing. “I believe Miss Elizabeth is without a partner for the next set. You should claim her hand, Darcy. I wager her conversation would provide a welcome change from Caroline’s usual topics.”
