“Then I shall have them play a jig!”
“I should be happy to dance a different set with you,” Elizabeth said.
“’Tis my turn after Darcy’s, though,” the colonel said, grinning.
“I beg to differ, old boy,” Bingley objected. “’Tis mine!”
“Either way, Ashby, you will have to wait your turn.”
The four men continued to argue over who would next dance with Elizabeth while she grinned brazenly between them, basking unashamedly in the attention.
Lady Ashby glared with alarming venom at them all. “Really, my lord,” she said coldly. “There are many single ladies in attendance yet to bring off a coup as great as Mrs Darcy’s, who do not have a wealthy husband with whom to dance. You cannot believe she is so deficient in good breeding that she would slight every one of them by stealing all the dances.”
Elizabeth bore the remark with civility though Jane did not think for one moment that her sister would pay the reproach any heed.
Darcy paid only the vaguest attention to the conversation, unable to think on aught but that, surely to God, Elizabeth’s dress had been designed to bring men to their knees. It celebrated her every curve,accentuated her slender waist and drew his eye again and again to the generous swell of her bosom—and he was damned if he could refrain from envisaging how its gauzy layers had pooled about her hips as he loved her not an hour ago.
The woman had ruined him! After but three days of marriage, he could no longer hold a rational conversation for want of a thought in his head that did not centre upon loving her. Hearing the musicians strike up, he made his excuses and led her to join the line, never in his life so desirous of dancing or so enamoured of his partner.
“Say what else you will, Philippa, you cannot deny her dress is exquisite.”
“Yes,” Lady Ashby said with a strained smile. “Thank you for bringing it to our attention again, Daphne.”
“Be not jealous of our praise,” said another of the little coterie of ladies, a Miss Valerie Floyd. “A fine dress is a fine dress, regardless of who wears it. Do you know where she had it made?”
“I have no idea. Do you know?” Lady Ashby enquired, glancing at Jane.
Miss Floyd turned to her also. “Does this lady know Mrs Darcy?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Valerie, this is Mrs Darcy’s sister. Do keep up.”
“We were introduced earlier, madam,” Jane said quietly. “I am Mrs Bingley.”
“Oh, well you never said you were Mrs Darcy’s sister. I should have remembered that.But, now that I know who you are, you simply must tell me how your sister met Mr Darcy. I have heard such varying reports that I know not what to believe, and I cannot stand to be in ignorance of such things.”
“Why, yes, of course,” Jane replied. “My husband leases an estate near my father’s and?—”
“Your father has an estate?”
“Yes. Longbourn.”
“Then Mrs Darcy is a gentleman’s daughter?”
“Yes. We both are.”
“Well, that isquite the revelation. I was led to believe her family was in trade!”
Undesirous of inviting derision, Jane made no mention of her aunts or uncles. Lady Ashby was either unaware of Elizabeth’s connections or similarly disinclined to divulge them, for she also said naught. “Mr Darcy stayed with my husband last autumn. We all met at an assembly in the local town.”
“An assembly?” Miss Floyd cried, her expression an unflattering mix of amusement and disgust. “Philippa, had you any idea Mr Darcy was so liberal?”
“None at all.”
“I am not surprised to hear he took a fancy to her at a dance, though,” said Lady Daphne, “for she treads uncommonly well. Did you see their dance, Philippa?”
“Everybody saw it, Daphne, because everybodywas watching,” Lady Ashby replied indignantly.
“Let it not make you uneasy. People are only intrigued.”
