“You see?” Lady Metcalfe announced airily. “Our minds will never be moved on this subject.”
Thus, the trap was sprung, and Matlock received his first, exceedingly satisfying taste of the cleverness that had caught his nephew’s notice.
“That is precisely as I would have expected, madam,” Mrs Darcy said drily.
“You achieve nothing with this shameless sauce but prove your own want of good breeding,” Catherine snarled in a harsh whisper. “I am not in the habit of being toyed with. Do you still not comprehend who I am?”
“By your own admission, you are one of my husband’s nearest relations and, hence, mine also.”
Her ladyship sucked in a breath, instigating a virulent fit of coughing. Shaking her head, she choked out, “Being my relation does not qualify you to bandy words with me!”
Mrs Darcy’s eyes flashed. “My point exactly.”
“For the love of God, Catherine, desist!” Matlock hissed. “You are making a fool of yourself.”
“She is making a fool of me!”
“No, she is merely holding doors open. You are striding unhindered through them.”
“Am I to be betrayed by my brother as well as my nephew?” she replied in a rasping whisper. She reached for her drink only to discover her glass was empty.
“Where is the disloyalty in saving you from humiliation?”
“If that was your design, why did you do nothing to prevent Darcy marrying her?” She coughed again, more strongly than before.
“Enough!” Darcy hissed furiously. His expression was thunderous. “This will not do.” He motioned for a footman to fill Catherine’s wine glass. “You are not well, madam. Pray, leave off squabbling over unalterable particulars and recover yourself.” He stood, held out his hand for Elizabeth and left the table.
Chagrined that Darcy’s unfailing restraint had made him look a fool by comparison, Matlock shook his head at his sister. “He does not deserve this from you. He is a fine young man.”
“Of that, I am fully aware, Reginald! Why in heaven’s name do you think I am so angry? Who will care for Anne now?”
He had to assume the question was rhetorical, for she then left the table, taking Lady Metcalfe with her and abandoning him to the company of four empty seats and one Mrs Tabitha Sinclair. He gritted his teeth and waited for her inevitable acerbic commentary. Some ten minutes later, he was cursing the vexing old baggage’s ability to wield complete silence and an infuriating, self-satisfied smirk to infinitely greater effect than any of her usual persiflage.
There was not enough air in the room for so many candles and Elizabeth to burn so hot. Her chest heaved with the effort of claiming her share as she span through the figures of the La Boulangere. Over and again, Darcy reclaimed her from the tangle of dancers in the centre of the circle to swirl her vis-à-vis, his grip emblazoning her skin as though she wore no gloves at all and the brand of his touch eclipsing the feel of every other man’s as she danced away again.
The circle of dancers skipped wildly to the left and then all the way back to the right. Bingley lurched along with them, chasing Elizabeth in one direction then Jane in the other, the weight of each of their hands naught to that of the turmoil in his heart.
Though he had struggled, after his calamitous proposal, to resign himself to his fate, he had thought his endeavours to be content with Jane as a wife and Elizabeth as a sister largely successful. Only as the sun set on his ill-fated wedding day had he acknowledged how spectacularly he had failed.
The circle slowed to a halt. His heart cavorted in time with his feet as he performed a turn with Elizabeth in the centre, but too soon, she spiralled away from him, spinning about with the other dancers in the ring. He accepted Jane’s hand once more, assumed third position, and fought a losing battle against his guilt.
Entering his study uninvited late on Tuesday evening, his sisters had left him in no doubt of his offences. Why, Caroline had railed, had he thought it politic to neglect his own bride at his wedding breakfast?
Another of the ladies swept him into a frenzied turn before moving on to the next man. He resumed his place beside Jane.
How, Louisa had demanded, were they to convince the world of Jane’s worth in the face of his flagrant disesteem?
Heat erupted across his palm as Elizabeth reclaimed his hand. He looked about. Everybody was returned to his and her positions in the circle. They all set off again, prancing leftwards in a vast sweeping arc, and he found himself once more chasing Elizabeth in circles.
What possible reason, Louisa had wanted to know, had Jane for dismissing the maid with a marked resemblance to Elizabeth? When, Caroline had demanded, would he overcome his reckless fascination with Mrs Darcy?
The circle changed direction. It was now Jane who pulled him onwards and Elizabeth’s scorching presence chasing him relentlessly back to his place.
Again and again, he had denied any misconduct to his sisters, his shame deepening with every reiteration of the lie.
It was his turn to lead Jane through the complicated figure in thecentre. They forged headlong into the fray, moving in good time if not perfect unison.
At what point had he ceased concerning himself with her feelings?
