He laughed, to my great surprise, shaking his head and saying, “Pray, do not remind me of what I said then. I would dance every set with you, were it possible.” He smoothed the front of his waistcoat, inadvertently drawing my attention to the fact that no evidence of indulgence marred the lines of his form or the finely tailored clothes encasing it. “Miss Elizabeth, I have done everything backwards with you. A gentleman is supposed to charm a lady on first acquaintance, and only after securing her affections should he vex and torment her.”
I nearly choked on my own laughter at that unexpected jest, delivered with such grave sincerity that I had not anticipated it. He seemed rather pleased with himself, and it became him very well.
“You may have the supper set,” I conceded when I could speak again. “But I do not know that I wish for more than dances.”
He regarded me curiously, but said only, “Is that not the purpose of calling—to convince you, if I am able, that you wish for even more of my company? I am not easily deterred.”
I hoped rather than believed him to be so steadfast. The notion that Mr Darcy, of all people, admired me was astonishing, and it strained credulity to think that an association which had begun so poorly might end in a happy marriage. It must also be acknowledged that I was reluctant to risk my bruised heart again. If he harboured any such doubts, he concealed them well. From that day he began to openly pay me the most flattering attentions his native reticence would allow. My aunt was puzzled, our sisters delighted, Mr Bingley astonished, and my uncle uncomfortable with this development, but they all did us the courtesy of allowing us to determine our own fates, and aside from ensuring the strictest of chaperonage, left us to come to know one another better.
My relations and I passed a noisy, happy Christmas Day—courtesy of my young cousins—and a quiet Boxing Day. The twenty-seventh brought us to Darcy House, where Mr Darcy attempted to engage me in conversation with Miss Bingley clinging determinedly to his arm. Had she been even slightly pleasant, I should have felt sorry for her, but she was not, and I did not. My aunt and I shook our heads over her clumsy advances on our way home, and even Jane had nothing to offer in her defence.
CHAPTER22
FITZWILLIAM DARCY
I had always thought the business of courting would be an easy thing—select the lady, pay her attention, make my proposal, wed. That, I saw clearly once I had embarked upon my quest to win the hand of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had been sheer conceit. Certainly it could have proceeded in that manner had I chosen one of the ladies who were always speaking and acting for my approbation, but I had selected a woman worthy of being pleased, and I would be required to do so.
She challenged my ideas at every turn. It was at times, I think, for the sheer pleasure of debate, but we had diverging views on many things. Had we not been inclined to please, we might have quarrelled viciously more than once, but as it was, we listened to each other and more often than not we both moderated our views and came, if not to agreement, then to a more harmonious understanding. I thought it boded well for a future together, feeling that by her good humour and compassion, my tendencies towards distrust and cynicism might be softened, and through my greater knowledge and experience of the world, her idealism might be tempered. A union between us would be of great benefit to us both. I had only to convince her of it.
There was also the problem of being allowed to get on with my wooing in peace. This was not difficult at Sir Edward’s home, for though he still regarded me with suspicion, he did no more than warn me that he would not tolerate seeing his niece wounded again, and watch me closely when we were in company together. The problems arose at Darcy House, for as delightful as it was to see Elizabeth in the home of which I hoped she would soon be mistress, I could hardly ask that she visit with only her aunt and leave her elder sister at home. Unfortunately, when they visited, Bingley always appeared to see Miss Bennet, and Miss Bingley always appeared to see me. Though she had never discerned my disinclination for her company, she was quick to spot my inclination for Elizabeth’s, and she became more forward and difficult with every day that passed.
Desperate as I was to simply enjoy having Elizabeth in my home, I was equally determined never to fail in civility before her again. I endured Miss Bingley’s antics as stoically as I could, used those visits to forward my sister’s friendship with the lady I hoped would become her sister, and dared to dream of a day when no one could come between me and the woman I loved ever again.
CHAPTER23
ELIZABETH BENNET
Lady Matlock’s ball was on Twelfth Night, but it was not a masquerade ball. In London, Mr Darcy informed me, masked events had a tendency towards debauchery, of which his aunt and uncle did not approve. This was a relief to Jane and me, partly because we had not wished to spend more of my uncle’s money on costumes when he had been so generous with our wardrobes already. On the appointed night, we got ourselves up in our very finest, and my aunt loaned us some of her more modest jewels.
Matlock Place was alive with candlelight and swags and wreaths of greenery, the air scented with the fruits and spices of steaming bowls of wassail, mulled wine, and hot punch. The earl greeted my uncle and aunt as old friends and bowed avuncularly over my hand and Jane’s, saying that we would have all the young bucks agog. Lady Matlock greeted us with more restraint, as was her way, and wished us a pleasant evening.
All of my small circle of friends had left London for the winter, so I remained by my aunt’s side for a time after Mr Bingley whisked Jane away in pursuit of a cup of punch and, no doubt, some semi-private conversation.
My aunt was soon pulled into a group of matrons, and I found myself in the too-familiar position of standing at the side of the room, observing. The musicians were quietly tuning their instruments, and the dancing would soon begin. I had not yet spied Mr Darcy, though I felt an inexplicable confidence that he would appear for our set.
“Miss Eliza, I am surprised to see you here.” Miss Bingley had appeared at my side. I thought to myself that she would be quite pretty if she did not insist on always frowning haughtily or, as at that moment, smirking in a superior manner.
“I do not know why you should be. My uncle has become a good friend of his lordship’s.”
“Yes, he has certainly taken advantage of this opportunity to raise himself above the stench of trade,” she said condescendingly.
“And few would understand that as well as you,” I replied with a like tone. “What was it your father manufactured? Cloth?” If Miss Bingley wished to play the ‘superior status’ game, I was more than willing to oblige her.
Her jaw tightened and her colour rose. “But to return to my original comment,” she said repressively, “I was not surprised to see your relations, only you. You have hardly been seen for over a month, and to take pleasure in a ball, partners are required.”
“I thank you for your concern, Miss Bingley, but I take as much pleasure in conversation partners as in dance partners. And as it happens, I shall not be without the latter. I have three sets reserved, one of them with your brother.”
“Oh, well, I am glad you will not sit out all night, to be sure.”
“And you? Have you a partner for the first, perhaps?”
“No, but I am to dance the second with Sir Walter Elliot.”
“Well, there is a little time, you may yet be asked.”
“I plan to spend the set in conversation with Mr Darcy,” she declared. “It is a long-standing arrangement between us, you see. He never dances the first. All of London will know he is as good as engaged if they ever see him take to the floor to open a ball.” She gave me a look of exaggerated sympathy. “I am sorry if this disappoints you, but so it is.”
“Not at all,” I replied complacently, though inside I was already laughing at the shock which was barrelling down upon her.
