“Ah, and here he comes. I expect you will wish to join your aunt now. I do thank you for keeping me company.”
Mr Darcy stopped before us and bowed, offering his greetings. Then he turned to me, offering his hand. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe the line is forming. I hope you had not forgotten?”
I smiled and took his hand, waving the other between us, setting my dance card to swaying on its ribbon about my wrist. “Not at all. You may inspect my card—I wrote you in as soon as I received it.”
He smiled broadly, drawing the startled glances of several persons nearby. “Shall we, then?” He nodded to my slack-jawed companion. “Miss Bingley.”
We took our places in the line, to the apparent amazement of many, and the music began. We danced well together, though without conversation at first. I made a comment that others would think it strange if we passed the whole dance in silence. He smiled and said, “I have been wondering what it was that made you wish to laugh as we joined the line. You had some difficulty in suppressing it, I think.”
Did he know me so well as to perceive as much, when usually only my father could see that which I cared to hide? It seemed he did. But his mention of it made me want to laugh once more, and I shook my head, promising I would enlighten him during the break. We had then a little conversation, but I found that simply dancing with Mr Darcy was interesting enough, and I did not much care what anyone else thought of our periods of silence.
The first dance of the set ended, and as he escorted me to the table for a cup of punch, I discreetly gave him to know that just before he had joined us, Miss Bingley had declared that he never danced the first. I did not repeat what else she had said, for it would have seemed as though I were inviting a declaration.
What I did reveal, he found amusing, and then he leaned down and said, almost in my ear, “I have never before wished to dance the first.”
I am quite sure I was still rather flushed when, some minutes later, we took our places for the second dance of the set.
CHAPTER24
FITZWILLIAM DARCY
I had always believed myself entirely disinclined towards dancing, but now I knew that I enjoyed it very much indeed with the right partner. Having Elizabeth’s flashing eyes and light figure across from me, taking her hand as we passed in the figure, being the recipient of her smiles—yes, this was a pleasure indeed. I could think of few which might be greater, and all involving her.
How I regretted not dancing with her the night we met! This delight would not be new to me, had I behaved better then. I might even have had the right to call her ‘Elizabeth’ in more than my thoughts. But she smiled at me again as we clasped hands and crossed, and I gave up all thought of remorse and revelled in the joy that was presently mine.
I danced the next with Miss Bennet, Bingley and Elizabeth taking the places next to us, leaving me not entirely bereft of her company. Farther down the line, Miss Bingley danced as ostentatiously as she did everything else, drawing attention to the fact that she was partnered by a baronet. For all that he was twice her age, they made a fine pair, for Sir Walter Elliot is at least as conceited as she. But perhaps I am the wrong person to judge anyone for that failing.
During the third, Bingley and Elizabeth and I were engaged in a friendly conversation about music, though most of Bingley’s attention was reserved for Miss Bennet as she moved through the dance with another gentleman. This suited me perfectly well, for it allowed me to focus upon Elizabeth without being rude. Fortunately, Miss Bingley also had a partner for the set, though she would follow me about the room for the next two.
At last the supper set arrived and I shook off my befeathered barnacle to claim Elizabeth’s hand once more. Our second set was even more delightful than the first, for we had got over that little awkwardness of dancing together for the first time after all that had passed between us on that subject, and were free to simply enjoy ourselves. We spoke, when the dance allowed, of the country, and I did my best to tempt her with descriptions of the best paths at my estate. As little as I would wish to be accepted only for my property, I was not above using it, or anything else, to draw her affections.
We sat with Bingley and Miss Bennet for the meal, and there I found that Bingley’s lady, albeit reticent, spoke sense when she chose to speak at all. For my friend’s sake, I was glad to know that she had more than beauty and kindness to recommend her, though the latter is no small thing. It would be no hardship to be closely connected to her, should I be so fortunate as to win Elizabeth’s hand—a notion which her smiles and laughter suggested was not impossible.
None of us had a partner for the set immediately following the meal, and we were happy to continue together rather than find other amusements. Miss Bingley soon joined us, and I was required to develop a sudden thirst and depart for the refreshments table to prevent her from claiming my arm uninvited. When I returned, she was speaking to Elizabeth, while Bingley and Miss Bennet looked on in obvious discomfort.
CHAPTER25
ELIZABETH BENNET
“I hope, Miss Eliza, you will not allow Mr Darcy’s attentions this evening to turn your head. I would hate to see you disappointed again. As your uncle has become such a great friend of his, he must do his part to return you to the acceptance of society, though I am unsure if even Mr Darcy’s consequence is up to that task.”
So involved was she in venting her spleen that she did not notice the gentleman’s approach from her left until he addressed her.
“Miss Bingley, cease,” he said sternly. “Your attempts to belittle Miss Elizabeth reflect poorly only on you.” She gaped at him for a moment before subsiding into wounded silence. Meanwhile, I was wrestling with an epiphany. This man, this kind, haughty, charming, taciturn, protective, confounding man, was one I could love, and perhaps already did.
Flustered, I excused myself and repaired to the ladies’ retiring room, where I thankfully found no one I knew. I placed myself by the window, which had been opened an inch for the relief of those who became overheated in the dance, and allowed the cold air to soothe my burning face.
Was there ever a creature more ridiculous than I? That I should by turns have opened my heart to a scoundrel and to a man I had despised for much of our acquaintance was a greater farce than I would have expected to find in the pages of a novel, much less my own life! Jane soon came to find me, and I feigned composure. She thought I had been overset by Miss Bingley’s claims, and I told only a little untruth when I said that though I did not believe her words, it had been rather mortifying to have her suppositions voiced in the middle of a ballroom. This I would repeat to Mr Darcy, who approached us with concern writ large upon his face when we returned. A new set was forming, and when my sister’s partner claimed her, I allowed him to escort me to my aunt before I urged him to do his duty by Lady Matlock and dance with one of her guests.
I cannot say that I liked seeing him dance with another, but he did not seem to be enjoying himself as he had with me, and I took a certain shameful comfort in that. Viscount Deane asked me for the last, and as Mr Darcy’s aunt had just introduced him to a young lady, he too was in the set, and we were close enough that we passed each other several times and even exchanged a few words. As he returned me to my aunt and uncle, the viscount surprised me by commenting that Lady Deane had been ‘wild’ to meet me since hearing of my refusal to dance with Mr Darcy some weeks previous. “But now, I think, all is mended between you?”
I was happy to answer that it was.
We expected no callers the day after the ball, and were surprised when Mr Darcy arrived. I noticed immediately that he was rather resplendent: his hair freshly trimmed, his waistcoat a pleasant green embroidered in cream, unlike the more sombre hues he favoured, a jewelled pin twinkling amid the folds of his cravat. When my aunt offered him refreshment, he said, “I had hoped that Miss Elizabeth would care to take a walk in your garden, madam. The sun is out, and it is not so chill as yesterday.”
I answered that I should enjoy a walk very much, if Jane would attend us. My sister smiled—was there something a little sly in it?—and said, “I fear it will be too cold for me, though I know you will walk in any weather, Lizzy. But I should be happy to sit by the window in the rear parlour, where I can see the whole of the garden.”
My aunt was amenable to this plan, and sent me off to don my warmest pelisse, bonnet, and gloves. Mr Darcy’s attire had raised a suspicion in my mind, and the rather permissive behaviour of my relations, coupled with the open pleasure he had taken in my sister’s suggestion, firmed it into a near certainty. By the time we stepped out into the crisp January sunshine, my heart was pounding in my ears.
