“Oh no. That will not do at all. I have given you enough fodder for gossip in that respect. I might have asked you for the same favour, but we have already established that you were an obedient child with impeccable manners, completely devoid of the follies and caprices of my childhood. I imagine you would have nothing to tell.”
His eyes glinted with something indiscernible. She could not decide whether it was mirth or disdain but would admit thathe had a certain ineffable charm about him. His voice was very pleasant, and to hear him put it to music would be something.
“I can assure you that I committed my fair share of peccadillos in my youth.”
“Even tree climbing?”
“Yes. Champion of Pemberley, three years in a row.”
“The merit ofthatdepends entirely upon the competition,” Elizabeth rejoined.
“My two older cousins, two and four years older than me.”
“In that case, I shall allow it to be an admirable victory.”
Mr Darcy bowed; it took her a moment to realise that the set had ended, and she dipped into a belated curtsey. The gentleman offered her his arm, and she accepted it and allowed him to escort her towards her family when Lydia pilfered Captain Saunders’ sword. He was begging her to return it, but Lydia giggled, speared a twig of something, and ran in her direction. Elizabeth watched her sister without concern that she might use the weapon. Lydia was grinning too widely for any nefarious purpose. She planned to intercept her and give the sword back to its rightful owner, but as Elizabeth launched to grab it, Lydia thrust the sword forwards and, fortunately, well above their heads.
“It is mistletoe! You must kiss Mr Darcy!” Lydia squealed in malicious delight.
Elizabeth looked heavenwards, and directly above her head hung a tiny twig with a single white berry left on it. Mr Darcy, with his additional height, plucked it expertly and offered it, in his open palm, for her to take.
“You mean to frighten me, Mr Darcy, by coming in all this state to kiss me. But I shall not be alarmed. There is a stubbornnessabout me that never can bear to be frightened by the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
“I shall not say you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you, and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great pleasure in occasionally expressing opinions which in fact are not your own.”
Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself. “I assure you, you do not have to… We should not condone Lydia’s outrageous behaviour by complying with her demands. I know you do not like me, and I certainly—”
Mr Darcy silenced Elizabeth with a swift kiss—on the lips. Stunned into silence, she watched a smile erupt on his face. He was leaning towards her, and for a brief moment, she wondered whether he was going to repeat the endeavour.
“I am not a fawner, nor am I inclined towards displays of admiration, but a glance from me means more than soft nonsense, honeyed phrases, and romantic gestures from most other men.”
Mr Darcy righted himself, bowed, and walked away, making Elizabeth’s legs tremble in time with her ferociously pounding heart. To her consternation, she felt colour mounting in her cheeks, despite her efforts to appear unmoved. He could not be in earnest—and certainly not besotted withher.Alas that was too improbable, considering his situation and those with whom he surrounded himself. She would allow only for anignis fatuus—a will-o’-the-wisp—brought upon him by an enchanting evening and too much wine. Elizabeth sighed; she was enjoying the ball far too much, despite having her toes trampled and her sets taken by the most disagreeable gentlemen. It was as thoughshe had been struck by some kind of social promiscuity and had lost her senses.
Her grandmother, who had sidled up to her unnoticed, laced her arm through Elizabeth’s. “I must be getting feeble minded, because I just saw your mother carrying a cup of punch, but I have yet to discover where they are hiding it.”
“Then let me escort you,” Elizabeth said and led her to the bowl. After filling two cups, her grandmother steered them towards a table in a corner, secluded but for the matrons engaged in noisy conversations. She glanced up and espied Mr Darcy across the room. He was conversing with Colonel Forster, while his eyes rested firmly upon her. She played with her half-empty cup but could not help the small smile that erupted.
“I see how it is,” her grandmother muttered almost to herself. “How extraordinary…I would never have guessed!”
“What?” Elizabeth enquired, but her grandmother was not listening. She could virtually see her mind churning. “What has you so deep in thought, Grandmother?”
“Oh, nothing at all. In here”—she pointed at her head—“are only two crickets playing shuttlecock and battledore.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily, just as supper was announced.
#
After the ball, the Bennets spent a week without entertainment—if one disregarded the frequent visits of Mr Bingley—in preparation to remove to town for an extended stay at Limerick House. It was situated on the fashionable Grosvenor Street, and by chance, quite close to Hurst House. The Bingleys followed them to town. After Mr Bingley had danced three sets with Jane at the Twelfth Night ball, their engagement had been announced at supper.
Limerick House was in uproar, and Elizabeth was rather occupied with placating her livid younger sisters, who were forbidden from partaking in many of the gaieties and diversions. Grandmother Bennet had been firm in regard to Kitty and Lydia. In town, no girls were out before their seventeenth birthday. She argued that their wild ways would not be acceptable. The children wailed and their mother protested loudly, but their grandmother could not be moved, and she had the support of both the marquis and their father.
“Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy to see you, Miss Elizabeth,” the butler announced.
Elizabeth sent her unruly sisters upstairs and rose to greet her guests. It was only their second morning in town, and she wondered at the reason for this piece of civility.
“I have come to claim the request I made of you.” Mr Darcy bowed. “May I introduce Miss Darcy to you?”
Elizabeth nodded her acquiescence. The young girl reminded her of a fifteen-year-old Jane—tall, graceful, and womanly but shy and gentle by nature. A fine lady but not particularly confident. It took all her experience with Jane when she was young to draw out monosyllabic replies, but after gentle urging from her brother, she fumbled for something in her knitted purse.
