Fortunately, they were obliged to part again, giving her time to regain her composure and summon a cold smile.
“Do you follow certain rules about talking while dancing?” he asked, looking intently into her eyes as the dance brought them closer.
“Sometimes. One must say something, after all. It would seem odd to stay completely silent for half an hour. Still, for the benefit of some, the conversation should be arranged so that they have to say as little as possible,” she answered.
“Are you speaking from your own feelings now, or are you referring to mine?”
“Both,” Elizabeth replied with a playful smile. “I have always thought our minds to be quite similar. We both share a proud nature, unwilling to speak unless we expect to astonish everyone in the room and have our words remembered.”
“That is an accurate reflection of your character, I am sure,” he replied. “How closely it resembles mine, I cannot say. But you think it is a perfect likeness.”
“I suppose you are quite accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed,” she said.
“Orders?” he asked, somewhat perplexed. “Orders are for servants. In no other circumstance would I presume to shape my thoughts as commands.”
“Are you certain?” she replied, with an impertinence so sharp that he immediately noticed it. It caused him to pause mid-step, unsure of what she intended to convey.
He said nothing, and they continued the dance in silence until nearly the end of the set.
“I am not certain I understood what you meant,” he finally remarked, his tone measured.
Elizabeth regarded him with an unexpected intensity, her gaze lingering a few moments before looking towards Mr Bingley, who danced nearby. With a faint smile, which would have been a clear sign of impending mischief to those who knew her well, she replied, “Perhaps not orders, but rather desires expressed with great determination to the detriment of a relative or a friend—”
“Such as?” he pressed, his curiosity clearly piqued.
Elizabeth allowed her eyes to wander the room as though searching for someone in particular before replying at last, “There are certain individuals who have neither had the honour nor the pleasure of being invited to this ball. When you saw us the other day, we had just made a new acquaintance…”
The effect was immediate. A visible expression of displeasure settled on his face, but he remained silent. Although she congratulated herself for her frankness, Elizabeth was unable to continue.
At last, he spoke in a restrained tone, “If you are referring to Mr Wickham, indeed, his absence is far from troubling me.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Elizabeth, surprised by his sincerity, though his response displeased her profoundly. “He has been unfortunate enough to lose your friendship in a way that will likely affect him for the rest of his life.”
“Mr Wickham possesses such charming manners that he is sure to make friends easily—”
“Are you referring to us?” she interrupted him, her eyes filling with fury.
“No, Miss Bennet, I am speaking in general. Whether he is equally skilled at keeping them is far less certain.”
Mr Darcy remained silent after that, evidently eager to redirect the conversation. Luckily for him, the dance came to an end. At Elizabeth’s suggestion, he escorted her to Charlotte, who, engaged in conversation with an officer, broke off as Elizabeth approached, and the officer took his leave.
“Elizabeth, what has happened?” asked her friend, mystified as she had been observing their last few steps in the dance and the tense expressions on their faces.
“I suggested to Mr Darcy that he was the one who gave the order to prevent Mr Wickham from attending,” Elizabeth replied, her tone still heated.
“I cannot believe it! It is plainly uncivil to make such direct accusations,” Charlotte protested.
“I think it is far more uncivil to bar someone from attending a ball after already wronging him,” Elizabeth countered.
“But what about Mr Wickham compels you to defend him with such fervour?” Charlotte asked, curiosity mingling with a slight concern, fearing that her friend exhibited her inclination towards that gentleman too explicitly.
“He struck me as remarkably sincere, and that is a rare quality in a person,” Elizabeth replied, attempting to explain, even to herself, why she had so firmly taken Mr Wickham’s side. One thing was certain: she had been disappointed not to find him at the ball. Yet that disappointment alone was insufficient to justify her uncivil behaviour, as Charlotte had called it.
“Peoplemight think that you…like Mr Wickham,” Charlotte said.
“I would haveliked himto be here, to invite me to dance, to make the evening generally more pleasant,” Elizabeth admitted.
“But it is not just that, is it?” Charlotte pressed, knowing her friend better than most, perhaps even better than Jane at times.
