As to what it was…
Well.
The ball was soon set for a week hence, and I had little to do with myself for that week besides to try to stay clear of Miss Bingley, who was angry with me for not having left for London, as I had declared that I was going to do, and who took every opportunity to ask me why I had decided not to go.
It hardly mattered that she should have remained in any case, for I could not have taken her to London myself. I could not have traveled with an unmarried woman unchaperoned, and Mrs. Hurst and her husband were staying here for the ball. Bingley wanted Miss Bingley to stay for the ball, so she must.
And Mr. Bennet occupied Bingley entirely. They were always in each other’s company, claiming they were planning the ball, but likely doing all manner of absolutely appalling things to each other.
I spent too much time contemplating what abominations passed between men and wondering how they could bear it, how it could be anything other than unpleasant and painful.
Finally, the day of the ball came, however, and I claimed Miss Bennet’s first two dances.
It wasn’t easy, because she was clearly shocked. “Both of them, sir?”
“Well, we have things to speak of,” I said. “It may take longer than one dance.”
“Yes, but everybody is going to think that you have some sort of attachment to me, and you and I both know that you do not attach to people like me in that way.”
“Well, that is one of the areas in which you are mistaken,” I said. “Come now, will you dance or not?” I knew she had little choice. She could agree to dance with me or deny that she wished to dance at all.
But she seemed to hesitate for a very long time, as if she was considering doing exactly that.
“Fine,” she said. “My first two dances are yours.” She sounded incredibly dejected.
But as we took to the dance floor together, I began to wonder if this really was the venue for this conversation, for there were a number of delicate elements to it that I did not wish for others to overhear.
And, of course, the dance itself required us to change partners and move up and down the row of dancers from time to time, so there were all sorts of breaks in the conversation wewere going to have to have, and I realized I may have made quite an error.
I spent the first five or six minutes saying nothing at all.
She was exasperated. “Mr. Darcy, you indicated you wished to speak to me about something, but you say nothing.”
“Yes, well, I am trying to think of how to put it,” I said to her.
And then we both turned to the people to our left, and took a new partner to walk round in a circle before coming back to face each other again.
“Have you thought of it now?” she said when we faced each other again.
“I only wish to say that you have the wrong idea about me,” I said. “I am not like Mr. Bingley and your brother.”
She blinked at me. “You mean, you’re not…”
“I mean, when I say that I find you a pretty girl, it is because I find girls pretty, and only girls, if you know what I am saying.”
She seemed shocked by this. She blinked again, a number of times.
We backed away to allow a couple prance between us as they walked all the way from the front of the dancing row to the end.
She said, “So, you and Mr. Bingley are not…”
“No,” I said.
“Oh,” she said. “Not at all?”
“Not at all,” I said. “In fact, I only recently discovered this about Bingley at all.”
“You did not know?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, sort of horrified.
