All that finally brings me to my nemesis of the evening, and the proximate cause of my growing perplexity:Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
I first encountered Miss Elizabeth at the assembly but promptly abandoned the field when her mother made a not the least bit subtle attempt to coerce me into dancing five minutes after my entry, in the apparent belief that a country matron might succeed where dukes routinely fail. It angered me to no end, as did Bingley’s later attempt to do the same. I maintain that I am a grown man, master of a vast estate, responsible for the prosperity of thousands, and quite capable of choosing my own dance partners—but everyone seems to want a bite of Pemberley. Anyone whose name has never appeared in thetattle section of the papers over a single dance would probably consider me churlish, but I had to be careful.Such is life.
As for my nemesis, I must sheepishly admit I had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty, when I thought about her at all. I had enough sense (barely) to keep my thoughts to myself, so I said not a word about any of the local ladies, despite Bingley’s sisters’ numerous attempts to drag me into a critical discussion. She did not have the looks or manners of the fashionable world as her elder sister did (much to Bingley’s pleasure), but I had never liked the fashionable, willowy look myself.
I honestly thought little of her one way or another the first fortnight, aside from her presence seeming to draw my attention in a way that seldom occurs. I did not react as Bingley did, but I eventually noticed her face was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. I eventually acknowledged her figure to be light and pleasing, while I was caught by their easy playfulness—or more specifically, her playfulness with other people.
I began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her, began to listen to her conversations—and that, my friends, is where my puzzlement began in earnest.
You see, while most of the residents made more or less subtle attempts to gain my notice, Miss Elizabeth avoided me like the plague, as did her elder sister. They were subtle about it, but every time I came within hearing of either lady, they either dragged their companions away to another corner or finished conversations abruptly to move on. It was all very sly, but after I had spent a good evening trying to overhear a few conversations, while only managing a few dozen words, I began to wonder if they held something against me. It was possible I had offended one of them at the assembly, but it seemed unlikely. It was also possible they were reticent, as most people made a vast number of assumptions about me based on my wealth, connections,position, or reputation—all of which were widely known within a day or two of my arrival, as usual. I had known people who simply avoided first-circle-dandies in the (probably wise) assumption that nothing good could come of it, but it had never happened to me. I had a reputation as somewhat of a prude, which I imagine helped.
To my everlasting shame, I had entirely forgotten the slight at the first assembly. I find balls inordinately difficult, and while I knew I may have been unkind when I threw Bingley off, I had no concept that she may have heard. I can offer no excuse for this lapse in gentlemanly behaviour, especially on the heels of my actions at Ramsgate, save that the noise of assemblies and some inherent lack in me makes it difficult to follow the tone of conversations; coupled with the need to constantly watch my back, puts me on edge. It is admittedly a weak excuse that I would not accept from anyone else, but it is all I have. Some think a poor excuse is better than none, but I am not so certain.
During the engagement at Lucas Lodge a fortnight after my arrival, she proved as slippery as an eel. That said, having played the fox in the hunt more times than I can count, I am not one to be easily put off. Who knows more about hounds than a fox?
I persevered until she ran out of patience. She was speaking to Colonel Forster (a jovial man who reminded me of my cousin) about a ball she was advocating for the local regiment. I still thought a ball more akin to torture than enjoyment, but that is beside the point.
Much to my surprise, she whispered a few words to Miss Lucas, who seemed to be a particular friend, then abruptly turned and spoke to me for the first time with an impertinent quirk of her eyebrow.
"Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
The sudden ambush was as surprising as a duck attacking a weasel, and I was nonplussed. I gave a reply that probably smacked of something; I cannot say precisely what, but I doubt she appreciated it.
"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic."
"You are severe on us."
Miss Lucas, who I had previously observed as a sensible woman, seemed to think Miss Elizabeth was winding herself up for something either stinging or rebuking (either of which was fine with me) and intervened.
"It will be her turn soon to be teased. I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."
On Miss Lucas’ persevering, however, she added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must."
She added something about saving my breath to cool my porridge, which I took to mean I should keep my opinion to myself, but she was gone before it really sank in.
All in all, I was satisfied to have kept her within a dozen yards for two minutes while speaking a couple dozen words—and that was where my perplexity came in. I was not the least bit accustomed to being avoided. Being sought was much closer to my expected role. I had also noticed more of a bite in her tone than the teasing she used for everyone else. For some reason I could not fathom, I did not mind. I now realize I probably enjoyed the novelty of honest disapprobation.
She moved to the instrument, and I followed to get a view of the fair performer, and by then, I used that term unironically. She was a lovely woman, and there was no point pretending otherwise. It was not a capital performance, particularly when compared to my sister on the rare occasions she was not frowning at me, but I very much enjoyed it anyway. There was something compelling I could not name.
To be honest, my perplexity increased, but I did not especially mind. From my earliest days, my life had been constrained by logic and duty. I carried responsibility for hundreds of people and thousands of acres. I expected to do my duty without complaint, while understanding all that was involved in the minutest detail. It was so engrained as to be second nature. After all, no matter how you looked at it, I followed in my father’s footsteps, much as he followed in my grandfather’s. I also found the machinations of the marriage mart entirely and tediously predictable. It had been years since I encountered a situation with an unmarried lady I had not encountered dozens of times before.I found honest confusion refreshing—perhaps, even an improvement.
The perplexity doubled or trebled a quarter-hour later when Sir William ambushed the lady and offered her hand to me for a dance. He was far from the first man to throw a daughter, niece, or friend at me. He would be hard-pressed to be the hundredth. In fact, though I did not realise it at the time, he was being even less subtle than Mrs Bennet, if you can believe it.
For the first time in my life, I not only did not mind, but looked forward to the exercise. Sir William had gifted me with the perfect opportunity to enjoy a half-hour in her company without raising expectations. I know it sounds like nothing but hubris, but showing too much attention to a lady from a man in my position could harm her reputation far more than mine, andI had learnt the hard way to be extra careful. That said, for once, I looked forward to a dance with great anticipation.
Then came my moment of ultimate perplexity.She refused me!Not once, not twice, but thrice! Miss Elizabeth Bennet refused me three times in the space of a minute. Oh, she was subtle about it, and she was polite, and she used the prettiest words imaginable, and she did it with a smile and curtsey—but refuse me she did, and she proved as implacable as a stone. I did not quite grovel, but I might have if I thought it would work.
She walked away with a look of smug satisfaction, saying what I suspected was an ironically biting, "Mr Darcy is all politeness."
I was still contemplating the situation when Miss Bingley decided it was an appropriate time to pour poison in my ear, so I naturally gave her something to be jealous about. Learning that I meditated on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow did not leave her in very good humour, and she spent the next hour trying to tease me about it with copious references to the lady’s mother and sisters, as if I would ever have any larger connection to them, or I would even notice the expense of supporting half a dozen spinsters if I did.
I would come to regret saying anything to Miss Bingley, but it was amusing at the time.
7.Infirmity- Elizabeth
At the risk of stating the obvious, I must observe that desperation does not make for a good look.
