(Elizabeth was still not quite sure what ‘the done thing’ was, but she was beginning to wonder if it was comparatively boring.)
After such an outré journey, the actual ball was rather unremarkable. Darcy had chosen it for both its proximity and the anonymity that he had in a larger town. He was unlikely to be recognised, and therefore he was confident of not being interrupted by old friends or nosy acquaintances. He did not want to rejoin society, only to make his wife happy.
And, frankly, if he was inclined to pleasure his wife in a carriage, he was unlikely to find enjoyment in anyone else’s company.
Darcy’s first year at Cambridge, where he was resolved to comport himself with dignity and restraint, had taught him that self-denial only made thingsworse.It was a sad truth, Darcy acknowledged, that he was a carnal man, much in want of reprieve. Before he finally accepted his inclinations and made the appropriate arrangements, Darcy was lost. He could barelythinkwhen a lady entered the room. His dreams were lurid, his waking moments wretched. His moment of relief had been exquisite.
And then Elizabeth… good God, that night with Elizabeth…
He could not dwell on that thought overlong. The carriage was only waiting a short distance away and could be made ready in mere minutes. There were many things a man could do with his wife that didnothave to wait until midsummer night. Things that whispered, trembled, andpromised…
Dancing was torture forbothof them. It was a wonderful combination of delight and frustration, which Darcy decided to prolong for as long as possible. If he must suffer, then so would she.
Elizabeth had some notion of his thoughts (the heated expression in his eyes saw to that, much less the familiar way he touched her when they danced) and at first had to force herself to enjoy the ball. Soon her enjoyment was genuine, and she relaxed. It was a lovely affair, not overly-pompous but arranged with an eye for elegance.
The music, played by a string quartet, was a clever selection of older, familiar pieces and playful exotic works which only a few knew the steps to. There were no risqué dances (much to her relief; she could not imagine what colour her cheeks would go if Darcy asked her to dance theecossaiseor the waltz). There were very few nervous youths among the guests, but rather a large gathering of men and women who seemed quite relaxed in each other’s company.
They were drinking, of course. The sight worried Elizabeth at first, for it was the first time when drinks had been readily available to her husband since she had broken the decanter. To her relief, whenever they were offered a glass of wine Darcy waved it away at once. She had no idea that Darcy barely noticedthe temptation. His mind was much taken up with another intoxication.
Elizabeth knew that her attention should have been on her husband, and indeed for most of the evening it was, but as the hours trickled by Elizabeth began to feel uneasy. She was not unaware of the admiring looks she had been gathering all evening. Men smiling at her or nodding a feigned bow. Women exclaiming over her dress and making cooing overtures as to her name and her partner. Yes, she had been much observed all night. But one pair of eyes were following her far too closely.
She had first noticed the man an hour after they arrived. He was cheerful, with a rich laugh which had made Elizabeth glance in his direction. Several ladies were gathered around him, laughing as well. Darcy took her hand to lead her into the next dance, and Lizzie found herself glancing wistfully back over her shoulder. The gathering ladies reminded her of her sisters. She realised that she missed the easy conversation a group of tipsy ladies could create.
She was also not blind to the man’s considerable good looks. He was wearing regimentals, which paired with his dashing smile to make a very fine sight. The women he was speaking to clearly agreed and were captivated by his tale. Other men, also in red coats, were gathered around and joining in the fun - but it was clear that the stranger was the centre of attention.
The man noticed her looking and smiled at her. He did not break stride in the story he was telling until he glanced at Elizabeth’s partner. A strange stillness crossed his face; his smile froze. Then, with an easy chuckle, he shook his head and looked away.
So quickly dismissed! But certainly not forgotten. For the rest of the evening, Elizabeth saw him staring at her whenever he was nearby. His handsome face was torn between amusementand contempt, although Lizzie could not imagine what about her could provoke either emotion. At one point she thought that she might discover the truth. The man came closer when she was alone and had even opened his mouth to say something. Then Darcy returned to her side, and the stranger disappeared into the crowd in a flash of red.
It did not spoil the evening, but it certainly added a sour note into the beautiful chord which Darcy had created. Elizabeth could not concentrate on him as much as she longed to, for she was always half-watching the room behind him for the stranger. Sometimes she had to ask Darcy to repeat himself, for she was distracted and had not heard what he was saying.
“Are you well, Elizabeth?” he asked finally. “You are not yourself.”
“Oh, yes - I am quite well. I am simply…” she peered over his shoulder again and sighed, “I ought not tell you, Darcy, but another gentleman has been trying to get my attention all evening.”
“I do not blame him.” Darcy tried to sound light but failed. He just sounded jealous.
Lizzie bit her lip, wishing that she had simply held her tongue. Then she saw the stranger again, staring from beside a painting of a pack of hunting hounds. Darcy saw her eyes shift and looked around, seeing the man in the regimentals at once.
He paled, then stood up straighter with a frown. The stranger looked back, and Elizabeth saw open hostility between the two of them. It was breathtakingly awful. Shivering, she stepped back.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy said softly, “Be still. We do not need to leave.”
Elizabeth saw the stranger push his way through the crowd towards the exit. Both men, it seemed, had no wish to confrontthe other. Several ladies murmured and pointed when the stranger left, looking confused, and then looked back at Darcy with consternation.
“Let’s go.” Elizabeth said abruptly, “I would not have them gossip about us.”
“He is the one who caused a scene.”
“Yes, and now he is safely removed from it. I am tired, Darcy. I have had a wonderful evening - let us not spoil it.”
Darcy gave her a suspicious look but then sighed and took her arm. As they walked towards the exit (far more sedately than the stranger had managed!) he absentmindedly patted her hand. It was like a military beat, quick and nervous, and quite unlike him.
When they were in the carriage, Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “Who was that man? Do not glare, Darcy. He has clearly upset you, and I do not like it.”
“You misunderstand.Heis upset withme.Since he has a very good reason, I do not resent that. Had I known he was at the ball I would not have brought you here. But how was I to know? He has not written to me since…” Darcy sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes wearily. “I wrote to him after Georgiana became ill. He was unable to care for her himself, but saw fit to criticise my arrangements. Rightly so, as it turned out, but I refused to be lectured to. We have been at odds.”
“Who is he?” Elizabeth pressed.
