Elizabeth hid a smile as Mrs. Bennet’s fan fluttered like a trapped bird. Sir William had already carried the rest of the company’s attention elsewhere, yet Mr. Bingley glanced back more than once as he withdrew—his eyes clearly promising to return once the dancing began.
His sisters, having curtseyed with polished grace, wore smiles faint and perfectly measured. They addressed Jane with particular civility, though their glances toward Elizabeth and the younger girls betrayed only polite indifference. Mr. Hurstoffered an equally brief bow before drifting away, his attention fixed, with unmistakable purpose, upon the punch table.
Mr. Darcy followed last. His bow was deep enough to satisfy propriety, yet his expression remained grave. Without more than a word of greeting, he stepped aside and moved to the edge of the room, where he stood apart, surveying the scene as though wholly detached from it.
Elizabeth’s gaze lingered a moment in spite of herself.A proud man,she thought,and one who finds little amusement in so cheerful a company.
Mrs. Bennet leaned close, her voice a breathless whisper of triumph. “Did you see, Lizzy? Mr. Bingley could scarcely take his eyes from Jane! Oh, if your father had but come tonight—what prospects we should have secured already!”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Perhaps Papa’s absence has only improved our chances, Mama. I do not think Mr. Bingley’s spirits require encouragement.”
CHAPTER TWO
Meryton Assembly – October 1811
THE EVENING CONTINUED WITH THE expected display of polite civility. Newcomers to Hertfordshire society were passed from family to family, each household eager to secure early acquaintance, each matron quietly weighing the consequence of every bow and curtsey.
Having escaped her mother’s vigilant eye, Elizabeth made her way to the punch table and secured a glass for herself. From that vantage she surveyed the room with amused detachment. Everywhere she looked, ambitious mamas smiled and fluttered their fans, pretending indifference while their eyes calculated fortunes and prospects. Daughters, prettily arranged and perfectly conscious of being observed, spoke in tones of studied sweetness to gentlemen who were, by turns, pleased, confused, or alarmed by the attention.
Her gaze soon discovered Jane, and not far from her, Mr. Bingley. They had already exchanged more looks than Elizabeth could number—five at the very least—and each one seemed to convey more than words could express. Their smiles formed a silent conversation, perfectly understood by themselves and perfectly evident to everyone else.
Some minutes later, the musicians struck up a lively air, and Mr. Bingley was beside Jane in an instant. Their first set was danced with such easy grace that even the most fastidiousobservers could not withhold their smiles. When he claimed her hand for the second set as well, whispers stirred gently through the crowd.
Mrs. Bennet, radiant with delight, could scarcely contain herself. “Two dances, Lizzy!” Elizabeth heard her exclaim to anyone within earshot, or none at all. “Two dances, and at the very first assembly. Did I not say it would be so?”
Elizabeth only smiled, her heart full of pleasure for her sister. There was no vanity in Jane’s gentle blush, no artifice in Mr. Bingley’s admiration. Even Elizabeth, often quick to laugh at such things, could not doubt the sincerity on either side.
She herself had not danced that evening. The scarcity of gentlemen had left several ladies without partners, and Elizabeth was in no humour to press her claims. She amused herself instead with observing the company from her place by the wall. When the final chords of the second set died away, she stepped aside to make room for the passing couples, her thoughts contentedly detached, until she found herself unexpectedly near Mr. Bingley and his tall, grave friend.
Mr. Bingley’s voice, bright and cheerful, rose clearly above the murmur of conversation. “Come, Darcy, you must dance. You cannot stand about in this fashion the whole evening. There are plenty of agreeable young ladies here. I dare say Miss Elizabeth Bennet must dance as well as her sister, for she is equally very beautiful.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted, her lips curving in spite of herself. She took a small sip of punch, hoping the motion might disguise the warmth rising in her cheeks.Well now,she thought,this should be interesting.
As if the name itself had summoned him, Mr. Darcy turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment before he looked away again. When he spoke, his tone was even, deliberate, and cool.
“I was not aware, Bingley, that beauty and dancing talent were the same accomplishment. In any case, the only truly beautiful woman in this room is the one with whom you are dancing. As for the lady you mention, she is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me. You would do better to return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. I am in no humour to offer consequence to young ladies neglected by other men.”
Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks.Tolerable.It was not the word itself that stung, but the careless disdain with which it was spoken. She turned away at once, affecting an interest in the crowd, though her pulse fluttered faster than she would have liked.
She had thought him proud before, for standing aloof and refusing to dance, thereby lessening the number of partners for others; but now she judged him arrogant beyond endurance.What manner of man is this Mr. Darcy?she mused.Rich, handsome, and utterly insufferable. Pride seems to rest upon him as easily as his cravat.
Yet, as she watched him a little longer, standing away from the cheerful company, she could not help wondering whether such hauteur brought him any satisfaction. A man so unwilling to be civil could never know half the pleasures of those he looked down upon.
Her spirits soon rallied. Setting down her glass, she smiled and crossed the room to where Charlotte stood. “I have just discovered,” she said lightly, “that I am not handsome enough to tempt certain gentlemen. I shall therefore be content with my own company, and a very agreeable one it is.”
Charlotte, still catching her breath from the set she had danced with Mr. Mark, frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Mr. Bingley tried to persuade his friend to dance with me,” Elizabeth replied with composure. “Mr. Darcy declined,declaring I was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “How abominably rude. It would seem you are not the only one he has slighted, though yours may be the only insult he has spoken aloud.”
Elizabeth raised an inquisitive brow. “Indeed?”
“Oh yes,” Charlotte said. “The whole room is talking of him. Mr. and Mrs. King tried to introduce their daughter, but he turned away before she even reached him.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “A charming man. He must make himself universally beloved wherever he goes.”
Their amusement was soon interrupted as Mr. Bingley approached to claim Charlotte for the next set. Elizabeth suspected his gallantry was meant more as gratitude toward Sir William for his earlier civility than for any particular inclination, for his eyes strayed more than once toward Jane, who was now dancing with Mr. Mark.
