“So I shall,” replied Darcy, considering how many—or how few—dances would satisfy his sister.
In his mind’s eye, the memory of a dark-haired vixen with laughing eyes and an impertinent manner tormented and teased him. Darcy meant to have Miss Elizabeth’s hand for at least a set, and it would not be the confrontational dance he had shared with her at Bingley’s ball.
“Then I wish you well,” said Bingley when Darcy was in danger of falling into reverie. “For my part, I shall dance with Miss Bennet—the first, to be certain. Then I shall secure her last two sets.”
“I am only looking forward to seeing my friends,” said Georgiana. She fixed Darcy with an arch look he might not have seen only a few weeks before, one that reminded him of a certain lady of his acquaintance. “Since the only gentleman I am to dance with is my brother, I must induce Elizabeth and her sisters to stand up with me.”
“Though I am but a poor substitute,” said a laughing Bingley, “I shall also promise a set with you, Miss Darcy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” said she, appearing composed.
Though no one spoke to him, Hurst muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Foolishness!” Hurst was even more taciturn than Darcy was himself, and hisenergy did not extend to dancing, though he would dance once with his wife. Mrs. Hurst, Darcy noted, looked heavenward, though he knew she was at least fond of her husband.
“If my memory is accurate,” said Mrs. Hurst, “all the Bennet girls were popular partners at the last assemblyandthe ball.”
Though certain she had spoken so for a reason, Darcy decided not to respond.
“Except for Miss Mary,” supplied Bingley.
“Why is that?” asked Georgiana, appearing perplexed.
Bingley coughed, not wanting to speak, leaving the response to Mrs. Hurst. “I have heard it said that Miss Mary is not so comely as her sisters.”
“Why, that is nonsense!” exclaimed Georgiana. “Her manner of dress is more severe than her sisters, but she is not ill-favored.”
“I suspect it is also her demeanor that prevents her from dancing,” said Darcy. “Miss Mary appears to be a young woman who is not fond of society.”
“With that I must agree,” replied Bingley.
“Perhaps she would enjoy it if gentlemen would solicit her hand more often,” suggested Mrs. Hurst.
“I shall do my duty and stand up with her for a set,” said Bingley.
“You must do so as well, Brother,” said Georgiana.
“I have no objection,” replied Darcy.
Darcy thought a set with Miss Mary would please him more than standing up with her younger sisters. Misses Kitty and Lydia were comely girls, but the soft-spoken Mary would fit his own sense of brevity—unless he was acquainted with the lady, Darcy preferred the dance to pass in occasional conversation rather than a constant stream of words.
“What of the other sisters?” asked Mrs. Hurst, bringing the conversation back to where Darcy suspected she wished it to go.“If you mean to dance withthem, you must ask them early, for otherwise their dance cards will be full.”
“I hardly think it necessary to solicit Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia,” said Bingley. “Their preference would be to dance with the officers anyway.”
Then Bingley turned to grin at Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth is another matter altogether. If you mean to have a set with her, you had best snap her up before all her dances are taken, old man.”
“Oh, to be certain!” cried Georgiana. “Tell me, Brother; do you mean to finally present me with a sister?”
Darcy studied his companions. Bingley looked on with amusement bordering on glee, Georgiana with enthusiasm, and Mrs. Hurst with studied nonchalance. Even Hurst, though he feigned disinterest, was paying close attention. For a moment, Darcy wondered if they had arranged matters between them. Then he decided they had not, and it did not signify anyway.
“Talk of a sister is premature, Georgiana,” said Darcy at length. “However, I shall oblige you and stand up with Miss Elizabeth for a set.”
“The first?” pressed Georgiana.
“Darcy never dances the first,” said Bingley. “It is his scrupulous interest in not giving any young lady a notion of favor.”
“I shall not say you are incorrect, Bingley.”
“Yet I do not think giving Elizabeth such a notion concerns you a jot,” persisted Georgiana.
