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Almost of their own accord, my legs propelled me to meet her. With a swallow, I straightened my spine and ran my hand along my lapel. “Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy.” She toyed with her crimson cross. “I have good news. Yesterday, my aunt Phillips told us that Mr. Wickham has left the neighbourhood. He and eight or ten others in the regiment have left the militia for the regulars.”

“Yes, I am aware of the particulars.” My smile may have taken on a smug cast. “Last week I met with my cousin, a colonel in the Royal Horse Guards. He introduced me to a recruiter who made the arrangements for the transfers. I persuaded Wickham that he would do well to leave the neighbourhood.”

“Oh, I see.” Her head edged back and tilted. “How did you convince Mr. Wickham to leave?”

“I offered him a monetary incentive.”

A knot arose between her expressive brows. “Why would you go to such trouble and expense?”

Her enticing orbs penetrated me, and I dismissed the more prudent explanation I had prepared. “I could not abide the notion of him tainting your community or hurting your friends and neighbours.”

Her hand rose to her sternum. “I…thank you. It is a tremendous relief that he is gone.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Indeed, I should attempt any feat she cared to ask of me. Her unaffected beauty stole my focus, and whatever I may have uttered next flew from my mind.

She gestured to the black wool coat Winston had chosen for me. “You look very well this evening.”

It took several long seconds for her compliment to penetrate my mental fog. “Thank you. I have been remiss in not remarking sooner that you are stunning tonight.”

A flush of deep pink tinted her cheeks. “You are too kind.”

“It is no more than the truth.” I folded my hands in front of me to keep from fidgeting. “May I have the pleasure of dancing the fifth set with you?” If she accepted me, we should have supper together.

The corners of her lips rose with an enticing effect. “Yes, I am pleased to accept.”

A militia officer appeared to claim Elizabeth for the first dance. He enunciated a cheerful greeting to me, and it took a significant portion of my self-discipline to provide him a civil response. In a perfect world, I alone should have the privilege of dancing with her.

Whilst the musicians played a lively Scottish tune, I sought the ladies sitting out—Miss Lucas, Miss Long, and Miss Mary Bennet—and obtained future dances with them. Thereafter, the time dragged by until I could collect Elizabeth for our agreed-upon set. Still, fulfilling my duty to the other ladies did not tax me as much as I had anticipated. More than once, I caught Elizabeth’s gaze during those dances. Based upon the bountiful smiles she bestowed on me, my efforts earned her approval.

My set with Elizabeth elapsed in a swift fashion despite my attempt to savour the experience—in particular the fleeting instances where the dance allowed me to take her hand.

“Do you intend to remain silent for the whole of our set, Mr. Darcy?” She glided past in an allemande and returned to me with a sprightly grin.

“I am at your command. What would you like me to say?”

“Well, given that you have exerted yourself tonight to stand up with more than one partner who is almost a stranger to you, I shall not demand erudite discourse. A simple platitude will do.”

“That is charitable of you.” I waited until the choreography brought us together again. “I hope you are enjoying the ball.”

“Yes, I am. Of course, that is no surprise since I love to dance. It is different for you. I imagine you will be relieved when the festivities conclude.”

“Not at all.” The dance separated us for a few moments before she faced me with her brow arched. “I have learnt that, given the right company, even activities one used to dread can be rendered pleasurable.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

At the dance’s conclusion, I took her to the room designated for supper. I caught sight of Mr. Collins at the end of the table beside Miss Lucas; thankfully, he had avoided Elizabeth on this occasion.

Last Friday, Bingley and I had called at Longbourn and remained for dinner at Mrs. Bennet’s invitation. Mr. Collins had been morose and blissfully laconic. Elizabeth had disclosed her father’s clever design to discourage the man’s suit. Although I could not approve of her father’s apparent indifference to the excesses of some in his care, I applauded his action to protect her.

I had scant time to relish the opportunity of dining beside Elizabeth before Miss Lydia caused a minor fracas. The young lady, seated on the opposite side of the table, had apparently overindulged in wine this evening: she swayed in her seat as though unable to keep her balance, toppled her glass, staining the tablecloth, and made no effort to suppress her squeals of mirth as she flirted with her supper companion, a militia officer.

Then Mrs. Bennet’s distinctive voice carried over from another table; she bragged of Miss Bennet’s imminent engagement to Bingley. Good God. How could I even contemplate making this family my own? I set down my fork, my appetite extinguished.

One of the ladies left her table to play the pianoforte at the far end of the room. Upon Miss Mary’s turn at the instrument, she performed an Irish folk song, straining to sing notes out of her range. I winced at the dissonant din. Mr. Bennet ought to hire a vocal tutor for the poor girl.

A sharp squeaking noise burst through my stormy thoughts.