Page 87 of A Matter of Murder
“Quick, ask me to dance,” she murmured.
“Lizzie, I don’t—”
“It’s either that or talk to my mother!”
Darcy didn’t hesitate. “May I have this dance?”
“You may.”
Lizzie placed her hand in his and he swept her out onto the ballroom floor so they could join the country dance that was just beginning. Lizzie caught a glimpse of her mother’s exasperation before she was pulled into the movements.
Darcy stood across from her, watching the leading couple, waiting for their turn to take the next steps. How serious he looked! If she did not know him, she’d have thought him very unpleasant indeed. He seemed intent on completing the dance in utter silence, so when he drew close to her again, she remarked, “There are a great many more people here than I thought there would be.”
“Indeed,” he replied.
She cast a small, surreptitious look about the room. There were a good number of red-coated officers in attendance. “I imagine Lydia and Kitty are over the moon to have so many opportunities to dance.”
“I imagine so.”
Now she had to work at not rolling her eyes. “It’s your turn to say something now, Darcy. I made a remark about the danceand the number of couples, now you may say something perhaps about the room.”
“The room is... very large,” he allowed.
“If that is all you have, perhaps we’d better remain silent.”
“Is it a rule that we must speak while dancing?”
“One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd spending the next half hour together, totally silent. People might think that you don’t like me very much.”
He waited to deliver his reply until they stepped together in close proximity and he was obliged to take her hand. “They would be very wrong,” he murmured.
Lizzie’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning outright. Darcy’s intense gaze followed her as she glided across the ballroom, stepping apart from him and crossing other couples, but always coming back. His touch scorched her skin, and the rest of the ballroom seemed to drop away. Perhaps people imagined they were courting, and wondered as Agnes had when he’d ask her to marry him. But to think of Darcy as merely her suitor... no, he was more, so much more. He was her partner in detection and the first person she wanted to tell when there was a new development in a case. He looked out for her safety and protected her—even if she didn’t want to admit she needed protecting. And he listened to her and never walked away, even when she was being truly obstinate. She had known for a while now that she loved him, but now as they danced together, she knew with a startling clarity: She was in love with him, and she wanted to do this—dance with him andsolve mysteries with him, tease him and argue with him—for the rest of her days.
The music came to an end and Lizzie stood there, staring at him, while the other couples clapped and conversation picked up around him. It was in that weakened state that her mother pounced.
“Elizabeth! I was waiting for you to come down and you were late, but never mind. I’ve been having Jane introduce me to as many people as possible, and have you seen how many young gentlemen are here? Officers, Lizzie!”
“I—” Lizzie started to say, but her mother continued.
“Now, you cannot dance with one gentleman all evening. Mr. Darcy, I know you don’t mean to commandeer my daughter when there have been no intentions stated between you two?”
Lizzie wanted to shout, stomp her foot at the idea of Darcy asking another young lady to dance, but this was a ball. It was what was done. They could get away with one more dance, perhaps. But three dances and Mrs. Bennet would resume talking about an engagement.
Was it wrong that Lizzie almost didn’t mind, if it meant she got to keep holding on to Darcy’s hand?
“Of course not,” Darcy said, releasing Lizzie. She missed the warmth of his touch immediately. “Although I hope you’ll save another dance for me later, Miss Bennet.”
“Later,” Mrs. Bennet said, pulling Lizzie away. “Now come along, I’ve got at least three officers I can introduce you to...”
Lizzie was dragged unwillingly across the room, where shewas introduced to a number of people whose names she promptly forgot. Her renown in Meryton for saving the Burtons from jail had spread, and she found herself nodding politely as many people gave her their opinions on the Burtons’ innocence or guilt. However, when an officer by the name of Mr. Spotswold remarked that a lady couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of criminal law, Lizzie didn’t even feel like putting him in his place. Instead, she plastered on a fake smile and said, “Excuse me, I’m afraid I’m feeling faint.”
She pulled away from the cluster of conversation and began weaving aimlessly through the crowd, ignoring her mother hissing her name behind her. Everything felt warm and close, and she wanted to look for Darcy. She wanted to be back on the dance floor with him. Or even better, on the outskirts of the room, away from the press of bodies.
Instead, she found herself nearly in the center, at the edge of the dance floor. A pocket of space allowed her a moment to pause and think about her next steps as she watched the minuet. She spotted Jane and Bingley, and Charlotte dancing with Mr. Thomas. Darcy was dancing with Clara Jeffries, and Lydia was grinning as she danced opposite a red-coated young man who looked as though he was having trouble keeping up with her.
“It’s gauche, is it not?” came a voice to her left, and she turned to find Caroline standing not three feet away, also watching the dancers.
Irritation flared up in her and Lizzie couldn’t help the words that spilled out. “It is not, and you know it. Besides, I seem torecall a similar dance at a ball where you danced quite happily with a certain red-haired gentleman.”