Page 13 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

A few days later, Mr. Darcy found himself once again bent over Mr. Bennet’s chessboard.

He was having some difficulty concentrating, as he could not help hearing a number of female voices raised in expectation, exasperation and excitation.

“There seems to be a good deal of activity at Longbourn today,” he observed.

Mr. Bennet shook his head in disgust. “There is an assembly tomorrow night, Darcy, and the ladies of the neighbourhood are in an uproar over it.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled, relaxing into his chair. “It is no different in London, Bennet, believe me.”

“I recall Mrs. Bennet saying that you were not a dancer yourself, Darcy.”

“I know how to dance, of course.”

“But you do not care for the activity?”

“I have not in the past, but…” And here Mr. Darcy’s voice trailed away, as he imagined Miss Elizabeth in his arms, whirling around the floor, her hand clasped in his, her face near to his, him lowering his face down to hers…

“As you will not be – what was the word? – ah, yes, prey here in Meryton, might you reconsider your position? I would be happy to supply you with a ticket.”

“I have not the clothes for it, I fear.”

“The cobbler in town would be delighted to sell you a pair of dancing shoes, and no one will much care about the rest. The assemblies are always rather short on men, and no one will quibble over-much about how a new man is attired.”

But Mr. Darcy could not imagine asking Miss Elizabeth to dance in his work clothes, and so it was that he found himself in Meryton that afternoon, purchasing black dancing shoes with silver buckles.

He then went across the street and purchased an embroidered waistcoat, a white shirt, a pair of black trousers and finally a black coat.

All in all, these purchases, while they could not be compared with the clothing he had left behind at Pemberley, would at least not disgrace him.

***

As the Bennet carriage pulled up to the assembly hall, Elizabeth asked, “Do you think he really will attend, Papa?”

“Who? Mr. Darcy? I gave him a ticket, and I believe he does intend to be there. But remember, Lizzy.”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, Papa, I have no intention of falling in love with him. But I would be glad to have a dance with him!” She laughed at his expression.

And I suspect he would be glad to dance with you, Lizzy, her father thought. Mr. Bennet was torn; he very much believed the two would be a good match, but at the same time he had warned Darcy away from his Lizzy. He wondered now if he had done right to encourage the man to come to the assembly.

Elizabeth knew her father was concerned, but was certain that she was in no danger.

Mr. Darcy was handsome, to be sure, and he carried himself with quite an air of good breeding, but she scarcely knew him.

She was not a silly, romantic fool to fall in love with a man simply because she had been warned not to.

As she entered the ballroom, she saw her dearest friend standing by the door. “Charlotte!”

“There you are at last, Lizzy; I had begun to doubt that you would come at all.”

“There was rather a scuffle at the last minute between Lydia and Kitty over a blue ribbon that they both claimed as their own and, of course, that both wished to wear tonight.”

“And who won?”

“Both of them, I suppose, as Jane took the blue ribbon from her own hair and offered it up.”

Charlotte shook her head in mock despair. “Jane is too good for this world.”

“She is; I would have given them each a scolding and taken the single blue ribbon for myself!”

Charlotte laughed, and then said, “Listen! The musicians are tuning their instruments; you are just in time for the first set.”

Elizabeth sighed. “But who will dance it with me?”

“There is always John Lucas – and, in fact, here he comes.”

Indeed, John Lucas was always available to dance with Elizabeth, and that dance usually included unobtrusive hints of a proposal, which Elizabeth unobtrusively turned away.

She hoped he would never actually voice a proposal, as she would then have to actually turn him down, and such a conversation had the potential to create a rift between the Lucas family and her own.

After the first set, with its expected almost-proposal and expected almost-rejection, John Lucas returned her to her mother, who was busily fanning herself. “Goodness, it is so warm in here! Is it not, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth assured her mother that it was, indeed, warm, and agreed that the assembly hall needed larger windows to adequately air the room. Suddenly the room grew quiet.

“What is it? Lizzy, is something happening? I cannot see over Mrs. Goulding’s turban; why she has to wear feathers is something I will never…”

Elizabeth heard no more, for she saw – heavens, was that Mr. Darcy?

He was wearing quite a nice coat, and a white, white shirt, and his cravat was very elegantly tied, and he looked every inch a fine gentleman.

Perhaps Erasmus was right when he said vestis virum facit !

And if clothes did make the man, then Mr. Darcy was a very fine man indeed.

Mr. Darcy was aware that his entrance had caused rather a stir, and he was grateful that it was only a moment before Mr. Bennet was at his side, grumbling at him. “If you hoped to not be seen as prey, Darcy, you have a devilish poor way of going about it.”

“I could not dishonour our friendship by coming to the dance looking like a farm labourer,” Mr. Darcy protested.

“Balderdash,” Mr. Bennet replied, succinctly.

“Perhaps it is,” Mr. Darcy admitted. “But I do hope to dance with your daughters, Bennet.”

“All of them?”

It was a challenge, and Mr. Darcy accepted it. “All of them.”

He danced the second set with Miss Bennet, who was as graceful on the floor as she was off it. “You will like Charles Bingley,” he told her.

“I like most people,” she demurred, softly.

“And he will like you.”

“Will he?”

The dance separated them; when they were together again, Mr. Darcy said, “As it happens, I suspect he will like you very much indeed.”

Miss Bennet only smiled and then lowered her eyes, modestly. She was the perfect lady, Mr. Darcy thought. Bingley could do no better.

Mr. Darcy hoped to secure Miss Elizabeth for the next set of dances, but he saw her being led to the floor by an older gentleman, so he looked about and found Miss Mary on her own, sitting on a chair. “Will you dance with me, Miss Mary?”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Mr. Darcy! Me?”

“Yes, you. Unless there is another Miss Mary nearby,” he said, hoping that this mild teasing would put her at ease.

“There are a good many Marys in the room, I suspect, but none nearby,” she replied, rising to her feet and setting her reticule on her chair.

“It does seem that Mary is a very popular name,” he continued, as the dance began.

“Oh, yes, Mary and Elizabeth. Sometimes it seems half the female population of England bears one of those two names. Catherine is also quite popular; I wonder that my mother was able to go so far afield as to choose the sobriquet of Lydia for her youngest.”

“You seem far less shy tonight, Miss Mary. In all the times your mother has set us next to one another at dinner, you have not spoken near as much,” he observed.

She was quiet for the next minute, and he worried that he had offended her. Finally, she said, “I am nervous when I am under my mother’s eye.”

“I understand,” he replied, gently.

“Do you? I suspect not.”

“I have a cousin who is so terrified of her mother that she cannot string two sentences together in front of her.”

Miss Mary laughed. “I am not quite that bad. But I am sorry for your cousin.”

“As am I,” he said, realising suddenly that it was true. He should write to Anne, making certain that her feelings had not been hurt by what he had written to Aunt Catherine.

When the set ended, he escorted Miss Mary back to her chair, and set off to find Miss Elizabeth.

Ah, there she was, in the company of another young lady.

He glanced briefly at the other lady, and then his eyes were drawn back to Miss Elizabeth.

How lovely she looked tonight, in her pale green dress, with its full skirt, puffed sleeves, and silver embroidery on neckline and sleeves!

She wore a simple silver chain about her slender neck, and he was certain that she was more beautiful, more breathtakingly magnificent, than any lady he had ever seen before, no matter how fashionably dressed!

The two ladies curtsied as he approached, and he bowed. “Charlotte, may I present Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy to you? Mr. Darcy, this is my dear friend, Charlotte Lucas.”

“I believe I know your father, Miss Lucas.”

“I am certain that you do, Mr. Darcy. He takes it upon himself to know everyone in town, and would not lose a moment in making his way to your doorstep. You are at Netherfield, I believe?”

“Yes; I am aiding Mr. Bingley.”

“Who has a broken leg,” she said.

“Precisely,” he returned. “Miss Elizabeth, might I have the honour of the next set?”

He saw her glance uncertainly at Miss Lucas, and he added quickly, “And will you reserve the following set for me, Miss Lucas?”

Both ladies agreed with alacrity. He offered his arm, and had the exquisite pleasure of feeling Miss Elizabeth place her hand upon it. Her touch was gentle, feather-light. “That was kind of you, Mr. Darcy.”

“Kind?”

“To invite Charlotte to dance.”

“I noted your concern,” he replied.

“But you did more than just note it; you took immediate action. She does not have a good many dance partners at functions such as these; she is truly a woman whose value is more than rubies, but men seem to prefer silly young things.”

“Men are fools,” he agreed.

“They are; but enough of that. What has you so nicely turned out, may I ask?”

He could hardly tell her that it was all for her, so instead he replied that since Mr. Bennet had provided the ticket, he wished to do his best not to dishonour his friend.

“Has anyone yet believed that tale?” she enquired, laughing at him.

He laughed as well. “I do not know; you are only the second person I have tried it on.”

“The first being my father, I would wager.”

“You would win that wager.”

“You must be careful, Mr. Darcy. Ours is a neighbourhood rather bereft of young men, and you may find yourself more popular than you bargained for.”

He laughed again, delighted to be with her, delighted at her teasing.

It was truly the best half an hour of his life, he thought.

He had Miss Elizabeth to himself, or almost to himself, as the dances required him to exchange partners several times.

She was as graceful as a swan, her figure mesmerizing as she turned and spun in the candlelight.

He tried to memorise every word she spoke, every smile, every turn of her head.

When the set drew to a close, he asked if she would dance with him again.

She hesitated, and finally said, “Mr. Darcy, I would enjoy that, but in all honesty, I would be happier if you would dance with other young ladies. There are too many who are forced to sit out the dances due to a lack of partners.”

He could only assent, of course, as he led her back to Miss Lucas and then escorted that young lady to the floor.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, and he did his best to fulfill Miss Elizabeth’s request. He danced with Miss Catherine and even with Miss Lydia, as he had promised Bennet, and endured a good many giggles in doing so.

But all in all, to his immense surprise, he found that he had enjoyed his evening prodigiously.

***

“Did you enjoy your dance with Mr. Darcy, Jane?”

“I did, indeed, as he is graceful on the dance floor. And you?”

“Very much. Too much, perhaps. And he asked me for a second dance,” Elizabeth said, wistfully.

“I did not see you dance with him a second time.” Jane was puzzled.

“That is because I declined; I asked him to dance with other ladies, those who might not otherwise have a chance to get out on the floor.”

“That was very good of you.”

“No, I cannot take any credit, Jane; I did it solely to guard my own heart. I thought I was in no danger, but now I am less certain.”

“You are wise to be cautious, Lizzy. I do not know why it is that he is not to be regarded as a marital prospect, but Papa would not warn us away if there was not a good reason.”

“You are right, Jane. But I must say that I would give a good deal to learn what that reason is.”

***

At Netherfield, Mr. Darcy could not sleep.

A vision of a mahogany-tressed, green-gowned fairy danced in his head, and he could not get her from his mind.

I cannot marry her, of course, he thought, but surely there is nothing wrong with admiring her.

I am in no danger of making a mésalliance, he thought, again and again.

Once Bingley gets here, and I have the pleasure of seeing him meet Miss Bennet, I will leave for Pemberley; when the Season begins, I will journey to London and begin my search for a wife in earnest.

I am in no danger, I am in no danger, I am in no danger…