Page 18

Taking in a deep breath, Darcy told himself that he must and would regain his self-control. It was utterly unacceptable to spend Bingley’s ball thinking only of Elizabeth, to find himself looking for her again and again as the evening progressed.

He might, perhaps, excuse his distraction as concern for her.

Elizabeth’s uncharacteristically stiff expression as her cousin led her to the dance floor left him in little doubt of whom she had meant when she spoke of a man who importuned her, yet did not threaten her.

The fawning glances he gave her during their dance and the care with which Elizabeth avoided seeing them made it all too clear: Mr Collins must be the annoyance she had spoken of during their walk.

Even the memory of the conversation was enough to leave him shaken by the intensity of his rage at the thought of someone bothering Elizabeth.

Darcy shook his head and resolved again to control himself.

Such a reaction went beyond the natural horror and indignation he would feel upon hearing any woman was being accosted.

He could only conclude that he felt a special protectiveness for Elizabeth.

If there was an obvious reason for such an emotion, it was one he did not care to admit, even to himself.

Though his attraction to her had grown impossible to deny, he need not compound the folly.

Yes, Elizabeth herself was elegant and lovely, witty and intelligent, but could he really consider exposing Georgiana to such a family, to the contempt of society upon seeing the manners of their nearest relations?

It would be the basest selfishness to do such a thing to his sister because he had fallen in love with a pair of lovely eyes, and the still lovelier spirit that animated them.

He would not do it. He would gain control of his emotions.

The night crawled by, in no small part because Miss Bingley hardly left his side.

Darcy found himself wondering how he had ever welcomed her society — indeed, had even encouraged it, if not to the degree Miss Bingley undoubtedly wished.

He had thought her an elegant lady and a suitable acquaintance for Georgiana, once.

No longer. Had she said one word that evening that was not excessive praise of himself or unnecessary criticism of others?

Worse still, he could hardly speak to Elizabeth in her company.

Darcy would have liked to go to her after the first dance of the evening — despite all his resolutions, someone ought to comfort and protect her against her cousin’s unwanted company, if her father would not do it.

The thought returned, again and again. Elizabeth simply did not look at ease with the degree of attention she was receiving.

Darcy was no stranger to the mood in a ballroom when those seeking an advantageous marriage knew of a truly favourable candidate: the voracity of sharks that have scented blood was not dissimilar.

When she came out, Georgiana would be such a target.

He could not imagine doing so little for her as Mr Bennet appeared content to do for his daughter.

“Oh, dear,” Miss Bingley said, breaking his reverie. Darcy was instantly on his guard. That tone, a thin layer of dismay pasted over vicious satisfaction, boded no good for anyone.

Looking at the dancefloor, the reason for Miss Bingley’s comment was immediately obvious. Mr Collins was even then leading Elizabeth to the very centre — and dropping to one knee.

For a moment, Darcy was frozen in shock, unable to believe that anyone would be foolish to do what Mr Collins obviously intended — and to a woman who had so clearly signalled her disinterest. That moment of astonishment cost him dearly, for Mr Collins had already begun his proposal by the time Darcy shook himself into motion and began to move through the crowd.

The thought of adding himself to the humiliating scene was disgusting, impossible. It was only more impossible to leave Elizabeth there alone.

Before she was forced to answer, he cleared his throat and began.

“Mr Collins, you must desist at once. My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, certainly would not approve of your actions.” He spared a moment of private amusement at his aunt’s likely reaction at the invocation of her name.

“You should have saved such a proposal for a more private moment, and when everyone involved may have more carefully considered their actions.”

He glanced at Elizabeth. Her cheeks were a fiery red, from mortification, no doubt. That was some compensation for this embarrassing spectacle, at least: that Elizabeth might suffer less of it.

But it was necessary to go on, for anything Mr Collins might say would surely plunge them all further into disaster.

“Will you speak with me in private for a moment, Mr Collins?” Darcy asked.

Extricating him from the dancefloor was surely the quickest way to end the unpleasant scene.

Another glance at Elizabeth confirmed that speed was essential, for she was clearly livid.

How like her to feel so passionately, and yet to remain so civil, so calm!

She must be absolutely furious at her cousin, yet she held her tongue.

He applauded her for her wherewithal. Doubtless, it would be many days before she could face anyone who had been in attendance that evening.

He certainly would have wished to hide himself away, had he been in her position.

“I would be most honoured to speak with you, Mr Darcy,” Mr Collins said, bowing so deeply that he nearly fell to the floor.

Darcy stepped closer to Elizabeth and whispered close to her ear. “Rejoin your father, Miss Elizabeth. I shall handle things from here.”

She said not a word, but hurried away, going to her father and mother on the other side of the room.

The room erupted into a low hum of conversation.

Darcy grimaced: he had not the slightest doubt that they would be whispering about the incident for days and weeks to come.

He motioned Mr Collins toward the hall, and he led him to the library.

There, at least, they might have the mortifying confrontation in private.

Darcy paced, looking into the flames of the roaring fire for a moment, before turning to see Mr Collins standing a few paces off, his knees bent in a most uncomfortable-looking pose.

Perhaps his legs pained him, or perhaps he was attempting to show his humility.

Knowing Lady Catherine’s ideas about condescension, he had an uncomfortable feeling it was the latter.

Darcy gritted his teeth and summoned all his resolution. As horrible as the conversation was about to be, at least he had succeeded in getting Mr Collins away from Elizabeth.

“Mr Collins, I understand you hold the living of Hunsford on my aunt’s estate?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, I am,” Mr Collins said, bowing again.

“Lady Catherine has often condescended to pass my little cottage in her little phaeton and ponies, and even come in for tea on occasion. She has been most kind to me, and helped me make many improvements on the cottage in hopes that I might soon bring a wife there.”

Darcy could not help the scowl that crossed his face.

“In view of what transpired just now, I assume you are eager to find a wife. But may I say that my aunt would not approve of your methods? To make such a public spectacle of your proposal — it is unfair both to your host, and, more importantly, to the woman you wish to marry.”

Mr Collins gave his apologies and proceeded to make many overtures of his change of heart, thanking Mr Darcy for steering him in the right direction.

“I am sure that your advice will help me deeply as I go through negotiations with Mr Bennet for Miss Elizabeth’s hand, and I assure you, I will not forget your kindness. ”

Darcy left the exchange even more disgusted than when they had entered the room. One thing was certain: Elizabeth must not be allowed to marry Mr Collins.To marry such a woman to such a buffoon — it would be an unconscionable waste.

And you cannot bear to think of her with anyone else. Darcy forced the thought down. He would learn to control his feelings. He would not allow them to overpower him.

He took a moment to compose himself before leaving the library. Darcy was glad to see that the party had resumed. The dancing was underway again, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. He joined Bingley, who stood by watching over the proceedings on the dancefloor.

“Ah, there you are. How was your little chat with our illustrious Mr Collins?” Bingley said with a sly grin.

“I would rather forget it ever happened,” Darcy replied grimly. “How are things out here?”

Bingley folded his arms over his chest. “I believe the awkwardness has largely passed.

Darcy followed his gaze to see that he was watching Miss Bennet, who was now dancing with the eldest son of Sir Lucas.

No doubt Bingley had already used up his two dances with the young woman and would have to suffer the rest of the evening watching her dance with others.

“I must confess, I was surprised that you stepped in to help Miss Elizabeth. It is unlike you to speak in such a public setting.”

Darcy shook his head, looking away from the dancefloor for a moment.

“I agree. But I could not bear to see Miss Elizabeth insulted in such a manner. What was Mr Collins’s aim?

It is ignoble to force a woman into accepting one’s hand because she feels she has no choice but to save face in front of so many people.

It is manipulation, the vilest of sins.”

“Disagreeable, certainly.”

“Yes. And one must consider the risk of Mrs Bennet pressuring her into actually accepting the man’s proposal.”