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They sank into an awkward silence, broken only by a few stiff, formal remarks.

Elizabeth was half bewildered at herself, but she could not seem to think of what to say.

She might have been far more charming, she thought with private dismay, if she could have only felt less.

And as for Mr Darcy — how was his silence to be explained?

He did not seem to regret dancing with her.

Of that much, Elizabeth was confident. But as to whether his quietness indicated feelings as deep as her own or the utter lack of them, she was entirely at a loss.

After their dance, Mr Darcy took her back to her aunt and uncle and thanked her for the dance. He did not leave them immediately. “Thank you for allowing me the honour, Miss Bennet,” he said.

While he was speaking, a gentleman in a wolf mask approached them. Both the exquisite tailoring of his uniform and the set of his shoulders revealed him to be Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“I see you have beat me to the first dance,” he said wryly.

If Elizabeth had not guessed his identity from what she could see of his appearance, she would have known it was the colonel at once from his sense of humour. “Yes, it was very kind of you to ask, Mr Darcy,” she said.

“Not at all. It was my pleasure,” Mr Darcy said. But despite his courteous words, his voice was entirely too neutral to interpret.

“May I have the next dance?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

She could not see his smile through the mask, but she could hear it.

It was like him to so kindly claim the dance, even after her rejection.

He was a gentleman indeed. Elizabeth could be grateful for that, even if there was only one man with whom she truly wished to dance.

“I would be delighted, Colonel,” she replied with a weak smile.

After a moment, the Colonel turned to leave, saying he would come to claim his dance after he had spoken with a few of his friends he’d seen near the punch table. Abruptly, Mr Darcy made his excuses and left as well.

Elizabeth’s heart turned over. Had he mistaken her friendship with the colonel for something more? She would have liked to explain, but any explanation would have been far beyond the bounds of discretion.

“My dear, are you quite well? You look a bit peaked.”Mrs Gardiner looked at her with concern, and Elizabeth vowed to mask her feelings with more care.

“I am well,” Elizabeth lied. She turned away and caught a glimpse of Mr Darcy standing on the other side of the dance floor. He met her gaze, and she quickly looked the other way.

Am I a fool for daring to hope?

Her aunt did not believe her, by the look on her face. She pursed her lips and gazed after Mr Darcy. “Is something amiss between the two of you? It was a surprise when you agreed to dance with him.” She studied her for a moment. “Has your opinion changed about the gentleman?”

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. The question was no small test of her resolve to keep her feelings hidden.

Yet her aunt, of all people, deserved as much of the truth as Elizabeth could give her.

“It has, for much of what I thought I knew was wrong. He was not to blame for the incident with Mr Wickham, as I was led to believe.”

“I see. Well, he seemed very cordial and attentive during your dance — and before, I daresay. There is something very fine about his face, I must say. Such an intelligent expression! And I must say that he is a very handsome man.”

Elizabeth again found him across the room. “Yes, he is,” she said absently, wishing that they were still near each other.

If Elizabeth hoped for an end to the night’s turmoil, she soon found she was not in luck.

No sooner had Mr Gardiner stepped away to bring them some punch than the evening took on a distinctly sour note.

Even before the next set could begin, Mr Wickham appeared before her, wearing a silk mask and his most charming smile.

He wore his military uniform, its red wool as bright as Colonel Fitzwilliam’s — though on closer inspection, he did not cut nearly so fine a figure, for his brass buttons were growing rather tarnished.

“Miss Bennet,” he said in a voice like honey, bowing low at the waist. “Mrs Gardiner.” He nodded to her aunt. “I wonder if I might have the pleasure of the next dance?”

Elizabeth did not choose to return his smile. “No, thank you, Mr Wickham. I am engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam for the next set.”

“The gentleman is fortunate. Then perhaps the next?” He allowed his eyes to rove over her person, from the top of her head to her slippers peeking out from under the hem of her skirt.

“I must say, I have never seen you look so radiant.” He beamed at her, but she felt nothing at his compliment.

Knowing what he had done to poor Miss Darcy had cooled any tender feelings she might have felt.

“No, thank you, Mr Wickham. I do not wish to dance with you — not now, nor ever again,” she said coolly.Rude as it was to refuse a dance, the man who had treated Miss Darcy so cruelly deserved no courtesy.

He raised his brows in surprise. “My dear Miss Bennet, has something happened?” he asked.“I had thought we were coming to an understanding.”

“Then you were mistaken,” Elizabeth replied coolly. “I had hoped my note would prevent any such confusion. I have come to a better understanding of your character, and I do not wish for any other type of understanding between us.”

Even after such a rebuff, Mr Wickham did not leave.

To Elizabeth’s relief, Mrs Gardiner stepped in then.

“Mr Wickham, you have heard my niece. She has said she does not wish to dance with you. I suggest you leave her alone, before I call the master of ceremonies and have you thrown out.” She took Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed it before glaring at Mr Wickham.

“We do not wish to make a scene, but suffice to say, our acquaintance is at an end. Good evening, sir. You may take your leave now.”

Mr Wickham stood aghast for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open at Mrs Gardiner’s rebuff.

Secretly, Elizabeth rejoiced at her aunt’s calm, firm rebuttal of his attempts to rekindle their friendship.

His eyes narrowed, and the smile that had seemed plastered to his face soon fell away.

“Very well, then. I shall leave you in peace.” He glared at Mrs Gardiner, then wove through the crowd as quickly as he could to get away from them.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness he is gone,” she sighed. Her aunt released her arm but stayed glued to her side. “I was afraid you would have to call the master of ceremonies. I do not think he would have stopped if you had not stepped in.”

“There is nothing I despise more than a man who will not leave a lady alone when she so clearly has no interest in him.” Her aunt huffed with disapproval.

They looked after the odious man, and when he disappeared into the corridor outside the main ballroom, they both relaxed their shoulders.

“Forget him. I do not think we shall ever have to suffer his presence again. With any luck, he will return to his regiment, and we shall not have to see him again throughout the rest of your stay here in London.”

“One can only hope,” Elizabeth agreed.

Her aunt turned to her and took her hands.

“Forget the man,” she said again. “His behaviour was odd — so desperate. I think we were right about him wanting to snatch you up for the inheritance. You are well rid of him.” She nodded once, as if to add weight to her words.

“Now, you must turn your thoughts to more pleasant things — like your dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam. He will come to collect you in a moment.”

Her aunt looked around the room, and Elizabeth followed her gaze. However, there was no sign of a man in a wolf mask coming to claim his dance yet.

“You are right, of course,” Elizabeth said with a sigh of relief. “My dance with the Colonel is sure to chase all the unpleasantness of our encounter with Mr Wickham away.”

∞∞∞

Darcy wove through the crowd, looking for his cousin.

The music was about to start for the second dance set, and he had not seen him go over to Elizabeth to collect her for the dance.

He came around a corner and almost ran smack into him.

“Fitzwilliam! What are you doing out in the hall still? Miss Bennet is waiting —”

His cousin turned around fully then, and he saw he was unmasked. “What happened to your mask?” he asked.

Fitzwilliam shrugged. “It was the oddest thing, Darcy. I was about to go into the ballroom when some chap came and snatched it off my head. I thought at first that one of my fellow soldiers was playing a trick on me, but I have not been able to find the man that did it.”

“The man was wearing a uniform?” Darcy asked, his stomach sinking. “Was he in an officer’s uniform?” he asked.

“A lieutenant, by what I could see as he was running away.” Fitzwilliam shook his head and raked his fingers through his sandy blond hair. “Why would anyone want to steal my mask?”

“I am very much afraid that I know,” Darcy said grimly, and started toward the ballroom without another word of explanation. He had to find Elizabeth before it was too late.