Page 4 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)
E lizabeth faced Mr. Darcy as they lined up for the dance. While he was very handsome, and she supposed most ladies would think it an achievement to have him ask for the supper dance, there was something not quite — right — about his request.
He had barely looked at her, instead, he looked at her gown. And he had appeared suspicious. There was nothing to be mistrustful about, and she had to accept him, after all. It did mean she would be able to put him off any sort of trail of suspicion.
But she had watched him curiously — just as he had watched her during the first with John Lucas. Then, after he had finished the second with Charlotte and commenced dancing with Mrs. Hurst, Elizabeth joined Charlotte to ask her what she thought of their odd addition to the assembly.
“He was trying to be pleasant, Eliza.” Charlotte looked thoughtful. “I think he must be very reserved, and there is a sort of haughtiness about him. But he was polite enough to pay me attention, rather than look around the room, and he tried to look interested in our conversation.”
Elizabeth laughed. “For you, that is a very telling answer, my friend.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “So what opinion have you formed about him?”
Elizabeth frowned. “To be honest, I don’t think he has asked me to dance, instead he has asked the person who happened to be inside this gown.” She arched an eyebrow questioningly.
“It is a very distinctive colour, Eliza, as you must know. And the way it catches the light — it must be a very unusual sort of silk. I cannot conceive why you chose it when your aunt offered you the fabric to make a gown.”
Elizabeth frowned. “It suits me, and there are not many people of the right colouring to find it flattering. I did not want my uncle to be left with a bolt of fabric he could not sell.”
She stifled a sigh. It was difficult, keeping her secret safe.
But it seemed to be working. Elizabeth didn’t often flaunt expensive items in Meryton; she was happy to live a life that seemed appropriate to her station as lower gentry.
But just occasionally, she wanted to wear something nice, something costly.
What was the point otherwise of working so hard to build her fortune?
Although — perhaps it had been a mistake tonight, with new people in the area. She would have to be careful not to have her secret exposed; this dance, and the supper that followed it, were the beginning. She wanted no one to know. No one.
Papa knew of course. He was the only person in Hertfordshire who did; and even he had no idea exactly how wealthy she had become.
Only Aunt and Uncle Gardiner knew it all, and she could trust them absolutely. They assisted her to keep her business going when she could not be in town; it would have been impossible to do if she had always to work from Longbourn.
But she must not allow her thoughts to wander, and she pulled her mind back to the present, realising the music was about to begin. Mr. Darcy was looking at her curiously.
“I am sorry, sir. I ought not to let my thoughts overtake me.”
He gave a reluctant smile. “There is no need to apologise, madam. I am frequently beset by the same difficulty.” His smile was slightly crooked, and Elizabeth found herself a little flustered by how endearing she found it.
They danced in silence for a few moments before she thought she ought to seem ordinary. “This is a very pleasant room, although the town could do with larger rooms, I believe.”
He nodded. “It is a common thing, when towns grow larger than anyone imagined they would.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And of course in the early days a small town could not afford to build in anticipation of the hoped-for future.”
He looked surprised, and Elizabeth berated herself. They were not the thoughts of the average young lady. She regrouped hastily.
“It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled faintly. “I understand most young ladies are occupied by thoughts of fashion, Miss Elizabeth. I am not particularly interested in the topic, except that my much younger sister is growing into a fascination with the subject. I am not certain that I can yet hold an earnest conversation with an expert on the topic.”
Elizabeth raised her brows; she was sure it was a careful introduction to the questions he wanted to ask. She decided to attempt to head him away.
“I am not an expert on the subject by any means, so perhaps we might talk about something different. What think you of books?”
His eyes narrowed. “Books?”
“Yes.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “They are placed on library shelves, have leather bindings, and printed pages.”
His eyebrows rose. “I suppose I asked for such a rejoinder. What book have you enjoyed recently, Miss Elizabeth?”
She was happy he had not taken offence at her comment, or her eye-roll.
“Oh, I would not say I am enjoying it at the moment. I am attempting to read The Odyssey in the original Greek, using the translation Papa owns to help me understand what I am reading.” She let her eyes dance with amusement.
“I enjoyed it the first time I read it, and then again when I borrowed a different translation from the library; although I am sure I have missed a lot from the original.” She shook her head.
“But it is heavy going, so I am rereading Gulliver’s Travels in the evenings. ”
His eyes had softened, and he was beginning to look more at her and less at her gown. “If you will forgive me, madam, you are an unusual young lady. I do not know any other who would be able to study such a difficult text, or would even confess to doing so.”
“And be prepared to be thought of as a bluestocking, I suppose,” she replied tartly. “But there is something you do not know about me, Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh?” The single syllable held more curiosity than surprise.
“I am not in the market for a husband, sir. So I am quite safe to speak about whatever I wish.”
He frowned, apparently disbelieving, and Elizabeth smiled, thankful the steps of the dance would separate them for a few moments.
She laughed and exchanged a few words with Mr. Long, who was dancing with Charlotte next in line to them, until the steps took them back to their own partners.
Mr. Darcy appeared to have been waiting to answer her. “I have never known any young lady who is not in the market for a husband. Society makes it very difficult for it to be otherwise.”
Elizabeth tipped her head on one side. “Something tells me that you feel every lady is determined to catch you.” She saw his gaze harden, and lightened her voice.
“Well, you can be certain that I, at least, am not in pursuit of you, and therefore you can reply as you wish, without fear of being trapped!”
“The gown you are wearing speaks otherwise, madam.” His voice was clipped; and she bit her lip. The pretence was over.
Taking a deep breath, she rose to the occasion. “Certainly not. Should a woman not be permitted to wear a garment that appeals to her, that makes her feel special, without being accused of being in full pursuit of every unmarried gentleman who passes by?”
She drew a deep breath. “Your sister, sir. Do you insist she wears unbecoming clothes that make her feel inferior, less of a person? As for this gown; if you must know — the fabric was gifted to me by my aunt when I was last staying with them in town. And I like it. I wear it to please me , and no one else.”
He flinched, and Elizabeth decided she had said enough. They danced in silence for the next ten minutes together, and she was just beginning to think that supper without conversation would be very uncomfortable, when he spoke, his voice low.
“My sincere apologies, Miss Elizabeth; both for what I said, and for not speaking while I tried to understand how you feel.” He gave a chagrined smile, and she was mollified. She did not feel many superior gentlemen would have apologised so.
“The fault was equally mine, sir. I know I am often too direct in my speech, and to someone who doesn’t know me as my neighbours do, it must seem contentious.”