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D arcy tried to look impassive, but the wave of noise in the room was intolerable. This dance was all that was dreadful, and soon the whispers would start.

He realised he was scowling, and forced his features back to something resembling indifference. He kept his gaze above the heads of everyone — he would not catch anyone’s eye. But there was a prickle of uneasiness. Someone seemed to be laughing at him.

He tightened his jaw as the whispers began. Ten thousand a year! A great estate in Derbyshire!

He watched as Sir William took Bingley across the room to introduce him to the loudest of the ladies, one surrounded by a gaggle of daughters. He hid a shudder.

But soon the sense of amusement was directed at him again, and he glanced around. Bingley was still talking to the florid lady, the one with the penetrating voice. Darcy frowned slightly; the sensation seemed to be emanating from that corner of the room.

Attempting to look indifferent, he glanced over.

Most of them looked very like younger versions of their mother, tall and fair-haired.

Bingley was talking to the tallest of them, a young woman who had a certain statuesque beauty about her.

The young lady who stood beside her was in marked contrast. The only daughter — unless she was a friend — who was dark; as dark as the other was fair, and whose mahogany hair curled irrepressibly about her face.

She was very small — probably as frail as his cousin Anne, and her figure certainly could not be described as statuesque.

Elfin — that was what she seemed to be. Her heart-shaped face held a pair of laughing eyes and an expression of sheer joy in living.

Darcy realised he was staring, and drew his gaze away fast. It had been she who was laughing, he was sure of it. Laughing at him.

He turned away, and began to prowl around the edge of the room. A servant offered him a glass of wine, and he took it from the tray. It would give him something to hold as he endured the dreadful evening.

Bingley was dancing now with the fair-haired beauty of the first group he’d been introduced to. Darcy wondered if she could possibly be sister to the dark-haired young lady, they were so different in appearance.

He risked glancing back at her and found she was gazing at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. He looked away fast, angry with himself.

Soon he was standing next to an ostentatious floral arrangement, watching her dancing with Sir William.

She seemed happy to be dancing, with not a trace of resignation that it was to an older gentleman and not a young man. He was puffing along beside her, listening to her comments, nodding and smiling.

As Darcy watched, he noticed that all those dancing near her stopped talking to their partners, so they could listen and catch her words. And they all smiled more genuinely than they had before listening to her.

Darcy found himself wondering what conversation with Sir William could possibly be so entertaining.

He would never know. He was determined not to dance. It would be a punishment to stand up with any of them. He frowned, quite decided. He would not even stand up with either of Bingley’s sisters. He was not inclined to listen to their complaints today.

He looked back at the dance floor. Her gown was the same as all of them, cut in the simple clothes of country gentlefolk, but somehow it seemed to swirl better around her delicate figure. He caught sight of a dainty ankle, and looked away hastily.

It was quite twenty minutes later when Bingley approached him. “Darcy! I must have you dance. I hate to see you getting no pleasure from the evening.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it.” Darcy’s gaze slid away from the young lady, who was now sitting out, talking animatedly to another young woman.

Bingley shook his head. “Let me ask Miss Bennet to introduce you to her sister, there. She’s very pretty too, and seems to cheer the whole room.”

Darcy knew who he was talking about, of course, but he let his gaze swing back to her. “She is tolerable, I grant you, but not handsome enough to tempt me ; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

The moment he finished, he regretted what he’d said; in his irritation he’d spoken more loudly than he intended.

He melted back against the wall, hoping very much that his flush of mortification wasn’t visible in the poor lighting of the room.

What had Bingley said his partner’s name was? Oh, yes, Bennet. So this was a younger Bennet sister, not a friend. And she was at this moment crossing the room to another young lady. She whispered to her, and they both looked at him and laughed.

Darcy glared at the wall beyond them. How could he stay here longer? He turned and crossed the room to the other wall, wishing heartily that the evening was over.

The younger Miss Bennet now had quite a group of young ladies around her, and there was much amusement. Darcy was angry. Perhaps he ought not to have made that comment, but she ought not to have repeated it; it made her as ill-mannered as she must think him.

His lips twitched — in that, at least, they were equal. He watched as a tall young man in a naval officer’s uniform approached the group and detached the young lady from it. She hesitated a moment, and glanced at her mother, but shrugged and went to the dance floor with him, smiling happily.

He heard the mother’s loud voice. “Well, no, sister. It won’t matter today if she dances with him again. It will cheer her up.”

He ought to apologise, he knew that. And the sooner such things were done, the easier it was. However, he had not been introduced, and the certainty of being overheard by many made the whole thing seem impossible.

Perhaps he could get Bingley to persuade Miss Bennet’s introduction. Then he could ask the sister to dance, and apologise then.

No. How could he dance with only the one young lady? It would start gossip, and it was certain that gossip would spread beyond the town.

He must wait and take the next opportunity to be introduced, and in the meantime, endure. He determined not to watch the younger Miss Bennet, and her joy in dancing on every occasion she was asked.