Page 10 of Darcy's Disguise (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles #3)

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“ M r. Dawson,” Reverend Rutledge greeted him warmly as he entered the schoolhouse that morning, his eyes filled witha particular kind of good-natured expectation.

Darcy, adjusting a student’s workbook,nodded politely.“Good morning, sir.”

The reverend folded his hands. “I hope you will not think me forward, but I wish to extend an invitation.There is to be an assembly in Meryton tomorrow evening.A lively affair—music, dancing, and good company.”

An assembly? Where Elizabeth Bennet would be?

The reverend smiled, misinterpreting Darcy’s silence. “I know a man of your disposition might not seek such entertainments, but I believe you might findopportunities there.More families in need of tutors, perhaps. While we have the privilege of your knowledge and experience, I should like to see your services extended.”

Darcy inclined his head. “I would be honored.”

Elizabeth had been prepared foran evening of the usual pleasantries, but she had not been prepared forWilliam Dawson, standing at the entrance of the assembly hall.

Nor had she been prepared forhow very well he wore a cravat.

Her eyes swept over him before she could stop herself.

A man cannot be transformed by mere clothing.

And yet, he had in some ways and in others he was…himself.

He had not seen her yet. He stood tall, comfortable in his own skin, comfortable in a cravat, hessians, jacket and tight-fitting trousers. No one conversed with him yet, but his confidence filled the space.

Elizabeth didn’t know what he was, but he was much more than a tutor. Was that wishful thinking? Or was the evidence standing right in front of her?

A call was made for everyone to enter the main hall. He moved to the front of the line as though it was expected, in front of Sir Lucas, and any others in the room. But then he stopped himself. No one noticed. Except Elizabeth.

The man had expected to enter the room first. It was routine for him.

Or had she misinterpreted his movement? Perhaps he was so unused to assemblies in polite company that he was not used to the typical order of things.

She too approached the entrance, surrounded by her sisters. Her mother and father followed behind. They were a spectacle of giggling noise, but since Mr. Dawson’s acceptance of them, she’d seen them through a different lens, a patient one. And she’d been far less embarrassed. As she looked around to see the reactions of others at their arrival, most seemed genuinely pleased to see them. Perhaps their behavior endeared people to them at the same time that it needed some refinement.

Jane stayed back by Lizzie while the others hurried into the assembly rooms. Mr. Dawson was to enter last, and she was ready to make her way in his direction.

She wasn’t certain she wanted to boldly approach him. The perfect scenario would be his noticing her and approaching she and Jane instead. But as she drew nearer, a group of giggling women rushed to his side.

They simpered and primped and laughed and toppled over one another to put a hand on his arm. She and Jane stopped in their approach, eyes wide.

“I am all astonishment.” Jane turned slightly away so as not to be seen as ogling or further idolizing Mr. Dawson. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“He’s handling it rather poorly.” Elizabeth put a hand to her lips to hide her amusement. But she did begin to feel for the man. “See how he is attempting to peel her hand off his arm?” She laughed. A woman standing on his opposite side laughed so loudly that he visibly stepped back. Lizzie shook her head. “Come, we must rescue him.”

Jane, who had been laughing along with her, paused. “Are you certain he is unhappy?”

“I am certain.”

They approached and as soon as Mr. Dawson saw them, his face lit. “Oh excellent. Excuse me ladies. I’m sorry we are not as yet introduced, but I do see my first few sets arriving just now.” He had to turn sideways to be able to extricate himself from their hemmed in group, but at last he stood in front of Jane and Lizzie. He offered them his arms. “Please, take them. Now.”

They laughed and immediately they became a happy trio, crossing the assembly hall together.

Lizzie shook her head. “I’m quite astonished at the way they are behaving.”

He stretched his neck to loosen his cravat a bit. “You’d think it would have lightened up here with the tutor position and everything.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to unburden himself.

Lizzie found his comment curious, as though he’d not always been a tutor. It drew attention to the fact that she knew very little of his life outside of Meryton. “I know. What a great way to hide from all the attention, here in a small town as a tutor.” She watched him, but he just nodded, and then they approached the main assembly. The footman nodded at Lizzie and Jane and then waited for Mr. Dawson’s name.

“Mr. Dawson.” He nodded.

The footman announced, “Miss Elizabeth and Jane Bennet and Mr. Dawson.”

They entered as the music began. He turned to Elizabeth. “Please may I have the first two with you and then Jane, the next two with you?”

Lizzie laughed. “So, you are dancing then?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it again as though he’d misspoken. “How right you are to ask. I assumed I would dance, but Reverend invited me to come so that I might meet more families and broaden my tutoring opportunities. I don’t suppose all the ladies will wish to dance with the local tutor.” He cleared his throat. “Which I suppose also applies to you both.” His mouth lifted. “I apologize for making this as awkward as is humanly possible. How does one withdraw an invitation to dance?”

Lizzie enjoyed his discomfort simply because he seemed to be a man who was rarely discomfited. He’d talked his way into something of a conundrum, hadn’t he? Soon, it would have to all become clear. Who was he really? What was his background? Until then, things were getting more amusing by the second.

Jane took pity on him first. “Of course I will dance with you Mr. Dawson. We are more casual about some things here in Meryton. A dance is harmless, is it not?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Lizzie lifted an eyebrow, and turned to indicate all the many people watching him. “If you do dance, you shall have to dance with them all you realize.”

His mouth dropped in horror. “Oh, no. I shall need a rest at that point and then some fresh air and then perhaps a good talk with the men in the room. Cards after that.” He shook his head. “You two are my only sets of the evening.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded and then dropped into a low curtsey. “Then I’d love to dance my first two sets with you.” Did Mr. Dawson understand the significance? Asking for your first set showed large preference and two in a row was the most you could ask another person. She didn’t think he knew or he might not have asked. But no one would think anything of such preferential treatment of the local tutor and she imagined the reverend would be grateful someone had cared for his tutor if he invited him.

Their first set was a quadrille which he found most enjoyable. He was beginning to realize that anything with Elizabeth was more enjoyable. Jane and George Lucas, one of the local gentry, stepped and circled and moved with them in their foursome. And he quite enjoyed who he considered to be the finest women in the room all to himself and George Lucas. Every time he passed Elizabeth, brushed hands with Elizabeth or spun, matched steps—all the things one does in a Quadrille—with Elizabeth, his heart picked up. The smile that tugged at his lips spread across his cheeks until his face hurt from the exertion.

Elizabeth’s face was flushed and her eyes shining. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, Mr. Dawson.”

“I am. This might be the most enjoyable quadrille of my life.” He laughed at himself. He’d rarely spoken so freely with anyone. “That sounds perhaps a bit more emotional than I intended.”

“I’m happy to hear it. And again, amazed at your proficiency in yet another area.”

He dipped his head. “You might just credit my mother. She ensured that I had instruction in many areas.” Perhaps that would stave off her curiosity a bit further.

“A noble sentiment.” She circled him. “And convenient.”

He shook his head. A conversation would need to happen, and soon. “Miss Elizabeth, do you think that only the privileged care for their polished upbringing, that a man of more humble beginnings could not educate himself or learn to dress or carry himself well? Do you suppose that goodness is limited to one class only?” His question was unfair. He knew it. “Do you want me to account for the goodness of my parents in some mysterious way, when perhaps they were simply good?” He smiled to lessen any supposed rebuke. “I will admit I am not all what I seem, but perhaps it is not so nefarious as you are imagining.”

She dipped her head in concession. “I did not mean to demean your upbringing by suggesting such a one could not produce an educated person.” They stepped together, arms linking for a circle. “If you wish I will desist in discussing my suspicions and merely attempt to work them out silently in my mind.”

He sighed. “You could be the most stubborn woman of my acquaintance.”

“And you the most stubborn man.”

The music ended. He bowed and she curtseyed.

“Then we shall have to continue on in our mutual obstinacy.” He offered his arm, prepared to lead her where the next set would begin. “But I would dearly prefer you discuss your thoughts with me rather than let them linger unobstructed in your mind.”

Her laugh rang out in the air around them and sent happy gooseflesh up his arms. She was a delight. He could only be grateful they had another set.

Darcy had danced before—more times than he cared to count with women of all sorts. He had always found ita duty rather than a pleasure, an obligation rather than an indulgence.

But whenElizabeth turned to him, her cheeks flushed from their previous set, her eyes alight with something unreadable, he realized he wanted to dance with her more than he had ever wanted anything.

Their first dance wasuneventful, or at least,as uneventful as it could be when he was utterly taken with her. He’d not stumbled or given himself away. They had simply enjoyed the time, and he suspected perhaps she had eased out of simple friendly feelings to something more.

But then the music for a Waltz began.

Her expression faltered, and her eyes met his, questioning.

He held out a hand, confident. “This might be the most provident moment of my life Miss Bennet. Would you dance a Waltz with me?”

Her eyes lit and her intimate knowing smile followed. “I would not miss this chance to see you attempt such a dance.” Her words were carefree and light, but her eyes held longing.

She stepped closer, her face just below his, a hint of her breath feathered across his skin. Yes, he would enjoy this indeed.

Her hand in his, their stepsperfectly matched, the music swept them intoa world all by themselves.

When he stepped forward, it was as if she knew it was coming. She anticipated his shift in direction when he began a spin. Their feet were light, tripping over the floor as if floating in the clouds. Darcy felt his whole world shift around her, their movement of two blending together in one. She moved closer to him as they spun and twirled and leaned together over and over again. His hand pressed protectively against her back. His other cradled her fingers. She was precious, treasured. She trusted his lead. It was magnificent.

“Mr. Dawson,” Elizabeth murmured as they moved, “you are a very accomplished dancer.”

Darcy’s eyes shone. “We are so well matched.”

“Yes, we are. You seem to read my mind, my whims, my desires. How is such a thing possible?”

“I don’t know, but I would that this set last the rest of the evening. And then we must repeat it whenever we have a chance.”

She dipped her head. “If we get such a chance…” She tilted her head,studying his face.He did know that Waltzes were not typical for tutors and gentlewomen, did he not?

He turned her around and then brought her closer than before. “I know this is all untoward. I know you are all goodness to dance with a local tutor. I know all of this, but I feel something with you. There is something here, isn’t there? Our stations are so different, but were they not?” He was bold, so bold. They glided across the floor, she following every move of his lead, almost reading his mind. It was the most beautiful dance he’d experienced. Surely she felt it, noticed too?

But she looked away. “Mr. Dawson.” Her soft sigh tore through him. “I cannot answer you.” Her eyes flitted to his. “You do know what you’re asking, don’t you? I think perhaps no matter what my personal inclinations, I could never leave you with any expectations or promises. Much would need to change.” Her arms shook. “As much as I would wish otherwise.” Her eyes widened as if trying to communicate more to him. “I would wish so much more.”

Her gentle rebuke was deserved. He was a bumbling fool. He had spoken without thinking, in the moment. And of course he was asking too much. “I most sincerely apologize. Please forgive my forward conversation. Please forget it ever happened.”

She shook her head. “Perhaps we should not be so familiar, perhaps this dance was a mistake.” Then she eyed him, her gaze challenging. “I find it difficult to believe a man of your station had the means to practice such a refined step.”

Darcy’sheart pounded. Now was not the moment to reveal all. "Perhaps I had a patient instructor," he said carefully.

Elizabeth’s eyesnarrowed slightly. "A private tutor?"

"A private tutor," he confirmed,barely suppressing a smirk.

The music was coming to a close. He could not let it end in such a way, could not leave her regretting the moment. “No matter what we are, who we are, this Waltz with you was perfect and I’ll remember it forever. I want you to know. I’m not asking anything of you. I should not have spoken as I did.”

She held up a hand. “Mr. Dawson.”

He paused. He spoke words he’d never imagined he’d ever say. “Apologies.” But this was how a tutor would behave, would he not? Stumbling over his words like a school boy in love? Perhaps he was assuming the role more deeply than he realized.

“Let us just forget so much was spoken and continue as we were?” Her eyes held a hint of worry. “I should not like to lose our friendship.” She swallowed.

“Excellent.”

The music ended.

He bowed and she curtseyed and then he led her off the floor.

She did not turn to him again, just kept walking, off the floor, out the door and into the night air.

Elizabeth needed fresh air, the brisk feeling of chill on her skin. Her mind exploded with emotion, whirling about her from their dance, the way he held her, the way hehad not been anything like what he should be.

She knew she had to stop their romantic moments. And yet she found herself wanting him near. Most desperately. The words to continue as friends had been wise, but could she endure such a thing, knowing that waltzes like that one were possible with him?

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned slowly toward him. “Mr. Dawson.”

“I hope you are not retiring for the evening,” he said, glancing at the sky. “The night is far too pleasant for that.”

Elizabeth lifted a brow. “And I suppose you came out here only for the fresh air?”

He tilted his head,a slow smile curving his lips.

"Perhaps," he murmured. "Or perhaps I followed you. My friend."

Her breathcaught. His added, “my friend” felt nothing like a friendly response. The space between themfelt smaller than it had been a moment before. The air between themwas charged with something unnamed, something undeniable.

Elizabeth inhaledslowly, pressing her hands together, as if she could will away the racing of her heart.

"Mr. Dawson," she said softly, "do you ever regret choosing this path for yourself?"

He hesitated.

Then,so softly she almost didn’t hear it—"Every day since arriving in Meryton. But I’ve been grateful at the same time for my position as tutor. I feel I’ve been able to get to know you in a different manner than I ever would have."

Elizabeth’s chest tightened.

He had saidsomething important just now—something true, something she did not yet understand.

Something she wanted to.

He stepped closer. “I know I agreed to be your friend. And I’m happy to do so. Perhaps we could begin tomorrow with the friendship and tonight could be a poem entitled, “What if?”

She had to laugh at his boldness. He was too much. But she loved every minute of it as much as she should not. “What if’ is a dangerous game.”

Darcy’s fingersbrushed against hers. It wasbarely a touch—nothing at all, and yeteverything. “But what if it wasn’t? What if we discovered we are good for each other, what if everything were possible?”

She studied his face. Was he merely toying with the evening, playing out a beautiful fantasy or was there something in there that was sincere? She tried to see deep inside and all she could discern was truth. He seemed completely sincere. What if he was? What if they could be together? What if …

She stepped closer. “What if we were free.”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, watching her. “What if I could openly declare all these thoughts that fill me?”

She lifted her chin to see his eyes more clearly. “What if we could spend long afternoons reading together.”

“Riding together.”

“Walking the miles around your home for hours on end.”

“What if we could enjoy warm evenings?”

“And cold ones?”

“What if I beat you in Whist every time we played?”

“What if I knew how you like your tea in the morning?”

She closed her eyes. “What if.”

“Elizabeth.”

Her eyes shot open, jarred from their make-believe moment. Her name. He stood close, too close.

She stepped back. “Sir. You are too forward. I did not give you permission to use my name.” Once apart, she could think more clearly. “We cannot continue thus. You need to remember your place.” She shook her head. “I am not at liberty to…” She turned from him and ran.

Under her breath as she left the room, she whispered, “love you. I’m not at liberty to love you.” She choked on a sob, covering her face with her hands.