Page 10 of Disarmed

T he slight weight of the delicate hand resting on his arm gave Darcy a welcome feeling of warmth and calm.

He did not regret for a moment dancing with Miss Elizabeth.

Being able to hold her hand, gaze into her eyes, and watch her lithe figure move through the steps had been nothing short of enchanting.

He had been so enraptured, it seemed, that he had been open in his speech and manner; much as he had been with her sister.

How had a few short conversations caused him to rethink his long-held behaviour and opinions?

Perhaps he had drunk too much punch because he had no cause to repine.

He was actually…happy! He had a beautiful woman on his arm, he had enjoyed several spirited conversations without wishing himself elsewhere—he was actually enjoying himself!

Was this an example of the balance she could bring to his life?

He led Miss Elizabeth to a chair next to Bingley and Miss Bennet. He was pleased to see that Mr Collins sat far away from them with the Lucases, and Miss Bingley was also not seated in the vicinity.

Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine were of course surrounded by a group of officers.

Their voices were loud and their remarks not always polite, but Darcy strangely had no wish to condemn them.

They were young girls enjoying their last years of relative freedom before the trials of marriage and motherhood.

Of course, Miss Lydia’s behaviour in the past could have led her to ruin and disgrace, but she simply needed a little guidance to set her on the right path.

What is happening to me? I seem to have completely changed my opinion of the girl I previously despised and argued with in the cottage, and I am now feeling brotherly towards her and allowed her to persuade me to dance with her sister.

A clatter of plates startled him; he must have been wool-gathering.

Miss Bennet was speaking about Christmas at Longbourn.

“We expect my aunt and uncle Gardiner to arrive on the twenty-third of December. Christmas is always a large and noisy affair, but it is wonderful to be surrounded by all those we love.”

Darcy imagined these were the relatives from Cheapside that Miss Bingley had so disparaged. “Are the Gardiners your father’s family?” he asked.

Miss Bennet smiled sweetly. “No, sir. Mr Gardiner is my mother’s brother.”

Darcy fought the impulse to grimace. A male equivalent of Mrs Bennet!

He must not have been entirely successful in controlling his facial expression, though, as Miss Elizabeth was looking at him with a frown of her own.

“Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are the very best of people,” she said with a hard edge to her voice.

“My uncle has a very successful import business, and his wife is all that is genteel and accomplished. Jane and I spent a great deal of time with them when they were first married, and we have continued to visit them often and help with the children. They frequently take us to the theatre, the opera, and galleries,” she concluded with a sharp look in his direction.

“Then I am disappointed I shall not be here to meet them,” he said evenly. She continued to observe him for a few moments before turning her attention to her soup.

It occurred to Darcy that these Gardiners might explain the vast difference in manners between the elder Bennet sisters and the younger.

If Miss Elizabeth was honest in her appraisement of her relatives—and Darcy had no reason to suspect she might not be—then perhaps the amount of time Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth had spent with them away from Longbourn had been vastly beneficial.

He supposed that the younger girls had rarely left their home and had therefore not been exposed to any wider society or influences.

Perhaps this Mr Gardiner was quite unlike his sister; or perhaps, as seemed to be frequently the case, his first impressions of Mrs Bennet had been inaccurate.

He looked across the room at the matron, who was sitting with a group of other ladies of a similar age, some of whom he recognised.

Her cheeks were crimson from either the punch or the heat, and she was rattling on about something whilst continuing to spoon food into her mouth.

Her voice increased in volume with the energy of her gesticulations—and presumably her enthusiasm for the subject—and Darcy caught a few words.

“…such a charming young man! And so rich!”

No doubt she was speaking of Bingley.

“They will soon be married, I am certain. What a fine match it will be for my Jane. And of course, that will throw my younger girls in the way of other rich men!”

Perhaps in this case, first impressions could be relied on, he thought ruefully.

How had he even allowed himself to consider marrying into this family?

To have such a lady as a mother-in-law would be insupportable!

He had allowed the wiles of the youngest sister and the charms of the second eldest to beguile him.

He glanced to his left. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth appeared to be most uncomfortable; no doubt they had heard their mother’s words too.

Bingley also had a distressed air about him.

Miss Elizabeth cast a pleading gaze towards her father, but Mr Bennet simply shrugged and raised his glass to his daughter.

Did he not see how much he wounded his family by his inaction?

“I do believe this ball will be the first of many I shall hold at Netherfield!” Bingley declared in a tone too cheerful even for him. “Perhaps a Twelfth Night celebration? Is there typically an event in the neighbourhood to mark that date?”

Miss Elizabeth and her sister spoke of local customs and previous events, but their eyes darted often to the other side of the room, where Mrs Bennet continued her pronouncements, and Darcy felt their shame at having such a mother.

He looked over to where Miss Lydia sat to see how she fared.

She clearly had not noticed her mother’s vulgarity as she herself was equally excitable.

Darcy watched in dismay as she flirted with the young officers around her, all of them highly amused by her antics.

Darcy would never have allowed his own sister to act in such a way.

As she reached over to grab Captain Denny’s sword, Darcy caught her eye, and she froze.

He frowned and gave a slight shake of the head, and to his utter amazement, after a brief hesitation, a rueful smile appeared on her lips, and she sat back down.

Had Miss Lydia Bennet curbed her behaviour because of him? He felt inordinately proud of her.

As he turned back to his companions, Miss Elizabeth looked quickly away, and he suspected she had observed his wordless communication with her sister and wondered about it. He knew not how to explain it, however.

To distract her from her musings, he asked about her habit of walking.

“Oakham Mount is my favourite destination,” she said to him. “It is a little farther than most of my regular paths, but I try to visit it often.”

“And what is it that so enchants you about that particular place?” Darcy asked.

She was silent and thoughtful for a moment.

“It is a small hill compared with what I am sure you are used to in Derbyshire, but it is the highest peak for miles around here. When I reach the top, I always marvel at how vast the sky seems—how it stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. I can imagine London just over the horizon—and the sea and the continent beyond. It makes the world feel both small and huge at the same time. The sky can reach all those places in just a moment, so they seem so close, yet I feel tiny in comparison to its greatness.” She laughed. “I am sure that makes little sense.”

“No,” he said, “it makes a lot of sense, Miss Elizabeth. The hills in Derbyshire are much higher, yet the sky only stretches as far as the next peak. Somehow it feels confined. Although you are standing high above the towns and villages below, you still cannot see much farther than when you are on lower ground. It is very frustrating! My father used to take me to a peak a few miles away, which was enclosed on three sides by other hills, but to the south there was a spectacular view down the Derwent valley. As a child, Derby seemed so far away, and the sea even farther, but I imagined the river flowing there so swiftly.”

They smiled at each other, and Darcy lost himself in her eyes. She had never looked at him in this way before—with true pleasure. He wanted to repeat the experience over and over again for the rest of his life.

The spell was broken by the most awful noise.

Darcy winced and turned abruptly to see where it was coming from, and his heart sank when he realised that the caterwauling was in fact Miss Mary Bennet singing.

The poor girl had a weak voice and was most dreadfully out of tune.

He glanced at Miss Elizabeth; her cheeks were pink, and she was biting her lip, an expression of dismay and embarrassment on her countenance.

The room had gone quiet apart from some whispering and giggling at the performer’s expense.

At last, the horrific ordeal came to an end, and there was some relieved applause.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be enough to encourage Miss Mary to try another song, and Darcy was not certain anyone assembled would be able to bear it.

Yet worse was to come when her father, finally rousing himself to action, loudly told the unfortunate creature to cease.

His indifference to the girl’s distress was more painful than the assault on Darcy’s ears, and he found himself softening his opinion of another Bennet daughter.

Miss Elizabeth excused herself and went to Miss Mary, and Darcy was pleased to know that the girl had at least someone in her family who cared about her. Soon after, the guests began to return to the ballroom, the musicians took up their instruments again, and the dancing resumed.

After tarrying for as long as he could manage at the table, Darcy was surprised when he finally did enter the ballroom to see Miss Lydia standing up with her cousin.

It seemed the girl’s scheme to avoid the torture was not as robust as she had thought.

Mr Collins was as graceless as ever, but his partner was deftly avoiding his blunders, skipping lightly around him, keeping her toes well clear of his stumbling feet.

Miss Lydia also seemed to be speaking to the man with an earnest expression on her face, but he in turn appeared to be receiving her words with disgust, if the look on his countenance was to be believed. Was she shocking him with tales of flirtation and dishonour? Darcy would not put it past her.

When the dance finally ended and the perspiring parson executed an inelegant bow before almost running away from his youngest cousin, Darcy stifled a laugh.

Miss Lydia by contrast glided confidently in Darcy’s direction, a very self-satisfied smile on her face.

She did not stop but slowed as she reached him, turning her head in his direction and murmuring, “And now I have done a good deed for you, Mr Darcy.”

Darcy turned to watch her retreating figure, perplexed. Then a smile threatened to erupt on his face as he realised—whatever outrageous falsehoods she may have employed, he was certain Miss Lydia had just persuaded Mr Collins never to propose to Miss Elizabeth.

Buoyed by that thought, and not wishing to attract gossip from those who had witnessed his attentions to the youngest and the second-eldest Miss Bennet, Darcy exerted himself to stand up with Miss Jane Bennet as well as Miss Lucas and Mrs Hurst before the ball came to a close.

He had no opportunity to speak to Elizabeth again that evening, but he spent a great deal of time watching her clandestinely, his heart and mind at war over what to do about his burgeoning feelings for her.