Page 8 of Disarmed

M iss Lydia may not have any other notable accomplishments, but Darcy could not deny that she was an excellent dancer.

She skipped through the steps with the energy and enthusiasm of a lamb in springtime, and once again Darcy wished his own sister had as much passion for life.

Even before Wickham had deceived her and shattered her confidence, she had been quiet and reticent.

So had Darcy himself. It had not been a problem for him as a landlord, a guardian, and a member of the ton, but it occurred to him now that it made him unhappy.

He often observed Bingley or his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam conversing easily with strangers, flirting with ladies, or enjoying comfortable banter with other gentlemen and felt a pang of jealousy.

Any social occasion made him feel awkward, he struggled to read people’s tone and expressions, and he was often dismissed by his peers for being dull and solemn.

Perhaps what he and his sister needed was a lively Bennet to balance them. He imagined once again taking Miss Elizabeth to Pemberley as his wife. She would bring joy and laughter to their home. They would fill it with little bright-eyed children who were as impish as his dance partner.

“I did read that poem,” Miss Lydia said.

He looked at her in surprise. “The sonnet?”

“If that is what it is, I suppose. I stole Lizzy’s book so I could look it up. Do not tell her. If she knew, she might want to discuss poetry with me, and I do not think I could withstand it.”

“I shall not ask what you thought of it, then.”

“Well, I do not think it describes me, if that is what you were expecting.”

They stepped forwards and turned.

“Does it not?”

“No. It sounded to me like the writer still loves whatever no-good rogue has crossed them. I never loved Mr Wickham, of course. I did really like him, though, and we had so much fun together.” Her features hardened. “No, I hate him for lying to me. And I shall get my revenge somehow.”

The form of the dance separated them, and they moved apart to circle around the couple below them.

“You will not do anything too…foolhardy, will you, Miss Lydia?” Darcy asked when they came back together.

“Oh, you must not worry about that, Mr Darcy. I shall just find a way of humiliating him somehow, I think. I shall make sure nobody realises it was me, though. I can be quite clever, you know.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Darcy murmured.

“I know he was lying about the living and the money you gave him, so I assume you were also telling the truth about the girls he hurt.”

Darcy did not want to have this conversation. Not with a fifteen-year-old child and not in a crowded ballroom.

He nodded.

“Then I shall take revenge for them too!” she declared.

Darcy fixed her with a look he hoped was stern. “If I were your brother, I would forbid you to even contemplate such action.”

She raised her eyebrows and spun away from him. When the pattern brought them back together, she changed the subject. “Why did you tell Mr Bingley that Jane loves him?”

“I did not tell him that. I merely said she might hold him in some affection. I wish to see my friend happy. Maybe I am not as cruel as you believe me to be.”

She regarded him speculatively. “Maybe not,” she conceded. “But you are still proud and prejudiced.”

He was about to defend his pride when he remembered a similar conversation with Miss Elizabeth. He had told her that where there was a real superiority of mind, pride would be always under good regulation. I am a pompous oaf!

He chose his words more carefully this time.

“I can admit to a little pride without being ashamed of it. I do not think it wrong to be proud of one’s heritage, one’s family, one’s achievements.

But I am not too proud to admit that I have recently discovered I can be prejudiced and that first impressions are not necessarily the correct ones. ”

Her expression was knowing. “I think we have both learnt that!”

They stepped up the line, turned, and faced each other once more. “You still would not marry Lizzy, even though you admire her. You still think you are better than us.” She looked him directly in the eye.

Darcy turned his gaze away. “You do not understand. As a man in my position, I have a responsibility to my name. My uncle is an earl, and he expects me to marry someone who will at least not harm his political career. But most importantly, my sister will come out in a year or two, and any connections I make will affect her standing too. She is expected to make a fine match—”

“Pah!” Miss Lydia interrupted him. “You do not like going out and being social, so why do you care what other people think about you? You could just sit in your castle with all your money and still be envied by all of them. And as for your sister, she probably has a massive fortune, and I imagine she is at least somewhat pretty, so she should not have any trouble attracting someone. And in any case, do you not want her to marry someone who actually likes her and might make her happy rather than someone who just wants her money and to be connected to other rich people? That sort of person does not sound very pleasant to me. What kind of brother are you if you do not want her to be happy?”

Darcy frowned. Wickham had wanted Georgiana for her money.

And her connection to Pemberley, of course.

Plenty of fellows out there would make love to his sister in the hope of an alliance that would fill their dwindling coffers or increase their standing in society.

He did want her to be happy above all else; but there was a balance to be found.

The na?ve girl in front of him did not understand and was simplifying the situation.

Why on earth was he speaking to her of it in any case?

The little minx had a way of ripping down his guard and forcing him to reveal his innermost secrets!

They stepped up the line, turning around the leading pair and falling into place beside Mr Collins, who was dancing this time with Miss Catherine.

Miss Lydia spoke in lowered tones. “Poor Kitty. Mr Collins has threatened to dance with us all. I have anticipated him, though, and have enough officers willing to say they have already engaged me so that I do not have to submit to that particular torture.”

Underhanded and insolent it might have been, but Darcy could not help but admire her foresight.

He also could not blame her. Mr Collins was a tall and lumbering fellow.

He was clearly unused to any sort of exertion as his brow was virtually dripping with sweat, and his face was an unattractive shade of scarlet.

Miss Catherine seemed to wince every time he took her hand—were the man’s palms as damp as his forehead?

At that moment, the parson turned in the wrong direction, almost tripping over his partner and falling towards Darcy, who was forced to step hastily to the side. He glared at the absurd fool.

Miss Lydia watched him carefully. As they turned to step down the line again, away from the unfortunate pair, she said, “Poor Lizzy will probably be engaged to our cousin by tomorrow. Just look at what you have condemned her to.”

Darcy felt bile rising in his throat. She would never agree to marry the man, surely!

“If you do truly believe that Mr Collins is going to propose to your sister tomorrow and that she needs saving from him, you are going to have to be the one to do it. As you said, she likely hates me, and I cannot just turn up at Longbourn on the morrow and offer her my hand. That would be ridiculous.”

She eyed him for a few moments, then turned her head away. “Yes, you are probably right.”

They were reaching the end of the set when she spoke again.

“Lizzy is watching us, you know. She probably thinks I coerced you into dancing somehow and have been so rude that you will disdain our family even more.” She laughed, then her face turned serious again and she looked up at him.

“You should dance with her. The next set is the one before supper, and if you do not ask her, I am sure Mr Collins will claim her hand then escort her into the dining room. At the very least you could save her from that .”

Darcy risked glancing over towards where Miss Lydia inclined her head. Miss Elizabeth was standing alone, her eyes on him and his partner. Fortunately, the pattern of the dance required him to turn before she could catch him observing her.

Miss Lydia was regarding him thoughtfully. “Mr Darcy, what would you have done if you were my brother and had found Mr Wickham and me in the cottage?”

Darcy knew exactly what he would have done. He had wished many times that Wickham had been present when Georgiana had told him of their planned elopement. He fixed her with an earnest gaze. “I would have thumped him, Miss Lydia.”

She grinned. “I thought so.”