Page 9 of Disarmed

E lizabeth was certain her eyes must be deceiving her.

Not only was her youngest sister standing up with Mr Darcy, of all people, but they both seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The gentleman showed no sign of annoyance or frustration, her sister did not appear disinterested, and they were keeping up a steady stream of conversation—mainly from Lydia, of course, but her partner was by no means silent.

One or other of them may have looked her way from time to time, but she could not be certain.

Mr Darcy did not even appear that serious. In fact, she had noticed a small smile cross his lips a few times. Could this be a dream? Had she in fact fallen asleep in the corner after drinking too much punch?

She had been concerned—as she had been at every social event since Lydia came out—that her sister would embarrass her family at this ball, and surely behaving inappropriately in front of Mr Darcy would more than accomplish that.

She shuddered to think how he might influence his friend’s decision to continue to court Jane.

But how had Lydia convinced him to ask her to dance in the first place?

Any why? Had she forced him to ask her for the set?

She doubted Mr Darcy would allow anyone—even Lydia—to force him into anything.

But why would he want to dance with her ill-mannered fifteen-year-old sister?

An ice-cold shiver ran through her. Surely Mr Darcy was not that kind of man?

Elizabeth watched as a large grin lit up Lydia’s face.

Mr Darcy had his back to her, so she could not see his expression.

She hoped her sister was not goading the man.

Just then, the final notes of the piece sounded, and the dancers bowed and curtseyed.

She moved her head to peer around the crowd; Mr Darcy was accompanying Lydia towards her.

In fact, accompanying did not describe what was truly happening; Lydia seemed to be pulling him in Elizabeth’s direction, and she tried to decide whether she should flee so she was not obliged to speak to him.

Before she had time, however, Lydia’s eye caught hers—they had both seen her.

She resigned herself to waiting for whatever bizarre conversation might arise; for surely no two people in the world had less in common than Mr Darcy and Lydia.

The gentleman greeted her, then turned to her sister. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Lydia,” he said solemnly.

To Elizabeth’s great mortification, Lydia tapped him on the arm with her fan.

“You are most welcome, Mr Darcy,” she said.

“You cannot escape the exercise now, you know. The whole of Meryton has seen you dance with me, so if you do not ask some other ladies too, my neighbours will think you have singled me out!” She giggled, and Elizabeth wanted to disappear into the floor.

Her sister’s disgraceful display was even worse than she had expected. She looked away in humiliation.

The sound of Mr Darcy’s deep voice made her startle. “Miss Elizabeth, if you are not engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?”

Her shame was now complete. Not only had Lydia subjected Mr Darcy to goodness-knows-what during their set, she had then threatened a scandal to induce him to dance with another Bennet.

Was her intention to punish the man for something?

It was highly possible. Lydia was far sharper than anyone gave her credit for, and she was fiercely loyal to those she loved.

She had laughed at the time but had afterwards been incredibly angry about Mr Darcy’s comment about Elizabeth at the Meryton assembly.

Was she now taking her revenge by forcing him to dance with the lady who was merely tolerable?

Whatever her sister’s reasons, Elizabeth found she must accept the gentleman.

To do otherwise would mean no more dancing for her for the remainder of the evening, and even though Captain Denny had informed her that Mr Wickham would not be attending, she still hoped to stand up with other amiable partners.

She glanced up at Mr Darcy. His face showed a hint of redness, and she wondered whether it was embarrassment or anger. “I thank you, sir, I am not engaged,” she replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Collins and Kitty approaching. Kitty looked very cross, and Elizabeth imagined her sister had not enjoyed her dances with her cousin any more than she herself had. Mr Collins looked exhausted. He was mopping his brow with a handkerchief and panting heavily.

As soon as they reached the group, Kitty tore her arm from Mr Collins’s and fell into Lydia, whispering fervently in her ear. Lydia looked up at Mr Collins, gave a most unladylike bark of laughter, and the two ran off together, giggling merrily.

Elizabeth was certain she had died and gone to hell. She was now standing with the last two men in the world she wished to talk to. Fortunately, Mr Collins was too fatigued to speak and Mr Darcy too taciturn.

After a few moments, however, Mr Collins seemed to feel the need to attempt it, and he addressed her. “Cousin Elizabeth,” he gasped. “Would you—” He paused for breath. “Would you do me the hon—” He took another gulp of air. “Would y—”

“If you are requesting your cousin’s hand for the next set, she has already agreed to dance with me.

” Mr Darcy saved the man from having to try again.

It was rudely done, but Elizabeth expected no better of him.

She was strangely torn between two unique emotions: pity for Mr Collins and gratitude for Mr Darcy for having saved her from dancing again with the inept parson.

Her cousin stared at Mr Darcy. Elizabeth was certain he was about to argue with the man when they were rescued by the arrival of Jane and Mr Bingley.

Mr Collins, who had recovered somewhat from his exertion, expressed his eternal gratitude to his host for inviting him to such an event and his hope of seeing the gentleman again before he departed for Kent.

“I doubt that will be possible, sir,” Mr Bingley replied. “I must go to London tomorrow on business.”

Elizabeth looked at her sister in alarm, but Jane’s serene smile suggested she had already heard the news and was unperturbed by it.

“I expect to return in three or four days,” Mr Bingley continued, “but I understand you leave for Kent on Saturday.”

Mr Collins confirmed that it was true. “Lady Catherine requires my presence, of course, and I hope to be able to deliver the happiest of news about my own situation.”

He gave Elizabeth a look that made her stomach churn, and she sought to change the subject quickly. She turned to Mr Darcy. “And do you accompany your friend to London, sir, or do you plan to stay longer in Hertfordshire?”

“I have no plans to leave the neighbourhood at present. As Bingley said, he will return in a few days, and I have no business to take me to town. I expect to stay a little longer in the area. However, I shall join my sister in London for Christmas.”

His speech was surprising both in its length and its content. Elizabeth had imagined he would use any excuse to leave their confined and unvarying society, and her suspicions were aroused. Why this sudden wish to stay in their company longer than he had to?

“Ah, of course,” Mr Collins interjected. “And I am sure your plans include the fair Miss de Bourgh.”

Mr Darcy’s face turned red, and he clenched a fist at his side. “I visit my aunt and cousin every Easter,” he said. “I have no need to see them before then.”

His hard tone and piercing glare seemed to frighten Mr Collins, for he excused himself quickly on the pretext of speaking to Sir William. Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief.

“Mr Bingley, do you intend to spend Christmas in Hertfordshire?” she asked.

The gentleman gave a wide grin. “I believe Christmas at Netherfield would be delightful! My sisters may wish to spend the winter in town, but I have found that Hertfordshire has many inducements to keep me here.” He looked down at Jane, and her cheeks turned pink.

A delightful warmth rushed through Elizabeth; it appeared that her sister may soon be happily married to the most amiable man of her acquaintance.

Before long, the musicians returned to their instruments, and Mr Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm. She took it, and along with Mr Bingley and Jane, they joined the forming line of dancers.

They had been silent for several minutes when Mr Darcy spoke. “This is a good size room for the number of couples present, I believe.”

Did Mr Darcy just make small talk? She supposed he had been speaking to Lydia during their dance; perhaps he was not so averse to it. “It is. I do find private balls a good deal pleasanter than public ones.”

He declared his agreement, and they stepped up the line, engaged for a moment in the movements of the dance.

When they were still again, he asked, “Have you continued your reading of Mr Shakespeare?”

She eyed him. “I would have done so, but I seem to have mislaid my copy.”

The corners of Mr Darcy’s lips twitched. It was only a brief and tiny movement, but she definitely saw it. Had he truly stolen her book? But why?

They executed some turns. “I know you are fond of Shakespeare’s sonnets, Miss Bennet, but do you also enjoy his plays.”

“I do indeed! Both reading them and watching them performed when I have the chance. I saw Romeo and Juliet when I was in London last spring, but I have to say I prefer the comedies to the tragedies.”

He gave her a slight smile. “As do I.”

The steps separated them for a moment, allowing her to recover from the surprise.

“You do? I would have thought you to favour Hamlet perhaps, or Othello.”

His smile was wider this time. “First impressions are not always correct, madam.”

That was certainly true! Her first impressions of Mr Darcy gave her to understand that he would never invite her youngest sister to dance, let alone appear to enjoy it! She wished to discover why he had done so and also to apologise for Lydia’s behaviour.

“I hope my sister did not importune you earlier, sir.”

“Not at all.” He looked thoughtful as they danced a figure of eight around the couple above them.

When they stood facing each other once more, he continued.

“Miss Lydia is similar in age to my own sister. She is a little…unpolished in company, I grant you, but I wish Georgiana had a little of her liveliness and confidence.”

Elizabeth was certain her shock must be written on her face. Mr Darcy wished his sister to be more like Lydia? Was she not already perfection itself? Miss Bingley certainly seemed to think so.

“Will you tell me about Miss Darcy?”

He was silent for so long, she wondered whether the question was too intrusive; but he had been the one to mention her in the first place.

“My sister is…shy. She naturally possesses all the accomplishments desirable in a young woman, but I often feel she is not truly happy.” He looked away, and she suspected he was regretting his candour.

“It is a trying age,” she offered.

He nodded, a tight look on his face. “She…suffered a…disappointment last summer. Her spirits have been low.” He looked down, then back up at her, an earnest look in his eyes.

“When I arrived in Hertfordshire, I was exceedingly worried about her and not in the best of moods. I may have allowed that to influence my behaviour towards those I met.”

He grasped her fingers suddenly, and she startled before realising it was part of the pattern. They moved forwards and backwards, then he let her go. She felt a strange twinge of regret.

She suspected that he was attempting an apology. Had Lydia reminded him of his insult at the assembly?

Her musings were interrupted by the approach of Sir William Lucas, who addressed Mr Darcy, congratulating him on his dancing before stating that he hoped the pleasure would be repeated when a certain desirable event took place.

His glance at Mr Bingley and Jane left no doubt as to his meaning, and Elizabeth felt a fresh wave of mortification.

She looked at Mr Darcy expecting to see his typical hauteur but was amazed to see him instead smile and nod towards his friend. “Indeed, sir,” he responded.

With another low bow, Sir William moved on, leaving Elizabeth to reconsider everything she had ever believed about Mr Darcy.

There was of course still the man’s history with Mr Wickham.

She was certain the amiable officer could not have entirely invented such a tale, but had Mr Darcy truly been so very bad?

Jane had suggested others may have misrepresented them to each other, and Elizabeth had dismissed it immediately, but perhaps it would be prudent to now consider such a possibility.

She decided it would be best not to raise the subject with Mr Darcy until she had observed both gentlemen further.