Page 7 of Dishonorable Gentlemen (Bennet Gang #1)

Keep Away

The silence that met his question growing awkward, Darcy added, “I do not wish to give offense. I have met the gentleman only once, when Mr. Bingley and I reported the incident we endured upon our first visit here, so my judgment of him is admittedly hasty.” Why did Miss Elizabeth scrutinize him with such angry suspicion?

“And, in your hastily formed opinion, what think you of our local magistrate?” she asked, the words sharp.

Darcy cleared his throat. He did not know what answer she sought, but he would not lie. “My assessment of the man is not favorable.”

Much of the tension eased from her graceful frame. “I am afraid I cannot say that he improves upon further acquaintance.”

“A sentiment with which I assume Miss Bennet agrees?” Darcy ventured, seeking a return to the earnest, beseeching young woman of moments before, not this sharp, suspicious creature.

A hard, cold glint shadowed Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. “Very much so.”

He sought about for a lighter topic. He knew so little about this woman he suspected to be his vision in the mist, but he longed to learn more. Did she enjoy reading? Drawing? Dancing? Should he ask? Usually, when in the company of unmarried misses, Darcy need not bear the burden of conversation. He’d done nothing to cultivate the knack.

Before he could attempt a verbal foray, Miss Elizabeth drew in a slow breath, then said, “By way of apology for my earlier behavior, please allow me to bring Kitty her punch. If you return with it, my mother will use any good manners you possess to see you dance with her.” Miss Elizabeth blinked once, appearing slightly startled, then hastily added, “That is, unless you want to dance with Kitty?”

Darcy studied Miss Elizabeth’s face, taking in how much younger she appeared in her moment of uncertainty. No, he did not want to dance with Miss Kitty. “I would much rather dance with you. ”

Darcy did not know from whence the words sprang. He should have conversed with her for longer before tendering such an offer. She could be a wholly unengaging companion. Someone it would be a trial to stand up with, even were she his mist-woman.

Which he felt more and more that she must be. Her elegance, her dark curls, her height, all pointed to her being the lady he’d glimpsed the morning he’d first set eyes on Netherfield Park through the fog. As did his certainty, when he’d met her on the street before Mr. Collins’ office, that it was not their first encounter.

As he watched her, it occurred to him that she had not accepted his offer to dance. In fact, her attention had moved past him. He followed her gaze to where Bingley and Miss Bennet had begun the second dance of their set. She hardly seemed aware that Darcy stood with her, or of the offer he’d tendered.

“Is silence to be my reply?” he blurted, chagrined. Women planned their evenings around securing a set with him, though he bestowed the honor on few.

Miss Elizabeth returned her attention to him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you ask me a question to which I was meant to reply?”

“I asked if you would do me the honor of a set.”

“No. You stated that you would rather dance with me than with my younger sister.” She pressed her full lips together, her eyes bright.

Was she attempting not to smile at him? Not to…mock him? Darcy stared down at her, seeking words to express an emotion he could only label as aggravation.

“Am I to understand that in the usual course of things, any hint that you might dance with a lady is seized upon, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Elizabeth asked. The humor she would not permit her lips to express danced in her eyes. “Was I meant to leap at your not-quite invitation?”

Was she always so contrary? So vexing? He should walk away. That would show her…what, exactly? That her words had struck a blow?

Her expression gentled. “It seems to me that if you desire something a worthy amount, asking for it is a small concession.”

She had a fair point. Darcy cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth, may I have the next set?”

Rather than answer, she looked past him again, then murmured, “I am uncertain.”

Shock raced through him, followed hard by displeasure. Why make such a point of him asking if she had no answer?

Miss Elizabeth nodded in the direction of the dancers. “I require assistance in keeping Jane away from Mr. Collins, whom she loathes even more than I do. Will you agree to render that assistance and, if possible, to engage others of your party in the effort? If so, I would be pleased to dance with you. If not, I am far too busy to indulge in what I imagine would be a delightful set as your partner.”

The woman was mad. He should have known. If she was his vision, she had walked about alone in some of the densest fog he’d ever seen, and then all but climbed down a cliff face. None of that was normal behavior for a gently bred lady.

“I am afraid I must insist on an answer, Mr. Darcy. Time is running short.”

Her words added to his annoyance, but rather than reply, he followed her gaze again to see Bingley leading Miss Bennet through their second dance. Both smiled, Bingley in a silly way and Miss Bennet with simple cheer. On the other side of the rows of dancers, Mr. Collins watched, arms folded across his chest, glowering and blatantly avaricious.

A surge of chivalry reared up in Darcy. He had no designs on Miss Bennet. No obligation to her. Yet, to see such an obviously sweet creature hounded by such an odious fellow as Mr. Collins, it wasn’t to be borne. “You have my assistance, and that of anyone else in my party I can bring to aid us.”

Miss Elizabeth’s answering smile was like the first rays of sunlight streaming down between fragmenting storm clouds after a rain. She quickly schooled the expression into a more demure shadow of its former glory, but happiness still glowed in her expressive eyes. “Thank you.”

As one, they set out to reach the dancers. Darcy caught Bingley’s eye, and Miss Elizabeth likely did the same with her sister, and when the set ended, the two came to join them. Fighting his way through the dispersing throng, Mr. Collins cut across the center of the hall.

Darcy bowed. “Miss Bennet, may I have the pleasure of this set?”

She blinked, surprised.

“I was escorting Miss Bennet to the punch table,” Bingley said a touch sharply.

“He was,” Miss Bennet agreed.

“Jane, you truly should go with Mr. Darcy. I will see Mr. Bingley to the punch.” Miss Elizabeth lowered her voice to add, “And an explanation.”

Over Bingley’s shoulder, Darcy saw Collins drawing near and reiterated, “Please, Miss Bennet? It would be my honor.”

She looked to her sister.

Miss Elizabeth nodded earnestly .

Miss Bennet dipped a curtsy to Darcy. “Thank you, sir.”

Offering his arm, he whisked her away, aware of the ire radiating off Bingley as he did so.

Darcy took her to the far side of the hall, forcing the square of dancers forming up nearest the musicians to break apart to accommodate them, thus reordering everyone going down the line. Miss Bennet blushed prettily and apologized profusely. Darcy cared not if he aggravated a handful of locals while completing the mission he’d undertaken. Past the assembling dancers, he watched Miss Elizabeth speaking rapidly to Bingley, whose anger melted into confusion, then reformed into determination. Mr. Collins reached the end of the room where Darcy and Miss Bennet stood, but before he could approach them, the musicians launched into a lively quadrille.

Proficient as he was, Darcy was able to devote most of his attention to the room at large as he executed the steps. He sighted Bingley and Miss Elizabeth speaking to the Hursts, then to Miss Bingley and Thomas Oakwood. At some point, Charlotte Lucas joined them, and Miss Mary. When next the dance brought Darcy around, the group had separated.

“Thank you,” Miss Bennet whispered as they met in the center of their square, having obviously come to understand his and Miss Elizabeth’s insistence.

Darcy nodded, trying to keep track of their co-conspirators among the crowd. It was not until halfway through the set that he noticed Miss Kitty partnering Robert Collins not far away. A few turns later, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had converged on Mr. Collins.

Mr. Hurst danced with Miss Bennet next, and then a gentleman Darcy didn’t know partnered her for a set. As the night wore on, more and more of those gathered in the hall joined in the scheme. It seemed Miss Bennet was well liked, and Mr. Collins far less so, though Darcy suspected that some of the gentlemen who aided their endeavor simply wished to dance with such a lovely partner.

It was not until the assembly was winding down, all three of the gentlemen in Darcy’s party having partnered Miss Bennet for not one, but two sets, and also having endured several dismal conversations with Mr. Collins, that Darcy finally partnered Miss Elizabeth. He could tell by her cheerfulness that she was well-pleased with the success of their efforts and a warm feeling of accomplishment suffused him, adding to the ambiance of the low-burning candles.

Their first dance was lively, giving little time for conversation, but the second slow. An older style, with stately steps to permit the dancers to recover from their exertions, and to wind down the evening. Candlelight glittered in the smattering of crystals in Miss Elizabeth’s hair, and in her dark eyes, and Darcy suspected he had never before fitted so well with a partner.

She must be his vision from the mist.

“Thank you for your assistance this evening, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth murmured. “I imagine this assembly was not akin to your typical outing.”

The steps drew them apart, giving him ample time to consider his reply. When next Miss Elizabeth came to his side, Darcy said, “Indeed, this evening was an aberration for me, but not a terrible one. In truth, I could be prevailed upon to admit enjoyment.” Certainly, having a mission other than avoiding marriage-minded misses and their mamas was a pleasant change.

Executing a slow turn, Darcy caught sight of Mr. Collins standing off to one side, tapping his foot out of time and scowling at the dancers. “Has Mr. Collins been pressing his suit for long?”

Miss Elizabeth’s expression pinched.

The music drew him away from her again.

When they met once more, she said, “Some years ago, he pursued her sharply and was…rebuffed. Since then, he has left her, all of us, blissfully alone. Until this evening.”

Frowning, Darcy asked, “What changed?”

Miss Elizabeth assessed him from the corner of her eye as they moved through the steps of the dance. Once they were facing one another again, she said, “I believe his renewed attentions are the result of a rumor running through the village.”

“Dare I ask the content?”

She shrugged. “It seems the whole of Meryton has already decided that Mr. Bingley will offer for my sister.”

Coldness washed through Darcy. Had the entire evening been some elaborate ruse to trap Bingley? “A rumor begun by whom?”

Miss Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, likely at his clipped tone. “By what I am to understand were numerous unsubtle inquiries made of Mr. Morris and then of Mayor Lucas,” she cast back, her words nearly as hard-edged as Darcy’s had been, then added with emphasis, “By Mr. Bingley.”

Darcy grimaced, having no delusion that Miss Elizabeth’s quick mind hadn’t followed his angry and suspicious thoughts. Meeting her gaze, he dipped his head in mute apology as the steps drew them apart again.

Coming to a halt across from her, he realized the set was over. He’d squandered his final moments of the dance offending her. Along with the other gentlemen, he bowed. Across from them, the ladies curtsied, Miss Elizabeth’s obeisance the most graceful by far.

She possessed the agility of a dancer. That sureness and strength of form. He wondered how she came by it. Gently bred ladies were often elegant, but not accustomed to a life that held any rigor.

He stepped forward, offering his arm to escort her to where her family was gathering, and asked, “Do you ride?”

Though the tension his unsubtle accusation had evoked still showed in her features, she placed her hand on his arm. “I am not known as a great rider. I do walk daily. I enjoy the exertion.”

Seizing on the opportunity she provided, he asked, “Have you taken in the view of Netherfield Park from the nearby hilltops? It is worth seeing.”

She slanted a look at him. “It is a view with which I am familiar.”

Feeling strangely daring, Darcy said, “Although, I have noted that on occasion, a fog rolls in to obscure the sight, especially quite early in the morning.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded, her lovely profile revealing little of her thoughts.

Was it the same profile he’d glimpsed through the mist?

They reached her relations, gathered together with his party. Near the broad doorway leading into the foyer, Charlotte Lucas looked back to offer Miss Elizabeth a wave, which she returned with a smile. Miss Lucas walked with an older man and woman, presumably Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, all of them well-dressed. If Darcy did not know they were shopkeepers, he might have guessed Mr. Lucas to be a country squire.

“…will certainly have to call on us at your earliest convenience, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Oakwood was saying when Darcy and Elizabeth reached the group, a sullen Miss Kitty at her side. Casting a triumphant look at Miss Bennet, who appeared to study the toes of her slippers, Mrs. Oakwood continued, “Not that anything could keep you away, I suspect. Nor you, Mr. Darcy. Not when you are both so obviously fond of my Jane.”

Pink colored Miss Bennet’s downturned cheeks. At her side, Miss Mary cast her a pleased smile. Fresh suspicion bloomed in Darcy.

“Ah, yes, well,” Bingley fumbled, his own face ruddy.

“We will be delighted to call,” Miss Bingley stated for him. “Will we not, Louisa?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Hurst’s voice was far more neutral than at the start of the evening. “Delighted.”

Mr. Hurst, who stood beside young Master Thomas, nodded along with his wife’s words.

Had they, too, enjoyed the diversion of not permitting Mr. Collins to dance with Miss Bennet? Darcy had witnessed all three assisting in the effort, but had assumed that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley would have soured on the idea after each made the ultimate sacrifice…a set with Mr. Collins.

“And I will be calling as well,” a voice said loudly from behind Darcy.

He turned, drawing Miss Elizabeth around with him as her hand still rested on his arm. Mr. Collins barreled down on them, his expression smug.

A tremble went through Miss Elizabeth. Darcy looked down at her in alarm, wondering what frightened her so.

Anger flashed in her eyes.

She did not shake with fear, he realized, but rage. A glance showed that Miss Bennet had looked up from her contemplation of the floor, all color leaving her cheeks. Her clear blue eyes held a loathing that seemed entirely foreign on such a sweet visage.

“Certainly you will call as well, Mr. Collins.” Mrs. Oakwood beamed at him, showing no sign that she noted the dislike on every face.

Nearly every face, Darcy realized. Miss Kitty stepped forward, batting her lashes. “You will call on me, will you not, Cousin William?”

Mr. Collins bowed. “I will call on all of my fair cousins, for we have for too long been estranged.”

“For good reason, sir,” Miss Elizabeth snapped.

As one, Mrs. Oakwood and Miss Kitty cast her quelling frowns.

Mr. Collins turned a smug, condescending look on her. “Yes, with very good reason, and I will admit that it has been a struggle, one understandably too momentous for the gentle minds and hearts of females to undertake, but I have forgiven you all for the loss of my dear, beloved father. So you see, you are bound to extend me the same courtesy. After all, ‘forgive, and you will be forgiven.’”

A fresh tremble of anger went through Miss Elizabeth.

Darcy looked from face to face. What did Mr. Collins mean, he’d forgiven them the loss of his father?

“It is decided, then,” Mrs. Oakwood said brightly. “Everyone will call.”

“I will look forward to receiving you, Cousin William,” Miss Kitty simpered at him.

Miss Elizabeth released Darcy’s arm. Her features set and her smile strained, she curtsied. “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, it has been a distinct pleasure to be in your company this evening. If you will excuse me, I require fresher air.”

“I have already called for the carriage, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Oakwood exclaimed. “If you will simply wait a moment, I am certain a boy will be in to announce its return.”

Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “It is not far. I will walk.” She looked to Miss Bennet and Miss Mary.

“I will join you,” Miss Mary said quickly.

“As will I.” Miss Bennet dipped a curtsy. Her gaze found Bingley as she straightened. She offered a quick smile, no less strained than her sister’s, and whirled away.

Miss Mary offered a quick farewell as well, and the three departed. Master Thomas started to bow, as if he might take his leave and follow, but his mother’s glare halted the motion.

Mrs. Oakwood huffed, turning back to Darcy’s companions. “You will accept my apologies for Elizabeth. She has always been wayward. She suffers for not having a strong male presence in her life.”

“Think nothing of it,” Miss Bingley replied with raised eyebrows.

“It would do you credit to take her in hand, Mrs. Oakwood,” Mr. Collins said, his smile condescending. “No man wants such an impertinent miss in his household and once your eldest is married, I am certain her husband will put Miss Elizabeth right. It is the duty of a mother to see to these things, do you not agree?”

“Oh yes. Certainly, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Oakwood rushed to say.

“My husband will have every sway over my unwedded sisters,” Miss Kitty added.

Darcy eyed the three with mounting disdain, a feeling he saw repeated on the faces of Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and even Mr. Hurst.

For his part, Bingley merely gazed longingly in the direction Miss Bennet had gone, not appearing to have heard anything said after her departure. Darcy reflected that if a conspiracy were afoot to unite the two, it was hardly needed. Bingley appeared quite smitten.

A footman strode in, scanned the dwindling occupants of the room, and approached Bingley. “Your carriage is without, sir.”

Bingley tore his gaze from the doorway. “Yes. Right. Well, a pleasant night all. Splendid event.”

Making his bow along with the others, Darcy then trailed them out and into Bingley’s conveyance, fortunately large enough to easily hold six, and them only five. Once they were inside and on their way, Bingley craning his neck out the window in an obvious attempt to catch another glimpse of Miss Bennet, Miss Bingley looked about at them all. The flickering light cast by the lanterns they passed mingled with the steadier glow of those mounted on their carriage to dance across her even features, illuminating her bland expression.

“That was an interesting evening,” she stated.

“Very.” Mrs. Hurst turned to her. “Do you imagine they truly are well connected? Often, such eccentricity stems from being wealthy and connected.”

“True.” Miss Bingley’s face pinched in thought. “After all, if such eccentricity were paired with a lack of wealth and connections, they would simply be mad.”

“What was that business about Collins’ dead father?” Mr. Hurst put in.

Silence met that, until Bingley turned back from the window to say, “No idea. I can tell you that there is quite a bit of dislike between Miss Bennet and the man, though. She said she would depart with alacrity rather than stand up with him, or even speak with him.”

“Miss Elizabeth said that he courted Miss Bennet once, years ago, but has ignored her since, until now,” Darcy found himself saying. He did not care to gossip, but the situation was too odd to ignore.

“Did she?” Bingley frowned. “Why start up again now?”

Miss Bingley raised her eyes heavenward, the whites glinting in the passing lantern light. “Obviously, he was biding his time, Charles. You have spurred him into a fresh suit.”

“I have?”

In the dim light, Darcy couldn’t tell if Bingley’s color heightened, but he tugged at his cravat nervously.

“Yes, you have,” Mrs. Hurst snapped. “And you had best guard your behavior better until we learn if they are connected or simply a bevy of madwomen, or you will be in too deep to extract yourself.”

Silence again filled the carriage.

“They seem intelligent,” Miss Bingley said quietly after a time. “Certainly, they appear modish and attractive, although Miss Kitty’s gown was adorned with enough bows to supply the local milliners for a year.”

“And I have never before beheld so many ruffles as Mrs. Oakwood had on her cap,” Mrs. Hurst declared, her tone far less charitable. “And Miss Mary is quite severe in her tastes. She looked practically dowdy.”

“I heard from a Miss Long that Miss Mary is the most accomplished of the five,” Miss Bingley replied in a less aggrieved tone. “Perhaps she simply wishes to appear studious. Apparently, she plays pianoforte and speaks French.”

“Well, that is something, at least,” Mrs. Hurst allowed. “But Charles, do say you will guard your behavior with greater care until we learn more about them.”

Bingley shrugged, looking back out the window into the night.

On the other side of the seat they shared, Darcy mimicked him. Across from them, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley delved into even greater speculation, Mr. Hurst silent between them. Darcy did not attend as they left Meryton behind for the deeper darkness of the countryside. He kept his gaze on the stars and his thoughts on Miss Elizabeth as Bingley’s driver took them back to Netherfield Park.