Page 22

THE CYNOSURE OF ALL EYES

“ D arcy! You are most welcome, my friend, most welcome!”

Sir Aubrey’s effusions made Darcy suspect the man was drunk, until he entered the main room of the house and re-assessed the cause.

The small February ball—projected to be an understated affair on account of it being so early in the year and its hosts not yet being fully redeemed in the eyes of the ton —was an absolute crush.

Sir Aubrey drew abreast of him in the doorway. “Lady Staunton and I are indebted to you. You said you would help restore our reputations, and you truly have.”

“You owe me nothing, Aubrey. This was your due.”

Darcy was unsurprised to see Lord Stewart doing the rounds; such an inveterate gossip would never refuse an opportunity to meet the up-and-coming of the approaching Season.

He was more surprised to spot the Earl of Chertsey.

Looking around, he noticed other faces from the first circles—not many, but enough to attest to the Stauntons’ unequivocal success.

“Though I must say, it looks as though you did not need me.”

Sir Aubrey shook his head. “We do not flatter ourselves that these people are here for us. They are here to see you.” He gave Darcy a small bow and turned away.

His parting words were therefore largely swallowed by the general hubbub, though Darcy could have sworn he said, “We are deeply obliged that you both agreed to come.”

Thinking Aubrey was perhaps foxed after all, Darcy thought nothing of it and walked into the fray in search of a familiar face.

He pretended not to notice when several of the people he passed pointed him out to their companions and began whispering animatedly behind their fans.

He was not unused to such attention, particularly among lower social circles where he might be the most distinguished person present at any given event, but with Viscount Stewart and the Earl of Chertsey in attendance, he had no pretensions to his own consequence being the greatest in the room.

Which left one other obvious possibility: people were talking about him and Elizabeth. In stark contrast to his previous abhorrence, the suspicion filled him with a potent sense of pleasure.

As a rule, Darcy reviled being the object of tattle, but he had missed Elizabeth sorely these last two weeks, and Cunningham’s talk of her rising popularity had given aching substance to his longing.

He had begun to wish that more of his immediate friends and acquaintances would ask about her, for if they were to take to her as the rest of London seemed to have, then there was a chance they might overlook the degradation of such a match.

Then his new but very rapidly intensifying desire of making Elizabeth his wife might become a reality.

“There you are, Darcy! You took your time getting here.”

He turned to see Newton and his wife, whom he had not seen since their dinner party in January. “Good evening. I was not aware you knew Sir Aubrey.”

“Until very recently, we did not—but we are acquainted with you, and that counts for a good deal these days, it seems. You have set the tongues of the ton wagging. Still insisting there is nothing in it?”

“Nothing at all,” Darcy replied, feeling the unfamiliar weight of disappointment where usually he felt only annoyance.

“Well, that is a shame, for she is a very handsome young lady,” Mrs Newton said.

“You have met her?” he asked in surprise.

“No, but we have had her pointed out to us several times so far this evening.”

Darcy started. “Miss Bennet is here?”

He did not need to wait for Mrs Newton’s nod, for he abruptly comprehended Aubrey’s comment about them ‘both’ agreeing to come, and a burst of impassioned elation worthy of a stripling boy overtook him at the certain prospect of seeing Elizabeth.

“You did not know?” Newton enquired dubiously.

Darcy shook his head. Then, because it was likely not obvious, what with him craning his neck to try and find her in the crowd, he added, “No.”

Someone touched his arm; he glanced down at Mrs Newton’s kind but knowing expression.

“She is over there.”

He looked in the direction she pointed and felt a powerful rush of elation upon seeing Elizabeth.

He knew his smile was giving him away, but he could not help it; she looked divine.

He had no talent for recalling the arrangement of hair or the colour of gowns and therefore could not have said what was different about her; she simply looked lovelier than he ever recalled her looking.

What man would not be unreasonably proud to have such a beautiful woman as his wife?

His pleasure waned a touch upon recognising her companions; as well as her sister, she was accompanied by her relations from Cheapside—a manifest token of her inferior connexions.

As though she had heard him think this, Elizabeth turned her head slightly and caught his eye—and almost immediately allowed her gaze to glide directly past him. Feeling absurdly wounded that she had not recognised him, he turned back to Mr and Mrs Newton.

“So she is.”

They stared at him incredulously.

“Do the pair of you seriously intend to continue pretending you barely know each other?” Newton enquired.

Darcy could have hugged him. Of course that was what Elizabeth was doing! Relief buoyed his spirits, and he answered with uncharacteristic exuberance. “Was it not you who said you had never known me to utter a falsehood?”

“Yes,” Newton replied with narrowed eyes. “And it was you who promised to introduce us to the young lady if we ever happened to be in the same room. Which I think you will find, we are.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Darcy replied.

After all, had he not also promised Elizabeth that he would never be so ungentlemanly as to slight her in public?

And if society was ever going to accept the Gardiners, it would have to begin with him.

His heart seemed to trip over an excess of unnecessary beats as he set out to weave his way through the throng—although it turned out that no weaving was necessary as everybody who had seen where he was going drew out of his way to ease his passage.

It was truly ridiculous, and he would ordinarily have hated the spectacle of it, but Elizabeth’s laughing eyes were now fixed on him, and he could spare not one thought for anything beyond the heat she stirred in his veins.

He bowed and bade them all good evening. “Miss Elizabeth, my friends have expressed a wish to know you. Might I introduce them?”

A small frown passed over Elizabeth’s countenance, but she agreed with that ease and delight which she so commonly demonstrated in company, be it with friends or strangers, that made her certain of being liked wherever she went.

The Newtons were no exception and took to her with smiling enthusiasm but had not finished their volley of questions about where and how she and Darcy first met before Lady Staunton arrived to interrupt them.

“Mr Darcy, Miss Elizabeth, you have found each other I see.” She turned slightly to exclude the rest of their group and continued in a low but animated voice, “I am so very delighted you were both able to come. It is quite the coup to have you here together. I think I must be the envy of London!”

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth to see what she made of the insinuation. She was, as he ought to have expected, taking observable delight in Lady Staunton’s nonsense, her smile sweet but her eyes shining with mirth. It was an expression that never failed to arouse him.

“I congratulate you on a successful party, madam,” he said to his hostess, “but I beg you would not attribute the triumph to anyone but yourself and your good husband, for you alone deserve the praise.”

“Of course, sir. I did not mean to imply…” Lady Staunton paused, looking between them anxiously.

“But now that you are both here, it would be a shame if you did not seize the opportunity to dance. Mrs Marsdon was just telling me how you excel at it, Mr Darcy, and I know for myself how well Miss Elizabeth enjoys the amusement.”

“If Miss Elizabeth would allow me the honour of her hand, I should be very happy to dance with her.”

He could not remember ever being so well pleased by a woman accepting an invitation to dance as when Elizabeth gave her smiling consent. Lady Staunton was apparently equally pleased and wasted no time in rallying all her guests to the floor.

“You were supposed to pretend not to know me,” Elizabeth said under her breath as Darcy led her to the centre of the room.

“That was your scheme, and I did not agree to it,” he replied, smiling. Feeling the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on him, he added, “Besides, I do not believe we would have been permitted not to dance.”

Elizabeth huffed a tiny laugh. “Probably not. You must hate all this attention.”

“I cannot imagine you have much patience for it either.”

“I am inclined to laugh about it. Why do you think they have all lost their minds over it?”

Darcy could have told her why he had lost his mind over her . What anyone else’s reason might be was of no interest to him at present. “I have no idea.”

They came to a halt in the middle of the room and stood still, waiting for the dance to be called that would tell everybody what formations they should take. Elizabeth looked around at the multitude of gaping spectators, then up at him with sudden seriousness. “I have done nothing to encourage it.”

“I know.” That was one of the myriad reasons he admired her.

Lady Staunton cleared her throat and invited one of her guests to call the dance.

Lady Crowley made a great show of accepting the honour, then looked directly at Darcy and Elizabeth with a sly expression and called for the German Waltz.

A wave of murmurs rumbled around the room, some clearly outraged, others just as clearly delighted.

Considering his partner, Darcy was inclined to side with the latter faction.

“Do you know it?” he whispered.