Page 24 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Thirteen

Days of rain kept Darcy indoors, affording him ample time for reflection as the sky let loose its relentless deluge. Rain streamed down the windowpanes in steady rivulets, distorting the view beyond. His musings matched the turmoil outside.

I love her, he thought after days of contemplation. I love her and wish to marry her. Yet, did he dare ask? What if she refused? He could not endure the heartbreak such a rejection would bring.

But she said I might call upon her, he reasoned.

Surely that signified she would be amenable to more.

Still, the burden of his disfigurement pressed heavily upon him, a silent reminder that love might never be freely given.

Darcy thought he had conquered these feelings long ago, yet now, when faced with a chance for happiness, they surged forth, filling him with anxious dread, borne from years of judgment and rejection.

What if, his mind whispered, what if she is not what she seems?

The war within him raged until he concluded that the course was to ask Elizabeth for her hand in marriage—and pray for a favorable reply.

That evening, Netherfield would be filled with guests.

He would dance the promised first set with Elizabeth, and ere the night concluded, he would propose.

If— when— she accepted him, he would be the happiest of men.

Georgiana will adore her. Yes, his shy, withdrawn sister would be delighted to have a sister at long last. Together, he and Elizabeth would help revive the wounded girl. It was a heartening thought.

Darcy’s valet assisted him in dressing for the ball.

He wore a blue coat, and a cream, gold-embroidered waistcoat.

His cravat was tied in an elaborate knot, held in place by a finely wrought jeweled pin.

He studied his reflection in the mirror, imagining how he might appear were the dark red stain absent from his face.

If he looked intently, he could discern his resemblance to his father.

But there was no sense in mourning what could not be changed. He turned away.

As he walked toward the ballroom, he heard the other guests arriving. Servants completing the final touches to the decorations. Candles and mirrors lined the walls, casting a warm glow throughout the space. A chalk design adorned the center of the floor, soon to be trampled beneath eager feet.

Darcy positioned himself where he could watch the entrance, eager to glimpse Elizabeth the moment she arrived.

He did not wait long. The Bennets were among the first of the guests to appear.

She looked radiant. Her gown was cream, with gold embroidery along the hem of the skirt.

He felt a thrill of pleasure— they matched, and entirely by chance.

She paused just inside the doorway, scanning the room until her eyes met his.

Her lips curved into a smile, and she stepped forward.

Darcy left his post near the wall and quickly closed the gap between them.

“You look lovely, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in greeting.

“I thank you, sir. It appears we have unintentionally aligned our apparel this evening.” She smiled and gave him a playful wink. “Did you ask my maid what I intended to wear?”

Her teasing manner eased his nerves, and he shook his head. “I categorically deny it,” he stated, adopting a firm tone. “It was purely a happy accident.”

She laughed, her eyes alight with amusement. “I believe you, sir, I assure you. Ah, here is Charlotte! I must greet her before the first set begins.”

Darcy accompanied Elizabeth to Miss Lucas’s side, noting she looked downcast as they approached. He believed he knew the cause. His heart went out to her, and he fervently hoped she might soon have some opportunity for happiness.

“Dear Charlotte!” Elizabeth embraced her friend warmly. “I am happy to see you this evening. The rain has kept us all indoors far too long. I hope you are prepared to dance with my cousin. Mr. Collins means to make himself as much a nuisance as he can.”

Miss Lucas frowned. “Is he so terrible?” she asked. “We exchanged a few words at your aunt’s card party, and he seemed an amiable man.”

Darcy had not known about any card party and regretted missing another evening in Elizabeth’s company.

He understood that her aunt was married to the village solicitor.

Miss Bingley would consider the connection beneath them—even more so than the Bennets or the Lucases.

Yet, it mattered not. He would have much time in Elizabeth’s company that evening.

As the ladies conversed, he allowed his gaze to travel about the ballroom.

It had filled with guests, all engaged in lively conversation.

Mr. Collins stood near Miss Mary—too close, perhaps—who appeared displeased by her companion’s attentions.

She shifted subtly to the side, to put distance between them, but he followed her movement, continually closing the space between them.

The pair gradually moved from their original position.

Darcy wondered if Elizabeth had yet spoken with her sister.

At last, the final guests arrived, and the musicians signaled the beginning of the first set. He turned to Elizabeth and extended his hand. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe this is our set.”

As Elizabeth took his hand, he addressed Miss Lucas. “If you are free, I should be pleased to dance the second with you.” Miss Lucas inclined her head in acceptance, though a trace of melancholy lingered on her countenance.

He escorted Elizabeth to the center of the floor.

Bingley and Miss Bennet stood at the head of the set, both appearing pleased with their partner.

Miss Bingley partnered with a local gentleman; Darcy could not recall his name.

Her displeasure was evident, as she bore the ordeal with ill-concealed distaste.

She caught Darcy’s eye and cast him an appraising look before turning away.

He wondered if she had at last abandoned her pursuit of him.

The music began, and he and Elizabeth moved through the steps in silence for a time, until she spoke.

“Are you always so stoic in the ballroom, sir?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. “It would seem quite strange to pass half an hour in complete silence.”

“Do you speak as a rule while dancing?” he asked, curious. “I am not gifted in small talk. It feels an insurmountable task to concentrate on the steps and hold a conversation at the same time.”

She laughed lightly. “I do not always speak while dancing,” she admitted. “Sometimes, I prefer to observe my partner and the other couples.”

She fell silent as the dance carried her away, but when they reunited, Darcy resumed their conversation.

“I hope to bring my sister to Netherfield for Christmas,” he said.

“Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance when she comes?” If she comes, he amended privately.

Georgiana had not yet replied to his letter, and he had no way of knowing if she would consent.

Elizabeth smiled brightly. “I would be honored. I am always pleased to make new acquaintances.”

“Are you, truly? I confess, I dread it. There are always looks of pity or disgust. Rarely do people respond as you did toward me—with kindness and curiosity.” He forced the bitterness away, unwilling to let such thoughts spoil the evening.

“People are blind. ’Tis unfortunate. We must do our best to make them see.” She regarded him steadily, her gaze warm and inviting. His heart leaped.

The second half of the set passed in quiet pleasure.

He and Elizabeth shared many looks—glances full of warmth and understanding.

When the dance concluded, he led her from the floor.

Miss Lucas stood waiting nearby, and Darcy conversed with both ladies until the next set was called.

One of Sir William’s sons approached to claim Darcy’s beloved, and he had to push down a surge of jealousy.

If she accepts my proposal, he thought, I shall ask her for another set. Perhaps two.

Miss Lucas was an engaging partner, and they spoke pleasantly during the second set.

Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen for the third, and Darcy resumed his post near the wall.

Sometime later, she reappeared, her sister at her side.

Miss Mary soon disappeared into the crowd, and Darcy made his way to Elizabeth.

She appeared happy to see him, yet a guarded tension lingered about her eyes and her mouth as she spoke.

He dismissed it, though unease prickled in his chest.

Darcy requested Miss Bingley for the fourth set. It was his duty as a guest in her brother’s home, but he meant to return to Elizabeth afterward. He need not fear watching her partnered with another, however, for Elizabeth sat out that set with Miss Lucas. He wished he were there beside them.

Though Miss Bingley accepted his hand, she made little attempt to disguise her distaste for his presence. Darcy endured the dance, and when the final strains of music ceased, he escorted his partner to Mrs. Hurst’s side and bowed, departing at once in search of Elizabeth.

She and Miss Lucas stood near the wall, conversing quietly with their backs to him. As Darcy neared, Elizabeth’s words reached his ears, her frustration palpable.

“I do not know what to do, Charlotte! He is the worst sort of gentleman , and we are forced to endure him! How can one tolerate his manner, let alone his appearance? He holds himself above his company, lording his good fortune over all of us!” She huffed and shook her head, her earrings swaying with the motion.

A hollow opened in his chest, her words echoing louder than the music around him. He scarcely heard Miss Lucas’s reply.