Page 3 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Two

Darcy tugged at his waistcoat as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Trust Bingley to attend an assembly the evening I arrive, he thought in amusement.

His friend was ever fond of society. Darcy, on the other hand, did not enjoy socializing.

He was the male equivalent of an overlooked lady—those who approached typically wanted something.

Funds for investing, dance partners for their sisters, and even hopes of brokering a marriage between him and some female relation.

No one outside his family, save for Bingley, wanted Darcy simply for his company.

He had agreed to attend the assembly with his friend and host somewhat grudgingly.

Sighing, Darcy reached up and traced the long, thin scar that ran from his temple to his chin.

Richard had suggested growing a beard to conceal it, but he had declined.

’Tis not as if it does any harm to my appearance, he thought again, running his finger along the raised red line.

As usual, this is as good as it will ever get.

With that, he picked up his gloves and left the room.

Mr. Charles Bingley, Darcy’s friend of three years, waited in the parlor.

The gregarious young man greeted him by handing Darcy a glass of port.

Bingley was tall and lanky, with red hair and a ready smile.

His blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “I am tremendously excited about this evening,” he said, downing his own glass of port.

“I have met several agreeable gentlemen and hope to meet more of my neighbors tonight.”

“You always love to make new acquaintances,” Darcy said neutrally. An assembly was not his idea of an enjoyable evening. It was always the same. Ladies would give him a cursory glance before turning away, only to feign interest when word of his fortune spread.

“Come now, Darcy! Your expression appears as though you are bound for the gallows! Is the prospect of an evening of dancing so terrible?” Bingley laughed and refilled his glass.

“You will certainly not want for partners.” Darcy drank his own glass before placing it on the tray. “Ladies prefer an amiable, handsome dance partner. They will not look twice at me—you know this.”

“So the ladies of the ton are superficial and shallow. That does not mean every female you meet is of their ilk! We are in the country. People here are naturally friendlier and more welcoming. Why, even that scar on your cheek will not deter them. How did you get it, anyway?”

Darcy grimaced. Memories of Ramsgate and George Wickham filled his thoughts. He looked down as he attempted to school his features. “It was an accident,” he said indifferently. “My cousin claims it makes me look roguish.”

Bingley laughed, and Darcy joined in half-heartedly.

In truth, Wickham had struck Darcy when he interrupted the man’s attempt to elope with Miss Georgiana Darcy.

Furious at being thwarted, Wickham had attacked his former friend before fleeing the house.

His ring had left a long gash on Darcy’s face and broken his nose.

The latter had healed well, though a bump now marked the bridge.

The gash had required stitches. It had become inflamed, and though long and thin, it remained raised and red.

Wickham’s parting shot, before he fled, had been that a scar might improve Darcy’s appearance enough to make a woman want him.

In vain, he had hunted for the blackguard, determined to see him transported or thrown into debtor’s prison. Darcy held enough of Wickham’s markers to ensure it, but his old enemy had eluded capture. Even Richard’s military contacts had been unable to trace him.

“Where are they?” Bingley groused, calling Darcy’s attention back to the present. “We will be late!”

“Do not fret, Charles.” Miss Caroline Bingley glided in, nose in the air, and overdressed for a country assembly.

Her sister and brother-in-law, Louisa and Reginald Hurst, followed.

“The carriage is ready, and we may depart. Dear Mr. Darcy, I am dreadfully sorry you have been coerced into attending this insignificant country event—and so soon after your arrival!”

Miss Bingley’s simpering was nothing new.

She, like so many others, had discounted him until she learned of his fortune.

After that, she had used his friendship with her brother to attempt an intimacy that did not exist. Now she came to his side and slid her arm through his.

Her dark curls were expertly styled; ringlets kissed her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with avarice as she looked up at him.

Miss Bingley batted her lashes in what she likely thought was a coquettish manner.

“I shall save a set for you if you like, sir,” she murmured. Her inflection, warm with false affection, made his skin crawl.

“I will be certain to dance with you and Mrs. Hurst. As my host’s sisters, ’tis expected.

” He maintained an even tone, struggling to keep the derision he longed to express in check.

Kind and honorable, he reminded himself.

A gentleman does not speak meanly of or to others.

He had repeated his mother's final lessons in his mind so often that they were permanently inscribed there.

“There is no need to be shy, sir.” She leaned closer. “I shall look forward to our set.” Miss Bingley did not release his arm, and so he escorted her to the carriage and handed her inside. The Hursts followed, and before he and Bingley boarded, his friend caught his arm.

“Darcy, if my sister is a bother, I shall speak to her,” Bingley murmured. “I know she expects—”

“’It is of no concern, Bingley,” Darcy assured him. “As long as you understand I will not offer for her, even if she attempts to claim compromise, then I shall continue to behave as I always have.”

“Very good. Yes, Caroline is quite fixed on being the next mistress of Pemberley. I fear she will become unbearable.” Bingley shrugged apologetically. “If you wish to hie it to London, I will not stop you.”

Darcy chuckled. “No, I prefer the country. Besides, Georgiana is enjoying her time with my aunt and uncle. I would not wish to spoil her fun.”

In truth, Georgiana had begged to go to the earl and countess. The scar on Darcy’s face was a constant reminder of her near-ruinous mistake. She could scarcely look at him without bursting into tears.

They climbed aboard the carriage. The gentlemen sat on one side, which made for a slightly cramped ride, but Darcy did not complain.

Meryton was not far from Netherfield Park, and so the discomfort would be of short duration.

Instead, he listened as the ladies chattered on, speaking meanly of people they had not yet met, speculating about their circumstances and supposed lack of refinement.

It was a pity they were not as open to new acquaintances as their brother.

By ascribing the worst to those they never met, they prevented new friendships from even beginning.

The Meryton Assembly Hall was lit outside with lanterns.

There were no other carriages waiting, which told Darcy they were later than he thought.

Being fashionably late was Miss Bingley’s attempt at showing the country bumpkins how refined she and her family were.

Unfortunately, it also meant the dancing had already begun—and he noted the lady’s displeasure.

I wonder if she thought I would ask her for the first, he mused.

“Mr. Bingley! ’Tis a pleasure to see you!” A portly gentleman with graying hair approached and bowed.

“Sir William! Good evening. May I present my guests?” Bingley quickly introduced his family and Darcy. Sir William’s gaze slid over Darcy as though he were invisible. His daughter appeared at his side, and he promptly introduced Miss Charlotte Lucas.

Darcy felt an immediate affinity with the lady.

She had dark hair and dark eyes, and, like Darcy, an appearance criticized by society.

In short, she was very plain. Yet, there was an air of intelligence about her as she greeted the others.

Unlike her father, she saw Darcy and offered him a kind smile.

She appeared to be about seven-and-twenty, and Darcy wondered how many times her heart had been broken.

At least she has no blemish to mar her features.

Bingley immediately asked the lady to dance and escorted her away. The second set was forming, and Darcy turned to Mrs. Hurst.

“Would you care to dance?”

Mrs. Hurst agreed at once. Her younger sister frowned disapprovingly and folded her arms petulantly as he led the elder to the floor.

They danced in silence. Mrs. Hurst did not appear inclined to converse, and so Darcy made no effort.

Instead, he looked around the room at the other attendees, wondering who they were and regretting that he had not asked Sir William for more introductions before inviting Mrs. Hurst. I shall remedy that immediately upon the conclusion of this set, he decided.

Bingley would likely wish it as well, and so Darcy would accompany his friend.

Mrs. Hurst scuttled off as soon as the set concluded, heading straight for her sister. Bingley came to his side, still escorting Miss Lucas.

“My lovely companion has offered to make more introductions,” he said cheerfully. “Miss Lucas, shall we?”

Darcy trailed after them. Every few feet, they were stopped and introduced to several amiable young ladies, all of whom spoke exclusively to Bingley after casting Darcy only a fleeting glance. It was as if he were invisible.

While Bingley spoke with Miss Long, Miss Lucas turned to Darcy.

“Are you enjoying your time in Meryton, sir?” she asked.

Startled at being addressed, he floundered for a moment before answering.

“I only arrived this afternoon,” he confessed.

“Though I am looking forward to seeing more of the area. It has been many years since I did more than pass through Hertfordshire on my way north or south. Tell me, are there any interesting prospects nearby? Ruins, perhaps?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there are several. Mindsen Chapel is located near Preston—it dates back to the fourteenth century. There is also St. Etheldreda’s Church near Graveley.

And if you wish to venture further afield, Theobalds Palace lies in nearby Cheshunt.

It was once owned by King James the First.”

“You are very well informed, Miss Lucas,” Darcy said appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“Oh! Here are the Bennets. It seems Mrs. Bennet grew tired of waiting for us to come to her.” Miss Lucas sounded amused as a matron with five ladies trailing her approached.

Darcy had never seen such beauty in one family.

His mouth fell open slightly as he beheld them, and he almost missed the introductions.

The matron was introduced as Mrs. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn.

Her daughters were Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, and Miss Lydia.

Each curtsied in turn, and Darcy smiled at Bingley’s predictable reaction.

The eldest daughter was a rare beauty, and his friend looked utterly entranced.

It was the second lady who drew Darcy’s eye, however.

Unlike the other ladies, her gaze had not slid past him as though he were invisible.

Instead, it lingered on his face, her expression interested and intrigued.

Darcy felt flustered and was certain his attempted smile had looked more like a grimace.

Bingley quickly asked Miss Bennet for a set and led her away.

Mrs. Bennet watched, her pleasure clear before instructing her other daughters to secure a dance partner.

“I believe I shall sit out this set, Mama,” Miss Elizabeth replied. “There are so few gentlemen, you know.”

“Have it your way,” Mrs. Bennet said dismissively.

Elizabeth’s attention turned to Miss Lucas, and the two began conversing.

Evidently forgotten, Darcy backed away until he could lean against the wall.

From there, he truly looked at Miss Elizabeth.

She was petite, a head shorter than her friend.

Her deep brown hair was fashionably styled, with curls touching her cheeks and kissing her neck.

Her dark eyes sparkled with good humor, so very unlike Miss Bingley, whose eyes glistened with avarice.

Miss Elizabeth’s figure was light and pleasing, hinting at an active nature.

She wore a champagne-colored gown embroidered with thread that glistened in the candlelight.

Darcy’s throat felt tight. Never had a lady’s presence—or appearance—struck him with such force.

Ladies had attracted him in the past, to be sure, but this…

this felt very different. Almost immediately upon acknowledging his attraction, he shrank inwardly.

No ladies wanted him—not for himself. Cursing silently, he leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

He ought to dance with Miss Bingley and thus fulfill his duty to Bingley.

Then he could retreat to a corner and remain undisturbed.

The next set was forming, so he sought out the lady. She looked entirely too pleased and accepted immediately. ’Tis only one set, he told himself. I can manage.