Page 7 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)
“Yes, that is so. I walk out most mornings. Perhaps our paths will cross.” She sounded hopeful, and Darcy turned to look at her.
“I would like that,” he replied with quiet sincerity.
Never had he been more acutely aware of his own plain appearance than when gazing into her countenance.
He admired her deeply. That he could feel so strongly on the strength of such a brief acquaintance baffled him.
Yet it seemed as though his heart had at last recognized what it had long been searching for—and having found it, could only move forward without hesitation.
Elizabeth excused herself a few moments later, gesturing to her sister, Miss Bennet, who was waving at her from across the room.
Darcy stepped back toward the edge of the gathering, placing himself where he might observe the lady without obstruction.
She spoke with evident animation, her beautiful face alight with good humor and her eyes aglow in the candlelight.
Never had a lady so entranced him. Never had he beheld such beauty, grace, and intelligence united so perfectly in one person.
Charles may have Miss Bennet, he thought.
The younger sister is by far the superior creature.
“I can guess the nature of your reverie.” Miss Bingley’s sultry tones made Darcy frown.
“I should imagine not,” he replied curtly, knowing he was being more brusque than civility required.
“You are bemoaning the prospect of so many evenings spent in such company,” she continued, oblivious to the dismissiveness in his tone.
“Surrounded as we are by those so beneath us—compelled to endure their attempts at refinement, all the while longing for a place where true elegance may yet be found.”
“My thoughts were more agreeably engaged, madam.” His gaze had returned to Elizabeth, now conversing with Miss Lucas. Both ladies wore cheerful smiles, and Darcy found himself wishing he knew the subject of their amusement.
“What is it that so occupies your thoughts, sir?” Miss Bingley moved closer to his side and possessively placed her hand upon his arm.
“I was meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” His lips curved into a half-smile, and his gaze softened as he imagined Miss Elizabeth’s eyes turning toward his own.
The woman clawing his arm practically purred in response. “And which lady has inspired such ardent admiration?”
Her simpering did little to disturb his thoughts. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he replied distractedly.
The effect of his words was instantaneous. She dropped his arm and drew in a sharp breath. “Miss Eliza Bennet, she drawled. I am all astonishment! Pray, when am I to wish you joy?”
When he did not reply, she turned and swept away. Once she was out of earshot, he murmured to himself, “Soon, I hope.”
Not long after, a cry for dancing arose. Sir William and the other gentlemen set to work removing the furniture and rolling back the rugs. One of Miss Elizabeth’s sisters took a seat at the pianoforte and began playing several jigs.
Darcy looked about the room in search of Elizabeth, intending to solicit her hand for a set. Instead, he came upon Miss Lucas first and approached her.
“I thank you for the offer, sir, but I suspect you intended to ask another.” Miss Lucas appeared dejected, and Darcy studied her countenance.
“I shall not retract the offer, Miss Lucas,” he replied kindly. “You have been very welcoming to the residents of Netherfield. It would be an honor to stand up with you.”
“Very well.” She agreed, but she lacked enthusiasm and did not appear to be pleased.
Darcy wondered if he had somehow given offense to the lady.
The cause became apparent mid-set, when something across the room drew her notice.
Following her gaze, he saw Miss Elizabeth, animated and radiant. Miss Lucas’s expression faltered.
“My friend is the most deserving lady in the world.” Darcy turned back to Miss Lucas and found her studying him.
“I wish you every success.”
“It was unpardonably rude of me—”
“No, sir. You merely followed my gaze. Forgive me for allowing my attention to wander. ’Tis only…” She drew a deep breath before speaking once more. “Forgive my candor, sir, but I had hoped—” She hesitated, her cheeks suffused with color.
As the set concluded, Darcy led her to the side of the room where they might enjoy a modicum of privacy.
“I do not know you well, Miss Lucas, but you seem to me a woman of considerable worth,” he said with quiet gravity. “If my actions gave rise to expectations, I offer my sincere apology.”
He knew full well he had given her no such encouragement, but he felt he ought to offer something by way of consolation, nonetheless.
“How do you manage it?” she asked desperately. “You possess a self-assurance I can only envy.”
He understood her meaning and answered plainly. “True worth lies within,” he replied. “My mother taught me to seek one who might recognize it.”
“I see it,” she whispered. “But I also see that it will not suffice. Eliza is a worthy choice, sir. She will marry for nothing less than mutual affection. I, on the other hand, would content myself with any man who would offer a secure home.”
“Do not undervalue your own worth, Miss Lucas.” She gave a solemn nod and turned away without another word.
‘Tis a sorrowful truth that beauty is prized above character. Miss Lucas’s sensible mind and steady disposition would benefit any man wise enough to value them.
Alas, too few ever looked beyond outward appearance.
Darcy could acknowledge that those blessed with fortune—regardless of their charms—would always possess options when it came to selecting their marriage mate.
He did not know Miss Lucas’s precise circumstances, but he suspected that had she a sufficient dowry, she would already be wed.
Fate had not dealt kindly with her. That his preference for her friend had wounded her, he could not doubt.
If only there were something I could do.