Page 41 of Obligation and Redemption

Jane felt that she needed to defend them both.

“I believe Mr. Darcy to be a considerate gentleman, for Mr. Bingley thinks so highly of him. Also, his manners show him to have a kind regard for others. And Lizzy has a compassionate heart,” said she, gazing fondly upon Elizabeth.

“Given time he will not fail to notice your amiable qualities. ”

“I grant you that I should not push the man so; really I do. I just find I can’t help myself when he looks down his nose at me.

It is a shame he is so handsome himself or I could claim equal disappointment!

” Her companions’ eyes then darted behind her, and presently Mr. Darcy returned with the beverages, so the ladies’ tête-à-tête came to an end.

Darcy soon noticed that a group of officers entered for they were difficult to miss in their scarlet regimentals.

He observed Elizabeth’s apparent discomfort when she too noticed the arrival.

Elizabeth attempted to look unaffected, concentrating on the dull conversation at hand.

With relief she marked that Mr. Wickham did not make a showing.

Elizabeth had thought about how she should handle his coming, if in fact he did decide to attend the ball, even though her father had suggested that he not.

She had come to understand that should Wickham impose himself upon the company, she would have a difficult time not taking his notice and so thought it best that he stay away.

His being there was not worth the risk to her family in losing the protection of Mr. Darcy.

Before long, it was time for the dancing to commence. Bingley approached the group and offered his hand to Jane, while beaming unreservedly. “Miss Bennet, I believe this dance is mine.” She smiled becomingly and joined him as he led her to the dance floor.

Subsequently, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and said, “Shall we?” She placed her hand in his and could feel the assurance that matched his bearing, as they moved to the head of the line.

Even through their gloved hands, she felt an unanticipated frisson of attraction that she could not so easily ignore; nonetheless, Elizabeth hoped she was able to admirably hide her perplexing, singular reaction, and indeed it was so.

They were situated beside Mr. Bingley and Jane, and on the other side of them were the Hursts, then Miss Bingley and Mr. Byron Jamison, a local man who recently inherited his uncle’s estate.

Although Mr. Jamison had a pleasant countenance, Miss Bingley only had eyes for Mr. Darcy and watched him through the simple movements of the country-dance, taking comfort in Darcy’s unwavering severity.

She was unable to discern the conversation for there was little to be had, but she strained to hear anyway.

Her partner attempted to make conversation, giving up once he realised her object.

After some moments of silence, Elizabeth fancied that obliging Mr. Darcy to talk would punish him more than no words at all, so with some amusement she began, “Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation, though little would suffice.” This sounded vaguely familiar to him, as if they had had this conversation in the past. As he was trying to recollect when that might have been, she smiled and said, “You might comment on the number of couples or the general splendour of the room.”

“I will comment on whatever it is you wish. I await your pleasure.”

Elizabeth replied, “That will suffice for now,” as she elegantly passed in front of him, flawlessly moving to the flow of the music.

Darcy noticed her graceful execution of the familiar dance and was grateful that at the very least she would perform well in a London ballroom.

After crossing her with two sweeps, he was able to recall the occasion during which she had spoken the same words.

They were in the cabin when Elizabeth had attempted to engage him in conversation.

“What say you to books?” said Darcy remembering that she had been reading a novel.

“Books! Oh, no, I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings. I cannot speak of books in a ballroom.”

Darcy was surprised by her response and struggled for something else on which to speak. Not caring for the awkward position in which she had placed him, he said, “Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may enjoy the opportunity of saying as little as possible.”

“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for I have seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.”

“This is no striking resemblance to your own character, I am sure. How near it is to my own, I cannot pretend to say, though you must think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.” Elizabeth smiled and then looked away.

After parting and coming back together she continued, “Few words pass your lips while in the company of others, unless of course that is only while in the presence of new connections. Perhaps you are easier in the company of your equals.”

“It is true that I do not find speaking of inconsequential matters to be pleasing, nor beneficial, in order to form a lasting acquaintance. Where there are like minds, there will always be something stimulating of which to speak.”

“But, sir, how can you get from not knowing a person to talking on the deep topics that have meaning to you, without going through the necessary small talk to discover what the commonalities might be? Do you greet a person upon first meeting and then ask his or her views on the war in France or perhaps the inhumanity of slavery, or do you first ascertain the person’s views upon the proffered punch or song selection, to gauge whether he has formed opinions, and then skilfully move the observation to more pleasing and stimulating topics?

I find that when small talk stifles the interaction, then perhaps moving to a new partner is preferable.

However, agreeable conversationalists will move the subjects along, much like a dance, weaving in and out of ideas, coming together then diverging along the way.

The clothing your partner wears or the school in which he or she learnt the dance has no bearing when executed by both with facility and grace. ”

“You, Miss Bennet, are na?ve,” Darcy said as he acknowledged her criticism.

Elizabeth’s ire was increasing, yet again.

She had determined, for Jane’s sake if not her own, to be forbearing with the man, but she found his arrogance to feed her anger.

“My level of na?veté is irrelevant. Where two people are open and engaging, there can always be something of which to speak, even if one is ignorant of the topic, for the best conversations occur when learning something new. My father would never let me sit idly when stimulating dialogue was going on about me. He would ask my opinion, and I learnt to give it with confidence. I hope you, sir, do not mind a wife with a mind.”

“I prefer a wife who knows her place, whose mission is to support her husband, not to attempt to make him into a fool.”

“Well, then, you are safe from me. I feel no need to help you in making yourself appear a fool.” She looked away trying to hide her smile in vain, eyes lit with mirth.

He looked at her in disbelief. Is this the woman to whom I will be forever bound?

Sensing she may have gone too far in her jest, she said, “I have always supposed that an educated man would not be intimidated by a wife who enjoys spirited teasing.” After seeing his unhappy mien, she relented; she must learn to curtail her taunts until he got to know her better.

“I cannot say that I did not mean to provoke you, but I can say that I regret having done so.” The dance separated them as they continued down the line.

She glanced his way to see how he accepted her apology.

“Are you always this exasperating, Miss Bennet? Can I expect to be treated with the same discourtesy your father receives from his own wife?” This cut Elizabeth to the quick. He compares me to my mother ! She had never seen herself in anyway like her mother.

“Mr. Darcy, are you not to be laughed at?” asked Elizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to have many such acquaintances, especially to be married to one. I dearly love a laugh.”

“The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth, “there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”

“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

“Such as vanity and pride.”

“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride – where there is a real superiority of mind – pride will be always under good regulation.”

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile, and when she had schooled her features she looked back his way. “You have convinced me, sir, that you have no defect. You own it without disguise.”