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Chapter Six

October 1811 Meryton Assembly Darcy

B ingley’s carriage slowed to a stop before a rustic assembly hall. Heavy timbers supported an awning over the door. Lanterns had been hung, casting a brilliant light across the entrance.

Gathering his fortitude, Darcy followed Bingley out of the carriage and into the building. The room was illuminated by what seemed to be hundreds of candles. Mirrors along the walls reflected the light, enhancing the brightness throughout the space. The first dance had yet to be called, and nearly every eye in the room turned toward the two gentlemen from Netherfield Park as they entered the room.

“Mr. Bingley!” A portly, cheerful-looking gentleman approached, bowing to Bingley in greeting. A plain lady who looked to be at least five-and-twenty trailed behind him.

Darcy assumed the gentleman was Sir William Lucas. The lady must therefore be his elder daughter, the one nearly on the shelf. He refocused his attention as Bingley offered an introduction.

“Mr. Darcy is my very good friend. He will be staying at Netherfield Park for some time to assist me.” Bingley grinned. “We are both looking forward to the evening.”

“As you should! Nowhere else will you find such agreeable company or beautiful ladies. Meryton boasts the jewels of the county, you know. Ah! I see Mrs. Bennet. Come, allow me to introduce you to her and her lovely daughters.”

“Of course. First, let me solicit Miss Lucas’s hand for the first set.” Bingley, ever eager to please, smiled cheerfully at the lady. She accepted graciously, with none of the simpering or fluttering of eyelashes Darcy might have expected.

She may not be a trial to stand up with, he reasoned. “I, too, would be honored to dance a set with you, Miss Lucas,” he said solemnly. Best be done with Bingley’s strictures as soon as possible. “Do you have a set free?”

“My second is available, Mr. Darcy,” she said politely. With that, her father led the small party toward a matron standing with two ladies some distance away.

“Mrs. Bennet,” Sir William said in greeting. “How do you do this evening? Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, you are both looking lovely.”

“Thank you, Sir William.” The elder girl, Miss Bennet, smiled shyly at the master of ceremonies. Darcy glanced at Bingley. His friend’s mouth hung open ever so slightly. He wore a dazed expression, as if he had been struck on the head.

“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, may I present Mrs. Frances Bennet and her two eldest daughters. This is Miss Jane Bennet, and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy bowed, but something in Bingley’s expression caught his attention. The stupefied look that had overtaken his friend when he first saw Miss Bennet had changed into something more perplexing as he greeted the lady’s younger sister.

Bingley’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. His perpetual grin froze, and his mouth turned down slightly. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, did you say? Have we, perchance, met before?”

Miss Elizabeth flushed and dropped her gaze to her slippers. “I have never strayed further from home than London, sir, and I visit town but rarely.”

Darcy observed the entire exchange with keen interest. Never had he seen two sisters more different in appearance. Miss Bennet was the perfect example of fashionable beauty. She was tall, willowy, and had hair the color of wheat ready for harvest. Her blue eyes were kind and spoke of gentleness. The younger sister, by contrast, was petite. Her light and pleasing figure suggested she was of an active nature. When she raised her gaze from the floor once more, Darcy’s attention was drawn to her fine eyes. They sparkled with good humor and a touch of mystery. Curious, he thought.

“Perhaps the Misses Bennet have a dance to bestow upon our guests?” Sir William asked.

“Indeed!” Bingley snapped out of whatever stupor had momentarily possessed him. “Miss Bennet, may I have your next free set?”

“The fourth is yours, sir.” Miss Bennet smiled kindly, her eyes twinkling. “Elizabeth, have you a free set for our new neighbor?”

“I do. Mr. Bingley, my second and my last have not yet been claimed. Perhaps one will suit you?” Miss Elizabeth smiled, her eyes sparkling merrily.

“I shall have the second,” Mr. Bingley declared. An unfathomable look flashed across his countenance before his easy smile reasserted itself. He turned to Darcy and raised an eyebrow.

“Mrs. Bennet, if I may be so bold as to claim a set?” he asked. Mentally, he stuck his tongue out at his friend. I did tell him I would not be pushed into asking, he thought.

“You are a flatterer, sir.” Mrs. Bennet smiled kindly. “I would be pleased to accept your offer, provided it is a less vigorous dance. I am not as young as I once was.”

The lady made no attempt to press him to speak to her daughters. Instead, she turned to them as the orchestra struck a chord to signal the dancers. “Jane, Lizzy, here are your partners. Off you go.”

The ladies curtsied and departed with two local gentlemen. Mrs. Bennet turned back to Sir William. “You must have many others to meet,” she said to Mr. Bingley.

“I do; however, I am engaged with Miss Lucas for this set. Pray, excuse me. Darcy, will you dance or remain here?”

“Mrs. Bennet?” he asked, turning to the lady who still stood beside him.

“Oh, the first set is always a reel, sir,” she said. “I am content to wait until there is a slower set. But perhaps you would like to stand with me? I am eager to speak to you of Derbyshire. We lived there many years ago, before my husband inherited.”

He blinked in surprise. “Really? Pray, where did you reside?”

She smiled. “We lived in Lambton, sir, very near the church. My husband worked with Mr. Palmer.”

A memory stirred. “Bennet! The solicitor!”

Mrs. Bennet laughed merrily. “Yes, sir. My husband—on behalf of his employer—came to Pemberley more than once with papers for your father. Mr. Palmer may have been a country solicitor, but he handled many of Pemberley’s smaller, local legal matters.”

“I hardly know what to say. I remember when your family left the area. Mr. Palmer was not pleased to lose Mr. Bennet’s aid.”

“A series of sad events drew us south. I cannot repine Providence’s hand in our lives, however. My girls were raised as daughters of an estate just as they ought to have been, and my son will inherit Longbourn and all that is his father’s. I do miss the North.” Mrs. Bennet kept her gaze on the dance floor, watching her daughters as they danced a Scottish reel. “How time passes. I can scarcely believe it has been twelve years.” Her voice held a wistful tone and was touched by something more—something he could not name.

“Your daughters are very lovely,” he said sincerely. And they were. Whilst Miss Bennet’s fair looks were everything fashionable, it was Miss Elizabeth’s darker coloring that drew him in. Her dark curls glistened in the candlelight, strands of red shimmering with every dance step. Her eyes were laughing, and her wide smile held no malice or deceit.

He remained with Mrs. Bennet for the better part of an hour, escorting her to the dance floor for the third set. After that, she crossed the room to visit another matron, leaving Darcy brooding against one wall.

Despite his best efforts, he could not keep his attention from settling on Miss Elizabeth. He found her attractive; that much he could allow. But she was the insignificant daughter of a country gentleman and not at all suitable to be mistress of Pemberley.

Mistress of—what am I thinking? How very rapid is the imagination, jumping from admiration to matrimony in but a moment. I am no love-struck fool.

“Come, Darcy, I must have you dance!” Bingley appeared at his side. “You have been standing here in this stupid manner long enough.”

“I have danced two sets, Bingley. I shall dance two more before the night is through.” Darcy kept his gaze on Miss Elizabeth, watching her as she made her way to seating arranged very near his present position.

“I have never met with prettier or more amiable ladies in my life,” Bingley said fervently.

“You are dancing with the handsomest woman in the room,” he reminded his friend.

Bingley beamed. “She is an angel!” he cried enthusiastically. “But look, there is her sister sitting there.” He faltered, that strange look crossing his face again. Bingley shook his head. “She is very pretty and an agreeable companion. If you recall, I asked her to dance myself.”

Darcy glanced at Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She sat near enough to hear their conversation; he felt certain. Annoyed as he was at Bingley’s probing, he bit back the vitriolic reply that threatened to burst forth. “I shall ask her, Bingley, but she may not have a set left.”

“If she does not, you will have to look elsewhere for a partner.” Bingley nudged him. “Go on.”

Sighing with restraint, Darcy approached the young lady. “Miss Elizabeth, I recall. Have you a set that I might claim?” His smile felt more like a grimace. It must have looked the same, for Miss Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and appraised him.

“My last is free, sir. Feel free to withdraw your offer if that set will discompose you.” Her lips quirked.

She is laughing at me, he realized. He did not know whether to be impressed or dismayed. He cleared his throat and glanced away. “No, I do not believe I shall. Withdraw my offer, that is.”

“Then the last set is yours, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth nodded and returned her attention to the dance floor.

Intrigued, he lingered for a moment longer before retreating to the safety of his wall. He stayed but a moment before resigning himself to find one more dance partner. Noting another wallflower, he prevailed upon Sir William for an introduction. The lady in question, Miss Victoria Bates accepted his offer to dance enthusiastically, beaming from ear to ear at his attention. Instead of puttinghim off, her genuine pleasure warmed his heart. They danced the fifth together, and whilst the lady did not seem to know the steps very well, her constant chatter spared him the need to search for conversation.

He strolled around the room as he waited for the last set. If he were honest with himself, he greatly anticipated those dances. Miss Elizabeth’s liveliness drew him in. He watched her dancing, strange feelings of jealousy rising as she bestowed her attention upon other gentlemen.

At some point, he noted that Bingley, too, could not keep his eyes off the lady. His friend’s attention drifted from his partner to Miss Elizabeth frequently. With each distracted glance, Bingley’s confused expression reemerged.

Miss Elizabeth noted his friend’s behavior and asked Darcy about it as they began their set.

“I cannot begin to explain what has got into my friend,” he replied when she posed her query.

“I do apologize for being forward,” she said haltingly. “It is only that I find his intensity somewhat disconcerting. I wondered if you knew the cause.”

“Bingley is typically a happy fellow, eager to please and be pleased by all he meets. His manner tonight goes against everything I have ever known of him.” Darcy glanced down the line of dancers. Bingley smiled at his partner. The same smile stayed in place until Darcy and Miss Elizabeth passed under the raised arms of Bingley and his partner. The former’s gaze fell to Elizabeth’s face and at once his smile vanished.

When they were safely away, Darcy turned to Miss Elizabeth and said, “I must apologize for my friend.”

“His behavior is not your fault,” she murmured. “Perhaps I remind him of someone.”

They spoke of other subjects throughout the rest of the set. Darcy learned that Miss Elizabeth loved books and had read widely. She teasingly said she could not discuss books in a ballroom.

Smirking, he replied, “Then I shall have to call upon Longbourn to pursue the subject.” His boldness surprised even him, and he found that whilst he spoke in haste, he meant every word.

The set ended, and they parted ways. Bingley’s carriage was one of the first to be called, and the exhausted gentlemen clambered aboard. They sank back into the squabs as the conveyance lurched forward.

“You cannot tell me you did not enjoy the evening, Darcy,” Bingley said after some minutes of silence.

“I confess, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.” Darcy grinned in the dark. Images of Miss Elizabeth and her fine eyes danced in his mind. “You seemed pleased with Miss Bennet.”

“She is perfection itself, is she not?”

“I find her sister more to my tastes, to be honest.”

Bingley fell silent. Darcy waited for him to speak, and when he said nothing, he nudged his friend’s boot.

“There is something about her, Darcy,” Bingley whispered. “It is as if a ghost from my past has arisen. But it cannot be so. She is not…” Bingley’s voice faded.

“Not what?” Darcy probed.

Bingley sighed. “Nothing, Darcy. It is nothing.”