Page 15

CHAPTER 15

First Dances

F inally, the fifth set arrived, and Darcy was at last able to claim Elizabeth Bennet as his dance partner.

They had exchanged only a few brief words earlier in the evening, both having been otherwise occupied with others.

Elizabeth had sat out one set while Darcy had been obliged to dance that one with Charlotte Lucas.

He had also danced with Jane Bennet but had thus far avoided Miss Bingley.

As he led her to the line, Elizabeth glanced up at him with a warm, familiar smile and asked, “Are you enjoying the evening, Mr. Darcy?”

“Surprisingly, I find that I am,” he replied, a slight, almost sheepish smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Elizabeth’s brow arched.

“And what, pray, is so surprising about it?” she asked, her voice light, though there was a warning glint in her eye at the implied insult.

Darcy hesitated a fraction too long before answering, causing her ire to grow.

“I do not often find much pleasure in crowded rooms,” he admitted slowly when he finally found the words to say.

“Tonight has been...an unexpected exception to that. ”

He caught the faint flicker of doubt that crossed her features and hurried to continue.

“I mean only that—here, I am new, and while there has been some curiosity, it is nothing compared to what follows me in town. There, whispers of my fortune and connections accompany me and attract far more attention than my company ever could. Those who have spoken to me this evening have done so—” he paused, searching for the right word “—kindly. Authentically. It is refreshing and unusual for me.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened, the anger fading into something more reflective.

“I see,” she said. “Forgive me—I thought, for a moment, you meant something else entirely, that you found the company here lacking. My father has often accused me of rushing to judgement and has warned me repeatedly against the habit. I mistook your meaning and immediately assumed you meant the worst.”

He shook his head slightly, a touch of colour rising to his cheeks.

“You are not mistaken to be wary,” he said quietly.

“Particularly since some of my party—” His eyes flicked discreetly towards Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth followed his glance without comment.

“—have not acquitted themselves well this evening.”

Shifting uncomfortably, he lowered his voice further.

“I was forced to speak to Miss Bingley sharply on two separate occasions today. More directly than I ought to have done, but it was necessary. She presumed too much—and, due to my friendship with her brother, I have remained silent for too long. I asked her brother to address her, and he did, but to no avail. She would not listen...”

There was an awkward moment, and Darcy looked away briefly, as though gathering himself.

“I fear I have spent too much of the evening speaking with your father,” he said, half-apologetically.

“His manner invites a degree of frankness…and I find myself less guarded than I ought to be. I should not have said that about my hostess.”

He hesitated, then added in a lower voice, almost conspiratorial, “I am afraid that I am not showing myself at my best this evening, first angering you, and, then proving myself to be nearly as bad as the gossiping matrons I try to avoid.”

“I will not hold it against you, sir,” Elizabeth teased.

“I too, have spent too much time in the company of my father and often find myself with a similar frankness. The fault is as much mine as it yours, for it was my hasty rush to judgement that forced you to say what you did.”

Elizabeth laughed quietly, not unkindly, and Darcy, still slightly flustered but heartened by her amusement, allowed himself a small, genuine smile.

Their set began, and for a little while, the noise and press of the assembly faded, leaving only the two of them moving together in an easy, familiar rhythm.

Several moments later, Elizabeth glanced up at him, her eyes bright with mischief.

“It seems your dancing, Mr. Darcy, is as surprising as your conversation,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“For someone whose cousin expressed surprise at your knowing how, I find you quite adept at the art.”

Darcy felt a rush of heat climb the back of his neck, but he managed to answer, his tone wry, “I did not wish to disappoint you, Miss Elizabeth. And I believe my cousin was more surprised at my willingness to dance, not my skill. I have often partnered with my sister during her lessons, and I enjoy the activity. It is the...other parts of navigating society that trouble me.”

Throughout the dance, Darcy found his gaze drawn to Elizabeth.

They spoke, though he could not have said about what, lost as he was in the quickness of her smile, the grace of her movements, and the intelligence shining in her eyes.

When they passed in the pattern of the dance, Elizabeth tilted her head slightly—an almost imperceptible gesture, as if to reassure him.

Each time, Darcy’s chest tightened with an emotion he dared not name.

Their gloved hands brushed in a touch no more intimate than the dance required, yet each touch burned against his skin.

He wondered if she felt it too and noticed that a faint, secret flush coloured her cheeks.

When Darcy first met Miss Elizabeth, he knew at once that he wished to pursue her—but he had hesitated, uncertain whether he should .

Now, his concerns had shifted to his uncle’s likely reaction.

What did his uncle know?

What might he suspect?

And what would he say—or do—if Darcy were to openly court Elizabeth?

Given his attraction to her, which only grew each time he was in her company, it was more imperative that he speak to Bennet as soon as possible.

He needed to see what could be done to circumvent his uncle from carrying out his threat—implied or otherwise.

The final measures played, and Darcy offered his hand once more.

Elizabeth placed hers lightly in his, and when he bowed over it, he allowed himself the smallest indulgence—holding her gaze a heartbeat longer than propriety allowed.

She did not look away.

Neither did Caroline Bingley.

Her brother had told her often enough that Darcy would never offer for her, but she had ignored him.

Watching him that evening had been painful since it was obvious that he was actually enjoying himself for once.

Unlike all the events she had attended with him in town—not truly with him, since he was right, he had never invited her, but she had always convinced herself that he had not done so due to the impropriety of it, not because she was unwelcome—he appeared to be at ease in the company that night .

For some time after they entered, she watched him as he first spoke to an older gentleman, likely the friend of his father’s, before that man began to introduce him to others in the room.

Most of these first introductions were to other men, and though he had been stiff at first with each of them, Miss Bingley noticed that it did not take long for him to appear at ease.

When he began to be introduced to some of the matrons and young ladies in attendance, she noticed that, while many appeared interested in him, most approached him demurely.

Although she was at a distance from most of these, she saw enough to know that these women did not appear interested in him solely for avaricious reasons.

Yes, he was handsome, and she noticed the admiration in many of their glances, but not the same sort of flirtations that she so often witnessed in town.

Nor the same sort of flirtations or improper behaviours that she had so frequently demonstrated towards him.

It was a startling realisation, made all the worse when she heard her own name and the account of Darcy’s comments to her outside the assembly hall whispered about by a few young ladies in attendance.

“What has you thinking so seriously, Caroline?” Mrs. Hurst said quietly as she approached her sister, observing her rather fierce scowl.

“It is not quite the same as in town, but I have met several interesting ladies here. Our brother seems to be enjoying himself, but I worry about his typical behaviours. I hope that Mr. Darcy has warned him to be careful about his usual exuberance. Such behaviour would not be welcome in a small country society like this one. I would speak to him, or have my husband do so, but I am certain that if Mr. Darcy were to say something, he would take the matter much more seriously.”

Miss Bingley grimaced.

“I think you must be correct. We have warned him away from women so often for various reasons, but most of them were because we did not approve of the lady,” she said with a sigh .

She continued, shocking her sister greatly.

“Have I been inappropriate in my actions towards Mr. Darcy?”

For a moment, Mrs. Hurst could not speak.

“What…what do you mean?” she stammered.

“Have my actions towards Mr. Darcy been inappropriate? Have I been...pushy, grasping, clingy? Am I too forward with him or with other gentlemen?” Miss Bingley asked in a brisk manner, not noticing her sister’s face as the colour seemed to drain from it.

She stopped and looked at her sister as she finished.

Mrs. Hurst had become very pale, and her mouth was opening and closing without any sound coming out of it.

“Never mind,” Miss Bingley retorted icily.

“I suppose your reaction is answer enough. My actions have been unbecoming, and Mr. Darcy was likely correct to speak to me the way he did. It seems,” she continued, her tone becoming bitter, “that I could not have attracted him regardless since his taste appears to run towards the society here. He has been more personable this evening with strangers than he ever was in my company or at society events. I suppose that, should I have managed to force his hand somehow, we would have been miserable together.”

Mrs. Hurst nodded.

“You enjoy society far more than Mr. Darcy has ever seemed to do,” she agreed.

“I think that you would have found very quickly that you would not have enjoyed a marriage to him, and it would not have been the marriage you desired. Once he is married, Mr. Darcy will spend very little time in London.”

Miss Bingley scowled at this.

“I thought I would have been able to change his mind on that count. As his wife, he would have given in to my insistence that we spend the majority of the Season in town and to host house parties in the summer. Still, watch him now,” she ordered, and both women turned to look at where Darcy stood talking to Miss Elizabeth.

There were others around them, including their brother, who already seemed to be smitten with the eldest Miss Bennet, but Darcy seemed entranced by his companion, and the two were lost in conversation.

“What do you know about her?” Miss Bingley asked after a moment.

“She is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, second of five daughters in the Bennet family,” Mrs. Hurst began.

“The family owns a modest estate that is apparently adjacent to Netherfield, but I do not know much about it. I did meet her mother who had much praise for the elder daughter, Miss Jane Bennet, but complained that Miss Elizabeth was too much of a bluestocking to attract a husband. The lady seemed to recognise our brother’s interest in Miss Bennet and seeks to encourage the match. However, she implied that Mr. Darcy was well known to the Bennet family and informed me that our brother, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy’s cousin had all dined at their estate, Longbourn, during one of their visits to the area.”

Miss Bingley scowled again.

“Five daughters,” she huffed.

“Do they have dowries?”

“That did not come up,” Mrs. Hurst replied.

“Mr. Bennet approached when Mrs. Bennet was denigrating her second daughter and pulled her aside, presumably to speak to her. When she returned, she was much subdued.”

“I could understand it if Mr. Darcy married the daughter of a peer or a woman with a larger dowry than my own,” Miss Bingley huffed.

“For him to appear interested in a mere country miss, even if she is the daughter of a gentleman, is more than I can stand. I have told my friends that I would return from Netherfield engaged to Mr. Darcy. If he is not to marry me, the least I can do is ensure he chooses a bride who is better placed. I would not be able to hold my head up in London otherwise.”

Mrs. Hurst was already shaking her head before her sister finished talking.

“I do not think that is wise, Caroline,” she said.

“While I cannot disagree with you giving up your pursuit of Mr. Darcy, I do not think you ought to interfere. I imagine he will make a decision that best suits him and will not take into consideration your desire to save face with people you hardly even like. If he decides Miss Elizabeth is the one he wishes to marry, then you should not do anything to meddle with them.”

Huffing, Miss Bingley turned to her sister.

“It is not meddling. His family could barely condone such a match. Just wait until Lady Matlock arrives, and we will see what she has to say about the matter.”