Page 11 of The Cat Who Loved Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“I must confess,” Darcy said, his voice pitched only for her, “this is the most enjoyable set I have danced in recent memory.”

Elizabeth let her eyes crinkle with mischief. “Your memory can’t be very long, sir.”

He gave a small, genuine laugh that made her blink in surprise.

They turned once more, steps sure and elegant. Around them, other dancers fell in and out of step, some laughing, some scolding partners gently. But they moved together as if they had practiced it a hundred times.

Elizabeth realised, almost unwillingly, that they suited perfectly.

When the dance ended, there was applause. Couples curtseyed and bowed. Darcy’s bow to her was deep, his eyes steady, his mouth curved just enough to be called a smile.

Elizabeth sank into her curtsey with flushed cheeks and a flutter in her chest she told herself was merely exertion.

They straightened together, hands parting reluctantly. For a moment neither spoke, the din of conversation surging around them like the sea around an island.

Darcy inclined his head at last. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

Her lips parted on a breath. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

They did not immediately move away.

She found she could not look away from his eyes.

And for a heartbeat, neither seemed willing to break the spell.

***

The applause ebbed, replaced by the happy murmur of guests finding new partners, greeting neighbours, and calling for punch. Elizabeth slowly lowered her eyes, her heart still beating too quickly for dignity.

Darcy cleared his throat softly. “Miss Elizabeth,” he began, his voice lower, more careful now that the music had stopped, “you dance most gracefully.”

She felt her lips twitch at the slight emphasis. “You are too obliging, sir. I can only hope you did not find the set too fatiguing.”

He hesitated, and she caught the flicker of dry amusement in his eyes. “I believe I shall recover.”

Elizabeth almost laughed. Almost. She felt strangely unsteady, though her feet were quite firm on the floor.

For one moment longer they simply looked at each other, caught in a hush of their own while the assembly room carried on in waves of noise and colour around them.

Then Darcy inclined his head with measured formality, stepping back just enough to sever the connection between them. “Thank you for the honour.”

Elizabeth swept a curtsey that was both practiced and sincere. “The honour was mine, Mr. Darcy.”

He offered his arm briefly, out of the same scrupulous courtesy that had marked their entire encounter, guiding her through the slight press of bodies so she would not be jostled. She rested her fingers on his sleeve for those few paces and found the warmth of it unsettlingly reassuring.

When they reached the edge of the floor, he released her with grave precision.

Mrs. Bennet was there at once, like a hawk descending on prey. She clapped her hands and nearly squeaked with excitement. “Lizzy! Mr. Darcy! What a set! I have never seen anything so elegant. Such fine dancing!”

Elizabeth coloured, trying to suppress a sigh. “Mama, please—”

But Mrs. Bennet was unstoppable. She turned those wide, hungry eyes on Darcy. “Sir, you have quite made our evening. I hope you will join us at Longbourn very soon. We should all be so delighted!”

Darcy inclined his head again, his earlier warmth now tucked carefully away. “Madam.”

Elizabeth felt it like a door quietly closing.

She wished she could stop her mother from babbling on, but Mrs. Bennet was beyond mortal intervention.

Mr. Bennet, who had drifted closer, intervened at last, voice calm and dry. “My dear, let the good man breathe. He has only just completed two dances.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed but quieted—a little.

Elizabeth seized the moment to slip away, turning to Darcy with her most composed curtsey. “Mr. Darcy, you honour me.”

He bowed low, eyes meeting hers with quiet intensity. “Miss Elizabeth, the honour is mine entirely. Might I hope you will stand up with me for another of the upcoming sets?”

She felt the corners of her mouth curve despite her best efforts. “I should be very pleased, sir.”

His answering smile was subtle but unmistakable. “You do me a great kindness, Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr. Darcy turned away to rejoin Bingley, whose grin was wide enough to split his face.

Elizabeth watched him go. She felt oddly bereft.

Mrs. Bennet tugged at her sleeve, triumphant. “Did I not say you would take well to him? Oh, Lizzy, two full dances! Mark me, this is most promising.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes just enough for Jane to see, who covered her mouth to hide a laugh. Then she straightened her shoulders and exhaled slowly. Two dances, she reminded herself. Just two dances.

But her heart would not quite behave.

***

Elizabeth eventually freed herself from her mother's enthusiastic remarks and drew Jane softly to a more secluded corner by the windows. The candles flickered in the draught, muting the noise of chatter and laughter from the main floor.

They settled side by side on a narrow bench, their skirts brushing. For a moment they simply sat in silence, breathing out the tension of being so thoroughly on display.

Jane was the first to speak, voice low and warm. “Lizzy, you danced beautifully. I could see how well he attended to you. You looked... so at ease.”

Elizabeth snorted softly, though the sound held no real scorn. “At ease? I felt like the main attraction at a fair. After dancing with Cousin Collins I half expected someone to sell tickets to the performance.”

Jane covered a giggle with her hand. “That is not how it seemed on the second set. You looked very well together with Mr. Darcy. He did not take his eyes off you.”

Elizabeth sighed and tilted her head back against the wall. “Yes. How you always see the bright side of things, Jane.”

Jane frowned lightly. “Lizzy. Don’t start again.”

Elizabeth shifted, restless. “Yes, Mr. Darcy was attentive. Surprisingly so. And polite. And—” she hesitated, the words feeling uncomfortably earnest on her tongue. “And he was... careful with me. Considerate. I did not expect it.”

Jane’s expression softened even more. “He seemed... quite changed, to me. Less severe.”

Elizabeth twisted her mouth, admitting the truth with reluctance. “He spoke more freely. Even teased, in his way. And he actually listened.” She dropped her voice even further. “Jane, I liked him tonight.”

Jane clasped her hand gently. “Then that is all that matters.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, fighting the small, treacherous smile that wanted to emerge. “I do not intend to like him too much, I assure you.”

Jane’s eyes sparkled with quiet mischief. “Of course not. That would be most improper for you and your prejudices.”

Elizabeth laughed despite herself and let her head fall to rest briefly on Jane’s shoulder. They sat like that for a moment—two sisters sharing the calm after the music, their dresses rustling softly, the candles casting delicate light on their thoughtful faces.

Finally, Elizabeth straightened with a sigh, smoothing her gown. “Well. I have survived the ordeal, at least. Two dances. Enough to feed Mama’s dreams for a year.”

Jane’s lips curved in her serene, accepting way. “Mr. Darcy did ask for one set more, mind you.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “Perhaps this ball will be different from the others.”

They both smiled then—conspiratorial, affectionate, and quietly sure that, whatever else the night held, they would face it together.

***

Mr. Bennet had withdrawn slightly away from his wife and the main crowd, claiming a need to rest his feet and his patience equally, when he noticed Mr. Darcy approaching with a measured tread.

The music of the current set drifted behind them in lilting phrases, dancers moving like patterned waves upon the floor.

Darcy paused, adjusting his gloves, and inclined his head. “Mr. Bennet. May I impose on you for a moment of private conversation?”

Mr. Bennet peered over his spectacles with polite curiosity. “Sir, you may impose so long as you do not expect me to stand for it.” He gestured to the empty chair beside him. “Pray sit. I can only promise my attention, not my agreement.”

Mr. Darcy’s mouth twitched faintly at that. He took the seat, posture carefully correct but his gaze more open than usual. For a heartbeat he seemed to consider his words, then spoke low and even.

“I confess I am very glad I chose to remain in Hertfordshire for this assembly, sir.” He glanced toward the dancing couples, eyes searching for one in particular. “I have not attended such a gathering in some time—and I have certainly not enjoyed one so well in years.”

Mr. Bennet raised his brows, faintly amused. “And is that to our country credit, or to some particular lady’s?”

Darcy did not look away. “To be frank, to your daughter’s.”

There was a pause, filled with the faint stamping of dancers’ feet on the floorboards and the swirl of music. Mr. Bennet watched him shrewdly but said nothing.

Darcy continued, voice dropping slightly in seriousness, enough that Mr. Bennet leaned forward just a little to hear.

“Miss Elizabeth is... remarkable. I found myself speaking more freely than I have in many months. Or years. Since before my father died, I daresay. She has a gift for making one feel—heard.”

Mr. Bennet’s expression gentled despite himself, an ironic fondness in his eyes. “She has always had the unfortunate habit of thinking for herself. And of expecting others to do the same.”

Darcy’s lips curved, almost smiling. “A quality I find... singularly admirable.”

Mr. Bennet gave a noncommittal hum, tapping one finger on his chair arm. “I shall do my best not to take insult on her behalf.”

That drew a short, genuine smile from Darcy, which quickly faded back to solemn purpose.

He cleared his throat once, gaze steady but guarded.

“I hope you will not think me presumptuous, Mr. Bennet, if I say that I would be pleased to make my respects at Longbourn in the coming days, before leaving for Pemberley. I find your family’s company… most agreeable.”

Mr. Bennet lowered his head, spectacles sliding slightly down his nose as he observed the young gentleman. “Indeed. Agreeable company can be scarce in the country—unless one knows where to look.”

Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile. “I flatter myself that I know now.”

Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched. “And would you expect to find us all at home?”

Darcy’s voice softened. “I confess I would hope for Miss Elizabeth’s presence in particular. I have rarely met with such conversation.”

Mr. Bennet gave him a slow, measuring nod, humour in his eyes but not unkind. “She is generally at home, sir. And always ready to argue if you tempt her. But you are welcome to call.”

Darcy inclined his head deeply. “Thank you. I shall take that as an invitation.”

“The pleasure would be mine, I assure you,” Mr. Bennet said with a hint of pride in his voice.

Darcy lowered his voice further, choosing his words with care. “I hope I do not presume too far in observing that your cousin seems... particularly attentive to Miss Elizabeth.”

Mr. Bennet gave a dry chuckle. “Attentive he is. Successful he is not. Judging by how he dances, I estimate he will need five years and a dance tutor to make himself presentable.” Mr. Bennet tapped his cane once against the floor. “She is not the easiest girl to win over, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy’s mouth set in determination. “I would not value her if she were.”

Mr. Bennet allowed himself the smallest approving nod. “Then I suppose you had better try to claim her for the next set. I should hate to see your carefully laid plans undone by some local youth with more energy than sense. And, God forbid, Mr. Collins might have the chance to invite her again.”

Darcy actually chuckled at that, rising with a polite inclination. “I shall take your advice to heart, sir.”

He glanced once more across the floor, found Elizabeth in the crowd, and squared his shoulders before striding away with renewed purpose.

Mr. Bennet watched him go, shaking his head and smiling into his hand. “Well then. Our Lizzy may be about to learn what real courtship can be.”