CHAPTER FOUR
Though he felt immediately that he had been exposed, Darcy schooled himself to be calm. Calm and amiable, he warned himself while he offered a bow. “Forgive me, Madam, but you have me at a disadvantage.”
“Do I?”
“You appear to be acquainted with me, while I do not recall meeting you.” He smiled, doing his best to be charming. “I surely would remember an acquaintance with someone so lovely.”
Darcy turned to Bingley who had already become lost in his admiration of Miss Bennet. “Bingley, perhaps you will do me the honour of an introduction, should the lady agree to it?”
Bingley’s colour was high and his eyes could not be moved from Miss Bennet. With a vague sort of bowing gesture, he said, “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, allow me to present Mr William Darcy.”
“Mr William Darcy?” Elizabeth echoed, with clear bemusement.
Miss Bennet appeared enthralled by Bingley, and the elder lady was engaged in another conversation; thus was Elizabeth left to converse with Darcy alone—and that suited him very well.
“Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is my cousin,” he told her.
Her eyes slowly roamed across his countenance. “You are very much alike, sir.”
“We have heard it all of our lives,” he said with a genial smile.
Her eyes swept over him again; she at last gave him an uncertain smile and a curtsey. “It is my pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is wholly mine.” His smile broadened, his cheeks aching with the effort of it.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Bingley escorting Miss Bennet towards the set of dancers just forming. “Will you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?”
Her eyes went wide again, and a spark of mischief came into her countenance. “You are fond of dancing, Mr Darcy?”
Darcy did not falter. “Given an agreeable partner, I am.”
Her lips pursed and he thrilled in delighted anticipation of being teased. “Are you certain I will be an agreeable partner? After all, we have only just been introduced. What if you come to find me exceedingly disagreeable?”
He chuckled. “I daresay I must take my chances, Miss Elizabeth. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so I have always believed. Shall we, then?” He gestured towards the lines of dancers. She nodded, taking his arm as they made their way towards the set.
The first part of their set was spent in relating to Miss Elizabeth the story that had been agreed upon. She appeared to think it true, responding to him agreeably and even warmly at times. When at last he had depleted his pre-arranged topics of conversation, they were silent for a moment. It was then that Elizabeth posed the first question of her own.
“Sir, I wonder if I might be so bold as to ask a question of you?”
Darcy smiled, noticing that the action was becoming less forced and more habitual. “Anything you like. I am well-pleased to answer.”
“Are you in your cousin’s confidence?”
“His confidence?”
“Do you know the particulars of my acquaintance with your cousin?”
Darcy was not sure how he should answer, and thus prevaricated awkwardly. “Oh, ah, yes, he told me you were a fine lady and excellent company, and that I should seek you out at my earliest opportunity.”
“Did he?” Elizabeth asked. After a moment’s silence, she asked, “Was it recently that he said so? Since his return from Kent?”
“Oh, ahh, yes. Yes it was.”
Blast! He had thought long on safe topics of conversation and nevertheless, she had him knotted up in tangles within minutes! He did not wish for this cousin of his to put the real him in any sort of jeopardy. Did she think William Darcy was mocking her? Had he already offended her?
There were a few moments to gather his thoughts as they moved through a pattern and then, on an impulse, he said, “My cousin told me he considers you one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance.”
She glanced up at him. “Did he?”
Darcy nodded, rather too emphatically, but he felt himself on thin ice and wished to seek firmer ground. “Yes, but also he said he admired your wit as much as your beauty.”
Elizabeth looked at him rather doubtfully so he added, “He has always admired any lady who does not fear the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
Elizabeth tilted her head up towards him to reply to his comment. In so doing, her eyes held a momentary look of interest and warmth that was intoxicating. Her neck was exposed to him, the skin creamy and soft-looking and he noted, for not the first time, how particularly dainty and well formed her ears were. He was distracted for a moment, envisioning himself placing a kiss onto the delicate skin where her jaw, her neck, and her ear were united.
He spoke without thinking. “I know you do not like to discuss books in a ballroom, but perhaps you will tell me of some of your favourites.”
She stared at him and he realised, a moment too late, his mistake. He had made reference to their conversation during their dance at Netherfield—a conversation of which William Darcy would have no knowledge.
Frantically, Darcy began speaking, in an effort to overcome his error. “That is to say, I believe most ladies would not like to speak of books in a ballroom. Is that not true? After all, are not ladies’ heads generally filled with other things in a ballroom?”
“Such as what?” Elizabeth raised one eyebrow at him. “What is it you think my head is filled with, Mr Darcy? As we have only just met, I am interested to know what it is you would imagine I think of.”
He stammered like a fool, thoroughly unnerved. “I…I am sure I do not…the size of the room or the number of couples. There are many couples I see—” He glanced around him quickly to confirm it was true, noting thankfully that it was so “—but the room is by no means insufficient for it. That is to say, it is a fine room and the couples are…well, Hertfordshire has many handsome couples indeed and… and dancing is a charming amusement for young people. Do you like this dance?”
Elizabeth stared at him another long moment before lowering her eyes. Then, peeking at him through her lashes, she remarked, “So…you talk by rule then when you are dancing?”
The conversation was too familiar to him. Had it been said before? Did she recall it? His heart began to pound while he sought to determine whether he had revealed himself. He began to stammer another response but she saved him.
“I agree. I think it would be exceedingly odd to stand up together for half an hour without saying anything. I cannot abide someone who will not trouble himself to speak to his partner.”
“I agree,” he said, his heart still hammering madly. Then he considered what she said. There was a reproof in it—was there not? An intimation of his past arrogance. He decided to rectify it immediately.
“At times, it is not the trouble which keeps a man from speaking during a dance. There are some times when a gentleman simply cannot speak.”
“Why is that?”
What did she know? It was impossible to tell. She appeared teasing… She was not angry and yet it was a chance to improve her opinion of him. He took a breath, hoping to avoid an additional misstep.
“Often times the lady with whom you most wish to dance is the self-same lady who is able to render you stupid and tongue-tied in her presence. So you are silent, not because you do not want to talk but because you cannot.”
“You must be accustomed to dancing with exceedingly formidable ladies.” She laughed. “What do these fearsome creatures do that is so intimidating?”
“Dreadful things,” Darcy replied with feeling.
“I cannot imagine a sensible, educated gentleman such as yourself to be so squeamish.”
Little did she know that she was doing it right now! He felt as though he were eighteen years old again, stuttering through his first conversation in a ballroom. “They tease,” he replied, speaking in a tone of mock reproof. “Their eyes sparkle and their cheeks blush so prettily, all the while moving through a dance which seems designed to show them to advantage. It renders a man near insensible.”
“It sounds dreadful,” Elizabeth said. “Quite heartless.”
“Just so,” he agreed. “And yet...”
Their dance ended just then and he released her hand with great reluctance.
“And yet what, Mr Darcy?” She awaited his words.
He leaned close to her. “And yet, in the society of the right lady, we would not forgo it for the world. ’Tis a most exquisite form of torture.”
He bowed to her, then offered his arm to provide escort to where her sister and Bingley were walking. When they had arrived at the little group, their chaperon, the elder lady, was there again, once more in conversation with another matron.
They did not interrupt her conversation but stood, speaking among themselves for a moment. Bingley’s dance had presumably been a success, Darcy noted. He was as enraptured by Miss Bennet as he had ever been. It was with pleasure that Darcy noted Miss Bennet’s like admiration of Bingley. She stood a step too close to him, he noted, and gave small, surreptitious glances at him frequently.
“Mr Darcy, I do hope your cousin is well,” Miss Bennet said. “Do you anticipate his joining you during your stay at Netherfield?”
“No,” said Darcy.
“Perhaps,” said Bingley at the same time. The two men shot one another a look that sent Bingley wide-eyed and worried. “That is to say, one never knows with Darcy! Fitzwilliam Darcy, I mean. Not the Mr Darcy you see before you, but rather his cousin. He blows hither and yon! I would very much like it if he joined us but now that I think of it, I suppose it is impossible for him. Yes, upon further reflection, it is most decidedly out of the question. He is exceedingly busy in town.”
“Mr Darcy blows hither and yon?” Elizabeth asked. “I had never ascribed caprice to him.”
Blast it, Bingley! Darcy thought. Stop talking!
“Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth continued, speaking in a light tone although Darcy could see keen interest in her eyes. “I had understood it was you who was able to be off at a moment’s notice. Now you tell me it is Mr Darcy who has that peculiar talent?”
Bingley looked very much like a hound caught in the kitchen. “I would not say a moment but?—”
“No, no,” Darcy hastened to interrupt him. “I assure you, Mr Darcy is most decidedly not inconstant. Once he is fixed on something,” he tried to look at her intently, wishing her to apprehend his meaning, “…he is firmly fixed. He does not waver, at least not on matters of true importance.”
“Ah, yes,” Elizabeth said, her gaze steady on Darcy’s. “I do recall once he said his good opinion once lost was lost forever.”
Darcy opened his mouth, wishing to explain himself but at the last, recalling he must speak for his cousin, not himself. “I am loath to speak for him, for I cannot know the particulars of the conversation to which you refer. However, my cousin was very lately betrayed by someone who was once a dear friend to him—to us both. I would imagine it was that situation in particular which was recalled to his mind when he said that.”
Elizabeth looked down, seeming chagrined. Softly, she said, “Oh yes.”
Bingley’s head had swivelled back and forth between them during the exchange. He clearly knew he had erred and so leapt in at the first opportunity to remedy his mistake. “I only meant to say that when Darcy is in London he is always longing for the country. One never knows when he might make an escape from the obligations of the social season.”
There was a brief pause until Miss Bennet spoke, a look of sweet bafflement on her features. “I thought when we danced, you had mentioned Mr Darcy was much occupied at Pemberley.”
Bingley shot Darcy a panicked look.
How could I have ever imagined Bingley equal to this? Darcy recovered the slip smoothly. “He was until recently, but then he came to town.”
“I see,” Miss Bennet murmured.
Was it his imagination, or did she dart a glance at Elizabeth? Darcy had the increasing sense that they were exposing his ruse and began to cast about his mind desperately for another topic of conversation. Everything he could imagine was fraught with the possibility for error and he stood, in a rather stupid fashion, until Bingley hit on the answer.
“We are leaving our partners to thirst, Darcy!” He turned and bowed to the ladies. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth—may I interest you in a cup of punch?”
Both ladies agreed, and with much relief, the gentlemen were off to recover their senses and procure some punch.