Page 16 of The Heroic Mr Darcy’s Bad Manners

Jane arrived in town just in time for the event of the Season, Lady Jersey’s Christmas ball. Their father accompanied her sister on the trip, a rare occurrence that prompted his mother to hope for a prolonged stay.

“You must have tea with us and warm yourself by the fire,” her grandmother entreated.

“I cannot if I am to return to Longbourn before dark.” Lord Glentworth had not even removed his hat and stood in the entrance hall ready to flee.

Lord Limerick had heard the commotion and poked his head out of his study.

“Glentworth! A word if you please,” his lordship shouted.

“I cannot oblige you. I must leave at once while there is still light.” Lord Glentworth took one step towards the door.

“But you will join us for Christmas,” her uncle demanded.

“I very much doubt it,” her father replied.

“Thomas, you must join us, and it had better be sooner rather than later,” Lord Limerick called whilst Lord Glentworth walked out of the door and entered his carriage. The equipage left at once, with the marquess blustering at the top of the steps. “I need a divine intervention,” he muttered.

Jane was hastened to her room to unpack before joining her sister to prepare for the evening’s event. Grandmother had ordered both girls new dresses with the old measurements her seamstress had taken last summer. Small adjustments were made in a frenzy before the sisters had a moment to themselves.

“Are you well, Jane?” Elizabeth enquired. Usually so perceptive of her sister’s moods, she could not determine Jane’s present state of mind.

“I am,” she replied with little conviction.

“Then why do I not believe you?” Elizabeth arched her brows.

“There is nothing the matter with me but some ridiculous doubts following our elevation of rank.” Jane sat down heavily on her bed and was joined by her sister. “Have you questioned people’s sincerity since our good fortune became known?” she asked.

“Dear Jane, I have been questioning the sincerity of most people since long before I was aware of Father’s coming elevation to the peerage. I am far less trusting than you, and I welcome your new-found cynicism most heartily. You are too apt in general to believe everything you hear, which is why I was particularly impressed by your last letter.”

“I do not relish being cynical,” Jane lamented.

“Well, you should. In my experience, not all are what they seem upon first impression. It is easy to be deceived by a handsome face and agreeable manners.”

“How am I to tell the difference?” Jane whispered.

“We shall endeavour to become wiser together, and it is not as though we are friendless. Our dear grandmother will certainly give her opinion decidedly upon every gentleman vying for our attention.”

Jane sighed in relief whilst Elizabeth rose to allow her to rest before the evening’s entertainment. She kissed her head and left to her own preparations.

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It caused quite a stir when Jane entered the ballroom on Lord Limerick’s arm. Just as Elizabeth had predicted, they were immediately surrounded by eager gentlemen vying for an introduction. They were both promptly engaged for the first set, though Elizabeth harboured misgivings about her partner. She immediately recognised the young buck as the one who had climbed into Mr Bingley’s box at the theatre. Judging by his appearance, she doubted very much the Duke of Beaufort’s son was of age. Fortunately, he danced well enough even if his conversation bordered on the impolite.

“I feel it incumbent upon myself to warn you not to allow any expectations to be raised on my behalf.”

“I can assure you there is no chance of that!” Elizabeth replied wryly. Her feelings were not likely to become engaged by a stripling just out of leading strings.

“I meant no offence. It is just that my heart is no longer mine to give,” the young man added.

Elizabeth’s own heart immediately softened.

“Are you engaged or perhaps married?” she asked out of politeness.

“No, not yet,” the swain answered ruefully. “Though I consider myself married, we have yet to say our vows before God.”

How lovely! Even at such an early age, Lord Worcester showed an admirable devotion to his heart’s desire. To be so admired must mean that there was an incredibly lucky lady somewhere.

“Is she here?” Elizabeth asked whilst searching the edges of the room for a scowling young woman.

“Unfortunately not. She was not invited, and I promised her not to dance with any other lady, but my father would not hear of it.”

He looked so forlorn she could not help but pity him.

“I give you leave to tell her I was a very disagreeable dance partner. Barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt you.” Elizabeth smiled at the disheartened boy. She was relieved when the dance ended as he had spoken about nothing else but Harriette, his lady love.

Three undesirable partners later, she excused herself by pleading a need to refresh herself and went in search of the designated room.

It was not Elizabeth’s intention to eavesdrop, but when a certain gentleman was mentioned, she could not help but stop and pretended to admire some paintings.

“Mr Darcy has taken an interest in you. He never dances with anyone besides the lady of the house or his particular friends. It is as much as a declaration from a gentleman of his ilk. You should put on a becoming dress come morning because I predict you will have a desirable caller on the morrow.”

Elizabeth gazed upon the likeness of a distant ancestor of Lady Jersey with underserved attention. Why she would torment herself in this way was a conundrum, but her legs did not want to move away.

“I was so relieved when he asked me to dance. I had been sitting out for three dances, but he engaged Miss Villiers before me.”

“She married Lord Ponsonby two years ago and is Lady Ponsonby now. Honestly, Millie, you must keep up with the titbits, though I suppose you may be excused in this instance. Lady Ponsonby has not ventured much into society since the scarlet fever left her more or less deaf. His lordship must love her very much to overlook her deficiency.”

Elizabeth had seen Lady Ponsonby at the theatre; she was stunningly beautiful and of a demure disposition, which was exactly what a gentleman looked for in a wife. There was no reason to disparage her.

“Oh, he is dancing with Miss Carter now,” the young girl lamented.

“That freckled little thing does not hold a candle to you, Millie.”

“I am hardly any prettier,” the one called Millie demurred.

“You have a noble nose and an excellent character. I dare say Mr Darcy is less attracted to fickle beauty and prefers a good God-fearing girl.”

It was not long before Miss Millie’s good fortune was bandied about the ballroom as the newest titbit. Elizabeth, always conscious of Mr Darcy’s whereabouts, thought the girl had imagined too much intention behind her one set, which became apparent over the course of the evening. Mr Darcy danced every set and showed a penchant for the overlooked and miserable. He typical chose the ladies who were infrequently engaged by other gentlemen, a scheme she heartily applauded though it differed vastly from his behaviour in Meryton. It confirmed her belief that Mr Darcy behaved differently in his own sphere as opposed to a lesser society in the country.

Elizabeth danced the next set with a young untitled gentleman. He was handsome, but to engage him in conversation was an arduous task. She was being escorted back to her grandmother when she spotted a familiar face amongst the gentlemen and excused herself before another young buck had time to engage her. She made a direct line and flashed past Mr Darcy, who was leading a young lady back to her family.

“Mr Knightley,” she said, curtseying and smiling at her cousin’s neighbour. He was a frequent visitor at the Hartfield estate—a daily occurrence judging by her cousin Emma’s letters.

“Lady Elizabeth.” He bowed. “John told me that your father has been elevated to the Earl of Glentworth.”

“Yes, he has,” Elizabeth confirmed and changed the subject. “How is Emma? Is she here?”

Mr Knightley raised his brows. “I highly doubt Mr Woodhouse would ever allow her to come to London.”

“You are quite right, how silly of me,” Elizabeth agreed. Mr Woodhouse’s nervous disposition was excessive and severely limited Emma’s movements, prospects, and even her diet.

“I would not go that far. You are a witty and clever creature, and one is allowed to hope, I suppose.”

Elizabeth did not know whether to be offended about being deemed a creature or flattered by the unexpected praise. Mr Knightley was a restrained gentleman who did not shy away from frequently scolding her dear cousin Emma. Emma was Aunt Gardiner’s niece, and because of Mr Woodhouse’s fluttering nerves and her own father’s distaste for travelling, the cousins by marriage were mostly left to correspond through numerous letters.

“Is she well?” Elizabeth enquired.

“Yes, very well. Though I cannot condone her new occupation.”

“And what has Emma engrossed at the moment?”

“Matchmaking.” Mr Knightley frowned. “I am certain Miss Taylor does not appreciate her efforts. Nothing good can come of it. It is best to refrain from meddling in people’s personal lives.” He was staring over her right shoulder and seemed distant. “Yet, I must ask you why Mr Darcy is scowling at me.”

Elizabeth laughed, fighting the impulse to turn and see for herself. “I can assure you that it is not you he has directed his critical eyes towards but me.”

“Why would he scowl at you?” Mr Knightley asked in bewilderment.

“He is listing my faults,” Elizabeth quipped. Mr Knightley’s frown deepened, which hastened her to add, “It is a habit of his, and if I am not impertinent, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”

Mr Knightley shook his head and smiled crookedly. “I must disabuse you of such a notion. As a gentleman myself who knows something about other gentlemen’s dispositions, Mr Darcy is definitely scowling at me, and he is not looking at you to find fault. Quite the contrary.”

Elizabeth was shocked silent and could only stare at Mr Knightley, who obviously knew no more about Mr Darcy than he did about the man in the moon.

“Me thinks Emma’s new endeavour might be contagious, but we shall not argue about that on this fine evening. Will you give her my regards when next you see her?” Elizabeth requested, curtseyed, and left to find her family.

People were moving towards the dining room, and she was fruitlessly searching for her relations in the throng when someone obstructed her path. It was quite an annoying time to be short in stature; for a moment, she wished she had donned Queen Elizabeth’s shoes.

“Lady Elizabeth,” the gentleman who had stepped in front of her said, bowing deeply and offering her his arm.

Elizabeth was reluctant to take it because she was not certain whether they had been introduced. It was difficult to distinguish his unremarkable appearance in the sea of new acquaintances, and her grandmother firmly objected to accepting introductions that had not been approved by her family.

“Mr Elliswick, at your service.” He bowed again. “We were introduced by the Duke of Argyll,” he asserted, but Elizabeth did not know said duke by anything more than his name. The only Elliswick she had heard of was Meryton’s seamstress, and she doubted the woman had an acquaintance who was a guest at Lady Jersey’s Christmas ball.

Mr Elliswick took her silence for acceptance and laced his arm with hers.

“Excuse me!” she cried, but Mr Elliswick led her forcefully towards the balcony door.

“Release me this instant, or I shall scream,” she warned.

Mr Elliswick smirked and pulled her farther from the safety of the ballroom. “You may scream as much as you like. I am sure even the marquess will agree to our marriage if we are discovered loitering alone on the balcony.”

“He will not,” Elizabeth protested. “And I most certainly shall never entertain such a ridiculous threat. What do you want from me?”

The oaf did not even answer, and Elizabeth’s valiant resistance brought them to an abrupt halt.

“Campbell! Release the lady at once!” Mr Darcy’s rich baritone voice commanded.

Elizabeth had never been more delighted to see his forbidding countenance than at that very moment. She glanced at Mr Elliswick, or Campbell, or whatever his real name was, utterly relieved he had not succeeded in pulling her out onto the balcony. He glared back at her with such hatred that she became scared enough to admit to it.

Mr Darcy was by her side in the next instant and repeated his command. Faced with a furious Mr Darcy who towered two or three inches above him, the man finally released Elizabeth, who rubbed her arm where his fingers had dug into her flesh.

“Return to your family, Lady Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy ordered curtly.

Did he believe she was about to follow the rake willingly out onto the darkened balcony? “I shall once I have informed you that I did not move this way—” Because she could not allow him to think ill of her? She was being silly, he already did.

“Lady Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy whispered and looked up.

Elizabeth followed his gaze and saw the twig of mistletoe hanging directly above her head. Unfortunately, the Campbell reprobate had also discovered the dratted verdure and picked a berry. Before she had the wherewithal to step away, he leant in. Her quick response saved her from a kiss on the lips. She wrenched her head to the side and the sloppy kiss landed on her cheek.

Elizabeth lowered her head to avoid a repeat performance and huffed as she rummaged in vain through her reticule, when a handkerchief was handed to her.

“Thank you, Mr Darcy.” She accepted the silk cloth and wiped her cheek whilst she turned her back decidedly to the whippersnapper Campbell.

Mr Darcy offered her his arm. Glancing up at him, she saw his eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

“May I escort you to your family?”

Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm. Out of two evils, he was definitely the most palatable choice. “You may,” she replied firmly. “Thank you for your timely rescue, Mr Darcy.” She did not deign to award Mr Campbell with so much as a glance, but the girl called Millie was looking at her with narrowed eyes. “I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. It is Mr Campbell who should apologise to you,” Mr Darcy replied with feeling.

“Of that there could be but one opinion, but I was not speaking about that rake. I was apologising for occupying so much of your time.”

“It is my pleasure to be of service to you. I can assure you that I have nothing better to do,” Mr Darcy protested.

“I beg to differ,” Elizabeth replied, nodding discreetly at the young ladies who were following them with their eyes. “I have received askance glances and narrowed eyes since accepting your arm. You have created quite the stir tonight. I believe Miss Millie is particularly miffed. She is believed to be the chosen one and expects a caller on the morrow.”

Mr Darcy bowed his head and looked anything but happy. He escorted her to her family and left the dining room so quickly he must have been desperate to escape her company. She did not know where he went, but Mr Campbell made no reappearance neither during nor after the meal.

It was to be hoped that her jest about ladies had not injured Mr Darcy. The gentleman reverted back to his former habit of stalking the outskirts of the party when he was not poised in a corner with his hands clasped behind his back. With the scowl he was wearing, no young miss dared approach him.