Page 5 of The Heroic Mr Darcy’s Bad Manners

Mrs Bennet

Longbourn, September

“We shall all need new dresses,” Mrs Bennet rejoiced.

Mr Bingley had let Netherfield. It was said he was a gentleman of fortune, and he was rumoured to be attending the monthly assembly in just a fortnight.

“How so? I can see no reason for such an extravagance before I have even received the rents due at Michaelmas,” Mr Bennet protested. “I am certain our daughters can outdo all our neighbours just as well at the next assembly as this one.”

“How can you be so tiresome? Mrs Nicholls told Mrs Long that Mr Bingley was certain to attend. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single gentleman in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. You know as well as I that Mrs Goulding’s nieces will be dressed to the nines. Surely you must have funds stowed away somewhere amongst all this clutter.”

Mrs Bennet frowned as her eyes travelled across her husband’s study. The dark, masculine room was filled to the brim with books, a chessboard, and a collection of insects.

“Will you leave my study if I give you some funds?”

“That depends on how much you are forwarding. I implore you to remember that we have five daughters, and I would not mind something new myself.”

Mrs Bennet picked an imaginary speck of lint off her fichu and smoothed her skirts, refusing to meet her husband’s probing gaze.

“I shall strongly advise against it. With your beauty, Mr Bingley might find you the fairest of them all.”

“Do not be ridiculous. Although I once was a great beauty, having five grown daughters has certainly taken my mind off any consideration for myself.”

Unaware of the contradiction in her two statements, she pondered how to make her husband understand the significance of her request. It was vital that one of her daughters produce a son. She made herself comfortable in the chair opposite her spouse.

Mr Bennet sighed and pulled a black box from his bottom drawer. Keeping the contents hidden from her view, he withdrew a few banknotes, then returned the box to its safe place and locked the drawer before handing the notes to his wife.

Mrs Bennet accepted and counted the bills with a frown.

“This chair is surprisingly comfortable,” she mused, relaxing into the seat.

It was Mr Bennet’s turn to frown. Mrs Bennet pretended not to notice and continued to fidget with her money.

Mr Bennet jerked the drawer open and slammed the box onto his desk. Grumbling, he offered her a significantly larger stack of notes.

“How good of you, my dear Mr Bennet. I knew I would persuade you. I was certain that you loved your girls too much to neglect their attire. Well, how pleased I am! And it was such a good joke, too, that you pretended to be stingy. What an excellent father you are. I do not know how I shall ever repay your kindness.”

“If I am not mistaken, you promised to leave my study,” Mr Bennet reminded his wife. “My coffers have been thoroughly emptied, and I assure you I have nothing more for you to extort.”

“More? Oh, that is definitely not necessary. I am certain what you have already given me is quite sufficient. In fact, I might have settled for a little less.” She smiled, rounding the desk to give Mr Bennet a soft peck on his forehead.

“Thank you ever so much. I shall leave you to your business and share the good news with our girls.”

As predicted, Mrs Bennet’s daughters were all delighted to be provided with new dresses and lauded their good fortune. The money was shared equally, and the cackling noise such a blessing produced surely travelled down the hall into Mr Bennet’s study. Mrs Bennet gleefully imagined the patriarch lowering his head into his hands as she called for the carriage to be readied.

#

Elizabeth

Half an hour later, the Bennet ladies entered Mrs Elliswick’s combined drapery and haberdashery.

“Lizzy, can I have some of your money? You always wear your yellow dress,” Lydia begged.

“Absolutely not,” Elizabeth protested vehemently.

Mrs Bennet turned and studied her so intently that Elizabeth blushed. She could not reveal to her sisters why it was so important to her to have a new dress because their teasing would be relentless, and they might very well decide to embarrass her in front of the gentleman in question. That depended upon whether Mr Darcy would accompany Mr Bingley to the assembly, or even to Netherfield, but why would he have encouraged his friend to take the place if not for the excuse to be near her? She had every reason to hope.

Elizabeth glanced at Jane. She had not even confided her encounter to her most beloved sister. It was a secret she had kept completely to herself, as her reputation would be irrevocably ruined if anyone discovered what she had done.

Lydia continued to whine, and Elizabeth grew increasingly concerned that her mother would force her to comply. Jane saved her by offering Lydia some of her own money, but Mrs Bennet would not hear of it, and Lydia was left to sulk until it was her turn to choose a fabric.

Elizabeth chose a white sheer muslin and a broad silk ribbon for her waist. It was expensive because so many layers were needed lest she embarrass herself with a diaphanous habit, but she left only one layer for the short, puffed sleeves. It was not as if her upper arms were something to conceal. In addition, she purchased pearls to adorn the finished dress.

The next two weeks flew by in preparations, and fortunately, all the dresses were finished in time for the ball.

#

The night of the assembly.

Elizabeth was speaking to her friend Charlotte Lucas when the assembly doors opened to admit Mr Bingley, his two sisters, the eldest’s husband, and an unknown entity towering behind him. The familiar shape drew her eyes whilst her heart pounded wildly in her chest. It would not do to be caught ogling him. Yet, her body went rigid at the mere sight of Mr Darcy—though he was more formally attired than at their last encounter. Mr Bingley was handsome with easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine ladies with an air of decided fashion. Mr Hurst only looked the part of a gentleman, but Mr Darcy’s Adonis-like figure soon had all the eyes in the room directed at him.

It was easily discernible that Mr Darcy did not relish the attention, or the admiring looks. Elizabeth could be nothing but relieved by that notion. He was clearly not impressed by the ladies who flocked to his delectable presence and coquettishly fluttered their lashes at him.

Soon the news of his reputed ten thousand a year was in general circulation. Elizabeth had not known he was so very wealthy, and the knowledge that his income exceeded her father’s fivefold was slightly daunting.

Mr Bingley asked Charlotte for the first set, and as they moved away to join the forming lines, Sir William approached the Bennets.

“Mr Bingley is an agreeable gentleman, and I dare say he would do very well for my Charlotte. But his friend cuts an even finer figure. Would you allow me to introduce the very estimable Mr Darcy?” Sir William asked.

Jane swirled towards her, and Elizabeth sent her an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Her eldest sister was aware of her association with Mr Darcy at the masquerade ball, but Elizabeth did not want everybody else to know because that would turn their relationship into a public spectacle.

The last thing Elizabeth wanted was for their reintroduction to be made by the kind but loquacious Sir William. He had a habit of droning on and on about his visit to St James’s, and she would not have that moment marred with insipid conversation. She was a little miffed that Mr Darcy had yet to seek her out. He must know her name, even though he did not know her face. She imagined he had enquired about her in town and had discovered her real name and the direction of her father’s estate—why else would he have come to Meryton? Perhaps he thought it wise to pretend they did not share a prior acquaintance because that would draw the attention of the tattlers and not allow them much freedom in each other’s company. Her neighbours were a curious lot and would eavesdrop at every opportunity. No, it was best to be circumspect and avoid bringing attention to their reunion. She hardly managed to finish the thought when Mr Darcy turned abruptly away from the kind Sir William and bowed to one of Mr Bingley’s sisters.

“I am afraid that you are too late, Sir William. The gentleman has already engaged Miss Bingley for the next set,” Elizabeth announced before Jane pulled her away almost as rudely as Mr Darcy had snubbed an introduction.

“I need your aid,” Jane commanded.

Elizabeth had little choice but to follow. As she was dragged out of the room, she noticed the longing glance Mr Bingley directed at her most beautiful sister. She smiled at him, and he had the decency to blush a little, which spoke well of his modesty.

Jane continued her march straight out of the assembly hall and ambled a little farther down the lane for good measure.

“Lizzy, was that your Mr Darcy?” Jane enquired breathlessly.

“He is not my Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth clarified. She had never had the courage to relate her tender feelings towards the gentleman, only that he had been a pleasant partner.

Jane huffed impatiently. “You know what I mean—the gentleman with whom you danced at the masquerade.”

“That, he is…” Elizabeth admitted with a sigh of contentment.

“Then why did you not greet him before he engaged someone else to dance?”

“Because I do not want every busybody in Meryton to gossip about us before we have had a chance to become better acquainted. I scarcely know anything about him, and he knows even less about me. If I had singled him out from the moment he entered, we would not have a moment of peace. Not to forget what machinations Mama would subject us to. No, believe me, it is better this way. I am convinced that I shall have a chance to speak to him during the course of the evening. But for now, we had best return to the ball because I have it on good authority that Mr Bingley would like to request your next set. So, it would not do to tarry much longer in this abandoned street.”

“He is everything a young man ought to be, is he not?” Jane smiled in the darkness.

“He is very amiable,” Elizabeth allowed whilst leading her sister back into the assembly room. “Pray, do not mention to anyone about my prior acquaintance with Mr Darcy. At least not until we have had the time to reconvene.”

“You have my word,” Jane promised solemnly.

The sight of him dancing with another lady, and one as beautiful and fashionable as Miss Bingley, at that, did sting a little. But he would have been abominably rude if he had not paid the respect a sister of a friend deserved. The thought comforted her, and the unpleasant notion soon passed.

The set ended, and Mr Darcy immediately engaged Mr Bingley’s married sister. He surely wanted to finish his duty sets to reserve the rest of the evening for her pleasure, as he had done at the Argyll Rooms. They had danced two sets and had spoken for more than an hour together, before, between, and after.

When half the evening had passed, Elizabeth’s concern rose by each passing minute. The Meryton ladies’ favourable impression of Mr Darcy was waning. Most had already decided that he was too proud, believed himself to be above his company, and was impossibly difficult to please. Whilst Mr Bingley had made the acquaintance of the principal people in the room, Mr Darcy stalked the outskirts of the party, wearing a most forbidding and disagreeable countenance.

Mary was hiding in the shadows of a column. By the look of her hunched posture, Elizabeth worried that she had suffered a great disappointment. She approached her sister and sat beside her.

“Pray, are you well, Mary?”

“I am quite well, though I wish Sir William had ordered more candles. It is impossible to read in this poor lighting.”

“I dare say that would have defeated your purpose because then it would have been even foggier from the tallow.”

Mary sighed and shut her book with a thump.

“What were you reading?” Elizabeth asked for the sake of a topic for conversation.

“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.”

“The philosopher and Roman emperor?” she asked in bewilderment. Her sister was fond of Fordyce’s sermons, and she was surprised to learn that Mary was reading something else.

“ For it is one of the acts of life, this act by which we die. It is sufficient then in this act to also do well what we have in hand.”

“True, and so should we when no partners are to be had. We shall be satisfied with entertaining ourselves. Would you rather admire the splendid dancing, or do you relish some conversation?”

“I would prefer to read,” was Mary’s pithy reply.

Quite contrary to the philosopher she has just quoted , Elizabeth thought. It was not possible to always be content with what one had, and she surveyed the assembled guests for an obtainable dance partner. Curious, she stared at Mr Bingley’s good-looking and pleasant countenance. He was dancing with Jane, who was glowing under his marked attention. He must have made himself agreeable indeed to produce the delighted blushes that suffused her sister’s cheeks.

The set ended, and Mr Bingley was immediately accosted by Sir William. By his response to the master of ceremonies, who was prone to think too highly of his own importance, she deemed him gentlemanlike. Which was more than she could say about his sisters. With an air of superiority, they raised their noses against the motley assembly but for Jane, whom they whisked away to the refreshment table. The portly husband of the eldest sister was attached to the arm of his wife, but by the glances he sent towards the card room, Elizabeth surmised he wished to be elsewhere.

Sir William should not have interrupted Mr Bingley, or he, instead of his sisters, would certainly have escorted Jane to the punch.

Elizabeth turned to Mary to observe Mr Darcy clandestinely in the periphery of her vision. He kept his head fixed on the floor until he passed Sir William and Mr Bingley and had no choice but to be introduced to Mrs Bennet, Jane, Kitty, and Lydia. He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and departed to resume his strutting round the room. Elizabeth gasped when he turned unexpectedly towards her.

A sudden onslaught of nerves made her acutely embarrassed. “May I borrow your book, Mary?”

“Why? You will not be able to read it.”

“Nevertheless, I would like to see it.”

Mr Darcy was coming in their direction, and she needed something to hide behind until her faculties returned.

Mary complied with a huff, and Elizabeth opened the book to peer over the rim. It was possible to read when you held it this close. Mary needs spectacles , she mused whilst Mr Darcy halted uncomfortably near to where she was seated. Fortunately, he turned towards the dancers. Mr Bingley was speaking to Mrs Bennet whilst staring moon-eyed across the room at Jane.

Mr Darcy shifted his stance, and Elizabeth ducked behind the book. Her gaze fell on a random sentence that emboldened her. Remember

how long thou hast been putting off these things, and how often thou hast received the opportunity from the gods, and yet dost not use it. Thou must now at last perceive of what universe thou art a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy existence is an efflux, and that a limit of time is fixed for thee, which if thou dost not use for clearing away the clouds from thy mind, it will go, and thou wilt go, and it will never return.

Elizabeth closed the book and handed it back to Mary. Should she dare approach Mr Darcy or continue in the vein she had thus far—admiring from a safe distance what she craved the most. Bravely, she made to rise, when an exuberant Mr Bingley joined his friend, and her courage left her. If only he had brought Jane to introduce us properly, she lamented when their family was mentioned. She strained to hear but took pains to hide her eavesdropping from the gentlemen.

“I must have you dance,” Mr Bingley encouraged his friend.

Mr Darcy thoroughly rejected the idea and even told an untruth—that he detested the exercise unless he was particularly acquainted with his partner. He was acquainted with her ; they had danced and spoken at length at the masquerade. He must know her face by now. Like his name and fortune had been bandied about the room, so had the reputed beauty of the Bennet sisters—usually referring to the two eldest in particular.

It was at that moment that Mr Bingley turned Mr Darcy’s attention towards her, suggesting her as a particularly desirable partner, and she held her breath in anticipation. He had been made aware of her presence. She almost giggled but quashed the impulse lest that lead him to believe she was not a fully grown woman.

Mr Darcy’s gaze lingered upon her. She kept her chin high and her eyes on the dancers performing before her. He will soon recognise me and certainly request at least one set.

Elizabeth imagined the different approaches he could make. Like exclaiming his regrets for not immediately recognising the beautiful lady and offering to save her from her tedious position against the wall as he had once saved her from the enraged, trampling horse. Her mind wandered back to that glorious day in Lambton.

She was so occupied by her thoughts that she almost missed Mr Darcy’s reply to his friend’s insistence he should dance. Shame enveloped her like the deluge of a waterfall. In the next instant, rage replaced her embarrassment. Mr Darcy spouted nonsense—a palpable gross absurdity.

Tolerable, indeed!

Elizabeth’s heart constricted most painfully in her chest. How can he be so cruel? Or have I been wretchedly blind? I who pride myself upon my discernment . Elizabeth looked frequently in the mirror, and not once had she believed herself to be so unpalatably ugly as to be rejected upon the merits of her face. The thought had never entered her mind, but Mr Darcy’s slights were by no means at an end; he still had to disparage her further.

“I am in no humour, at the moment, to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men. You…”

Elizabeth thought her humiliation was complete but was at that very moment proved utterly mistaken.

“Are you blind?” Mrs Bennet interrupted, startling the gentlemen. She had sidled up unnoticed and glared aghast at Mr Darcy. “You must be very short-sighted if not.”

“My eyesight is perfectly adequate,” Mr Darcy bristled.

“Heaven forfend! Imagine the audacity!” Mrs Bennet cried. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt after you have been prancing around the room all evening as the perfect peacock, but as your sight is not impaired you must allow me to enquire. Who are you to think yourself so high above the good people of Meryton? You may fancy yourself so very important, but let me tell you, you are nobody of consequence in this neighbourhood!”

Mr Darcy scowled at Mrs Bennet, who was not cowed. Beside her, Mary rose and hastened to her mother’s side. Elizabeth shrank in her seat. Nothing good could come of Mary’s preaching.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who ironically prided herself on the solidity of her own reflections, “is a quite common failing, I believe. Human nature is particularly prone to cherish the feeling of complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary.”

Mr Darcy did not say a single word in reply. Her mother huffed and walked away whilst lamenting the rudeness of young men today. Elizabeth reminded herself that evils were sent into the world for humans to endure and not to fly in the face of their God at every provocation. It had not the desired calming effect, and as she had heard quite enough, she rose swiftly from her chair and accidentally, or not , stepped on the offending gentleman’s toes on her escape across the room.

She dipped into a shallow curtsey and muttered an insincere apology before hastening as far away from the oaf as she was able. It was a blessing that Charlotte was standing at the opposite end of the assembly room, and she approached her with intent purpose.

“Dearest Charlotte!”

Her friend’s expression was a combination of concern and confusion. It was the right expression if Elizabeth had related what Mr Darcy had just said, but he must not for a moment believe that he had truly injured her. She was completely indifferent to the

gentleman, who barely warranted the name, and she must ensure that he was so apprised.

“Would you laugh as if I had just told you an amusing jest?”

Charlotte’s expression changed from light bewilderment to full-fledged astonishment.

“Please, I shall explain later.”

Charlotte complied and laughed lightly.

“You will explain yourself promptly for compelling me to perjure myself. It is uncomfortably warm in here. I suggest we take the air to cool ourselves.”

Charlotte fanned her face for good measure.

Elizabeth forced a smile and laced her arm with her friend’s. With their heads pulled closely together, they left the assembly room and entered the small garden. Once out of the door, Elizabeth released her clammy hold and began pacing before Charlotte, who chose to sit on the only bench.

“Please tell me, what has you at sixes and sevens?”

“A ghost from the past,” Elizabeth muttered without slowing down. “An addlepated, crack-brained, clod pole!”

“What is the matter? I have never seen you so unsettled.”

“I am perfectly well,” she lied. “I have simply been subjected to the cruellest and most ungentlemanly ridicule. I had to escape before I lost my temper, and I am most grateful for your timely rescue.”

“Does trampling on a poor gentleman’s toes count as keeping your composure?” Charlotte probed with a slight smile.

“Yes. When one is provoked to claw someone’s eyes out, I deem a slight discomfort to the toes the least to be expected.”

Charlotte giggled, but her countenance soon turned serious.

“You cannot go about offending a respectable gentleman such as Mr Darcy. He is not of our sphere and is a man of great consequence.”

“I am perfectly aware of his consequence. It is his person that I object to.”

“Why? What can he have done to you to deserve such disrespect? As far as I can tell, you have not exchanged one word while spending two hours in the same room with no dialogue between you.”

“It is a long story.”

“Then it is a good thing that I have nothing better to do than listen to a dear friend, and I dare say you promised me an explanation.”

Elizabeth stopped pacing and regarded Charlotte quizzically, pondering how much she should relate and how much she should conceal.

“Do you remember the boy who rescued me from the wild and vicious horse I was so stupid as to approach?”

“Yes, who could forget? You lauded your handsome knight for years—” Charlotte halted abruptly and appeared contemplative. “It cannot be?”

“It can. It was Mr Darcy.”

“Then why are we here? We shall return promptly inside and find your hero. You must, at the very least, thank him for his bravery.”

Charlotte rose from the bench and walked towards the entrance. Elizabeth hastened her stride and grabbed her friend’s hand to stop her.

“No. Please do not. Resume your seat.”

“Whyever not?” Charlotte enquired, yet she did what Elizabeth suggested.

Elizabeth sat heavily beside her and hid her face in her hands. “Because he has just insulted me most grievously, and when I believed nothing worse could be said, he mortified me beyond redemption.” Her voice was hoarse and muffled by her hands.

“Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves,” Charlotte reminded her.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet, resumed her restless pacing, and told her friend about Mr Darcy’s mortifying words. After this admission, she slumped down on the bench and buried her head in her hands. “My mother heard, and she accused him of being a nobody in Meryton, and Mary eagerly joined in to preach about improper pride. I have never been so humiliated in all my life,” she sobbed. “How could he do it? How could he, within a few months, have changed from the witty and charming gentleman I met in town to a disdainful and selfish oaf who has no regard for my feelings?”

“Dearest Elizabeth, I had no idea that you met him in town.”

Elizabeth removed her hands from her face and drew a fortifying breath. It was better to relate the last without facing her friend. Instead, she gazed into the darkness. “I did not tell you because I thought I would never see him again. We met at a masquerade ball at the Argyll Rooms, a week before I returned to Meryton. He had discarded his mask, so I immediately recognised him. I hardly believed my luck when he requested an introduction. I eagerly accepted, and we danced two sets and spoke for the rest of the evening. He singled me out—in a ballroom filled with the most beautiful, accomplished, and even some titled ladies. How could I not be flattered?”

Charlotte embraced her, and Elizabeth rested her aching head on her friend’s shoulder.

“Has the gentleman touched your heart?” Charlotte gently enquired.

“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered.

They sat in quiet contemplation until Elizabeth managed to compose herself tolerably well.

“As for his pride,” Charlotte remarked, “he has a right to think highly of himself. Mr Darcy is an exceptionally fine young man with family, fortune, connections, and everything in his favour. It is his behaviour towards you that offends me. He was probably the object of rumours of the marital kind after the masquerade. Could he simply be trying to quash them to avoid ruining your reputation?”

“Too far-fetched. I am certain that Grandmother or Uncle Henry would have notified me if such was the case.”

Charlotte shivered, and Elizabeth sat up. “You are cold and should go back inside,” she admonished.

“Will you join me?”

“Only as far as the anteroom to fetch my pelisse. Would you be so kind as to tell my mother that I have returned home with a headache?”

“You cannot walk alone in the dark!”

“I shall take the carriage.”

“Is there anything I can say to persuade you to stay?”

“Indeed, there is not.”

“Very well.” Charlotte rose, and they walked inside, parting at the anteroom.

“I shall see you in the morning when Mama calls on Mrs Bennet.”

“I shall look forward to it with pleasure,” Elizabeth lied as she left and made her way to their family’s carriage, which was fortunately waiting just outside the assembly hall.

Her father was still awake when she reached Longbourn, but she required only solitude and retired to her chamber with a sore heart.

#

Lady Lucas was a good and kind woman who was not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs Bennet. She had several children of which the majority were boys, but the two daughters were the Bennet girls’ intimate friends. After an assembly, the Lucas ladies paid an absolutely necessary visit to Longbourn to enumerate every little detail from the eventful ball.

It pained Elizabeth to even hear about Mr Darcy, but he was naturally the focal point. His ill-treatment of Elizabeth and disagreeable manners were communicated to exhaustion. Fortunately, Mr Bingley’s attentiveness to Jane eventually steered the conversation to a more pleasant topic, and Elizabeth could ease her troubled mind with her sister’s good report.

Charlotte’s fortune in securing Mr Bingley’s first set had soon been surpassed by him dancing two sets with a blushing Jane.

“Oh yes. I heard him call her an angel,” Elizabeth added to their discussion about Mr Bingley’s intentions.

“I heard Mr Robinson ask Mr Bingley how he liked Meryton and who was the most beautiful girl in the room. He replied immediately to the latter, ‘ Oh, Miss Bennet. There cannot be two opinions upon that point.’” Charlotte imitated Mr Bingley’s voice.

“Upon my word! That was very decided. Oh well, it may still come to nothing, you know,” Mrs Bennet gushed, rather flustered.

“My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,” Charlotte continued.

Elizabeth had hoped they had exhausted the theme about her encounter with Mr Darcy, but that was obviously too much to ask.

“Mr Darcy is not so worth listening to as his friend, is he? Poor Eliza!—to be only just tolerable.”

“I beg you not to put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by Mr Darcy’s ill-treatment, Charlotte. He is such a disagreeable man. It would be a misfortune to be liked by him,” Mrs Bennet established firmly. “You must write a letter to Maeve. You know I do not have time to write, Lizzy. You must tell her to give him the cut direct when she returns to town. He is not worth speaking to because he sat by Mrs Long for half an hour without a word spoken between them.”

“I am certain you are mistaken, Mama,” Jane intervened on Mr Darcy’s behalf. “I saw him speaking to Mrs Long.”

“That was only because she asked him a question he could not refuse to answer.” Mrs Bennet would not allow herself to be mollified when her mind was set.

“Miss Bingley told me,” Jane said, “that he does not speak much unless he is intimately acquainted with his partner. With his friends, he is remarkably agreeable.”

“I do not believe a word of it.” Mrs Bennet raised her chin. “If he had been agreeable, he would have spoken to Mrs Long.”

“I would rather wish he had danced with Eliza,” Charlotte suggested.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet. “Please excuse me,” she said but did not give a reason for her abrupt departure from what had become a torment. She did not escape quickly enough to miss her mother’s protest, however.

“Lizzy must never dance with Mr Darcy, or I shall never speak to her again!”