Page 70 of The Shades of Pemberley

Darcy’s eyes found his wife again, and he saw at once what Fitzwilliam had seen.

Douglas was scowling at Elizabeth, who was saying something to him, and even from this distance, Darcy could see that the exchange was not at all pleasant.

At that moment, the dance ended, and Elizabeth remained in the middle of the floor, appearing to berate the man, whose fury was growing by the moment.

Darcy stepped forward to support his wife, noting with appreciation that Fitzwilliam did not hesitate to join him.

Though they had not needed to defend themselves many times since coming to London, there was little choice but to show their mettle when the occasion demanded.

In this way, they might persuade others not to trifle with them.

Elizabeth’s character and courage were her most important assets, for others could see her determination on such occasions.

Darcy had never been prouder to be her husband than he was at that moment.

CONTRARY TO DARCY’S expectations and opinion of Mr. Douglas, Elizabeth found the man duller than anything.

As they danced, she attempted to maintain a cordial discussion but was repulsed when the man appeared content to boast of his virtues and position in society.

It was a tedious conversation, and Elizabeth longed to be rid of him so she could return to William.

“The Douglases are long connected to the Earls of Lindsey, you understand,” droned the pompous man.

What followed was a long and convoluted explanation of Mr. Douglas’s connection to the current Lord Lindsey, of which Elizabeth heard only one word in ten.

The man was jealous of this connection, for she did not suppose he would explain it in such detail if it did not mean so much to this family—or if he did not wish to prove his position in society.

It was one facet of London society that Elizabeth did not appreciate, for other than the connection to good people, such jealous guarding of standing meant little to her.

Was it not more than a little ridiculous to emphasize a connection to a twelfth cousin, fourteen times removed through marriages, adoptions, claims of friendship, and other such fictional devices?

Were Elizabeth to guess, the current Earl of Lindsey was only vaguely aware of this man’s existence, and only when he must fend off the man’s toadying.

“That is... fortunate for you, indeed,” said Elizabeth when Mr. Douglas ended his discourse, his eyes upon her as if expecting her to fall at his feet and proclaim his superiority.

“I commend you on it, though such things are new to me. Our connection to the Matlock earldom is of a much newer variety.”

Mr. Douglas sniffed with disdain. “Such a connection is hardly analogous, Mrs. Darcy. Why, you are not a blood relation, and from all that I have heard, no one in your family line possesses even a hundredth of the nobility.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” agreed Elizabeth, sensing her cheerful attitude had irked him. “Yet the roots of my family’s history as gentlefolk extend back several centuries.”

“Minor country gentry little better than farmers.” A wealth of disdain oozed from the man’s critical denunciation.

“Perhaps so,” said Elizabeth, determined not to rise to his overt conceit.

“As my father has often said, the Bennets have been buried in Hertfordshire since the flood. We have no pretensions to higher society, as my father does not even like London. For all that, I believe we are content and have our measure of respectability.”

The man understood his comments were offensive, for he retreated, though he appeared unaccustomed to tact.

“Yes, well, I suppose we must all live in those circumstances in which we were born. You are fortunate to have stumbled into a situation where your consequence has risen beyond what you could have dreamt before.”

“Good fortune, I believe, is a matter personal to us all,” said Elizabeth, wishing to pierce this lordling’s vanity. “Should my husband have remained in his previous situation, I would not have repined it.”

“Because you would know nothing else,” interjected Mr. Douglas.

“No, because I was content with it,” corrected Elizabeth. “Not everyone is eager to climb society’s ladder, Mr. Douglas. In some ways, higher society is a bother, for I consider other matters to be of much greater importance.”

The way he regarded her, Elizabeth was certain he had little understanding.

To a man who had been born into privilege—though perhaps not so much as he wished—and had spent his years hearing from others of his importance, the notion that one might be content with one’s lot must be alien, indeed.

For some moments, he remained silent, and while Elizabeth did not think he was attempting to comprehend, she was certain he did not know whether she was in earnest. To assure him that she was, she regarded him with polite interest and no trace of anything he could use to convince himself that she wished for further advancement.

“I am interested to hear you say as much, Mrs. Darcy,” said he, choosing his response, “for such sentiments are not at all common.”

“They are more commonplace than you suppose,” was all Elizabeth would say in response.

Mr. Douglas shrugged as if it mattered little to him. “Then I commend you for your sensibilities. The reality, however, is that you and your husband have now entered a world where the expectations are different, for which I cannot but suppose you find yourselves ill-prepared.”

“Not at all,” interrupted Elizabeth. “Good behavior is good behavior wherever one goes.”

“What quaint notions you have, Mrs. Darcy!”

“If they are quaint, I have not learned to regret them,” shrugged Elizabeth. “If people choose to look down on me for my origins, I care little for their opinion. I know my worth and do not need the approbation of others.”

The ensuing silence was not the comfortable companionship Elizabeth shared with good friends, for though Elizabeth was unconcerned with this man’s opinion, his scrutiny did not escape her attention.

The dance was coming to its close, and she wished for nothing more than to leave his company and return to her husband.

Elizabeth had avoided objectionable company in society, but there were always those of Mr. Douglas’s ilk to provide annoyance.

Then the conversation took a turn, and Elizabeth sniffed out something of his purpose.

“If nothing else, I suppose I must commend you for your convictions, though I must suppose you discover the truth ere long.”

As they passed close together in the dance, Mr. Douglas brushed up against her far closer than he had before.

With the motions of dancing, a certain measure of contact was often unavoidable, due to a slight misjudgment or a stray hand, but the sudden leer that appeared in the man’s eyes informed Elizabeth that this was not such an occasion.

“Perhaps, Mrs. Darcy,” said he, the distant tone he had used since beginning the dance absent in favor of one he thought seductive, “we should speak further on this matter. You could visit me, or we could meet in a park or a café to further our acquaintance.”

As a proposition, it was not an elegant one, provoked, she must suppose, by her comments taking him off balance. “No, Mr. Douglas, that would not be proper. If you wish to visit my husband, perhaps I shall see you then.”

“You mistake me, Mrs. Darcy, for I have no interest in your husband; my interest is all in coming to know you better.”

“I did not misunderstand you,” snapped Elizabeth. “Your meaning was perfectly clear. I have no interest in such improper assignations.”

The man’s eyes bored into her. “You are rather presumptuous for a commoner,” sneered he. “Do you not know the favor I pay you by noticing you despite your unfortunate upbringing?”

The music ended, and the couples around them began making their way from the floor, but Elizabeth, shaking with fury, stood her ground and glared at the poor excuse of a gentleman before her.

“Perhaps I am presumptuous,” hissed Elizabeth, “but you are a pompous degenerate with an overinflated sense of his appeal. Even were I not married to the best man in the world, I would have no interest in giving consequence to any man such as you .”

Though his visage contorted in rage, Elizabeth felt a presence by her side and knew that William had joined her. Mr. Douglas noted it too, for he appeared wary, his gaze sliding past her, though darting to her other side, where she felt another’s presence.

“Is there any trouble, Elizabeth?” asked William.

“Not at all, my love ,” said Elizabeth, emphasizing her connection with William to the sorry excuse for a gentleman before her. “Mr. Douglas was just explaining how we could become ‘better acquainted’ if we met in a park, or I visited him.”

The heat of William’s gaze was perceptible even over her shoulder without looking at him, as if he held a torch in his hand over her head. Mr. Douglas blanched, and while he appeared resentful, he did not look back at her. When he opened his mouth to speak, William interrupted him.

“Save your protests of innocence, Douglas, for I do not need to hear them. I trust Elizabeth implicitly.”

Then he stepped forward and hissed in a lower voice, “Perhaps it would be best if you did not dance with my wife again. Since it is clear you do not respect her, I cannot imagine she is acceptable to you, or that she would wish to repeat the experience.”

“And remember that my father approves of the Darcys,” added Colonel Fitzwilliam. “You would not wish to run afoul of him.”

Mr. Douglas pushed his nose into the air as high as it would go. “Very well. I do not need to associate with such unsuitable people.”