His Uncle's Favorite (16 page)

“Darcy is the only man who would want to escape Eve Sinclair.”

“She is insistent in an obvious, unladylike manner,” Lady Brightmore admitted. “She is a married woman after all; she could be more…discreet.”

“She is beautiful,” said Elizabeth, unaware that she spoke aloud.

“She is indeed,” the earl admitted. “I have rarely seen a woman with such a perfect complexion. Her beauty helped her make an advantageous marriage.”

“With a man twice her age and twice her wealth,” Lady Brightmore added.

“Of whom are you speaking?” asked Lady Selina, appearing on the arm of her husband.

“Eve Sinclair.”

“Oh, Eve.” The lady smiled, exchanging a glance with her husband. “She is pretentious and demanding, but she can be agreeable when she wants.”

“And she never hid her interest in Darcy; why would she do so this evening?” Lord Brightmore intervened, and his wife silenced him with a sharp glance. He looked puzzled.

“What did I say? You know she was always after Darcy—before and after she married.”

“Nonsense, husband. Do not speak so about Eve—or about Darcy.”

“Well, he did not say anything bad about Darcy,” the colonel intervened. “It is only that he and I and half the men in the room have wondered whether she managed to convince Darcy to satisfy her…interest.”

Lord Brightmore, Lord Matlock, and the colonel laughed openly, joined by Lady Brightmore. Lady Selina struggled to hide a smile while Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning. Unconsciously, she looked towards the dance floor and met Darcy’s gaze. He was clearly staring at them, and she wondered whether it was possible that he heard them.

“I would appreciate it if we could change the subject,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I do not find it amusing to joke at the expense of a friend who is not here to defend himself. Perhaps you could express your wonder in the presence of Mr. Darcy himself.”

Lady Selina instantly stopped laughing while the colonel bowed to Mrs. Gardiner.

“Please accept our apologies, Mrs. Gardiner,” the earl intervened. “You are perfectly right as always. We should not speak of others when our own behaviour is far from faultless.”

Elizabeth remained silent, uncertain what to believe about their conversation. What everyone implied about Mr. Darcy and Lady Sinclair whirled in her mind. Elizabeth understood her to be a married woman. Where was her husband? And was it possible that Mr. Darcy—? She looked towards the dance floor again. They were dancing together, and the gentleman did not seem exactly displeased that he had been
‘forced’
to dance. And he was looking at Elizabeth again with the same smile on his face. What could he mean by it?

“Miss Elizabeth, I have warm regards for you from an old acquaintance,” the earl suddenly whispered. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Not at all, sir.” She smiled. “How is Mr. Wickham? I trust he is in good health. Will he be in town long?”

“He is in excellent health; he will stay a few days more as he has some unfinished business. He seemed eager to meet with you.”

“I would like to see him, too. If you have the chance to meet him again, please let him know that I would be more than happy to receive him in Gracechurch Street.”

“I will inform him; I might accompany him.”

“That would be a perfect arrangement, sir,” she replied politely, though she felt she was not quite as anxious to see Mr. Wickham as she pretended to be. She noticed that the set had ended and briefly wondered where a certain gentleman might be.

“Miss Elizabeth, if you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?” Mr. Darcy’s request, which Elizabeth had ceased to expect, was as shocking as his appearance and his friendly voice. He was smiling tentatively, awaiting her answer. He was only a few steps away, and Elizabeth felt uncomfortable again.
He always makes people feel uneasy around him. Well, not all people; apparently Lady Sinclair felt quite well.
She felt her face warming from her outrageous thoughts and averted her eyes.

“I…thank you, yes…”

Lord Matlock said something, but Elizabeth did not comprehend his words; Mr. Darcy took her hand, and they stepped together to the dance floor. A cold sensation prickled her spine as she felt the pressure of his fingers upon hers. Yes, it was beyond any doubt: he always made her uncomfortable in a way that no other man did.

“Miss Elizabeth, my sister asked me to convey to you her regards. She is eager for your visit tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir. I look forward to seeing her, too. I expected she would not be here tonight, but I confess I secretly hoped for her presence.”

“Usually she attends small gatherings at Lady Selina’s, but when she discovered the number of guests for tonight’s ball, she preferred to remain at home. She is not fond of large gatherings. Nor am I, but I could not afford the luxury of refusing my cousin.” He smiled again as if he were expecting her to understand him.

“So you were forced to be here tonight, sir? That is not a kind thing to say; it might offend some people.” She tried to mirror his smile.

“I hope it did not offend
you
, Miss Elizabeth; that was not my intention.”

“I am not so easily offended, sir.” She laughed, and he looked slightly uncomfortable.

“But you seem to enjoy your time very well. I feel fortunate to have secured a dance with you as I imagine your card is full. I took a chance, and I was rewarded.”

“Had you asked earlier, you would have known that my card is not full.” She stopped and averted her eyes again. What came over her to say such a thing?

“I would have asked earlier, but I did not dare disturb you. You appeared always to be surrounded by old and new acquaintances.”

“As were you, sir.”

For the next minutes, they continued to dance in silence, looking at each other. Their gazes held; their hands met briefly when the dance demanded it.

“I noticed you met all our and Lord Brightmore’s cousins,” Darcy said.

“Indeed. Most of them seem to be pleasant and friendly, at least on a first impression.”

“Most of them are. Though sometimes first impressions can be misleading, that is not necessarily the case with our cousins.” His voice was light, and he was smiling at her, but she was certain she could guess the hidden, tacit censure directed at her.

“One does not always need a long time to make a friend of a new acquaintance—or to decide that an acquaintance will never be a friend, no matter how much time passes.”

“True. However, previous experiences have shown me that one should be guarded before deciding which acquaintance deserves to become a friend if one does not want to be disappointed.”

“I am not sure that I agree with you, sir. I would rather be disappointed from time to time than avoid making new friends. People deserve a chance to prove themselves worthy before their characters are judged, even those who are below one’s situation in life.”

“I have always admired your wisdom. Let us make an agreement: both of us shall allow new or old acquaintances a chance to prove their worthiness before judging their characters. Shall we?” He sounded more serious than a ball conversation would require.

“It is strange that you are interested in an agreement with me under any circumstances, Mr. Darcy. However, such an agreement cannot but be accepted.”

“I am glad you approve. I have been interested in reaching an agreement with you many times, but somehow it seems we are meant to argue whenever we meet. More than once I have wondered whether one or perhaps both of us purposely search for subjects upon which to disagree.”

“Of one thing you may be certain, sir: any argument we might have had was never purposely begun on my part.”

“That is a great relief.”

“However, I am not as sure of your motives,” she continued.

The music stopped, and he offered her his arm, good humour obvious on his face.

“It appears we shall have to continue our conversation later—and most likely our argument, too,” he said, slightly inclining his head towards hers. Holding Mr. Darcy’s arm and stepping towards her family and friends, Elizabeth fought the same feeling of uneasiness.

“Oh, Darcy, what a lovely idea to ask Miss Elizabeth to dance! I was wondering whether you would do it, considering how rarely you dance, and I really cannot understand why, my boy,” said Lady Brightmore. “You are such a handsome young man, and you dance so well. You should smile more often; smiling is quite becoming on you. Oh, look at those pretty dimples; you look so much like your father! I had a crush on the late Mr. Darcy, you know?” her ladyship whispered to Elizabeth, her cheeks red and her eyes sparkling. Elizabeth tried to hide a smile: her ladyship clearly had enjoyed one glass of wine too many.

She turned to Mr. Darcy, hardly restraining her laughter; he looked embarrassed, a trace of redness colouring his cheeks, and she noticed that she was still holding his arm.

The invitation to dinner came as a relief. They walked together, Elizabeth still on Mr. Darcy’s arm while the viscount accompanied Jane. However, once they reached the table, Mr. Darcy had to leave them as his seat was separate from theirs. As he walked away, Elizabeth found herself wondering whether he felt regret or relief that he could not stay with them. She briefly asked herself the same question but rejected it instantly as the colonel took a chair next to her.

Dinner was mostly a pleasant affair, though Elizabeth was not quite herself—nor was Jane. From time to time, Elizabeth could not resist searching the room; Mr. Darcy was not too far away, but he was content to speak to Lady Selina and Lord Brightmore. Lady Sinclair—seated at least four places away from Darcy—was the heart of the conversation with everyone around, and more than once she asked specifically for Mr. Darcy’s opinion. Each time he replied politely but briefly, and Elizabeth could not hide her smile, remembering a similar situation with Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley.

Elizabeth’s thoughts were occupied primarily by Mr. Darcy’s puzzling behaviour and their conversation. In truth, there were times she was certain he was purposely arguing with her only to reveal her flaws, and other times she was certain he enjoyed her company. No, not certain—with Mr. Darcy, one could never be certain of anything. And there was also Lady Sinclair and…
Why did I think of Lady Sinclair? She should not be a subject of interest for me.

After supper, the gentlemen retired to the library and their brandy.

The room was warm, and there was such a din of voices that Elizabeth rose from her seat and left the ballroom, convinced that no one would notice her brief absence. She walked along the hall until she reached the music room. She entered the room, closed the door, then touched the piano briefly, remembering the evening she and Miss Darcy played together. Poor Georgiana was so frightened to sing in front of her relatives. How could she possibly be Mr. Darcy’s sister? Was he ever frightened—of anything?

Elizabeth could not say how long she stayed in the music room. She knew she should return before her aunt and Jane looked for her. She opened the door carefully as she could hear voices from the hall; two ladies were talking. The music room was dark, but a few candles tentatively lightened the hall. With no little surprise, Elizabeth recognised one of the women as Lady Sinclair. Elizabeth was about to open the door and greet them when the subject of their conversation stopped her.

“What other reason could Darcy have to dance with her? He never dances; he barely danced with me, which I would find offensive from any man except Darcy.”

“Other men would have danced with you, Eve.”

“True, my dear.” Lady Sinclair laughed. “Oh well, it will be interesting to follow. He could not have any serious designs on her; she is a country nobody. Perhaps that is precisely what is attractive about her—nobody will expect him to have a serious attachment.”

“They all seem to be under Lord Matlock’s protection. I seriously doubt Mr. Darcy would have any improper thoughts regarding his uncle’s protégée. He is well known as a gentleman of honour. Am I wrong?”

“You are not wrong. But nobody can control one’s thoughts. As for Darcy, he has few choices, regardless. I imagine he will shortly marry Anne de Bourgh. I am tired of hearing about their never-ending engagement, and I have hopes that marriage will change his perspective.” Lady Sinclair laughed.

“Heaven forbid someone could control your thoughts, Eve. And speaking of marriage—yours surely changed your perspective. How is your husband, by the way?”

“He is on a hunting party; I expect him to return to London in a week.”

“But he will not remain in town long, I imagine, as I do not expect you will be tempted to leave London in this weather.”

“To both your questions the answer is no.” Lady Sinclair laughed again. “Come—let us return to the ballroom. This wine makes me particularly tempted to dance again.”

The ladies left, and for some time Elizabeth could not move. Her chest felt crushed by an enormous burden, and she could not breathe. She leaned against the wall, gathering her strength and struggling for air and then hurried along the hall to the entrance. Under a servant’s surprised glance, she opened the main door and stepped outside.