One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (12 page)

“Oh, Charles, I insist you give up on this idea of a ball. You have not sufficiently sought the opinion of the rest of our party, and there are those of us for whom such an engagement would be a punishment.” She looked pointedly at Mr. Darcy, aware of his distaste for such assemblies.

Mr. Bingley looked up from his hushed conversation with Jane Bennet, annoyed at the interruption.

“If you mean Darcy,” he replied, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing. As soon as Mrs. Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send the invitations.” He patted Jane's hand to reassure her that nothing could dissuade him from holding the ball.

Mr. Darcy looked up at the mention of his name. “Indeed, I will not go to bed before the ball begins, else I will not be at hand to claim my dance with Miss Bennet.”

At this, Caroline glared at Elizabeth, who had glanced at Mr. Darcy with a slim smile. “And what of the other dances, Mr. Darcy? Have you engaged any other pretty partners in advance?”

“No, I have not.” Darcy replied politely. “The ball was only decided upon last night.”

“I believe in the past that you have stood up only with partners with whom you are particularly acquainted,” Caroline prompted, “such as Mrs. Hurst and me.”

“Yes,” Darcy replied. “But then I discovered that in so doing, I had deprived myself of a very agreeable partner.” He looked directly at Elizabeth. “I am reconsidering the wisdom of my previous rule.” He then looked at Jane and invited, “Miss Bennet, I should very much enjoy a set with you as well, if you are willing.” He smiled warmly at Jane, who nodded graciously.

Miss Bingley's face darkened, but she recovered. Striking as elegant a pose as possible, she began to pace before the desk where Mr. Darcy sat. Noting his lack of interest, she looked around the room and approached Elizabeth.

“Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

Elizabeth was surprised, having never before received such a solicitation from Miss Bingley, but the opportunity to stretch her legs was welcome, and so she agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley's triumph was complete, for she succeeded in accomplishing the true object of her invitation—Mr. Darcy looked up.

He was as aware of the novelty of such a request as Elizabeth herself was. Intrigued by what was to come, he unconsciously set down his pen. Miss Bingley sought to increase her share in his attention by immediately inviting him to join them. Darcy chuckled to himself at Caroline's transparent attempt in attracting his interest.

“I can imagine but two motives for you to parade around the room in this fashion, and were I to join you, I would spoil your plan. No, I shall remain where I am.” Darcy smiled.

“Motives?” Miss Bingley pretended shock at such an accusation. “Of what does he speak, Miss Bennet? Do you understand his meaning?”

Elizabeth had looked at Mr. Darcy during Caroline's display and found him looking directly back at her, a smile playing on his lips such as she had never seen. She could not help but smile back at him, feeling deeply that she did indeed understand his meaning.

“No,” she finally replied. “I cannot make out his meaning, but you can depend upon this—he will be severe upon us if we press him, but it will disappoint him if we do not.”

“Disappoint Mr. Darcy?” Caroline flirted, “Indeed, I would not
 
dare
 
to disappoint him. I must have your meaning, sir.”

“I am nothing if not obliging,” Darcy replied seriously, which evoked a slight giggle from Elizabeth. He continued, attempting to ignore Elizabeth's mirth without success. “I have not the smallest objection to exposing your motives.”

“Mr. Darcy, I must have it!” Caroline cajoled.

“You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better from where I sit.” With a self-satisfied grin, Mr. Darcy sat back in his chair and openly stared at Elizabeth.

Caroline was both thrilled and dismayed at Darcy's reaction, for this was the first time that her provocations had evoked a response from him, but she could not help but realize that it was Elizabeth's presence that made the difference. She grabbed Elizabeth's arm and turned her, so that their backs were to Mr. Darcy. “You were right Miss Eliza; we should not have pressed him, for that was an abominable speech! How shall we punish him for it?” She glanced seductively over her shoulder at Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth laughed at the thought of anyone punishing Mr. Darcy. “I would not know how to attempt it, Miss Bingley. You have known him far longer than I have. You must know of some weakness in his disposition that we can tease him about. Perhaps his wild imagining about our motives would do.”

“No, no!” Caroline declared. “There is indeed no weakness in Mr. Darcy, and he is most certainly not to be teased or laughed at.”

“No weakness at all?” Elizabeth teased, “Is your claim truly this, that Mr. Darcy is, in fact, the personification of perfection? Now I am the one disappointed, for I had hoped to find some amusement in his character, some folly to enjoy—I dearly love to laugh, you know. I hope to meet no o others like him, for if all my friends achieve such a state, at what will I laugh?”

Mr. Darcy, the smile on his face waning, replied, “Miss Bingley has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

“Indeed, Mr. Darcy,
 
actions of the wise and good variety are not the sort at which I laugh. No, I am not so foolish. The ridiculous diverts me. Follies and foibles are a great source of entertainment, to be sure. Silly whims and inconsistencies amuse me, but these things are what Miss Bingley claims you are without.”

“Miss Bingley exaggerates. What she claims is not possible for anyone, but I hope that there is but little of the ridiculous in me. It has been the study of my life to avoid foolishness, and, likewise, I do not suffer fools easily.” There was a pained look on his face, as if in so saying he was exposing a weakness himself.

“Of that I am sure.” Elizabeth said sweetly, sensing that he was no longer enjoying their repartee. “I cannot imagine that you
 
could
 
be made to suffer for a fool's sake, and my teasing you is, after all, not entirely sensible in light of this study you have undertaken. I should not give
the fool
a second thought if I were you.” She bobbed a somewhat defiant curtsy in his direction and returned to her seat and her needlework.

She discovered quickly that her task was rendered difficult by the trembling of her hands, a problem she could not account for. Caroline almost immediately distracted the room with her demand for music at Mrs. Hurst's hand. This allowed Elizabeth to recover, to ponder on why she felt so unnerved by the conversation, and to consider why she had suddenly backed down.

She had been poised to strike, to point out his two most obvious faults, to charge him with vanity and pride, and yet, when the moment came to hurl the words at him, she could not do it. In her attempt to explain this to herself, she realized that she instinctively knew that the words would somehow injure him. The guilty, she told herself, take the truth to be hard, for it cuts as deeply as a knife, and although she found his prideful demeanor objectionable, it would not do to make it a point of contention in such a way. A direct assault on his pride, she reasoned, would only harden the man against improvement should he ever realize the fault in himself. In any case, she would not give him the satisfaction of returning his stare tonight, for that would only serve to feed his pride and vanity. Elizabeth kept her eyes cast downward, determined to keep her own counsel and not give Mr. Darcy a second thought.

Mr. Darcy was taken aback by the abrupt end to the conversation just as it was reaching what was, for him, an emotional fever pitch. He had seen in her dark eyes that she had not spoken all. They had danced with the spark of something he could not name, yet it was every bit as tangible as the words she had spoken. She had turned his words back on him, exactly as he had heard her do to others, although he was left unsatisfied by the exchange. She said not to give her a second thought, he mused. That was wise counsel indeed, for any thought of her at all was leading him to dangerous ground, and yet he could not take his eyes off her as she demurely stitched on her embroidery, completely oblivious to the flame she had ignited in Mr. Darcy.

Chapter Fourteen

Farewell to Netherfield

E
lizabeth slept with peace that night, content in the knowledge that Jane was recovering well, that Bingley clearly loved her sister, and that the return to Longbourn was upon them. She awoke with felicity equal to that with which she slept and dressed and packed her own things quickly. Consciousness did not come so swiftly to Jane, however, and Elizabeth found herself ready to depart all alone.

It was no matter, Elizabeth sighed, for Jane needed the rest, and they could not go until the carriage arrived anyway. Elizabeth penned the dispatch to Longbourn, requesting it be sent around as quickly as possible. She gave the note to Mrs. Nicholls, who saw to its delivery.

Elizabeth, relishing the opportunity for one last solitary walk around Netherfield Park before breakfast,
 
was soon upon a pathway leading away from the house. The trail, she quickly discovered, put her on a meandering route toward the stables. From a distance, Elizabeth could see the grooms already at their work, although the sun had just come up. The orchards beyond the stables were nearly bare of foliage but looked interesting, and Elizabeth pushed forward with the intention of exploring. Just beyond the stables, as she passed dog kennels, her footsteps triggered the baying of the hunting dogs, and her thoughts turned to her canine friend, Apollo. A detour through the kennels to bid farewell to the hound seemed like a fine idea, for she had developed a fondness for the beautiful animal.

Picking up her dress and petticoat, she navigated a muddy patch between her and the outbuilding. As soon as she passed through the gate, she found herself before five handsome dogs sharing the same enclosure. They were jumping, baying, and raising a ruckus that was certain to catch attention from the stables if it continued, so she hushed them, surprised to find that they settled quickly on her command. When she called to Apollo, he approached her with the same friendliness that he had shown before, and she crouched to pet him as he squirmed with delight at her attention.

“Good morning, my sweet Apollo!” Elizabeth crooned in his ear. “You are looking as fine today as ever.” She kissed his nose again, several times, petting him vigorously. “My, but you possess such a handsome coat!” She stroked his back, static electricity from the crisp morning sparking as her fingers passed along his silky fur. “I envy it most wretchedly, but as Mary would remind me, we are not to covet, and here I find myself, jealous of a dog.” She laughed, her hands cradling the dog's ears as she rocked his head playfully, and then scratched his neck affectionately, seeking to find the spots that most pleased him.

“Apollo appears to inspire envy all around today, Miss Bennet.” The low voice of Mr. Darcy behind her caused Elizabeth to jump and turn with a start, her hands releasing Apollo as she did so. “You promised me most faithfully that you would not steal his affections, and now I find the two of you in a secret liaison behind the stables.” He was leaning casually against the kennel doorframe as he spoke. Elizabeth had never seen him in such an attitude, but nearly as soon as she turned to face him, he drew himself erect and was formal once again.

Elizabeth stiffly stood up from her crouched position, her face shifting from the shadows into the sunlight that poured through the cutout windows. She could not tell from his demeanor if he was teasing her or if he was angry. “Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied, determined to be composed. “My rendezvous with your hound was no secret; I daresay every groomsman in the stable was on alert. As for your other charge, can a lady not bid farewell to a friend without raising speculation?”

“Farewell, Miss Bennet?” Darcy looked at her, searching her eyes, a strange expression lighting his.