One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (3 page)

T
he ladies of Longbourn soon waited upon those of Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form. Jane Bennet's gentle nature and pleasing manners quickly won the approval of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and they found Elizabeth's quick wit entertaining enough. Having expressed a desire to get to know the eldest Bennet girls better, they made it clear with little subtlety that only the two of them were welcome. A series of calls ensued.

Their reception pleased Jane immensely, for it increased the occasions when she could see their brother without appearing too forward. Jane was the model of decorum, and although she felt herself to be rapidly falling in love with Mr. Bingley, she exercised demure restraint in the outward demonstration of her feelings for him, lest she seem presumptuous to Mr. Bingley before she was certain of his affections.

Elizabeth was less impressed with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. The looks shared between them when they thought no one was looking were forgivable; but their probing questions designed to bait Jane into revealing information they obviously considered an embarrassment goaded Elizabeth to no end. Elizabeth tried to warn her sister, who would hear none of it. “I am sure that is not what they meant, Lizzy,” said Jane. “They are just making conversation.”

“But, Jane,” Lizzy replied, “what is the purpose of inquiring after the number of cows in our barn or asking which of the Meryton shops we patronize when, indeed, they would not lower themselves to cross the threshold of any establishment in our little town! What could they mean by it?”

“They are used to London, Lizzy, where the shops are very fine. Their curiosity does them credit,” Jane replied.

“Their questions are impertinent!” Lizzy exclaimed, “Upon my word, you cannot be insensible of it.”

“But, Lizzy,” Jane blushed, “they are Mr. Bingley's sisters. They must see my regard for their brother and wish to prove it. It is not so very bad, and I am sure they mean well.”

“Oh yes, it is all to do with their brother.” Lizzy smiled, her eyes twinkling with delight. “When Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy joined us in the drawing room at Netherfield yesterday, you became indifferent to anything or anyone else, I daresay.”

“Was I that obvious, Lizzy?” Jane paled.

“Only to your sister.” Lizzy assured her. “I diverted the ladies' attention away from you as best I could with the story of Sarah Plimpton and that unfortunate incident with the gooseberry jam.”

“That must have been hard on poor Mr. Darcy to be so left out of the conversation.”

“Oh, but he was not left out, Jane. He may have been gazing out the window, looking as bored as a lord in Parliament, but he heard the conversation well enough; for I detected a hint of a smile as I concluded the story, and he made reference to it a few minutes later when he suggested gooseberry tarts for tea.”

“Let us hope Mr. Darcy is still smiling tonight, then, at Lucas Lodge. I believe it distresses Mr. Bingley a great deal when his friend is in a temper.” Jane sighed.

“Then I will tell amusing stories to all of our friends tonight, and Mr. Darcy may eavesdrop and be entertained if he likes.” Lizzy laughed at the idea. “Then Mr. Bingley will be content, and you will be satisfied.”

~*~

That night at Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth was so occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister that she forgot her promise to capture Mr. Darcy's attention altogether. The joy she felt to see her sister with such a companion as Mr. Bingley could not be restrained, which lit her own countenance in such an animated way that even her friends noticed it, as did Mr. Darcy—for he found her demeanor curiously appealing. He wandered, not aimlessly, about the large room. He edged, nonchalantly, close to where Elizabeth was standing to remain within earshot of her exchanges.

Her voice, he decided, was pleasant to hear, and her laugh, even more so. The astuteness of her opinions struck him, and the witty banter she so readily called up was refreshing and lively. After trailing Elizabeth around the room for over an hour this way, Mr. Darcy ventured to look more directly at her and immediately wondered that he had not previously noticed the intelligence in her dark eyes or the way that they sparkled as she spoke.

On the other side of the room, Mary Bennet began to play a jig, and a number of enthusiastic partners, including Jane and Mr. Bingley, lined up to dance. One of the officers from the militia invited Elizabeth to join him on the floor, which she gladly agreed to do. Mr. Darcy watched her walk away, choosing to observe her dance from where he stood contemplating the sight. Her steps were sprightly as she danced effortlessly and perfectly. Her figure, he noted, was not so ordinary as he had first thought, for it was light and pleasing to the eye. Barely a flicker of emotion crossed his face when the first pang of jealousy struck, but feel it he did, with some astonishment. When the dance had ended, Elizabeth took a seat in the corner next to her friend Charlotte, eager to discuss the events of the evening so far.

“See how happy Jane is!” Elizabeth beamed. “When they have not been dancing, she and Mr. Bingley have been conversing. Jane would be mortified if she realized how
very
unsocial they have been. We must not tell her, for she is very near to being in love with Mr. Bingley.”

“She is in love?” Charlotte puzzled. “It is clear that she prefers Mr. Bingley to the others, but she is hardly as demonstrative as one who is in love. If love is engraved in her heart, then she must make her claim quickly; for Mr. Bingley is an eligible man and sure to have many admirers. She should show him more affection, and quickly, before he becomes discouraged!”

“Make her claim!” Elizabeth laughed. “Her regard for him is evident, and it is for Mr. Bingley to make an offer to her, not Jane to make an offering of herself. No, Jane is too proper to declare herself before she is assured of Mr. Bingley's intentions.”

“Only a fool, a blackguard or a selfishly conceited man would make a proposal not knowing if the love is requited, Lizzy. Mr. Bingley is none of those things.” Charlotte glanced across the room. “Speaking of conceited men, there is Mr. Darcy, looking at you again. He looks at you a great deal, Lizzy.”

“I think perhaps he is playing at a game that I have not heard of.” Elizabeth laughed, looking directly at him. “Mr. Darcy thinks that he is very clever, sidling up behind me to listen
 
to my conversations and staring at me from across the room. I think that his object is to intimidate me, but that is not easily done when I am resolved against it. No, he had better go and play his game elsewhere, for he has met his match with me!”

“He is a man of great consequence, my dear Eliza,” Charlotte lectured. “You should not take his attentions lightly.”

“He is also a man of grave seriousness, Charlotte; since, knowing how much I dearly love to laugh, my only defense is to take his so-called attentions lightly. Shall I say something scandalous the next time he stands near?”

“Hush, Lizzy, he is close by,” Charlotte whispered with a wave of her finger indicating his position.

Elizabeth, who had chosen the corner thinking it safe, had failed to account for the camouflage of a nearby pillar and realized with a start that Mr. Darcy had repositioned himself at some point in their conversation. As the two women stopped talking, he turned and addressed Elizabeth, who rose from her seat on his approach.

“Miss Bennet.” He bowed slightly.

“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth responded with a decidedly not-intimidated smile.

“I would speak to you ... in private.” Mr. Darcy's tone left no option but for Elizabeth to agree. She indicated her consent with a nod of her head, and he motioned toward a small alcove off the main room, still in plain sight of all, although affording a degree of privacy.

Chapter Four

A Conversation in Private

A
lthough Mr. Darcy's manner in approaching her had defied refusal, walking across the room at his side, Elizabeth thought of a half-dozen reasons that she should have declined. She slowed her footsteps, delaying the inevitable. What purpose could he have in seeking a private audience? She snuck a furtive glance upward in hopes of discerning his frame of mind. In this, she was unsuccessful, for his face was as stone. She glanced back at Charlotte, who shrugged helplessly. She spotted Jane and Mr. Bingley in another direction, deep in conversation and unaware of anyone else in the room. Her mother, she saw, was clearly aware that her daughter appeared to be in confidence with the eligible Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth winced at the shrill voice that pierced the din of conversation and music with the obvious reference to “ten-thousand a year” echoing in the large room.

Reaching the alcove, Elizabeth discreetly moved to the side of the recess with the clearest view of the room, standing where there would be no question of any impropriety in their meeting. She turned to Mr. Darcy expectantly, for although she held no aspirations to such a conversation, her curiosity was nonetheless provoked by his invitation.

Mr. Darcy stood facing the room, watching the small group dancing, as though he had moved merely to gain a better vantage point. His stance was regal and erect as he observed the room for a full minute before he spoke to Elizabeth, and when he did, he did not face her, but spoke straight ahead.

“You are well tonight, Miss Bennet?” He asked coolly.

“Yes, thank you.” Elizabeth replied graciously, as she also turned to face the room.

“I see that your family is all in attendance tonight except your father. Is Mr. Bennet well?” His tone was warmer.

“Yes, quite well.” Elizabeth smiled as she answered, although he could not see it.

“Your sister—the youngest one—may I inquire as to her age?” Mr. Darcy nodded to where Lydia was dancing.

Elizabeth reddened and sighed, “Lydia is not yet sixteen.”

Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and noting the sudden color in her face found secret delight in it. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, which he quickly suppressed. “I have a sister about that same age.”

At this disclosure, Elizabeth looked at him with some surprise, having imagined him an only child. “Oh.” She pictured Mr. Darcy coping with similar vexations to those Lydia had imposed on her family, an idea she found peculiarly amusing. “Is she out in company?”

“No.” Darcy stiffened slightly. “Miss Bennet, I seek your counsel on a matter regarding my sister.” He hesitated, waiting for her response, but when none ensued, he proceeded. “It is my custom to acquire a keepsake for Georgiana from each location I visit. This task was simple when she was young. A wooden toy or china doll pleased her then. Would you have a suggestion on a gift, fit for a young lady, which may be found in Hertfordshire?”

Elizabeth frowned slightly with consternation. The fineness of his waistcoat, the fancy silk cravat he wore, indeed everything about him signaled his high standards of quality and taste. “There is nothing, sir, so fine as may be found in London....”

“To make my purchase in London would defeat the purpose of our tradition. Have you nothing to recommend?” Darcy pressed.

Elizabeth thought for a moment. “There is a fan maker who resides in Meryton. He is a member of the guild, and his best fans are usually sold in the London shops. Perhaps a lovely, ornate fan would suit your sister's tastes.” Elizabeth offered, adding, “There is also a widow who lives in a small cottage on the road to Meryton. She makes exquisitely embroidered shawls to provide an income for herself. Her workmanship is very fine indeed.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “And which of these gifts would most suit your own sister?”

“The fan,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Lydia, whose flirtations with the officers were so overt as to be an embarrassment, “although I would give her the shawl.”

Darcy's brow furrowed. “Why would you choose the one least suited?”

The truth, in fact, was that a shawl is rarely used as a flirtation device, while the art of fan beguilement was one her sister was already practicing in the mirror with an everyday fan at home. Elizabeth could not reveal this to Mr. Darcy, however. “The days are colder now, Mr. Darcy. A shawl, she could use today. A fan would not serve until next summer.” Elizabeth hesitated, bothered by the question hovering in her mind. “May I inquire as to the reason our discussion required privacy?”

Elizabeth was not the only one who was to conceal the truth now, for although Mr. Darcy prided himself on being honest to a fault, he would not admit, even to himself, that his motivation was, in fact, simply to interact with Elizabeth, unfettered by demands on her attention outside himself. He pretended no design on her. She was too poor, of too mean a position in society to warrant such a consideration, yet his curiosity about her had overpowered his reserve and driven him to seek her out in conversation.