One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (38 page)

'
What a contradiction this grim sky is,'
 
she thought, '
to how I feel!
' Exultant anticipation radiated throughout her being at the very thought of the impending ball. Her belief in her own indifference to Mr. Darcy had shattered the previous evening when Mr. Bingley had arrived to express regrets that the Netherfield party would not call at Longbourn that evening after all. Disappointment at the loss of Mr. Darcy's company had burned in her chest so fiercely that it had consumed her mind the whole of the evening. In those hours, the cast of their recent conversations transformed, and she marveled that she had known herself so poorly. She wondered too, if her perceptions of the man she now yearned to see were also skewed.

A faint sound, carried on the wind, broke into her thoughts, and she strained to hear it. It came again, haunting and mysterious. Elizabeth searched the gray world outside her window for some clue to the source. A dark movement in the distance drew her attention as she heard the sound again—the bay of a hound—at the same moment as she saw a lone rider astride a black stallion approaching Longbourn. His pace was unhurried. His seat on the horse was upright and dignified despite the blasts of wind that raged around him. Elizabeth's mind told her it was an illusion, that the intensity of her thoughts had conjured an apparition of Mr. Darcy's appearance in the faint light. She moved closer to the window, her breath frosting the pane as her forehead pressed against the cold glass, peering wistfully at the figure she half expected to vanish at any second.

He did not disappear. He stopped some distance away, his horse prancing lightly in place while Mr. Darcy seemed simply to stare at the house. It was far too early for a social call, but Elizabeth instinctively knew that he was there for her. She hesitated for one suspended second, as her guarded, proper self, warred with the girl who simply wanted to go to him.

Elizabeth dressed swiftly, fearful that he would be gone before she could reach him. She left her hair in its tousled side-plait, and flung on the same hooded cloak as she had worn a few mornings earlier as she raced down the stairs. Soon, she was at the road, although the hedgerows made her blind to the spot where she had seen Mr. Darcy. She ran, holding her hood with one hand, until coming around a bend, she saw him, still soberly looking at Longbourn. She halted abruptly, her eagerness dampened by the look of shock on his face when he saw her.

“Miss Bennet!” He exclaimed. His surprise at her sudden appearance was evident. “This is no sort of day for an early morning walk!”

Elizabeth curtseyed slightly in an attempt to compose herself before she responded. “Nor is it a good sort of morning for a ride, Mr. Darcy, yet here you are.”

“Yes.” Darcy nodded as he knit his eyebrows in consternation. “Here I am.”

“I observed your approach from my window.” Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I hope you bear no ill tidings.”

“Oh.” Darcy shook his head slightly. “No. No ill tidings.”

“May I inquire as to why you
 
are
 
here, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“I could not sleep.” He shrugged and looked at her with that same intensity as he had on the path from the cottages the day before.

“I am pleased that you are here.” Elizabeth said, with a step forward. “I had hoped to speak with you before the ball.” He nodded at her, so she continued. “It is about my cousin, Mr. Collins.”

“Mr. Collins?” Darcy frowned.

“Yes.” Elizabeth said, although a gust of wind carried the word away as her scarlet cloak billowed around her. She quickly pushed it down with both hands as another puff filled the hood with air and swept it off her head.

Darcy's dismount from the saddle was so immediate that he was standing in front of Elizabeth before she had finished wrestling her hood back on, and suddenly, his hands were gently tugging at the sides of the woolen covering, assisting her in the task. Elizabeth colored and muttered, “Thank you.” She reached up with one hand to hold the hood in place as Darcy reluctantly released it.

“We must first get you out of the wind.” Darcy said, with a nod of his head toward Longbourn. “Then we will speak.”

Elizabeth turned and began to walk, her face still warm. Mr. Darcy positioned himself to her side, protecting Elizabeth from the full force of the wind. She felt something touch her hand, and looked down to find Apollo walking at her other side. She extended her fingers to stroke the top of his head and thought to herself with some amusement that she must look a fright, but Mr. Darcy had not seemed to notice it.

Approaching the house, they came alongside the garden wall, where the air was calm. Mr. Darcy stopped walking and turned to look at the windswept beauty before him. “I believe you had something you wished to say, Miss Bennet.”

“Oh yes.” Elizabeth found herself unable to look directly at him, her earlier boldness now standing on quivering legs. “I wished to speak with you about the ball.”

Darcy nodded. “I have been looking forward to our dance with great anticipation.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that Darcy had broached the topic first. “It is our dance that I must speak of.”

Darcy held his breath, fearful that she would decline the promised dance after all.

“I do not wish to be too forward, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth began, “but I find myself in a difficult situation. My cousin, Mr. Collins, expressed a desire to dance the first set with me.” Elizabeth looked to his face at this moment and caught a distinct hardening of his jaw, but she had begun, and was determined to finish. “Although you had not specified the dance, I felt, that having promised myself to you, I could not commit to Mr. Collins.”

Darcy could not suppress his delight, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Where is your difficulty, Miss Bennet?”

“I am afraid that I told Mr. Collins I was to dance the first set with you. I know that this was presumptuous of me, and I am mortified that I must confess this to you, but...,” Elizabeth stopped speaking when she felt Mr. Darcy's hand grasp hers and hold it in his own. Her bare fingers curled slightly around his gloved ones in reflex as his thumb firmly folded over her delicate grip on him. Somewhat discomposed, she stared down at where they were joined as a stain of deepest rose crept back to her cheeks.

“It shall be in the first dance, then, that your promise will be fulfilled.” His voice was reassuring, and he placed his other hand over the top of hers, so that both of his hands now enclosed it. “Would it be too much to ask,” he hesitated and tightened his hold on her. “Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of dancing the supper set with me tonight as well?”

Elizabeth was astonished and drawing her hand out of his clasp, she looked him directly in the eye and gasped, “Mr. Darcy, you must realize how that would be taken!”

“I do.” He replied gravely, although a hint of mischief tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I am most pleased to dance the first with you; however, it leaves me void of anticipation for the remainder of the evening. I will have several other partners between the first dances and the supper set, as will you. It is perfectly proper.”

“It is perfect fodder for idle gossip, Mr. Darcy. Speculation and rumor will unavoidably tie our names together, proper or not, should we dance a second set.” Elizabeth frowned and shook her head.

“This offends you?” Darcy questioned her with a slightly squinted eye.

“Not at all, but I had thought it would offend you!” Elizabeth raised her chin defensively, even as her thoughts ran wild with his meaning.

“You have my assurance that it does not.” Darcy corrected and then pressed her with a charming degree of uncertainty. “What is your answer?”

Elizabeth nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes locked onto his, searching for understanding as he reached up to position her hood again. “Good.” He said softly, his gloved fingertips brushing against her cheek as his hand withdrew.

“I must return to the house.” Elizabeth said as she stooped abruptly to pet Apollo, who was sitting at her feet. She wrapped her arms around the animal's neck and murmured, “Goodbye, my dear, sweet Apollo.” She stood and found Mr. Darcy's eyes still intently upon her.

“Until tonight, Miss Bennet.” Darcy bowed in a formal, gentlemanly gesture of farewell.

“Until tonight, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth curtseyed and stepped back out to the road, sparing one look over her shoulder before she lowered her head against the wind and hastened back to Longbourn.

~*~

The household at Longbourn was much consumed for the better part of the day with their preparations for the festivities of the evening, and Elizabeth found ample time to dress with great care. Her hair, which she generally maintained with simple styles, was formed into a particularly elegant arrangement and adorned with dainty jeweled hair ornaments.

Elizabeth found herself immensely grateful to her aunt Gardiner. The small collection of lovely accessories she owned were mostly gifts from her fashionable aunt. A pair of pearl teardrop earrings and a matching strand of pearls were among the treasures bestowed by her relations when Elizabeth had last visited them in London. They were selected specifically to complement the gold-threaded Indian muslin gown acquired for a dress ball she had attended, together with the fine white kid gloves.

Upon her arrival at Netherfield, Elizabeth spoke briefly to Caroline and Louisa, who were both alarmingly gracious as they welcomed the guests. Mr. Bingley had been standing next to his sisters greeting their guests, but he abandoned the reception line in favor of escorting Jane into the drawing room. He offered his other arm to Elizabeth, and together they went through the doors, where the room had been prepared in stunning splendor for the ball.

Elizabeth began covertly searching for Mr. Darcy. She maintained her movement through the crowded room and had just found her friend Charlotte Lucas when she heard the sound of Mr. Collins' voice calling to her.

“Cousin Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth made a point of introducing Miss Lucas to Mr. Collins, and as soon as they were engaged in a civil dialogue, she excused herself, in fear that Mr. Collins would engage her for a dance, knowing that she could not politely refuse. She approached the end of the room and found Lady Catherine de Bourgh seated regally in a large armchair as if she were holding court. Elizabeth approached her, and with a deep curtsy, expressed her delight that Lady Catherine was in attendance at the ball. This pleased Lady Catherine, who had expected far more attention and deference than she had thus far received. Elizabeth inquired after Miss de Bourgh and, upon learning that Anne was in attendance, excused herself to go in search of her.

Her search for Anne was interrupted by a masculine voice, spoken in her ear from behind.

“Miss Bennet, you look positively ravishing this evening!”

A smile swept pleasantly across Elizabeth's face as she turned to face the owner of the voice. “Colonel Fitzwilliam!”

The colonel took her gloved hand and kissed the back of it in a practiced movement. “Miss Bennet, I ask you, how is a man to remain composed with such a greeting?”

Elizabeth smiled. “You must find a way, Colonel, for the room is full of officers tonight, and you must not be outdone.”

“Ah, but I am already outdone. My cousin informed me that he has engaged you for the first set, and I am too late to ask for your hand as the ball is opened. I am a persistent fellow, however, and pray that you will reserve the second set for me.” Although he spoke of disappointment, Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned at Elizabeth as if the second set were a grand prize.

“I would be delighted.” Elizabeth smiled with pleasure at him before glancing around the room again. “Have you any idea where I may find Miss de Bourgh?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam's brows shot up in surprise at her question. “You have met my cousin?”

“Yes” Elizabeth replied, “but once. I should like very much to renew our acquaintance, however, and was in search of her when you found me.”

“Come with me.” Richard beckoned her to follow, and they wound their way through the assembling crowd to where Anne was resting on a chair in a quiet corner. Mrs. Jenkinson was seated nearby. He positioned himself somewhat protectively to the side of his cousin upon reaching her. “Anne,” he said quietly, “I believe you have already been introduced to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

To an onlooker, the greeting between the two females would have seemed that of old friends. So great was the delight of Miss de Bourgh at the sight of Elizabeth that her attitude was excited, her greeting, so animated that one could forget for a moment the fragility of her health due to the flush of color in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.