“Yes,” Richard said slowly. “But I bet she won’t dance with you.”
“You bet? What do you bet?” Darcy wasn’t one to wager, but he was sufficiently irritated to pounce on Richard’s turn of phrase. What right did they have to lecture him about his behavior before such a countrified gathering? Why, Georgiana had postulated only that morning, in the carriage, that what they did in Hertfordshire didn’t matter.
“What do I bet?” Richard drawled. “How about, if you lose, you have to ask the least attractive woman in the room to dance with you. If you win, I will dance with the woman you decide is the ugliest.”
Georgiana looked between them with wide eyes. “But I’ve already danced with both of you.”
“Don’t be absurd, Georgiana,” Darcy protested.
“You are lovely as ever, cousin,” Richard said.
Georgiana’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Pick,” she commanded to Darcy.
“Miss Lucas,” Darcy said. He eyed Richard. “And you’d best hope I lose, because you’ve already danced with the lady once this evening. I shouldn’t want you to create a misunderstanding. That would be very ill mannered of you.”
Richard snorted. “Don’t worry about my manners, Darcy.”
Darcy scowled at him.
“You do realize that you’re both behaving badly now?” Georgiana’s balled hands found her hips as she spoke.
Richard grimaced and offered a slight nod. “She’s right, Darcy. Although Miss Lucas and Miss Elizabeth cannot hear us, we ought not speak as we are.”
“Trying to get out of our wager already?” Darcy asked stiffly. Let Richard feel guilt. Darcy only felt annoyance. His sister and cousin had stung his pride. They must suffer the consequence.
“Only because entering the wager was wrong.”
Darcy locked gazes with his cousin.
Georgiana let out an exaggerated sigh and muttered something under her breath. She turned to Darcy and took his arm. “Come. I shall introduce you to Miss Elizabeth so we can lay this to rest.”
Turning from Richard, Georgiana set them off across the room. Many people watched their progress. Some wore looks of disapproval. Darcy reminded himself that their opinions didn’t have any consequence. The back of Miss Elizabeth’s head, long neck a graceful sweep below her curls, came into view. Miss Lucas stood before her. She said something, and Miss Elizabeth turned.
“I’m not sure I wish to do this to Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana said from the side of her mouth.
“Make me dance with her?” Darcy asked, further piqued. “I am not so bad as that.”
“No, make her sit out the rest of the night. She’s sure to refuse you, you know.”
“If she refuses me, which a woman of her station never would, and doesn’t dance for the remainder of the evening, again questionable given her likely lack of honor, I will somehow make it up to her.”
Georgiana gave him a quick look, which included rolling her eyes heavenward. Fortunately, they’d drawn too near their goal for further reprimand. They stopped before the two. Darcy bowed.
“Miss Lucas, Miss Elizabeth, this is my brother, Mr. Darcy,” Georgiana said. “If you’ll excuse me.” She released his arm and walked away.
Darcy looked after her for a moment, taken aback by her abrupt departure. He turned back to Miss Elizabeth and offered another bow. “Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of the next set?”
She looked surprised, then speculative. A spark lit deep in her eyes, amplifying their already pretty cast. “I am sorry, sir, but I have decided not to dance anymore this evening. Thank you for your offer.” She curtsied and walked away.
Darcy stared after her, flabbergasted.
Miss Lucas offered a flat smile. “Please excuse Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy. She’s not one to prevaricate.”
Richard appeared beside Darcy, a malicious gleam in his eye. “Turned you down. I told you.”
Darcy frowned, still following Miss Elizabeth’s progress across the room. She seemed determined to put as much distance between them as the space allowed. “I wonder if she will keep her word and not dance anymore tonight.” Darcy wanted her to dance. He wanted to find a flaw in her.
“Certainly, she will keep her word,” Miss Lucas said stiffly.
“I’ll advise her not to,” Richard said. “She should enjoy herself, despite certain…” He offered Darcy a disapproving frown. “…circumstances. Miss Lucas, Darcy, if you’ll excuse me.” With a bow, Richard headed after Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy resignedly turned to Miss Lucas. “Miss Lucas, as we both seem to have been abandoned, would you offer me the pleasure of a dance?”
Miss Lucas hesitated for long enough to stir mortification. Finally, she nodded. Darcy offered his hand. He led her toward the dancing.
As they danced, Miss Lucas did not press him for conversation, though she made enough of an attempt that he could have conversed had he wished to. On top of that, she danced well. Partnering her wasn’t as taxing a payment of the debt as he’d anticipated, but it annoyed Darcy that Richard was right, and he was wrong. Worse, while Darcy and Miss Lucas danced, he spotted Miss Elizabeth in cheerful conversation with Richard, those lovely eyes sparkling with humor and intelligence. She spoke and Richard laughed, casting a glance Darcy’s way. He ground his teeth, certain they spoke of him. Yet, Richard wouldn’t have brought him up. Miss Elizabeth must have.
After his set with Miss Lucas, Darcy retreated to a dark corner of the room, obscured by a collection of potted plants. Secure he was unobserved, indeed could hardly be seen, he permitted himself to glower at the dancers. The night progressed even worse than he’d feared, now that it included his sister and cousin both angry with him, and a nobody country miss too haughty to accept a dance. Well, if he must, he would remain off to the side until his party chose to leave. He’d enough mortification for one night. He checked his pocket watch then leaned against the wall to watch several sets before checking, then stowing, his timepiece again.
“I suspect Mr. Darcy only danced with me because of a bet,” a low voice said, nearby.
Darcy blinked. Though they’d spoken little, and the words were quiet, the speaker must be Miss Lucas. After all, he’d only danced with four women and would recognize the voice of any of the other three immediately. He peeked around the largest plant to see two forms on that dark edge of the room, rendered somewhat indistinct by the light behind them.
Then the meaning of Miss Lucas’ words registered. She had guessed. Darcy felt an unfamiliar emotion…shame.
“Why do you think that?” Miss Elizabeth’s voice asked.
The revelation that she was the second form amplified his mortification.
“For several reasons,” Miss Lucas replied. “Mr. Darcy didn’t say more than a few words while we danced. I spoke to him twice and he hardly responded. When the set ended, he did his duty and escorted me to a chair. A single chair with none vacant nearby.”
“Absolving him of any additional attempts at conversation,” Miss Elizabeth observed.
“Yes. Then Mr. Fitzwilliam danced with me a second time. The first time we danced, we spoke of the usual trivial things one talks of with strangers. The second time, we had a real conversation. He tried to get to know me, which is suspicious.”
“Not so,” Miss Elizabeth protested. “You undersell yourself, Charlotte. You are a wonderful dancer and a pleasure to speak with.”
Miss Elizabeth may not prevaricate, according to Miss Lucas, but Darcy measured her a staunch friend.
“I may be an adept dancer and able to carry on conversation, Lizzy, but I am no man’s first choice for a partner. Mr. Fitzwilliam was being deliberately kind. I suspect he felt a touch guilty.”
Darcy added intelligence to his list of Miss Lucas’ qualities, and an even temperament. Many women would sound angry, but she did not. If anything, wry humor touched her voice.
“Still, you couldn’t have minded dancing with Mr. Fitzwilliam twice,” Miss Elizabeth said. “He is a ve
ry pleasant conversationalist. I was sorry I had to refuse to dance with him a second time.”
Miss Lucas let out a small sigh. “Yes, he does both dance and speak well. I’m sorry I can’t count his second dance as hinting at any attraction. What did you two talk about while I had to bear Mr. Darcy company?”
Bear him company? Darcy bristled. His company was sought. Especially by unwed ladies.
“We talked of new books and of music.” Miss Elizabeth’s voice had a warm tone that further evoked Darcy’s ire. Everyone always found Richard amiable. “And of traveling and staying home. It was very entertaining.”
“That sounds lovely,” Miss Lucas said, a hint of sorrow in her tone. “He’s a kind gentleman.”
“You can’t know for certain his dancing with you a second time had to do with a wager,” Miss Elizabeth said.
“I’m sure it did,” Miss Lucas said. “Furthermore, Mr. Darcy dancing with me wasn’t a reward. It was a punishment. Whatever the bet was, he lost.”
“How can you say that?” Miss Elizabeth protested. “We already established that you dance very well.”
Darcy repressed the urge to add his assurance to that praise. Miss Lucas did dance well. His guilt over employing her as part of a wager might be salvaged by saying as much.
But he could not permit them to know he listened. More guilt layered atop the first, for he was doing exactly that for which he’d condemned both Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana. Eavesdropping. But what else could he do? To move would reveal him.
“I’ve never been pretty,” Miss Lucas said, voice quiet. “And as the years pass, I am only less so. I’m twenty-seven and look it.”
“You have so many other qualities,” Miss Elizabeth said firmly.
Darcy noted that she did not, indeed, lie. She offered no outright attempt to deny Miss Lucas’ assessment of herself yet provided what support and solace she could.
“You are kind, Lizzy,” Miss Lucas said. “And perhaps I do have laudable qualities, but they are not readily visible on a dance floor.”
“They could be, if you dance often enough with the same gentleman for him to come to know you,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Which will never happen if we linger in this corner gossiping. Come. I may not be able to dance again this evening, but you certainly shall.”
Darcy peeked out to see the slenderer of the two forms take the other by the arm. They headed back toward the better lit, more crowded area of the hall. Once he felt sure they were away, he stepped out from behind the planting, before he could be trapped into eavesdropping again. A glance back showed how flimsy his hiding place had been. He could only thank heaven that neither of them had looked his way.
Chapter Seven
A few weeks later found Darcy on the way back from dining with the officers. As he enjoyed Colonel Forster’s company, the evening had been convivial. Mr. Hurst was already snoring, slumped against the corner of the carriage next to Darcy. Experience taught them all that he would sleep soundly until they arrived at Netherfield Park, but then be ready for cards. Richard, who shared the seat across the carriage with Bingley, also appeared to have had a pleasant time. Darcy supposed his cousin somewhat missed his regimental days, though not enough to return to them now that he was a landowner.
Bingley, in contrast, was rather distracted that evening. Not his usual talkative self. Even now, he drummed his fingers on his leg, peering out the carriage window at their progress.
“Do you suppose Miss Bennet is still at Netherfield?” he asked.
“Doubtful,” Darcy replied. “It is late.”
“Because you suddenly became loquacious,” Bingley muttered, gaze still out the window.
Richard cast an amused look between them. Darcy wondered if his cousin guessed why they’d remained with the officers for so long. Darcy had no desire for his friend to meet Miss Jane Bennet any more often than required, and Bingley’s sisters had invited the lady to dine with them that evening.
Darcy had no qualms with Miss Bennet as an individual. In truth, it pleased him for her to dine at Netherfield. He hoped she would be a positive influence on Georgiana, who rarely spoke to Bingley’s sisters.
No, his qualms, such as they were, stemmed from Bingley’s infatuation with the woman. Darcy hadn’t spent years molding and guiding his friend for Bingley to become entangled with a country miss who had an abhorrent family, no connections and no dowry. Worse, Miss Bennet wasn’t the sort with which Bingley usually became enamored, the more worldly and jaded young ladies of London. Miss Bennet would assume his interest to have true meaning. When Bingley’s ardor cooled, as it always did, she would be left shamed and distraught. Therefore, Darcy had kept them out late enough that Miss Bennet was sure to be gone by the time they returned to Netherfield Park.
“I don’t see what you found so interesting about Colonel Forster and his men,” Bingley said, attention trained out at the passing night and the bobbing rings of lanternlight surrounding the carriage. “Mr. Fitzwilliam has common ground with them, to be certain, but you’ve always been a landowner, Darcy. When I brought up the possibility of buying an estate, there was hardly any discussion about it.”
Bingley’s complaint wasn’t reasonable. In London, they often addressed several of the evening’s topics, with Bingley a willing participant. Silence, uncomfortable after Bingley’s sullen tone of accusation, filled the carriage, only punctuated by Hurst’s snores.
Richard shifted in his seat. “On the subject of landowning, and knowing I can count on your discretion, Bingley.”
More silence followed.
“Bingley?” Richard prompted.
“What?” Bingley swiveled toward Richard, expression questioning.
“May I count on your discretion?” Richard prompted.
“Oh, yes, certainly.” Bingley turned back to the window.
Richard cast him an amused look before refocusing on Darcy. “Walter is still having trouble with his estate,” Richard said. “At first, I thought he was hinting for a loan, but now I think he just wanted someone to talk to. He knows I’m short of funds myself.”
Darcy grimaced. “I don’t feel it is—”
Richard held up a staying hand. “I’m not asking you to give him a loan. I’m asking, and I’ll write his permission first, if I may confide his troubles to you for your advice.”
“Certainly,” Darcy said, relieved. He didn’t begrudge the money, but loaning money to family tended to create resentments. “Write to him first thing in the morning. I have some letters going out. My man will post yours for you.”
“Thank you, but one more day won’t do any harm. I’ll write him tomorrow afternoon.”
Darcy frowned. Richard’s daily habits weren’t his concern, but he couldn’t help asking, “Why? You always breakfast early. There will be time in the morning.”
“I’m riding in the morning.”
“You rode yesterday morning,” Darcy countered.
“I prefer to ride every morning, directly following breakfast,” Richard said, tone firm. “It’s good for my constitution.”
“Is this a new occupation?” Darcy didn’t recall such a routine during their many stays at Rosings. “Perhaps I will join you.”
“I need to keep fit now that I’m no longer in regimentals, and I prefer to head out alone.”
Darcy eyed his cousin with suspicion.
“Did you order your driver to set this interminable pace, Darcy?” Bingley groused. Darcy hadn’t, sure his delaying tactics at dinner had already bought him enough time.
“In fact, I believe we’re about to turn up the drive,” Richard said.
Richard’s assessment proved correct. The carriage turned a moment later, to rumble up the drive. Bingley alighted as soon as they arrived, hopping out to splash unceremoniously into a puddle. He let out a curse for his shoes, while Darcy shook Hurst awake and followed with more decorum, Richard and Hurst behind him. They entered the well-lit foyer to find Miss Bingley before her brother, in midsentence.<
br />
“…oaked through when she arrived.” Miss Bingley’s tone betrayed annoyance. “Can you imagine, riding over in this weather? Hoydens, the lot of them.”
“You lent her a dress, I assume?” Bingley asked. He shot an anxious look up the staircase.
Darcy hid a grimace. “Am I to understand Miss Bennet remains?”
Miss Bingley offered him a nod before returning her attention to her brother. “Of course, we lent her a gown. Georgiana did, as they’re of a height. We also sat Miss Bennet by the fire. None of it proved any avail. She was ill before dinner finished.”
“It was good of you to offer her a room, Caroline,” Bingley said. “You did well.”
“Certainly, I offered her a room. It would have been cruel to send her home in her condition, riding back through the rain.”
“You could have lent her the use of Bingley’s carriage,” Darcy argued as he began stripping off his gloves. Servants waited to the side, ready to receive their outerwear.
Miss Bingley shook her head, expression sour. “My brother’s coachman believed this evening the best time to address some minor wear, with us remaining in and you four employing your conveyance, Mr. Darcy. He had the carriage in a state of disorder.”
“Fortuitously,” Bingley said hotly. “To send her out into the cold when she’s ill would be the height of irresponsibility.” He looked up the staircase again, as if he might rush to Miss Bennet’s side.
Darcy rather thought riding over in clearly inclement weather was the height of irresponsibility. Had no one in the Bennet household any sense?
“You sent word to her family, I assume,” Richard asked, coming to stand beside Darcy.
“I did.” Miss Bingley sounded a touch annoyed by the question.
“Her poor mother must be so worried,” Bingley said.
“Her poor mother likely put her up to it,” Miss Bingley replied with a sniff. “I’d blame Miss Bennet herself, but she hasn’t a conniving bone in her body.”
Darcy agreed with both parts of that sentiment.
“I’m sure Mrs. Bennet wouldn’t deliberately put her daughter at risk,” Bingley declared. “More likely, they misjudged the weather.”
A Duel in Meryton Page 6
