by Jann Rowland
Elizabeth wanted to protest further—how could a prince deign to show any interest in her?—yet she could not mistake the love in his eyes. It was likely the same expression that was reflected in hers.
“You may,” whispered she, leaning forward into his chest. He drew his arms around her tightly and held her there for some minutes as they stood on the forest path. She was content to luxuriate in the feel of his arms and listen to the comforting noise of his heartbeat. She felt at peace. Happy.
The rest of the day passed by mostly in a blur—save for the moment when they came across a party of redcoats led by Charles, who exclaimed upon seeing them, “Elizabeth! Darcy! Thank God you are unharmed!”—but Elizabeth did not mind that the rest of the day faded away. Her thoughts were entirely focused on the heart that had beat in the young prince’s chest, perfectly in time with hers.
The End
A Pleasant Assembly
by
Jann Rowland
There has been a lot of speculation concerning what would have happened had Mr. Darcy not insulted Elizabeth at the Meryton assembly. This is my attempt to tell that story.
The walls of the assembly room pressed in, and Darcy found the hall almost claustrophobic. It was ever thus, no matter where he went or where he attended such functions. Tonight, the sensation was particularly strong, and he felt almost as if he were confined within the mouth of some monstrous animal whose jaws were slowly closing on its luckless prey. The feeling was only made worse by the rancid sounds of the musicians as they grappled with their instruments, wringing out the pitiful wailing which passed as music in this desolate wilderness, and by the locals’ furtive and uncouth whisperings, which flitted about his head like so many angry insects.
“. . . noble mien . . .”
“. . . a house in town . . .”
“. . . uncle an earl . . .”
“. . . ten thousand a year!”
It was nothing Darcy had not heard before. Since his inheritance five years earlier, he had heard nothing else every time he went into society. But here, amongst the country bumpkins, vapid wives, and insipid daughters, it was much worse, leaving an already unhappy Darcy in a fearsome mood. He should never have come to this blasted assembly!
Thus, he occupied himself as he often would at such a function—he stalked the room, avoiding Caroline Bingley’s cloying attentions and overpowering perfume, the fluttering eyelashes of women seeking to attach themselves to a wealthy husband, and the brazen mothers intent on doing everything they could to propel their female progeny into his unwilling arms.
That was how he intended to occupy himself the entire night. Unfortunately, Bingley was not content to leave him to his own devices.
“Darcy,” said the jovial man as he approached, “I see you are once again intent upon wearing a rut around the dance floor. Surely you would be in a much better frame of mind if you would only allow yourself to relax.”
It was all Darcy could do to refrain from rolling his eyes. In truth, Bingley was much too apt to allow his gaze to be caught by a pretty woman, and the eldest Bennet daughter—who Darcy had to acknowledge was a very handsome young lady—appeared to be the latest in a long line of beauties who had caught Bingley’s attention. Undoubtedly, she would do everything in her power to hold his attention and secure him for her own benefit, though she would hopefully not push it as far as had Bingley’s last infatuation, Miss Simpson. Now that had been a disaster; Bingley had only escaped the altar by a hair’s breadth.
Apparently, the man had learned nothing.
“I believe it best that I refrain from dancing, Bingley,” said Darcy.
It was pointless to discuss Bingley’s behavior when the man was in such a newly enamored state. Darcy would have to see what Miss Bennet was truly like for himself before he could hope to replace his friend’s interest with reality.
But Bingley had an uncharacteristic gravity about him that night, and he regarded Darcy through eyes more than usually discerning and serious. “My friend, I understand that you have recently suffered some misfortune, but I believe it would be best if you would attempt to forget your troubles for a time. It will only do you good.”
There was some truth to Bingley’s words, but how could Darcy enjoy himself while his sister was still recovering from her heartbreak at the hands of one who had professed to hold the Darcy family in high esteem? Darcy’s hands tightened into fists. If he ever got his hands on that misbegotten libertine again, Wickham would pay for his misdeeds. Luckily, Georgiana was recovering from her experience, and Wickham was far away and would never be allowed to speak with her again.
“I do not think I am in a state of mind necessary—”
“Come, Darcy,” said Bingley with a firmness of purpose. “There is a pretty young lady seated behind you who is bereft of a partner. As I have been introduced to her, I would be happy to perform the office for you so that you might dance.”
“Bingley, I am in no humor—”
The words died in Darcy’s throat. Though he had been ready to disparage the lady’s charms without even looking at her—likely with some comment about how she was not pretty enough for his exacting standards—he chanced to catch her eyes as her gaze dropped to the floor. She was no more than a few feet away, and as Darcy and Bingley had not been speaking quietly, it seemed likely that she had heard every word. But of even further interest to Darcy, he had caught a glimpse of her eyes before they had moved away, and he had seen a flash of intelligence in their depths. And moreover, the light from the candles danced across the fine lines of her cheek, and he knew at once that she was uncommonly pretty.
But he could not think of such a thing. At this juncture, it would be rude to refuse an introduction. At least, that was what he told himself was the reason for his acquiescence.
“Of course, Bingley. If you would do the honors, I would be happy to make her acquaintance.”
Elizabeth Bennet could hardly believe her ears. The man had stalked about the floor like a caged lion since his arrival, and it had seemed almost certain that he believed himself to be far above his company. She had even half-expected him to say something insulting when his friend suggested an introduction. Now, however, they were approaching her, and all thought fled.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley. His smile was bright, and his voice pulled her from her thoughts and to her feet, where she dropped in a low curtsey.
“Mr. Bingley,” replied she with a smile.
“If you please, my friend here has expressed an interest in becoming better acquainted with you.”
Mr. Bingley gestured to his friend, who bowed at her. Elizabeth felt the heat rising in her cheeks in response to his scrutiny; not once during his bow had he removed his eyes from her face.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, please allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy, this is Miss Elizabeth, the second of five daughters of the Bennet family.”
Once again, Elizabeth curtseyed, this time in response to Mr. Darcy’s bow. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Darcy.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Bennet.”
Something in his voice—exactly what, Elizabeth could not determine—told her that whatever his feelings had been a moment ago, Mr. Darcy was not obfuscating at present.
“Are you enjoying your time in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?”
“I . . .” He hesitated for a brief moment, but then his eyes found hers again, and his lips turned up in the briefest hint of a smile. “I had been weighed down by some pressing matters before I arrived, but I must own that I am now quite happy to be here.”
An understated chuckle escaped Mr. Bingley’s lips, and then he chose to depart, stating that he had promised the next dance to Miss Goulding. Elizabeth watched as he walked away. She could not help but wonder what the man had found to be so amusing.
“Will you do me the honor of standing up the next with me?”
Startled from her contemplation of Mr. Bingle
y, Elizabeth turned and accepted Mr. Darcy’s request with a smile.
“Shall we adjourn to the refreshment tables, Miss Bennet?” said Mr. Darcy. “I believe we have some time before the next dance begins.”
Elizabeth smiled her assent, and she grasped his arm and allowed herself to be led away.
“Your friend seems to be in his element, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “I have rarely seen a gentleman full of such boundless energy and so eager to be agreeable to everyone he meets.”
Mr. Darcy laughed. “That certainly describes Bingley. He is at ease in any situation. In fact, there are times when I wish he would gain a hint of discernment in addition to his happy manners.”
Arching an eyebrow, Elizabeth regarded the man walking beside her. Though Mr. Darcy did not seem displeased, his words could have been taken as a censure of his friend or even of the company. Elizabeth knew that four and twenty families did not make a grand society, but she had lived her entire life among them and was well aware of their characters and the goodness of their hearts.
“The ability to be agreeable is much to be prized,” said Elizabeth, electing to elicit a response rather than challenge him to explain his meaning. “Is it not good judgment to show a smile to the world and return kindness for kindness?”
Mr. Darcy seemed to catch her meaning, and he stopped and turned to look her full in the eye. “It is indeed. The society in Meryton has been all that is generous and welcoming, and I am grateful that my friend has been so warmly accepted. But while friendship can be readily given, I believe we must keep ourselves under good regulation and ensure that those receiving the gift of our friendship are worthy of it.”
Though she searched his eyes, Mr. Darcy gave no hint of either censure or deception in his words.
“I believe you are correct, Mr. Darcy. Those who may seem amiable and open at first may hide less benign tendencies. On the other hand, those who might seem overly taciturn and aloof might also hide a more steady temperament.”
For the first time, Elizabeth saw a wide smile suffuse Mr. Darcy’s countenance, and she was mesmerized by the sight. He was a handsome man, tall and strong, with dark hair and smoky gray eyes that a lady could lose herself within. The effects of his smile were devastating to a maiden’s sensibilities.
“That is indeed true, Miss Bennet,” said he. “I can see that you are a keen judge of character, not prone to giving undue credit to first impressions.”
Elizabeth blushed and followed him as they began to walk once again. “I am no saint, I assure you. At my worst, I can be opinionated and impertinent.”
“And yet I can tell that you are kind and considerate and fiercely loyal.” Mr. Darcy chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “On the other hand, I can be moody and unsociable when I am at my worst.”
“But I have seen you act amiably, and you are obviously a responsible gentleman, considering your care for your friend.”
“My friend is his own man, Miss Bennet. He can care for himself.”
Elizabeth could not help but to laugh. “And yet you wish for him to acquire more discernment.”
“Well, he can be a little . . . impetuous.”
“I can well imagine it, Mr. Darcy.”
They arrived at the side of the room and approached the tables, which were filled with all manner of delicacies to tempt the palates of the assembled dancers, and there Mr. Darcy was greeted by another member of his party. Though Elizabeth’s first impression of Mr. Darcy appeared to have been erroneous, she could not imagine Mr. Hurst being anything but what he looked like: a gluttonous drunkard.
Fortunately, Mr. Darcy, other than inclining his head, appeared content to ignore Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Hurst seemed content to be ignored.
Her drink in hand, Elizabeth fell into conversation with Mr. Darcy, and what a conversation it was! As she had been out in society since the age of sixteen—in Mrs. Bennet’s eyes, the search for a husband could not start too early—Elizabeth was well aware of ballroom etiquette. Typical discussions in society had more to do with the common banalities of conversation rather than anything of substance, a fact which she had always lamented.
Conversation with Mr. Darcy, however, was anything but trivial. They began with a discussion of common preferences in literature, proceeded to their thoughts of their respective home counties, and, as the half-hour in conversation began to wane, discussed music and some of their favorite composers. By the time the music of the dance approached its close, Elizabeth was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she had never met a man like Mr. Darcy. Her mind was full of him, his opinions, and his person. She had the distinct impression that this could be a man who would answer all her dreams of felicity and respect.
As their conversation wound down, Elizabeth became more aware of what was happening around her, and she noticed Mr. Bingley’s sisters sitting across the dance floor from where she was standing with Mr. Darcy. Though they were whispering between themselves, the look which the younger of the sisters had directed at Elizabeth could only be termed “poisonous.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth in a low tone, “is it my imagination, or does Miss Bingley appear to be regarding us with displeasure?”
Mr. Darcy did not even glance over at the woman as he grimaced. “I rather think, Miss Bennet, that her annoyance is directed at you. She would not dare to regard me in such a manner.”
The thought of such ridiculous behavior brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips, and she said: “What could she possibly mean by it, sir? Surely such a superior woman can have nothing to fear from a country miss such as myself.”
“Did you not know, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Darcy. His eyes positively danced with mischief, which was a startling contrast to his typical seriousness. “Miss Bingley is my suitor. She quite considers me to be her own property.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily at his portrayal of the woman’s relationship with him. “Surely not, Mr. Darcy,” said she, managing to speak amid her laughter.
“I assure you it is so. I dare say the fact that you and I have been speaking for this past half-hour, when I normally eschew contact with any young woman, has impressed upon her the possibility that I might not oblige her and fall in with her schemes. And she certainly should be concerned; you are her superior in every way, Miss Bennet. I cannot imagine not wishing to know more of you.”
A delightful blush spread over the young woman’s features, and Darcy was happy to see that though she was suddenly shy, she did not attempt to flutter her lashes or take advantage of his declaration with flirtatious and meaningless compliments. Instead, after a moment of seeming embarrassment, she appeared to gather her courage and looked up at him.
In that moment, Darcy was lost. The fineness of her deep brown eyes peered at him from between long, lustrous lashes; set in a pretty face, her mouth turned up in a slight smile. Her appearance was playful yet modest, and she searched his eyes for any hint of his feelings. His heart pounding within his chest, Darcy knew that he could easily come to love this vibrant young woman. He longed to know her better.
“Are you certain that is wise, Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Elizabeth.
His raised eyebrow caused her to giggle, and she said: “Surely your suitor has prior claim upon you.”
“I have made no promises. And I find her attentions to be all that is insincere and grasping.”
“I cannot imagine that she is anything but sincere in her desire to secure your good opinion.”
Darcy smiled. “I imagine that my good opinion is incidental. She is in love with Pemberley.”
“Your estate?”
“Yes. And that is one of the things which most impressed me, Miss Bennet. We have been speaking together for some time, yet you have not asked me about my estate, though you know that I am a wealthy man.”
“I was more interested in knowing you.”
“And I cannot tell you how rare that is. Most young women want to know as much as they can about the prize. There are many Miss Bingleys in so
ciety.”
Miss Elizabeth seemed to be considering something as she gazed at him. When she spoke, there was a certain hesitation evident in her voice, and he quickly understood the reason.
“I am not of your sphere, sir.”
“No?”
She smiled. “I have no relations of greater consequence than a country solicitor or an uncle in trade.”
“But you are a gentleman’s daughter.”
A slight nod met his comment, and Darcy could not help but smile at her. “I am nothing more than a country gentleman, Miss Bennet, regardless of who my relations might be and what my holdings are.
“Furthermore,” said he, when she would have spoken again, “I am a man who has never been easy speaking with others, yet I can honestly declare that I have never been more at ease on such a short acquaintance with anyone before. I cannot promise anything at present, Miss Bennet, but I would like to know you better. Since I will be in the area for several more weeks, it seems we have the perfect opportunity to become acquainted without the pressure of any expectations. Do you not agree?”
She ducked her head again, but her eyes immediately came up to his, and this time, they were shining with emotion. “You might not be able to withdraw once my mother discerns your interest, sir.”
“I find that I am willing to take the risk, Miss Bennet.”
“Then I should very much like it if you would call on me, Mr. Darcy.”
The strains for the next dance began at that moment. Gesturing at the dance floor, Darcy grasped Miss Elizabeth’s hand and led her forward. Though he had not been paying attention earlier in the evening, it became clear very quickly that Miss Elizabeth’s slender and graceful figure was enhanced upon the dance floor. She was light on her feet and danced with a joy in her every movement, and Darcy found himself enchanted by her all over again.
