by Jayne Bamber
She locked eyes with him as she recited, “‘I can’t get out, I can’t get out.’”
“‘God help thee said I, but I’ll let thee out, cost what it will,’” he said, completing the quote. Darcy held her gaze for a moment, feeling as though he was seeing her for the first time. She was witty and magnificent, but there was something almost sorrowful about her.
She was the first to turn away, seeming suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, my goodness, I am being rather too maudlin for a ballroom, am I not?”
“Certainly more honest than one usually finds in such places.”
Darcy considered. He did not know her identity, nor she his, and yet she had spoken forthrightly. Perhaps because she did not know him, she had spoken so openly. It occurred to him that he might do likewise, and for once simply enjoy the company of a pretty woman without being known as nothing more than Darcy of Pemberley with ten thousand a year. He might be anyone, to her; yet she seemed to like him on his own merit alone. It was not something he frequently experienced in London society.
He was suddenly overcome with a desire to really make himself agreeable to her, to discover if he might be able to exert his full powers of pleasing a woman who knew nothing of his wealth, and he was fascinated enough by his partner to want to know more about her as well.
Still feeling all the intensity of what she had said before, Darcy asked, “Do you really feel trapped by your family?”
“I ought not to have said it.”
“I do not know you, nor you me – why should we not speak freely?”
“Do you speak as a general rule while dancing?”
“In fact, I do not. I have never been thus intrigued. I should like to hear whatever you wish to say.”
She laughed nervously. “Do you seek to gratify my feelings, or your own?”
He braved a little wink. “Both, I should imagine.”
The starling looked down as they spun to the music again, and he suspected she might be blushing under her mask. “To answer your question, I suppose I have felt trapped. I know every family has its own particular complications. Mine are... as Mr. Sterne would say, ‘twisted and double twisted.’ Being thrust out onto the marriage mart is....”
“A ghastly business. Oh yes, I do understand you.”
She looked probingly at him. “Do you? Hmm. I had always imagined it different for gentlemen. You have all the freedom.”
“And a great deal of responsibility.”
She playfully rolled her eyes at him. Little minx! “Such as directing the lives of others?”
“I hope I would never do such a thing. You mentioned having sisters. I have two, and I hope they never feel trapped, or that they have been put in any kind of cage.”
“Then you are far kinder than anyone in my family. That is – they are not unkind. They do their best, but now that there is so much expectation upon me, I find myself rather recalcitrant. You must be wishing you had chosen a more pliable partner,” she said with a smirk.
Darcy could not imagine taking pleasure in partnering with any other woman in the room, and said so, eliciting another gentle laugh from her as she turned her face away.
“I confess,” said she, “you are the pleasantest partner I have had all evening. The first of my own choosing, in fact.”
“And the first to see you are clearly a starling, and not a common raven.” A very spirited starling.
“The first to see me at all, really. All night I have listened to dull men talk about themselves.”
“Foolish dull men,” he replied, finding the teasing coming easily to him. “They ought to have asked more about you.”
She bit her lip for a moment as she considered. “As you said yourself, sir, I do not know your name, nor you mine – for now we might say what we like....”
“And if you speak of your family, or anything too personal, I may guess your identity? Oh yes, that would take all the mystery out of it.”
“Yes, it would,” she said, looking up at him with intensity as the steps of the dance brought them together. “We cannot have that. I have been so bold already.”
“I pray you would continue,” he replied. “If you would not speak of yourself, tell me of your pursuits. Do you enjoy reading?”
***
Elizabeth laughed to herself for a moment, remembering what William had said about accomplished women and reading. Surely her handsome knight would never profess such a stuffy opinion! Of course, she could not be sure he was handsome, for she could see only his eyes through the visor on his helmet, but she was quite certain he must be incredibly dashing. He was tall, muscular and well-built, and the medieval costume that might have seemed clownish on some men, such as Mr. Bingley, simply accented her partner’s masculine frame.
Answering his question, she replied, “I love to read anything I can get my hands on. I am of the opinion that books ought to be enjoyed, rather than read to make oneself a great reader. I recently acquired a veritable treasure chest of books from my father and I look forward to savoring their delights.”
“That is just what I think is right. Do you enjoy music?”
“I am enjoying it right now, sir,” she said, daring to wink at him as he had done to her before.
He laughed. “I meant to ask if you play or sing?”
“Both, when forced. I am far from of the finest performer in my family, but I do my best and I am usually praised more than I deserve for it.”
“You have very indulgent oppressors, then?”
Elizabeth was startled by his jest and missed a step in the dance. “Oh! I....”
“I should not have said such a thing.”
“No, do not apologize. We have both been a little impudent. Indeed, sir, you are rather near the truth. I love my family and I know they love me too, but it seems that the older I get, the more I grow to question how that affection has been expressed throughout the years. Protectiveness at odds with selfishness… sometimes I really have thought we may all simply be cursed.”
“You sound like a gothic heroine out of a novel,” he quipped.
“Pah! What do you know of novels?”
“What my sisters tell me, which is not inconsiderable, I assure you.”
“And can you tolerate it with any equanimity? My aunt was always so very fond of them that I am sure my uncle wished to toss half of her collection out the window and into the thoroughfare.”
He shook his head and said with mock gravity, “Literary defenestration is quite indefensible, even when I have spent many hours hearing of the plights of Camilla and Evelina.”
Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed at her handsome knight.
“Your sisters are lucky to have such a brother. If only mine were....”
“Were what?”
Elizabeth turned her head away, falling nervously silent. She knew she ought to hold her tongue. He might very well be acquainted with William – after all, he must have at least known her uncle to have garnered an invitation. And then another notion struck her. She had not seen this gentleman at all before the supper. Could he have snuck in later? Was he perhaps a roguish gatecrasher, come to steal her heart?
She shook her head and laughed. She was smitten, and it had made her nonsensical. “Well, suffice it to say, if he knew how well I was enjoying this dance with you, I expect he would think very ill of me.”
He dropped a hand to his hip, patting about as if looking for something. “And I have forgotten my sword.”
Elizabeth laughed again. “Next time, sir, see that you do not. At any rate, I have managed to evade his unceasing judgement so far this evening, I had better not jinx myself, or he shall creep up out of nowhere with a heavy dose of ready censure.”
He looked intently at her, and for a moment Elizabeth feared she had taken her impertinence too far. She simply could not help herself. She felt such a strong magnetism to this gentleman whose name she did not even know, and it occurred to her that she had spoken with a greater ease to him than she h
ad with a great many people much closer to her, in recent days.
The dance came to an end, but both Elizabeth and her partner stood fixed in place in the middle of the dance floor, each unwilling to shatter the magic of the moment. Slowly he reached for her hand and took it in his. “If you would tell me your name, I am sure I should call him out,” he gently teased.
“Hmm,” Elizabeth mused, imagining William squaring up against her knight in shining armor. “An offer I intend to consider.”
“Perhaps you should consider another offer,” he said, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the black satin. “Dance the last set of the night with me. If you enjoy yourself as much as I have enjoyed this dance, tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine... and call upon you tomorrow. I cannot bear to think that we might never speak again.”
Elizabeth met his eyes and saw nothing there that was not in her own heart at that moment. Before she knew what she was about, she replied, “Nor I. You shall have the last dance, sir.”
“I shall look forward to it, my beautiful starling,” he breathed, and released her hand at last.
As he turned to walk away, Elizabeth hurried in the opposite direction, suddenly aware she might have made something of a spectacle of herself after such an exhibition in the middle of an empty dance floor. It was beginning to fill again now as partners were exchanged, and, feeling some turmoil at the unexpected stirrings of her heart, she was relieved her next set was not promised to anybody, for she required a few minutes of private reflection.
She wished to seek out her sisters, but saw Uncle Henry standing nearby, staring at her with a most curious expression on his face. She would need to move his way in order to approach her sisters, and meant to do so quickly, hoping he would not detain her and thrust her at any of the dreadful men on his wretched list.
“Ah, Lizzy,” he said as he intercepted her. “That was quite... unexpected of you, just now. I take it you enjoyed your dance?”
“I did,” she said. At the sight of some discomposure in his countenance, Elizabeth grew contentious and squared her shoulders back. Thrusting out her chin, she said, “I daresay it was the most wonderful dance I have ever had. I suspect his name is not on your list, but perhaps it should be.”
“Lizzy,” he cried her with apparent astonishment, and she folded her arms and held his gaze. “I should not think – that is, I suppose it is not impossible… but are you quite sure?”
“If I am at liberty to decide at all for myself, then I suppose I am.”
He furrowed his brow. “I shall have to speak to your mother about it.”
Heaven forfend I make any decisions myself. Giving him her most ferocious glare, Elizabeth silently held her uncle’s eye a moment longer before she swept away to speak with her sisters.
***
Elizabeth was still fuming at her uncle’s interference when she reached her sisters. “Where is Mamma?”
“I think she is still speaking with Uncle Edward,” Jane replied. “They have been whispering together all evening.”
“And dancing together,” Mary added.
“Oh, that is very kind of her to lift his spirits,” Elizabeth said. “He was so quiet on the way here, as if he were going to a funeral and not a ball.” Looking round, Elizabeth was pleased to see him in better humor now as he spoke to her mother.
“Who is in better humor? I hope it is you, Lizzy,” Richard chided as he approached them, his sister on his arm.
“Look who I have retrieved from the card room,” Charlotte drawled.
“Playing cards at you own ball! Shocking, Richard,” Jane laughed.
“I might be willing to reform myself most thoroughly if you dance with me again, Cousin,” he said to her.
“I shall not keep a straight face the whole time, I am sure,” Jane giggled, gesturing at Richard’s ostentatious costume.
“I mean to bring back the fashions of old,” he said, striking a preposterous pose, “and cast Beau Brummel back into obscurity! Oho, you laugh now, Lizzy, but you are next. And you, Mary. You shall all suffer the indignity of standing up with me once more.” He winked at Elizabeth.
Charlotte, Mary and Elizabeth laughed, waving him away and urging them to be off, when they were joined by Mr. Bingley and his sister.
“There you are, Miss Darcy! Charles says he shall not dance at all if you will not have him,” Miss Bingley purred.
“Oh! I have just promised the next set to my cousin, but you may have the one after that, Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth observed Mary smile brightly at Mr. Bingley, but he had turned to address Charlotte, whose acceptance was readily given. As the two couples joined the set, Elizabeth and Mary were left alone with Miss Bingley, who smiled vacantly at them. “Well, what charming birds we all make, I am sure. I believe I must go and give my regards to your mother.” She hastened away.
After Miss Bingley left then, Elizabeth laughed and linked her arm through Mary’s, leading her sister along the perimeter of the ballroom. “Shall we go find you a partner? You seem eager to dance.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” Mary sighed.
“What is it, dearest?”
“What do you make of Jane and Mr. Bingley?”
Elizabeth considered for a moment. “I suspect his sister and her brother desire the match more than she does at present.”
Mary smiled sadly at her sister. “I hoped someone else would see it as I do.” She chewed her lip for a moment, looking as though she might say more, but she did not.
“Mary, whatever is the matter? Surely you do not fear she will be pressed into a relationship she does not desire?”
“I do fear it, Lizzy, but... not for the reason you suspect.”
“Mary....”
“I... I like Mr. Bingley,” Mary whispered.
“Oh dear. That is a problem.”
“I know that, Lizzy. I feel awful. The truth is, I suspect Jane does not like him so much herself.”
“You think she is being pressured into it by William and Miss Bingley, and goes along with it for their sakes, without any idea she is wounding you in the process.”
Mary nodded. “Exactly.”
“You ought to ask Jane about it. If she does not like him, there will be no harm done, and if she does, well....”
“Then I shall be simply wretched! I already despise myself for it. I am sure William would be furious with me, too. Jane deserves such a man as Mr. Bingley. She has been unhappy for so long, and William thinks his friend is jolly enough to life her spirits – I daresay he is, he is quite perfect! Besides, I know William and Mamma fear Jane shall never marry. I like Mr. Bingley, but perhaps I shall find someone else. I should not wish to take him from Jane, if he could make her happy. It is entirely hopeless.”
“Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know what to tell you. You really must speak to Jane. Why should you care what William thinks? He is just like our uncle, thinking he can arrange peoples’ lives as he chooses, and if I were you I would not put up with it!”
“No, Lizzy, it is not William’s fault. Besides, I do not even know if Mr. Bingley remembers that I exist. That is no fault of William’s.”
“Oh, yes it is! He has made no effort to put you forward as he does Jane. It was not enough for him to meddle with George Wickham, now he must interfere again with poor Jane, and it may cost you both dearly! I have half a mind to hit him on the nose!”
Mary looked distressed. “No, Lizzy, please. I ought not to have spoken – I beg you would put it from your mind. Please, do not tell William.”
Elizabeth made a face at her sister. “You would put your own feelings aside to spare his? Fitzwilliam Darcy is a selfish, boorish beast whose opinion does not signify, and I beg you would not credit it at all.” Elizabeth realized she had begun to raise her voice, and recollected herself. Nearby, Miss Steventon and Miss Leigh were walking past them, and they exchanged hushed whispers as they glanced at Elizabeth.
Mary turned on he
r and crossed her arms. “Stop it, Lizzy. I wish I had not confided in you at all!” She turned and ran away. Elizabeth stood stunned and alone, angry with herself for earning her sister’s rebuke. Stupid William Darcy, this is all his fault!
***
Darcy could not escape his cousin Anne’s notice, for she accosted him almost immediately after his dance with the beautiful starling.
“How well we look together,” she drawled, “a king and a queen. I have been waiting for you to make an appearance on the dance floor, though I hoped I might claim you myself first.” She latched her arm around his with determination. “How well Richard looks with Jane,” she observed. “What fine couples cousins can make.”
Darcy thought it better to get the inevitable done with at once, and he silently led her to the floor. Anne was content to lavish him in syrupy compliments and make suggestive remarks about the advantages of spring weddings, but Darcy could scarcely attend her.
Instead he thought of his previous partner, with whom he could not wait to dance again. He was bewitched by the mystery and intimacy of their conversation, and eager to discover who she was. She had spoken of her misgivings about the marriage mart – perhaps her portion was small? Then again, her costume was clearly expensive, and it was evident that she had been well educated. And she had just received a “treasure chest of books” from her father, a rather lavish and erudite gift. It caused him to wonder about her.
As to her portion, he decided it did not matter. He had never desired a mercenary match, not after seeing the genuine love his own parents had shared. Her fortune was of no consequence to him, and if she had not a penny to her name, he would gladly give her his name.
Darcy laughed to himself. Well now, that was certainly a rapid leap! From admiration to love, and love to matrimony in a moment. Though he had no plans to marry currently, she might be the sort of lady to change his mind. He relished the idea of what she might say when next they danced, what secrets she might share with him, and what questions he might ask to come to know her better. He desired to – no, he needed to know everything about her, and more than anything he wished to look upon her face, and speak her name.
