Miss Mary turned to look at him with wide eyes. “The Christian thing to do?”
“Do you not believe that part of loving one’s neighbour is to know them and be known by them?”
Miss Mary frowned. “I have not considered this.”
“I suppose it is partly due to my experience with being responsible for my tenants. I have discovered that I cannot meet their needs if I do not know them.”
Miss Mary looked at him as though he were speaking Ancient Egyptian.
“For example, if one of my tenants is in need of a new roof and I provide him with winter blankets, is that really love?” Inspiration hit as a long-forgotten text sprang to mind. “Was it not the Brother James who said that to wish someone well without providing for their needs was not love?”
Miss Mary nodded hesitantly, then straightened. “However, a ball is not the proper place for such discussions. Most would prefer to dance rather than converse.”
“True. Though I have been told that one is required to converse at least a little during a dance,” he said with a fond smile.
“I—I cannot converse and dance,” Miss Mary admitted, then flushed as though the words had leapt from her mouth of their own accord.
“It is not a skill I excel at either,” Darcy replied. “However, as a wise woman once told me, you cannot excel at anything without practise. I do not think you will get better at such a skill unless you dance and attempt to talk,” he said kindly.
“One cannot say anything of importance on the dance floor anyway,” Miss Mary said, dismissing his suggestion.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. Miss Mary reminded him of himself—so confident in her ways that she was unwilling to see the other side. Perhaps the dance did limit one’s conversation, but he had found over the months since he had begun his character reformation that even small talk could be significant if he learned more of the other person and let the other person learn more of him. Though he had not yet discovered the best means to accomplish this goal, he persevered.
Was her moralising merely a shield for her discomfort and lack of skill at interacting with others?
“It is difficult to say much on a dance floor, surrounded by other couples and constantly moving,” Darcy began. “However, I have found that one can make a start. For example, one can search for and examine areas of common interest, which makes the conversation both more enjoyable and more informative.”
Miss Mary remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor as she contemplated.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing the next set?” Darcy asked.
Miss Mary’s head whipped up to stare at him. “What?”
“Would you do me the honour of dancing the next set?” Darcy repeated.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Miss Mary continued to stare at him as though he had just asked her to somersault down the centre of the couples on the dance floor.
The set ended, and Darcy chanced a look towards Elizabeth. Mr. Collins was scurrying to where she stood. He returned his attention to Miss Mary.
“Miss Mary?” he prompted. “The next set?”
Miss Mary gulped. “Yes.”
Darcy smiled at her. “Thank you. Would you like to accompany me to where your sister, Miss Elizabeth, is standing? I believe I shall see if she requires some punch.”
Miss Mary shook her head.
“Very well, I shall return when it is time for the next set.”
Was everyone so similar at heart? He had hidden discomfort under his pride, despite his longing for someone like Elizabeth. Having her see through his pride and measure the man underneath had met a need he hadn’t even recognised: the need to be known and paid attention to for who he was rather than the size of his holdings. Miss Mary appeared to hide her unease with moralising and perhaps an abrasive manner. Was Mr. Collins’s loquacity a cry for attention and a screen for his fear? What of Elizabeth’s impertinence? Or Miss Bennet’s steadiness of manner? Or even Mrs. Bennet’s screeching? Was everyone simply trying to hide who they were while attempting to gain the attention they needed?
Darcy studied the people around him as he made his way to Elizabeth. What were their masks and needs?
Fitzwilliam had remained near Elizabeth and appeared to be doing his level best to include both Elizabeth and Mr. Collins in the conversation—a difficult task since their interests did not coincide and one had to interrupt Mr. Collins to get a word in edgewise. Darcy studied his cousin as he approached. Like Bingley, Fitzwilliam was friendly to all, however, unlike Bingley, he had no difficulty making his opinion known when needed. Was his cousin hiding under joviality?
Darcy waited only until Mr. Collins appeared engrossed in his own speech before turning to Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, do you require anything? Some punch? Or would you like to stand by a window?”
Elizabeth smiled up at him. “You are exceedingly courteous tonight, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy flushed. “I hope my manners have improved enough that I have not been discourteous in some time, Miss Elizabeth.”
“No, you haven’t,” she said with a speculative look.
“It would be my pleasure to assist you should you require something,” Darcy said, trying not to sound like a lovesick puppy.
“I believe you have already been assisting me,” she said with a glance towards Mr. Collins. “However, I would welcome some punch. May I accompany you to the punch bowl?”
“I would welcome your company.” Darcy turned to Fitzwilliam and motioned towards the punch bowl.
Mr. Collins broke off his discourse the moment Elizabeth turned away. “Are you going somewhere my fair cousin? I had intended to remain close to you throughout the evening and—”
“Mr. Darcy has offered to get me some punch,” Elizabeth interjected.
Mr. Collins gave her a severe frown. “Mr. Darcy need not trouble himself for punch.” He turned a worshipful gaze upon Darcy. “Though I am certain your offer shows the same spirit of charity that so characterises your aunt, my patroness, Lady Catherine, it is unnecessary to trouble yourself on behalf of my cousin for whom I can procure refreshment.” He turned back to Elizabeth. “I shall return directly.” With that he bowed and strode towards the punch table.
Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Well, that’s one way to gain a respite from talk of Lady Catherine.”
Elizabeth laughed with him.
“I do believe that you have competition for your cousin’s affections, Miss Elizabeth,” Fitzwilliam teased. “Darcy may become his favourite.”
“I believe Lady Catherine holds that position,” Darcy said with a glare towards Fitzwilliam.
“He does appear enamoured with your aunt. Is she as admirable as he states?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“ ‘Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye’ as Shakespeare said. I could say the same for my aunt’s benevolence,” Fitzwilliam replied.
“I believe you will find her entertaining when you visit,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth cast startled eyes at him.
Darcy hesitated, trying to discern what had triggered her response but then realised he had assumed either that part of his vision would repeat and that Elizabeth would meet Lady Catherine visiting Mrs. Collins or that she would encounter her ladyship if she married him. To her, it must have seemed that he was assuming she would marry Mr. Collins or that she would marry him.
“Since you are a great studier of character,” he hurried to add. “And intricate characters are of the most amusement. I believe you said that, though you never ridicule what is wise or good, follies, whims, and inconsistencies divert you. Lady Catherine is very decided in her opinions.”
“I do not recall saying that, however, it does sound like something I would say,” Elizabeth owned.
Darcy frowned, then mentally berated himself again. She had said that Before, but they had not had that conversation now.
“You have a difficult character to make out yourself, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said.
/>
“Oh?”
“You are a man of hidden depths and yet . . . .” Elizabeth smiled. “I hope I may yet take a credible likeness of you.”
“I share that hope, Miss Elizabeth.”
Conversation ended as Mr. Collins burst upon the group once more. “I apologise for taking so long to obtain your punch, Cousin. Several people had similar intentions which necessitated a wait,” he said, panting as he handed the punch to Elizabeth.
Darcy exchanged glances with Fitzwilliam. The man must have pushed past several others to return so quickly.
Mr. Collins turned his attention to Darcy and Fitzwilliam. “I hope it has not been too onerous a task to entertain my fair cousin in my absence, and I am grateful for your solicitude in doing so. I shall certainly tell Lady Catherine that your generosity matches hers precisely. I am confident she shall be glad to hear that her daughter’s betrothed is as overflowing in beneficence as she is, and—”
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy said icily, “do not continue spreading that rumour around. As I have said, I am not promised to my cousin, and I do not appreciate you continuing to promulgate such a rumour.”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “Aunt Catherine remains determined, eh? I do not believe you shall dissuade her until you have married someone else, regardless of your desires in this matter.”
“Lady Catherine has said that this is a betrothal destined from your birth,” Mr. Collins protested.
“I am not promised to my cousin,” Darcy repeated, enunciating each word clearly. “Lady Catherine has stated that rumour from the time of my father’s death, but I am not bound by a rumour or by her wishes.”
Mr. Collins blinked at him as though Darcy’s words were incomprehensible. Perhaps he could not imagine gainsaying his patroness.
The musicians sounded their call, so Darcy took his leave and returned to Miss Mary.
Chapter 24
Upon completing his dance with Miss Mary, Darcy wondered if he had helped Elizabeth’s sister at all. She was, as she had admitted, unpracticed at the art of dancing. There was a certain deliberation in her steps that bespoke discomfort. However, Darcy persevered, attempting to draw her into small comments that would allow her to practice both dancing and conversation. It was difficult to maintain the conversation since, at every turn, Miss Mary expounded on the evils of the topic he had introduced and quoted from various religious texts. By the end, Darcy could fully comprehend why she had been sitting by the wall, reading her book: few persons would enjoy such a dance well enough to secure a repetition.
When the dance had ended, Darcy thanked her and escorted her back to where she had been seated. He then returned to Elizabeth, drawn to her as a thirsty man in the desert is drawn to an oasis.
An officer had escorted Elizabeth back to where she’d been situated before the dance, and, before Darcy reached them, Mr. Collins scurried over.
“—as she is an exquisite dancer,” Mr. Collins was saying as Darcy arrived.
“Yes,” the officer agreed.
After a moment’s thought, Darcy recognised the young man as Lieutenant Pratt.
“Have you met Lieutenant Pratt, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked in the manner of a drowning man grasping at a life preserver.
“I have,” Darcy said and bowed to the young man.
The officer returned Darcy’s bow with a sketchy one of his own. “We have met,” he confirmed stiffly. Casting Darcy a dark look, he then turned to speak to Elizabeth. “I am very grateful to have been able to secure you as a partner as you appear much in demand tonight.”
“I enjoyed our dance as well, Lieutenant,” Elizabeth said with a genuine smile.
“I was glad to receive an invitation as not all the officers were invited,” Lieutenant Pratt continued.
“I am certain we are all gratified to be invited to such a splendid ball,” Mr. Collins began. “I know that I, in particular, am amazed by Mr. Bingley’s graciousness in inviting one who is practically a stranger to him.”
“It is unfortunate that some of Mr. Bingley’s friends do not appreciate the militia,” Lieutenant Pratt said coldly. “One of our most well-liked officers was excluded from tonight’s festivities. I am certain Mr. Bingley is so congenial that it cannot have been his doing.”
Darcy’s back grew straighter and straighter as the man spewed Wickham’s poison. He had not asked Bingley to exclude Wickham—his friend had done it to protect the Bennets. The tension in Darcy’s shoulders grew as Lieutenant Pratt’s words joined the lingering shadows left by the hundreds of times Darcy had been falsely accused due to Wickham’s behaviour. What should he do?
“It is the right of those who hold the ball to determine whom they desire to invite,” Elizabeth interjected. “Perhaps Mr. Bingley has not had congenial experiences with this gentleman.”
“Or perhaps he has been poisoned against him,” Lieutenant Pratt said.
“Lieutenant, I do not believe we have been introduced,” Fitzwilliam said from behind Darcy.
Darcy suppressed a start at the nearness of his cousin’s voice and moved to allow Fitzwilliam and his companion, Miss Lucas, to join the group.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Pratt,” Miss Lucas said. “Lieutenant Pratt, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Both men bowed, however Lieutenant Pratt remained stiff, as though he did not wish to acknowledge the Colonel but had no recourse.
“I have seen you at the barracks several times,” Lieutenant Pratt said.
“Ah, yes, I am on loan temporarily from the Home Office,” Fitzwilliam replied. “Have you been in the militia long?”
Darcy tuned out the man’s responses as he gave a short description of how he had joined the militia. When the musicians sounded their warning for the supper set, Lieutenant Pratt hurried away to claim his partner for the next set. His reminder sent Mr. Collins scurrying away as well, spouting apologies to the group and assuring Elizabeth that if it was not for the necessary duty of dancing with her sisters, he would certainly remain by her side and that, as far as his activities would permit, he would enjoy watching her graceful dancing.
Darcy turned worried eyes on Elizabeth. It seemed more and more likely that Fitzwilliam was correct: Mr. Collins was courting Elizabeth unofficially. Would Mr. and Mrs. Bennet require Elizabeth to marry him? Of course, if he made an offer before Mr. Collins did, his offer would take precedence over Mr. Collins’. But if he made an offer too soon, Elizabeth would reject him, which would not protect her from being forced to marry Mr. Collins and would make any further wooing on his part an uphill battle.
“Right, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam prompted.
“Your pardon. I am afraid I was not attending. What are you requesting my agreement to?”
“I said you were not paying attention.”
Darcy suppressed a blush. “Perhaps I am attending to matters other than your conversation.”
Fitzwilliam sent him a quick frown, then smiled widely at Elizabeth. “If my second-favourite cousin does not desire to dance this set with you after all, I will certainly take his place.”
Darcy realised now that most couples had taken to the dance floor. He must have missed the second warning cue. “Miss Elizabeth, may I?” Darcy asked while offering his arm.
“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.”
“This dance is one of my favourites,” Elizabeth remarked some time later.
Darcy suppressed a grimace, realising that he had spent the past several minutes in silence, vacillating between worry about Elizabeth and Mr. Collins and being overcome with Elizabeth’s nearness.
“It is one of mine as well,” Darcy replied. “Particularly when I am dancing with such a congenial partner,” he added recklessly.
Elizabeth blushed rosy.
Mr. Collins and Miss Mary danced their way down the middle now. Darcy tried to smile encouragingly at Miss Mary, feeling sorry that she had such a poor dance partner.
“Is your cousin staying long?” Darcy asked after the other coupl
e had left earshot.
“I believe he intends to return to Hunsford on Saturday,” Elizabeth replied.
“I see.” Darcy cast about for some other topic that might be canvassed, having no desire to further discuss Mr. Collins lest he inadvertently turn Elizabeth towards the rector. “Is Oakham Mount the only natural beauty in the area which a person ought to see?”
“You prefer natural beauties over the man-made?” Elizabeth asked.
“I confess that I prefer nature, however, I do not find man-made wonders to be less worthwhile.”
“In that case, I shall tell you that the gardens at Stoke are considered a local beauty. However, they are less prized during the winter. Few locals would consider Oakham Mount an important landmark.”
“That is why I am asking you, Miss Elizabeth. You have convinced me that your taste in landmarks is unparalleled. Therefore, I apply to you for guidance on what hidden wonders lurk beneath the surface of this rainy shire.”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, that was practically poetic.”
“I apologise,” he said, suppressing a smile. “I did not at all intend to drive you away.”
“Mr. Darcy, it is impolitic and impolite to remind a person of every ridiculous thing they have ever said.”
Darcy smiled down at her. “Even if one is at a disadvantage?”
“And what disadvantage are you at?” Elizabeth asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“You do not consider verbal sparring with one as lovely as yourself to be a disadvantage?”
Elizabeth blushed, then rallied. “Mr. Darcy, I believe I have informed you that I dislike being teased on this subject.”
Darcy recalled her belief that she was not lovely and surmised she believed he was mocking her. “Miss Elizabeth, I would never dare to tease you about that,” he said seriously, pressing her fingers as they came together in the dance.
Elizabeth remained silent, studying him as though measuring his sincerity and reassessing her opinions of him once again.
“Any man faced with such wit and beauty would be intimidated and thus at a disadvantage. After all, does not confidence account for a large part of one’s success in the world of debate?” Darcy continued.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 25
