Spying Elizabeth’s teasing glance, he knew she also recalled their absurd conversation with Caroline about a lady’s accomplishments. “It is a certain something in her air, I believe,” he said, and she rewarded his jest with a pretty grin.
“Are you pleased with Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy?” Charlotte inquired.
“Yes, but I prefer the vistas from the peaks of Derbyshire.”
“Then you must not have seen the views from Oakham Mount,” Elizabeth said, her eyes reflecting the brilliant candlelight. He confirmed that he had not yet seen the mountain. “Of course, the view is much more vibrant in the spring and summer, but there is always something to admire.”
Darcy doubted that the view from any mountaintop could surpass the loveliness now standing before him. He had never seen Elizabeth look more beautiful than tonight. Dressed in a gown showing her figure to advantage, a pretty blush rose to her face as he allowed his gaze to linger on her a bit longer than he ought.
Interrupting his reverie, the orchestra signalled the third set. Charlotte took Elizabeth’s cup and sent them off to the dance floor. “Miss Lucas is most amiable,” he said, glad that Elizabeth had a sensible confidant.
“Yes, I adore her,” she said, then the music began, and she made her curtsy. They stepped forward to join hands. “You have an excellent friend in Mr Bingley. How wonderful that he is fond of dancing.”
Darcy glanced over at Bingley, who beamed like a mooncalf at Jane Bennet. “He does seem to be enjoying himself,” he said, careful to moderate his own expression. It would not do for this company to observe him fawning over his partner.
“His temperament is much like my sister’s,” she said as she circled around him.
He agreed they were both modest. “Your mother seems most determined to see them matched.” He had overheard Mrs Bennet boasting of how well suited they were.
Elizabeth cringed as he circled around her. “Oh dear, I wish she would leave them to themselves.” They joined hands and went down the dance together. “I imagine they would work things out nicely between themselves without her interference.” They turned and repeated their steps. “I cannot say I don’t understand her; there are five of us, after all,” she said with a sympathetic smirk.
“Your cousin is the heir, is he not?”
She blushed brightly and furrowed her brow. “Yes, he has come to find a wife.”
Recalling the parson’s bumbling performance during the first set, this possibility disturbed him. “He could not be thinking of addressing you.”
They were separated by the dance for a brief moment, but he knew from her cheeky smile his question would have a witty response. “Am I such an undesirable prospect?”
“To the contrary; he is the undesirable party.”
Her serene smile led him to believe that she approved of his response. While they danced, he gained a new appreciation for her lithe form. Although he considered himself fortunate to have a full half hour to openly admire her, he regretted that there would be no waltz this evening. To hold Elizabeth in my arms and sweep her around the room would be—
“How is Miss Darcy?” she inquired, bringing him back to earth.
“She is well,” he said, recalling Georgiana’s most recent letter. “I must get back to her soon. We have been separated for six weeks.” Only three months had passed since the failed elopement scheme, and he wanted to determine for himself if she was as well as she claimed.
Elizabeth’s eyes softened, making her appear even lovelier. “You must miss her terribly.”
He admired her sincerity; unlike Caroline Bingley, there was nothing false about her. “Yes, she is dear to me, but when I leave, I shall always remember my friends here in Hertfordshire.” In all truthfulness, he doubted he would be able to forget Elizabeth Bennet.
“Then you must return as soon as you are able.”
Her tranquil confidence intrigued him. Any other woman of his acquaintance might have used her feminine wiles to entice him to remain or put herself forward, but Elizabeth understood his relationship with his sister. She was the most generous woman he knew, and he would miss her company when he eventually returned to London. Thankfully, the night was still young.
Sir William Lucas approached, intending to pass through the dancers, but stopped to bow to Darcy. “I compliment you, sir, on your dancing and your excellent choice of partner.”
Although annoyed by this ill-timed disruption, Darcy led Elizabeth away from the dancers to acknowledge Sir William’s compliment. If Darcy was not mistaken, she shared his displeasure.
“Allow me to say that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event shall take place,” Sir William said, gazing at Jane and Bingley. It seemed that Mrs Bennet was not alone in her assumptions about her daughter’s conquest. “But let me not interrupt you, Mr Darcy. You will not thank me for detaining you from your bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”
“Yes,” Darcy said, admiring her impertinent glare, “but what magnificent rebuke.” He reached for her hand and drew her back into the dance.
“You and Sir William overflow with charm this evening, Mr Darcy,” she said, blushing a delightful shade of pink.
“You puzzle me, Miss Elizabeth. I never know what you might say next.”
She furrowed her brow. “Do I? I should think I am predicable.”
“Not in the least.” As she circled around him, he admired her flowing movements. “Unlike you, I have no talent for conversation.”
He circled around her. “In my opinion, you express yourself admirably.”
As they joined hands and went down the dance together, he realised he had little trouble conversing with her but could not account for the cause. Perhaps he needed more time to determine the answer. “Are you free to dance after supper?” he inquired.
***
Although Elizabeth’s good sense told her that Darcy was beyond her reach, her heart fluttered at the thought of him, tempting her to consider the possibility. These conflicting impulses served to confuse her even more. Adding to her puzzlement, the shimmering light had encircled him throughout the set. Did he return her affections? What if his attentions were mere flirtation and not meant to stir such longing in her?
As she watched him disappear into the crowd after the set, Caroline Bingley approached with a rehearsed smile. “How well you look this evening, Miss Elizabeth. I am positively green with envy over your gown. Did you buy it in London?”
Elizabeth could only pity her hostess. Despite her adornment in the latest style, no doubt fashioned by one of the finest modistes in town, the murky shade of grey encircling Caroline did not become her. “My gown was purchased in Meryton,” she said in a pleasant tone.
Caroline maintained her cheerful façade, but her voice held a harsh tone. “And I have never seen your hair styled this way.”
Despite her irritation at this empty compliment, Elizabeth maintained civility. “Yes, Jane helped me with it.” Indeed, Jane had woven tiny plaits through her hair, and in Elizabeth’s opinion, she had outdone herself.
“Dear Jane, how accomplished she is,” Caroline said, gazing fondly at Jane, whose serene countenance proved her satisfaction with the evening’s progress; however, Caroline’s cool exterior returned in an instant. “I am sorry we had no opportunity to hear your sister play the pianoforte while she stayed with us. Perhaps she will grace us with a song later.”
Since Jane’s many talents did not include music, Elizabeth made her regrets. “No one could bear to be outshined by your skills, Miss Bingley.” When Caroline walked away, Elizabeth put her out of her mind, allowing nothing to mar her enjoyment of the evening.
Jane approached and offered her a cup of lemonade. “I am glad the dark lieutenant stayed away, Lizzy,” she said in hushed whispers. “I would have been on edge if he had come.”
Elizabeth agreed that he would ha
ve spoiled the evening. Preferring to discuss happier topics, she inquired after Bingley. Jane glowed blissfully at the mention of her favourite’s name. “He is the most wonderful dance partner, Lizzy, and he has reserved the supper set with me.”
Elizabeth had no doubt of a happy ending between Jane and her favourite beau. When Bingley joined them, Elizabeth left them to find Charlotte. They had begun to recount their last dances when they were interrupted by Mr Collins.
“I have just found out, by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. By fortunate happenstance, I overheard him mention the names of Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh. How wonderfully these sorts of things occur!” he said, beside himself with exhilaration. “I must pay my respects and offer my apology for my tardiness in doing so.” He dashed off in Darcy’s direction.
Charlotte stared agog at Mr Collins’s retreating figure. “Does he really intend to introduce himself to Mr Darcy?”
Stunned by her cousin’s ignorance, Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. Only a brazen or foolish man would force an introduction on someone of higher rank. “It appears so, my friend, and I shall not miss it for the world,” Elizabeth said, linking her arm with Charlotte’s and following in his wake.
***
During a brief intermission, Colonel Forster approached to shake Darcy’s hand. Having met the officer on numerous occasions, he had been impressed with his refined manners and forthright leadership. Determined to broach the subject of Wickham, Darcy drew him into a corner. “I understand George Wickham is not here this evening.”
“No, he had business in London. Are you acquainted with the lieutenant?”
While Darcy explained that he and Wickham had been childhood friends in Derbyshire, he suddenly found himself accosted by the bumbling parson who had danced with Elizabeth earlier.
The man bowed deeply, maintaining a grave countenance. “Mr Collins, at your service.”
Under normal circumstances, Darcy would have refused to acknowledge the impertinent fellow, who had chosen to blatantly disregard the rules of propriety; however, since he was Elizabeth’s relation, he offered a slight nod of his head.
“Forgive me for intruding on your conversation, Mr Darcy, but I am compelled to advise you that I have been bounteously blessed with the rectory at Hunsford, which, you may be aware, is the parish bestowed on me by my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am obliged to inform you that I left your aunt and fair cousin in the best of health only ten days ago and would be honoured to deliver any message to them that you so desire,” he said, bowing yet again.
Darcy suppressed a groan. Although he would not wish to be perceived as following Lady Catherine’s imperious example, he had little interest in the foolish parson or his bounteous blessings.
“You must allow me to apologise for not coming forward sooner with these glad tidings,” Mr Collins said in earnest. “I have only this moment learned of your presence at this event, and I hope you will excuse me for my failure to promptly advise you of her ladyship’s and Miss de Bourgh’s health.”
Darcy studied the sycophant’s face, which was moist with perspiration, and doubted he had ever encountered a more ridiculous specimen. However, knowing his aunt’s tendency to distinguish her rank around those of lesser standing, he supposed Mr Collins suited the position perfectly. “I am so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment that I am certain she would never bestow a favour unworthily.” The man had no doubt earned his keep with his flair for flattery.
“You are too kind, Mr Darcy, and I thank you most heartily for your consideration,” Mr Collins said, nearly gushing with delight. “If I may extend your wishes to the ladies for their continued health and happiness, you need only say the word.”
Wishing the man elsewhere, he nodded once and remained silent, certain that, if he spoke, the parson would take this as encouragement to go on at length. Mr Collins bowed again and took himself off. So, this is the heir of Longbourn, he thought. How singular!
Returning his attention to the colonel, he gestured to the cardroom where they might have a bit of privacy. “May I persuade you to join me for a drink, Colonel? We have much to discuss.” Forster agreed, and as they withdrew, Darcy hoped there would be no further interruptions.
***
When Elizabeth joined the supper party, she found herself unfortunately seated within hearing distance of her mother, who insisted on extolling Mr Bingley’s praises to Lady Lucas. “There has never been a more charming man than Mr Bingley. We are fortunate that he has taken notice of my dear Jane. Of course, how could he not? A lovely girl such as she,” Mrs Bennet said. “His sisters are extraordinarily fond of Jane; I am certain they wish for the connection as much as we do. I have no doubt that my dearest Jane will be installed as mistress of Netherfield Park soon, and with this house situated within three miles of Longbourn, a mother could ask for nothing more desirable.”
Although Elizabeth also hoped for the match, she wished her mother would exert better control over herself; speaking of an alliance before the gentleman had even declared himself was beyond the bounds of propriety. With Darcy sitting on the opposite side of the table, she cringed as her mother carried on.
“I don’t suppose you failed to notice that my Lizzy has caught the special attention of his friend. I predict it will not be long before Mr Bennet has two fine young men knocking on his door.”
Elizabeth glared at her mother in silent protest, which had no effect on her parent’s exuberance.
“How lovely it shall be to have two daughters married and settled. Two such handsome men, and so amiable. I am sure I may wish your daughters the same good fortune erelong, Lady Lucas.”
“Mama, please!”
Undeterred by Elizabeth’s objections, Mrs Bennet continued. “I am certain that Mr Darcy cannot deny that he finds Lizzy everything lovely, can you, sir?” she said, addressing Darcy directly.
Mortified beyond measure, Elizabeth closed her eyes and held her breath. She had always been appalled by her mother’s habit of speaking out of turn in company, but her bluntness this evening was far worse than ever.
“Indeed, madam, you have every reason to be proud of all of your daughters,” Darcy said. Elizabeth supposed he had assumed his usual stony façade, as was his habit, but she dared not glance in his direction to confirm her suspicions. However, judging solely from the tone of his voice, she detected no irritation in his response.
“They are the jewels of the county,” Mrs Bennet said.
Elizabeth leaned over to whisper to her mother. “Mama, please lower your voice.”
“He must have changed his mind about you, Lizzy,” her mother replied, not bothering to moderate her tone. “Not handsome enough, indeed. I daresay, he must have seen his error and has all but declared himself.”
Apparently, overindulgence in the punch had loosened her mother’s tongue. “Mama, I beg of you.”
“What have I said that is untrue?” Mrs Bennet returned her attention to Lady Lucas. “Indeed, I dare not for fear of reprisals; everyone knows how gifted my Lizzy is. No one dares to tell a falsehood within her hearing,” she said with a lilting giggle.
Elizabeth recoiled. Now her mother had gone too far. Although many of their neighbours knew of her gift, Darcy did not, and she had no desire for him to learn of it over supper. “I wish you would not talk such nonsense, Mama. Mr Darcy will think the Bennets are ripe for Bedlam.”
At the mention of this dreaded institution, Mrs Bennet’s eyes flew open wide and she turned pale. Dipping a spoon into her soup, she took a meagre sip, then smiled weakly. “The white soup is marvellous, is it not? I must ask Miss Bingley for her recipe.”
Bedlam had long been the Bennets’ secret signal to cease any discussion of Elizabeth’s gift. The family had agreed that her ability to discern falsehoods left her vulnerable to outsiders who would assume that she was either possessed of the devil or insane. More to the point, she could make no match, adv
antageous or otherwise, if she were committed to an asylum.
After successfully silencing her mother, Elizabeth could feign no interest in the meal. She had nearly been exposed, and Darcy had heard her mother’s entire outburst. Unable to disguise her shame, she could not bear to meet his gaze. She knew not how she would face him again after that mortifying scene or if he would even want to dance with her again this evening—or ever.
***
Darcy could well imagine Elizabeth’s humiliation at her family’s behaviour that night. He watched her cringe and blush throughout most of the meal, scarcely touching her supper. It was a wonder she conducted herself as well as she did, with such a mother as her example. She had made several attempts to silence Mrs Bennet, all to no avail. Oblivious to her daughter’s hints, her mother prattled on unrestrained.
Mrs Bennet had boldly aired her opinion of his and Bingley’s attachment to her daughters. While she was not entirely mistaken in her assumptions, she ought not to have given voice to them in public. Darcy had not declared his intentions, and, as far as he knew, neither had Bingley. Would the entire community expect an announcement from him? Would a second dance with Elizabeth confirm their suspicions?
While a small voice in the back of his mind urged him to confess his admiration for Elizabeth, a louder, more reasonable voice advised him to refrain. Aligning himself with the Bennet family would be the height of folly. Although Elizabeth and Jane were lovely in every respect, the rest of the family was far from suitable. Mrs Bennet was an unrepentant, matchmaking gossip, and her younger daughters were entirely undisciplined. They had conducted themselves in a most outrageous manner all evening, laughing, imbibing in spirits, and flirting with every man in the militia. Although their father had witnessed their unruly antics, he had done nothing to check their behaviour.
Once again, Mrs Bennet addressed her comments to him. “Mr Darcy, I have heard you have a younger sister.”
He could never object to a discussion of his sister. “Yes, ma’am, Georgiana is sixteen.”
“Is she at home with your mother?”
A Certain Something Page 8
