by Lory Lilian
Rumours and agitation spread throughout the room, and Lady Cassandra threw them a satisfied look, perfectly matched with the expression of delight in her eyes. “So Darcy, Colonel, which of you will help me to execute my surprise? I know both of you are proficient at this dance.”
“Lady Cassandra, as you know, I am not proficient at all. Of course, if you insist, I will dance with you, but I am not fond of surprises of this sort that will only provoke more gossip.”
“Oh come now, Darcy,” said the colonel. “You are much too serious and preoccupied with society’s opinion. Let us enjoy the delight of the waltz, Lady Cassandra.”
Elizabeth’s eyes followed them, mesmerised by the spell of their harmonious moves and the enchanting music. So absorbed was she in her admiration that it took her some moments to notice the Gardiners had joined Lady Cassandra and the colonel on the dance floor.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are quite proficient, too,” whispered Darcy, and she only nodded.
She had heard of the waltz previously, but she had never seen anyone dance it. The proximity of the couples, the intimacy the music inspired, and the romantic manner in which each couple entwined their hands all led Elizabeth to delight in the experience of simply watching the dance unfold. Slowly, other couples courageously joined the two couples in the dancing area, and while not as skilled as the first dancers, more and more couples followed their example. Elizabeth watched the dancing in awe. Unconsciously she whispered, “Beautiful,” almost oblivious to the presence of Darcy until he lowered his head to speak to her.
“Yes, it does look beautiful indeed, though perhaps not quite proper.”
She startled and blushed, not daring to meet his eyes. “I am sorry. I must look silly, lost in my reverie, but this is the first time I have actually seen this dance, and I am afraid it has an enchanting effect on me.” She tried to sound light and amused to hide her embarrassment, but any attempt failed a moment later when he spoke again.
“Miss Bennet, would you be tempted to…I mean would you like to try to dance? I did learn the steps some time ago, and I would be delighted to show them to you.”
She stood speechless, looking at him as though he spoke another language. “Are you inviting me to waltz, sir?” You just refused Lady Cassandra! was the thought that raced through her head. The mere idea of his embracing her, her hand clasped in his was enough to send her mind reeling. If she agreed, she feared she would not be able to breathe, let alone follow what appeared to be the complex set of steps required of the dance.
“Yes…that is if you are tempted to. Many find the dance offensive and never would consider trying it.” He appeared to be deeply embarrassed, but there was something else in his expression that she could not comprehend.
However, she thought, he could not possibly be more embarrassed than I am. I am so tempted to accept, even if by doing so I shall make a fool of myself. After all, he knows I do not know how to dance the waltz, but still he insisted. What would happen if I agreed?”
“Sir, I cannot accept, and you surely must not insist. It would be the most embarrassing moment for both of us. We just danced together a few minutes ago, so let us—
“You are perfectly right, Miss Bennet. Please forgive me.” Darcy was deeply mortified. Immediately after inviting her to join in the waltz, he knew he was making a mistake but he could not fight his desire to hold her in his arms. Once again, he had selfishly considered only his desires and had shown no respect for hers. Surely, she would not welcome becoming a spectacle before a room full of strangers. The very idea now seemed ridiculous!
What was he to do? He had gained a moment of privacy with her and managed to ruin it. Should he depart and leave her alone to enjoy the view before making a complete fool of himself?
“Mr. Darcy, are you well, sir?”
“Yes, perfectly well, Miss Bennet.”
“I was telling you, sir, that we just danced, and I dare say we made a reasonably good impression. So, as much as I would be tempted to accept your offer, I would suggest we not jeopardise your reputation with my clumsiness. Lady Cassandra would never forgive me for ruining her waltz.”
Her tentative smile showed that she was not completely at ease, and she was obviously trying to lighten the tension he had created, but her eyes were laughing at him.
“A very wise decision, Miss Bennet,” he agreed, regaining his spirit.
They spent the next few minutes silently admiring the dancers; when the music stopped, he offered his arm and accompanied her to the dining room.
Elizabeth had another surprise when she discovered that they were placed close to Lady Cassandra at the table. At her ladyship’s right was Mr. Darcy, and next to him Mrs. Gardiner; she, Elizabeth, was most happily situated between her uncle and Colonel Fitzwilliam, facing her aunt.
During supper, Elizabeth allowed herself a few minutes to reflect on the evening. She was having a better time than she had expected; her aunt and uncle seemed to enjoy themselves even more than she and looked perfectly easy, content to ignore the sharp looks and whispers from some of the guests. She knew her relatives to be fashionable people, accustomed to London society, but their boldness in joining Lady Cassandra and her partner for the waltz surprised Elizabeth. However, her ladyship was exceedingly pleased they had joined her and Colonel Fitzwilliam—of that, there was no doubt.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was as agreeable and friendly during dinner as he was the entire evening. Elizabeth found herself laughing a few times at his exchanges with Lady Cassandra. Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was considerably more serious; his gaze travelled along the table more than once, carefully watching all the guests. Sometimes she met his look, and sometimes she only felt it burning her face, yet each time her reaction to him was equally strong.
Her doubts concerning the nature of Mr. Darcy and Lady Cassandra’s relationship remained. At one point Elizabeth heard some whispered speculations about a possible engagement to be announced between the two of them, and for a moment, she was afraid the rumours might prove to be correct. However, she put aside that worry quite soon; Mr. Darcy’s attentions toward her—repeated and openly displayed—were the strongest proof that his interest, affection and honour were not engaged elsewhere. About Lady Cassandra’s interest and affection, she could not be certain; however, her ladyship by no means showed any kind of jealousy nor did she try to keep Mr. Darcy’s attentions to herself. Except that she placed him at her right, she thought, and then instantly scolded herself for her silent doubts.
The most intriguing character for Elizabeth was Lord Markham, who was seated quite close to them—probably because that seat was planned for someone else. Mr. Darcy and the colonel seemed to share the same ill opinion of the viscount. Their dislike was so obvious that they avoided him in their conversations and made no attempt to answer his direct questions. Elizabeth was certain that the reasons for their negative opinion must be quite serious; however, the viscount did not seem affected by their disregard of him in the slightest. From time to time, he cast quick glances at Lady Cassandra, but her ladyship patently ignored him the entire evening.
Elizabeth could not ignore him as Lord Markham continued to extend his courtesy toward her. She tried to remain polite, yet she became more restrained with her smiles; she was afraid he might take her mere politeness as a sign of encouragement. She shuddered to think of the talent she seemed to possess to attract persons whom she wished to avoid.
The second part of the evening was equally as pleasant. Elizabeth was engaged for every set and once more danced with Lord Markham—to whom she made a marked effort to behave politely but distantly—and with the colonel, with whom she experienced nothing but delight.
However, with every hour that passed, Elizabeth grew more distressed, enjoying her time less and less. All she could think of was their imminent departure and her separation from certain acquaintances she truly did not wish to leave. A few times, she was certain Darcy could understand her thoughts and—daring presumpti
on!—experience the same feelings.
Immediately after supper, he had asked her if she was engaged for the last set. Fortunately, she was not, and he immediately secured it for himself. For the remainder of the ball, he availed himself of every opportunity to be near her. In fact, he spoke very little with anyone else except Lady Cassandra and the colonel—who teased him about his sudden low spirits and constant gaze that rarely left her.
When the last set was announced, he gravely and silently claimed her hand, holding it tightly. They barely talked at all for the entire half hour—yet Elizabeth felt no need for words. Everything that could be said between them had been said.
Although she was not completely free of doubt, the intensity of his gaze, the light brushing of his fingers against hers, the bittersweet look of sadness mixed with contentment, the tentative smile that appeared on his lips from time to time—all boded well for their expected meeting at Pemberley. All of this left her with many hopes—hopes for her sister, hopes for herself, and hopes for the future.
Chapter 5
Darcy remained, stunned, in the middle of Pemberley’s library as he watched an enraged Charles Bingley charge from the room and slam the door.
Yes, he had anticipated his younger friend would be angry; however, the meeting proceeded differently than Darcy had expected.
In the first minutes, Bingley had borne his confession with calmness; in fact, he seemed not to accept that Darcy had been wrong in his estimation of Miss Bennet’s feelings and could not understand why Darcy was apologizing for his interference at all.
However, when Darcy told him that Miss Bennet had been in London for three months and even called at his home, Bingley turned completely white, and he seemed not to breathe for several minutes. In utter rage, he demanded to be told how Darcy became aware of Jane Bennet’s visit, and his violent words were spewed out at his friend as well as his sisters.
“I cannot bear to breathe the same air as you any longer,” he said at the end of his outburst. “I shall remove myself from this house as soon as my belongings are ready. As for my sisters, you may keep them for a while, as it appears you share an intimate similarity of mind.”
The master of Pemberley remained stunned; neither his mind nor his body were able to react.
***
Lady Cassandra had loved the grounds of Pemberley all her life and, since returning there a week ago, had spent at least a couple of hours each day riding and enjoying the beauty of the grounds. Usually she rode in the company of Darcy, Georgiana or both, accompanied by Charles Bingley who was also an excellent rider.
That morning, however, she was alone since Georgiana felt tired and Darcy mentioned that he and Bingley were to have a private talk.
“Oh, the talk…Good luck,” she wished him, confident that he would need it.
With the gentle breeze of a July day playing in her hair, Lady Cassandra would allow no dark thoughts to mar her enjoyment. Her attention was drawn toward a rider galloping over the fields so wildly that she frowned and turned her head after him. With utter surprise, she thought she recognised Charles Bingley, but she could not be certain, so she turned her horse to follow. When, after more than ten minutes, she decided to stop her animal to spare him from exhaustion, she found Bingley sitting upon the grass, his horse’s reins tied to a tree.
“Mr. Bingley, what on earth is the matter?” she asked, dismounting.
“Lady Cassandra!” He looked shocked to see her, leaped to his feet and, after a moment, turned his back to her in an attempt to hide his face; however, a glance was sufficient for her to notice his red eyes.
Has he been crying? she wondered as she moved closer. “Mr. Bingley, I can see you are upset, sir. I presume it is your discussion with Darcy that has brought you to such a state.”
He turned to her, his eyes and mouth open in shock. “How can your ladyship possibly know about what Darcy and I spoke? Does everyone in the country know except me?” he shouted.
Lady Cassandra fixed him with her stare, her brow arching questioningly. “Sir, I can understand your anger, but are you certain that yelling at me will heal your hurt feelings?”
The gentleman’s sense of propriety won over his anger, and he averted his eyes in embarrassment. “I beg your forgiveness; I completely forgot myself. I would rather leave before my rudeness appals you further.” He moved toward his exhausted horse.
“No need to apologize, sir, and please have no worry about my being appalled. I am not quite that sensitive. I want to ask you to indulge me and remain a few minutes. Both your horse and mine need rest, and we could have a little conversation.”
His first reaction was to continue walking toward his mount, but after a brief look at the animal, he turned to his companion. “How is it possible that your ladyship knows—about my conversation with Darcy, I mean?”
She smiled. “Darcy mentioned it to me this morning.”
“Mentioned what—that he would have a nice chat before breakfast with witless Charles Bingley? To offer him more wise advice? Such a pity I did not take it as easily as I used to! Perhaps I should apologise for ruining his breakfast. However, he might be pleased, as I intend to leave Pemberley this very moment and never cross paths with him again.”
“Mr. Bingley, I cannot believe Darcy treated you with such carelessness and lack of consideration. Did he offend you in any way?”
“Oh, no, he was everything polite and proper—as he always is. He apologised, in fact. He apologised for ruining my happiness, your ladyship! But, as he did it with much consideration, I should be grateful to him!”
Lady Cassandra watched in silence, allowing him to express his rage. He was still turned with his back to her when she suddenly exclaimed, “Mr. Bingley, what on earth has happened to your hair? It is all red at the back, and I have to say it is very unbecoming to you.”
He stared at her in complete misapprehension. “I beg your pardon? I cannot understand your ladyship’s meaning; my hair is certainly not red!”
“Are you sure, sir? Because it certainly looks red to me.”
“I am positive! I did look in the mirror this morning. Since then I have had no time to alter the colour of my hair. I think your ladyship is trying to mock me in order to distract me.”
“So you accept completely that your hair cannot be red, Mr. Bingley. What if Darcy had told you the same thing? Would you have contradicted him with the same arguments and determination that you have with me, or would you simply have accepted his word without question?”
His face instantly turned white again, and his eyes remained fixed on her inquiring ones. Her eyebrow rose in expectation as he tried with great effort to knit his thoughts together.
“That is hardly the same thing, your ladyship.”
“I agree; it is hardly the same thing, yet I dare say my question has a valid point.”
“Yes, it has,” he admitted with sadness. “I have been such a fool. I never for one moment questioned Darcy’s word. I did not trust my sisters’ opinion, but when Darcy told me he did not think Miss Bennet returned my affection—that she would only accept my attentions to satisfy her mother’s wishes—how could I have doubted him? I have always trusted Darcy, and he has never disappointed me. I know he always considered my well-being and my best interests. To discover that he deceived me on purpose—that he lied to me!”
“Mr. Bingley, you do have reason to be angry with Darcy, though I think he was honest in his estimation of Miss Bennet’s feelings at the time. He truly believed her to be indifferent to you, and now it appears he was wrong. But you cannot lay the entire fault upon him! He was not always close to you and Miss Bennet; he was not privy to your private conversations and certainly did not catch all those little signs that help a gentleman recognise a lady’s preference! If you had contradicted Darcy, perhaps he would have recognised his error.”
“But I was not certain of Miss Bennet’s affection either, my lady! I admired her so much and thought her so perfect. I knew she cou
ld aspire to a better match. I was not certain at all.”
“I see.” Lady Cassandra watched him as he became less agitated and more depressed. “Mr. Bingley, if you want to leave Pemberley and put an end to your friendship with Darcy, of course we will all respect your decision. However, I would advise you to consider whether this is the best solution to the situation. I know his interference gave you much grief and great suffering—
“Lady Cassandra, do you not understand?” She startled at his abrupt outburst. “This is not about me! I do not blame Darcy for being wrong in his presumptions while he was in Hertfordshire, but when Miss Bennet came to London to call at my house…If it is true that he was wrong—if Miss Bennet did return my feelings—how she must have suffered when I left without a word! And how hurt she must have felt when she received no sign from me after her visit! I cannot blame Darcy for my pain during all these months! But I do blame him for all the grief Miss Bennet had to endure, and I do not think I will ever forgive him for that!”
His voice was trembling; Lady Cassandra was certain he was close to crying—and she smiled. Better hope for a favourable resolution there had never been!
“Mr. Bingley, your affection for Miss Bennet is impressive; I will make sure to point that out to her the first time I meet her.”
His eyes opened in shock. “Lady Cassandra, when will you meet Miss Bennet?”
“I am not certain yet, Mr. Bingley! It depends on your plans. What do you intend to do in the future, sir? Or let me ask you this: what is it precisely that you want to accomplish in the future?”
“I do not understand. I am not certain at this point. I do not think there is much I can do. I am certain that any feeling Miss Bennet might have had for me is now gone. Surely she must despise me; I doubt she could look at me without disdain.” He looked simultaneously confused and grieved, and Lady Cassandra could not help smiling in sympathy.
“Mr. Bingley, you should refrain from drawing such absolute conclusions about Miss Bennet’s feelings. You did misjudge them completely when you were near her; surely you cannot presume you are correct when you are so far away!”
