Mr Bennet arrived at the receiving line with his wife on one arm and his eldest daughter on the other. Jane Bennet was looking as beautiful as ever in the golden silk she had worn at the Meryton Assembly. She had added a pearl necklace and pearl drops to the ensemble. Inevitably, Bingley gushed, giving an elbow to each.
Behind them, the parson was escorting Mary and Elizabeth. Darcy didn't like the way he was holding Elizabeth. She had threaded her arm through the clergyman's elbow to rest on his sleeve in the customary manner, but the fellow had drawn his other hand across his body to clamp her hand in place–as if he was afraid she would get away. The sister on the parson's other elbow seemed forgotten.
Elizabeth was wearing a dark silk. In the sparse moonlight, it almost looked black–a temptress. When she stepped into the light of the flambeaux, Darcy had thought momentarily that he might combust, such a wave of heat passed through his body. She was wearing crimson silk, which, combined with her chestnut locks and slightly tanned skin, was wreaking havoc with his self-control. He forced himself to take several deep breaths.
He didn't trust himself to speak to her at that moment and merely nodded at her, thinking he would ask her to dance later.
Darcy had hoped she would move quickly by him, but Mr Collins held her fast while he announced his connection to Darcy's Aunt Catherine and apologised for not paying his respects earlier. Darcy frowned but was saved from saying something cutting in Elizabeth's presence by Colonel Forster, who moved to shake his hand.
After Colonel Forster had been greeted, Caroline disbanded the receiving line and clasped Darcy's elbow. Although several of the militia officers had turned up in response to Bingley's blanket invitation, Darcy had not seen Wickham and was silently grateful. His self-control was already being tested enough tonight.
The band struck up the music as the line for the first set coalesced in proper formation behind Caroline and Darcy. Far down the lines, he glimpsed Miss Elizabeth partnered with the parson. As they proceeded through the steps, Caroline began to annoy him with the way she slid her fingers over his every time they touched. Halfway through the set, she pretended to stumble against him. He was feeling decidedly pawed.
When the set broke up, he was grateful when Captain Carter claimed Caroline's hand for the next dance. Darcy positioned himself near a group of militia officers and watched as Elizabeth headed towards her friend Miss Lucas, but he was distracted when he heard Wickham's name mentioned.
"He received a dispatch from London just before we were about to set out… some urgent business… said he'd join us later, as soon as he'd dealt with it."
Ah, so Wickham had made his excuses… Good! thought Darcy.
But when he turned his attention back to Elizabeth and Charlotte, they were gone.
Elizabeth had dragged Charlotte out onto the terrace.
"Charlotte, I need to talk to you. I've discovered the source of animosity between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham."
"I'm listening," replied Charlotte.
Lizzy then proceeded to relate Mr Wickham's story.
"How very extraordinary that he should blurt that out to you!" said Charlotte. "Does he have verbal diarrhoea?"
Lizzy laughed before continuing, "He said that when old Mr Darcy died, he was banished from the Pemberley estate and later denied the living that had been intended for him, so that he was forced to seek his fortune by joining the military instead of being settled as a clergyman. In short, Mr Darcy has robbed Mr Wickham of any certainty of domestic felicity. He must seek his fortune now!"
"Banishment is a harsh word," said Charlotte. "How old was Mr Wickham when this occurred?"
"Well," said Elizabeth, recalling the conversation; "he said he was seven when his father died and that old Mr Darcy died three years later. So he would have been ten."
"But, Elizabeth, Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy must be a similar age. You said they played together as children: Mr Darcy cannot have been responsible for the decision to send Mr Wickham away."
"Yes, of course, you are quite right," agreed Lizzy thoughtfully.
"And banishment is such a harsh word to use. Did he say which school he had been sent to in the south?"
"No, but I believe he told Lydia he attended Harrow," said Lizzy.
"Harrow!" exclaimed Charlotte, "Poor him! It is one of the most expensive public schools! One might have just as well have said that Mr Bingley was banished to Eton! Doing it much too brown! His story doesn't hold any water for me. I'd like to hear Mr Darcy's version of it."
At this point Dr Gregory approached them, looking very handsome in the same blue coat and buff breeches he had worn to the Meryton Assembly.
He grasped both Miss Elizabeth hands, holding them out from her body and running an appreciative eye over her.
"Miss Elizabeth, you have been hiding your light under a bushel!"
"My mother will be very gratified by your response. It is a beautiful dress, is it not?" said Lizzy, greatly pleased.
"Do you have any room on your dance card?" he asked.
"Indeed, sir," she smiled, "the next set is free."
The good doctor led her onto the dance floor as the second set was forming.
Darcy caught sight of Dr Gregory and Elizabeth as soon as they walked back into the ballroom. He was annoyed that Dr Gregory had stolen yet another march on him and was determined not to let Miss Elizabeth out of his sights again. He could see them chatting easily with each other and laughing throughout the set as he stood with his back against a pillar and his arms crossed.
Finally the set came to an end, and Dr Gregory gave a bow to his partner. Darcy felt a strong urge to give him a push as he came up behind him.
"Miss Elizabeth, may I have the pleasure of the next set?" Darcy requested.
Elizabeth was rather surprised by this request but acquiesced gracefully.
Knowing that Elizabeth did not like Mr Darcy, Dr Gregory stood his ground until the music struck up for the next set. He tried to make conversation with that gentleman, but Mr Darcy answered in monosyllables and stared fixedly at Miss Elizabeth. He was quite an intimidating man. Taking his leave of Elizabeth, Dr Gregory squeezed her hand for courage, an action that made Darcy grit his teeth.
They danced an energetic reel. In fascination, Darcy watched the garnet cross she was wearing bounce on her heaving chest. How he wished he could plant his lips there! Part way through the set, he noticed that Miss Elizabeth had a wicked grin on her face, and he found himself smiling at her in return. As the last notes of the dance sounded, they burst out laughing.
Darcy sought to catch his breath. "May I ask what is so funny, Miss Elizabeth?" he huffed.
"I could ask you the same thing, sir!"
"I asked first!" he retorted.
"Very well, I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams your dancing a reel!"
Could it be possible that she dreams about me? he wondered before saying: "Am I so ridiculous then?"
"Not at all. You dance remarkably well for someone who dislikes dancing!" she smirked.
"What a backhanded compliment!"
They contemplated each other for a moment in silence.
Then Darcy blurted, "Do you have another set free?" Dammit, why did I say that? It was as if his tongue had a mind of its own.
"I have the supper set free," Elizabeth answered honestly.
Oh dear! In for a penny… "Then will you reserve that set for me?"
"Certainly, sir," she curtsied, glad that Mr Darcy seemed to finally be honouring their truce. If he kept this up, she might even deem him nice.
Then Mr Collins was at her elbow.
"I believe, dear cousin, that this is my set?" he said, smiling unctuously at Darcy all the time.
Darcy was revolted as Collins appropriated Miss Elizabeth's hand. The fellow seemed to drip oil. Charlotte Lucas was standing against his pillar so, in an uncharacteristic move of sociability, Darcy asked her to dance.
Unbeknownst to Darcy, Mr Wickham had made his appea
rance in the ballroom during the reel. George had decided that a ball was too good an opportunity to survey the local heiresses to be missed, despite the complications of Darcy's presence. Mr Wickham's strategies were simple: he had arrived late to avoid the receiving line; and he intended to exude as much charm as possible while ensuring he was always in company. He knew Darcy was too punctilious to start a ruckus at his friend's ball.
Surveying the room, Mr Wickham considered the famous Caroline Bingley. Pity she was with the Darcy party. He had heard she had a dowry of twenty thousand pounds: a plump pigeon! Well, no, she is rather scrawny for my tastes, but I wouldn't shirk to do my duty by her, while getting my jollies elsewhere.
Striding up to a group of officers, he slapped Denny on the back to announce his presence.
"Denny, you must introduce me to these lovely ladies!" he announced to all and sundry; then bending closer to Denny, he whispered, "especially the lovely Miss King."
Miss King was an heiress who had recently arrived in Meryton. During a chance meeting in the Main Street, Mrs Long had introduced Denny and Sanderson to her last week; and she had not hesitated to fill them in on the particulars when Miss King had departed. These had been duly relayed to Wickham in their shared room after lights out. Miss King had a dowry of ten thousand pounds.
"Wickham!" Denny cried, "So you made it after all!"
Halfway through the next set, Darcy noticed that Wickham had arrived after all and promptly stood on Miss Lucas's toe.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Lucas," said Darcy, blushing.
"No matter, Mr Darcy. I have nine others," replied Miss Lucas calmly.
Good heavens! She has a sense of humour! thought Darcy; but then, she is Miss Elizabeth's friend. He tried to ignore Wickham, and they made it through the rest of the set without further incident.
After bowing to Miss Lucas, he reclaimed his pillar until the supper set.
Finishing her dance with Colonel Forster, Elizabeth made her way over to Darcy.
He grasped her glove and led her onto the floor in anticipation of the music but was surprised to hear a waltz struck up. Behind him, he heard Caroline give a shriek, just as he spotted Bingley with Miss Jane Bennet in his arms. His friend was wearing a very self-satisfied grin.
"Do you waltz, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy managed to croak.
"Of course, Mr Darcy," she replied with a sweet smile.
Thereafter was the most exhilarating and tormenting dance of Darcy's life. Darcy had, of course, danced many waltzes in company. But he had never had to question himself before on just how closely he should hold his partner. She seemed disastrously near, but still too far away. He could smell her hair. It was the most delicious aroma he had ever encountered, so sweet! He had to restrain himself from burying his nose in it. Then he became aware of his hand on her back. Was it too low? He wanted to shift it lower. He shifted it higher.
Around they whirled, like they were part of the same machine. He wished it could go on forever.
Chapter 17: The waltz
After the final notes of the waltz sounded, Darcy reluctantly withdrew his arms from Miss Elizabeth. The spell which entranced him was broken, and he finally noticed there were very few couples on the dance floor: Bingley, himself, and two militia officers were the only men standing; and they were each partnered with a Bennet sister. Either not many people knew the steps here, or the waltz was still frowned upon in the Hertfordshire countryside, despite its proximity to London, where it was now danced regularly at Ton balls.
Darcy offered Miss Elizabeth his arm to walk into supper.
"Do people not dance the waltz here?" he asked.
"It is not yet danced at the assemblies, although I would have expected the militia officers to know the steps. Perhaps they were lacking partners. My Aunt Gardiner taught us the steps, and Charlotte knows them too."
Mr Darcy glanced round to see Charlotte sitting near Mary, talking to Mr Collins.
Entering the supper room, he filled two plates with some delicacies from the very tempting board that Caroline had arranged and searched for Miss Elizabeth. She waved from an isolated corner table where she sat in front of two glasses of champagne punch. Darcy would have preferred the safety of numbers at one of the larger tables, but at least it saved him the trouble of making small talk with people he neither knew nor cared about.
As he settled in his chair, Lizzy took a sip of punch, a deep breath, and began, "When you met us in town the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. Darcy felt like a bucket of icy water had been thrown over him. Lizzy saw a look of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word.
At length Darcy spoke and, in a constrained manner, said, "Mr Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends–whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth gently, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer. His face was a mask.
"I remember hearing you once say, Mr Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment, once created, was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," she said playfully, endeavouring to cajole him from his gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," he answered gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.
In the ensuing silence between them, Lizzy was deeply vexed to hear her mother, who was seated at a nearby table, talking loudly to Lady Lucas of her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them were the first points of self-congratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men.
Darcy had had enough and was relieved to see some of the guests returning to the ballroom. Taking this opportunity, he stood up, gave a shallow bow and bid Miss Elizabeth a curt goodbye.
Charlotte, who had surreptitiously been watching the pair, quickly occupied the vacated seat. "Lizzy, what on earth did you say to Mr Darcy?"
"Why, I asked him for his side of the story, of course; but he would not defend himself, so I can only assume that Mr Wickham has the right of it!"
"Oh, Lizzy, sometimes you are so like your father! Why should Mr Darcy discuss his private affairs with you? It was impertinent to ask."
"You said you wanted to know."
"Indeed, I do, but I would not dream of asking him directly! You are either foolhardy or brave!"
Lizzy blushed. "Probably both," she sighed.
"What a shame!" said Charlotte. "You looked so good together during the waltz. I thought for sure he was taken with you, especially after asking you for the second dance!"
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"Not at all, Charlotte. You read too much into it. It is just part of our truce."
Charlotte shook her head sadly.
For her part, Lizzy could only think that her friend was beginning to sound like her mother.
Their tête-à-tête was interrupted when Dr Gregory came to claim his second dance with Lizzy. He had been enjoying himself immensely at the ball and could think of no better way of ending the evening than with his beautiful assistant.
Darcy crossed the ballroom quickly, seeking the solitude of his room. He was upset, but he carefully moderated his progress, considering himself to be walking at a brisk, but seemly, pace. That was not the opinion of several males who hastily removed themselves from his vicinity as they saw him storming towards them with a very dark look on his face.
He headed towards the stairs, passing an officer who lurked in the shadows of a curtained alcove off the hall. He heard a giggle as he took the first step and, turning instinctively, recognised the officer, in profile, to be Wickham. In a flash he parsed the scene before him, Wickham had backed a girl into the alcove and had his hand under her skirt. The white muslin and red ribbons were all too recognisable. Darcy felt ill as his sister's face flashed before his eyes. He accelerated immediately, bounding up the stairs three at a time.
For his part, Wickham had frozen momentarily upon realising Darcy had come into the corridor. He had, after all, foolishly separated himself from the other officers in order to pursue a little sport. When Darcy disappeared up the stairs without stopping, he assumed he had remained undetected and continued to frolic with the Bennet girl. Now, if only he could convince her to step into the library or, perhaps, one of the other unoccupied rooms…
Arriving in his room, Darcy slammed the door with relief. Had he done the right thing in not intervening? Yes. It was none of his business, and he dare not cause a ruckus at his friend's ball. Still, he was not sanguine and felt sick to the stomach.
He slumped against the wood panelling. God, release me from this hellhole of Hertfordshire!
Chapter 18: A lost friend
I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton Page 8
