Chapter 2
Little as he cared for such amusements under most circumstances, Darcy could not deny that he had been looking forward to the Netherfield ball. All that good sense and prudence could do had proved insufficient to cure him of his strange fascination with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
She had no fortune, no connections, no established position in society — none of the characteristics he had always assumed would be essential qualifications for his future bride. Yet Elizabeth had other qualities he was rapidly coming to find indispensable. Wit and good humour, character and judgement, a playfulness utterly without malice — it was these qualities that were rapidly coming to shape all his visions of future happiness. Then, too, there were her dark, sparkling eyes, so remarkably expressive, the delicate bow of her lips, her graceful figure. Though a beauty not, perhaps, quite in step with the current fashion, he could not consider her as anything less than lovely.
Still, he had not been prepared for how radiant she looked this night. Of course, Elizabeth was always beautiful in her simple, unassuming elegance. This evening, however, perhaps she looked a little too radiant. Even in the first moments since Elizabeth had walked in with her family, Darcy noticed with displeasure that her odious cousin seemed bent on making a fool of himself.
Mr Collins had been following her around like a hound on the hunt, refusing to leave her be, when she was so obviously averse to his attentions. Anger welled up inside him. With difficulty, Darcy pushed it down. It was a feeling too much akin to jealousy, and that was obviously absurd.
That was certainly the only reason he had given in and asked Elizabeth to dance — to give her some much-needed time away from the insipid man. Indeed, after the dance, he would offer to let her remain with him and his party, dissuading any further attempts by Mr Collins at flirtation.
A nagging voice told Darcy that protecting Elizabeth was not quite his only motivation, but he firmly repressed it. If asking her for a dance was too much aligned with his own wishes and too little with the better impulses of his willpower, it was still more than justified in offering her the protection that any lady was owed from an importunate gentleman.
And if Darcy had returned to the ballroom early in anticipation of their dance, so that Elizabeth would not have to wait even a moment before being claimed for it, he was only being a courteous partner. For the moment, he could not see her anywhere.
Looking out over the crowd had a second benefit, for it allowed him to avoid Miss Bingley’s reproachful gaze. She had hinted rather baldly for a dance and had not been best pleased upon being informed that his next was reserved for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Bingley hardly seemed to notice his sister’s discomfiture, for he was too engaged in watching Miss Jane Bennet’s every move. No doubt he was engaged to her for the next. She had been asked for her first dance set before she had even had a chance to enter the grand salon upon her arrival. Bingley would have done so if he had not been standing at the front of the house greeting the plethora of guests that seemed to come from all over the county. Miss Bingley had insisted on making the event the height of the season for Hertfordshire — an event that the neighbourhood would be talking about for years to come. Bingley had allowed her to do whatever she thought best for most of the arrangements, but when it came to the people she had wanted to exclude, he had put his foot down. Miss Bingley had wanted to extend invitations to only the most select families in the neighbourhood, excluding many who might have reasonably expected to attend. Bingley would not stand for it, and Darcy was glad. His friend would have a far better time in the neighbourhood if he did not allow his sister to stir up strife and division.
“She is an angel, is she not?” Bingley breathed, addressing no one in particular. He shook his head as though he could hardly believe her perfection.
“Whatever do you mean, Charles?” Miss Bingley asked. Darcy frowned to hear how condescendingly she spoke to her brother. The woman even finished the question with a sneer of disapproval, for she knew perfectly well that he was referring to Jane Bennet.
Loath as Darcy was to find himself in agreement with Caroline Bingley, he could not help but share her unease at how quickly Bingley seemed to be falling for the girl. There was nothing to object to in Jane Bennet’s person or in her manners. It was true what was said of her: she was the beauty of the county and had a sweet, unassuming spirit to go with it. Her family, however, was a very different matter. Darcy hardly knew who was guilty of more impropriety — her wild younger sisters, or her mother.
Worse still, Bingley seemed to be falling for her faster than she was for him. She was a very difficult young woman to read, so shy and quiet. And if Bingley proposed, she would surely accept, however much or little she felt for him. A woman with so few prospects would be a fool to refuse so advantageous a match. And that would leave Bingley, who of all men desired a marriage of true affection, with a wife who cared more for his money than for his love, and without even a dowry or desirable connections to show for it.
He did not like to meddle in matters of the heart. But if things continued to progress as they were, he might not have a choice.
From the far end of the grand salon, Darcy watched in dismay as the two youngest Bennet girls came across the room nearly at a run, shrieking with laughter as they were chased by several of the officers. He had rarely seen a more vulgar display. From the way she winced and looked away from her sisters, Jane Bennet seemed to agree, but Mrs Bennet looked fondly on and did nothing.
“ What a very interesting family they are,” Miss Bingley purred. “I would not be surprised if they released a piglet into the house during the course of the evening.” He turned to give her a warning look, but she seemed busy in reviewing her dance card and did not choose to meet his gaze.
“ We must hope it is not so,” he replied coolly. Darcy lapsed into silence, watching as Mr Collins once again scanned the room, found it to be empty of his cousin, and went out. A moment later, Elizabeth could be seen walking in the opposite direction down the corridor, weaving this way and that to get away from him.
It was too much for Darcy. Their dance set could not come soon enough, but there were still several passes left of the current dance set, and Miss Bingley would likely hang about until he was forced to extricate himself.
“ How do you like my new slippers, Mr Darcy? I took your advice and traded out the bows for a lace trim.” She lifted the hem of her skirt ever so slightly, allowing her foot to peek out from underneath the dress. He did not recall giving any such advice. Then again, Miss Bingley talked so incessantly that he sometimes found himself nodding to her instead of attending properly, especially if he was trying to get through his correspondence.
“ They are very nice,” he replied absently.
“ Have you secured yourself a lady for the next dance set? It seems a pity that you should be alone, even though I know your views on the subject —”
“ Yes, I have asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy said curtly. Mr Collins was closing in, though he did not seem to realise it. Miss Elizabeth would be cornered if she continued down the hall in her current direction, unless she escaped up the stairs where the guests were not allowed to go.
“ Ahh, I see. Well, where is the lucky young lady? She will miss it if she has not returned in a few moments. Shall I step in in her stead if she does not appear in time?”
He did not have a chance to answer, thankfully, for a servant caught his eye and waved to him. He excused himself and hurried toward the archway and was handed a note by the footman. “ What is this?” he asked, perplexed. Everyone who would want to speak to him would have only had to come and search him out. Unless something dreadful had happened that Bingley did not want to draw attention to.
“ I was only asked to deliver the note, Mr Darcy. I apologise, I do not know what it is about.”
“ Very well. Thank you,” Darcy said, dismissing the footman. He unfolded the note as he went out into the hall where it was less crowded, wishing he had not lost sight of Elizabeth. Had Mr Collins succeeded in tracking her down? Elizabeth was very clever, he knew. At any rate, he would soon go in search of her to lead her to the dance floor for their set.
When he opened the note, he was surprised by how terrible the handwriting was. It looked like a child just out of leading strings had penned it.
∞∞∞
Dear Mr Darcy,
Please join me in the library at your earliest convenience. It is a matter of great importance.
Mr Hurst
∞∞∞
Darcy was dumbfounded. Mr Hurst, the eldest Bingley sister ’ s husband, had never felt the need to send him a note of such urgency. Indeed, they had never had occasion to write at all. The only time they ever spoke was when Mr Bingley saw fit to invite his eldest sister and husband to visit at the same time Darcy was visiting. And he was a sour fellow, indeed. “ How very odd,” he mumbled to himself. It must be dire indeed if Mr Hurst felt the need to send him a note and ask for a private meeting.
He headed to the library, which lay in the opposite direction of the grand salon. The further he went, the less crowded the halls became, until there was not a soul to be seen.
The library at Netherfield was a grand affair — or at least, it had been in bygone days. The shelves had been neglected for some time, and he knew that Bingley would rather be outside riding or shooting than staying in to read a good book. If he married well, perhaps that might change. Bingley was such a pleasant fellow that he would certainly read to please his wife, if she asked it of him. But if Jane Bennet were to be the woman, he was far from certain that she would care whether her husband ever opened a book.
He frowned at the disturbing thoughts rushing through his mind. Darcy was far from convinced that the depth of Miss Bennet’s feelings matched Bingley ’ s. And Caroline Bingley was against the match entirely. Little as he trusted the woman’s judgement on most matters, it must be hoped that she at least had her brother’s best interests in mind.
As Darcy walked through the shelves, he ran a hand over the spines of books on one of the middle shelves, wondering if Elizabeth had read any of them when she had stayed at Netherfield to help care for her sister a few weeks prior. Whenever she had come downstairs to join the company, she always seemed to have a book in hand. He let a small smile crease his lips, wondering if Elizabeth would enjoy exploring the library at Pemberley. Perhaps she would love it as much as he did.
When he looked up, Darcy nearly exclaimed in his surprise. There, across the sitting area, was Elizabeth herself! Was he seeing things, or had his thoughts conjured her? His heart picked up its pace. Darcy ducked into the shadows, wondering what in the world could have brought Elizabeth into the library at the precise moment he had also entered. Was she hiding from Mr Collins? Perhaps not, for she looked confused, as if she was waiting for someone. He waited a moment longer, watching her. Darcy could have watched her forever, but it was hardly mannerly to do so. What was she doing here?
He ought to speak to her, to be sure she was well. Accordingly, Darcy wove around the seating area and began walking through the shelves toward Elizabeth. She looked up and saw him when he was only a few feet from her.
“Mr Darcy — ” she said in surprise. But she was unable to finish her thought. When he had almost reached her, Darcy tripped, pitching violently forward. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she tried to back up a step, but it all happened much too fast. He knew he could not catch himself in time, and his horror was complete as he rammed into Elizabeth, falling for what seemed like ages to the floor.
Darcy was afraid he would crush her, or she would smack her skull on the bookshelf, or even on the hardwood floor. Just before they landed, however, he wrapped an arm around her waist and the other to brace up her head. He landed hard on his elbows. Shocks of pain laced up his arm and into his shoulders, and he could not suppress a grunt of pain with the force of their fall.
Elizabeth yelped as they landed, then groaned, her hand flying to the back of her temple. She closed her eyes, and he sucked in a breath of horror at the thought that he might have injured her. The pain in his elbows was nothing compared to the surprised of being pressed against her in such an intimate embrace. The situation was hardly romantic. Surely, he had nearly crushed her with his clumsiness. But her closeness was doing things to him he knew he should not feel.
When she opened her eyes, he finally found his tongue. “ Are you all right, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy said. He stopped, looking deeply into her eyes. From this vantage, he could not help but think again how beautiful she was.
“I believe so,” she whispered. Her chest heaved with every breath, and the feel of her palms on his chest made his heart race all the more. “ I am well. Only a little surprised,” she replied.
“I cannot express how embarrassed I am,” Darcy said hoarsely. “Indeed, I am very sorry.”
That was not quite true. Embarrassed, he certainly was, but he could not be entirely sorry. At least, not about holding her in his arms, near enough to kiss. Elizabeth was more beautiful than ever. Loose tendrils of her hair lay loose around her face, and he tucked one of them behind her ear.
But that was a liberty he should not have allowed himself to take. Darcy quickly drew back his hand. He must make sure she was not injured. All other concerns paled in comparison. He studied her eyes — those large brown eyes that had so bewitched him from the first moment he had arrived in Meryton. “ Are you hurt?” he asked again, tenderly. Utterly forgetting himself in the love and concern that filled his heart, he brushed his fingertips down her jawline, and stopped at her mouth, tempted to run his fingers over them as well. And not only that. He longed to know what her lips tasted like…