Raising the Stakes (First Impressions)

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was a bold statement, as only one partner could be chosen for the final dance before the meal, and that partner would then remain together for the evening’s grand supper. And for that partner to be the same partner a gentleman had opened the ball with, well…

There was no mistaking what it meant… or, rather, what it was supposed to look like.

Whispers followed them as Darcy led her onto the floor again. This time, Elizabeth did not care. At least with Darcy, she felt sure of his intentions, even if they were not what everyone assumed they were. Their hands met, and as the music swelled, they moved into the steps of the dance as if it were their first chance to breathe easily in hours.

At first, neither spoke, too aware of the watching eyes. But as the figures of the dance parted them and brought them back together, Darcy finally leaned in slightly.

“You have been in high demand tonight,” he murmured.

Elizabeth arched a brow, tilting her head in mock contemplation. “And I suppose you have been terribly neglected?”

“Quite the opposite.”

Elizabeth let her eyes flick across the room, taking note of the lingering glances in their direction. Some were full of curiosity, others of approval. A few carried a sharpness that she suspected had little to do with politics. “And do you regret it yet?” she asked teasingly, lifting her chin as they came together once more.

Darcy hesitated, just for a breath. When he answered, his voice was quieter than before, more deliberate. “No.”

There was a weight to the word, a certainty of declaration that sent an unfamiliar warmth curling through her. They parted again, weaving through the other dancers, and Elizabeth found herself startled by the thought that settled unbidden in her mind. For all the political maneuvering, the gossip, the subtle social battles of the evening, she had enjoyed herself.

And even more startlingly… she had enjoyed being at Darcy’s side .

When the steps drew them back together, she let out a soft breath, tilting her head slightly to catch his gaze. “Nor do I.”

Darcy’s fingers tightened ever so slightly over hers, and he allowed the barest trace of a smile. As the final strains of music faded and the supper bell was rung, Darcy offered his arm. “To battle with us,” he said with a sigh.

She took it without hesitation. “If you will lead the charge, sir.”

And as they walked together toward the candlelit dining room, she noticed that Darcy checked their steps so they would fall into line with certain people. Certainly, the tactics were in play.

Dinner was as much a warzone as the dance floor—though the weapons were words, the victories measured in shifting opinions rather than steps.

Around the table where they were seated, Darcy introduced Elizabeth to yet more prominent men of Derbyshire—voters, naturally—each conversation a careful dance of its own. Some of the gentlemen’s wives were warm, curious, eager to see what kind of woman had captured Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley’s attention. Others, particularly those who had once entertained hopes for their own daughters, were more reserved.

Seated to Darcy’s left was Mr. Henry Godwin, a landowner of considerable wealth and influence who had been slow to declare his support. He was a man of traditional views—older, skeptical of younger generations who spoke of reform, wary of any shift that might unsettle the delicate balance of power. Securing his vote would be no easy task, but it could also sway others.

Godwin was watching Elizabeth with barely concealed scrutiny, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I will admit, Darcy,” he said, swirling the port in his glass, “when I first heard you were standing for Parliament, I assumed you would follow the path of your predecessors—measured, cautious, unwilling to make promises you could not keep.” He let out a dry chuckle. “But now I hear whispers that you are… surprisingly progressive.”

Darcy inclined his head. “I should hope that ‘progressive’ is not a mark against me, sir.”

Godwin let out a noncommittal grunt. “The word is often used by men who wish to change too much too quickly. There is a certain arrogance in youth, believing it knows better than those who have come before.” He gave Darcy a pointed look before turning his attention briefly to Elizabeth. “And I have heard even stranger things of late.”

Darcy set down his glass, his grip tightening slightly around the stem. “Stranger things?”

Godwin leaned back in his chair, watching Darcy closely. “A rumor, nothing more. But one worth considering, given the… company you keep.” His gaze flicked to Elizabeth. “It was said that Miss Bennet was seen in the company of certain French dignitaries not so long ago. That she mingled freely with them at a rather notorious gathering.”

Odd… he could swear he felt her hot blush, and it was as if his own lungs filled with protests of her innocence as Elizabeth stiffened beside him, though her expression remained carefully composed. He exhaled, then laughed lightly, shaking his head.

“Are not those very gentlemen seated at the other end of the room?” He gestured subtly down the long table, where indeed, Monsieur Lapointe and his aides sat engaged in quiet conversation with their English counterparts. “Have they not been invited cordially to some of the finer events this season? They are guests, not savages.” His tone remained mild, almost amused. “Surely, many a lady exchanged greetings with them out of good manners. Would you accuse Miss Bennet of less?”

Godwin regarded him for a moment before allowing a small chuckle. “A fair point, I suppose, but I was told it was more than simple conversation. Lord Greaves even spoke of… Well, you must understand my concern. This election is no simple matter. Derbyshire needs a representative who understands its values. A man who will not be swayed by outside influences.”

Darcy inclined his head, but before he could speak, Elizabeth turned to Godwin with a pleasant smile, her voice light but unmistakably firm. “Mr. Godwin, may I ask you something?”

Godwin blinked, clearly surprised. “Of course, Miss Bennet.”

“If a man’s character is judged by those he speaks to at social gatherings, ought we not to be wary of every gentleman seated at this very table?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, though her words carried weight. “After all, you yourself have just been speaking with Lord Selwyn, who has rather publicly supported policies that I imagine you do not agree with. Should I then assume you are in league with his every thought?”

A few chuckles rippled through the nearby guests, and even Godwin let out a reluctant smile. “Touché, Miss Bennet. ”

She did not let him off so easily. “No man should be judged solely by those he has been seen conversing with. It is actions that matter, do you not think?” She gestured lightly toward Darcy. “And Mr. Darcy’s actions speak for themselves. He has managed Pemberley with wisdom and fairness, ensuring that tenant farmers are treated justly while the land prospers. I imagine that is of far greater importance to Derbyshire than who he dances with at a ball.”

Godwin studied her, then turned his gaze back to Darcy. “Your Miss Bennet is quick-witted, Darcy.”

“She is,” Darcy agreed without hesitation, watching Elizabeth with something close to admiration. It was several seconds before he recalled the fact that Godwyn had called her “his” Miss Bennet. And he had owned that accusation, such as it was, with his simple, honest confession of her merits.

The thought made his hands go clammy.

Godwin took another sip of his port, considering. “And what say you, Darcy? Your father was a careful man, a steward of tradition. Would you change the way things have always been done?”

Darcy met his gaze. This, too, was a challenge—but not about land stewardship. It was a direct question regarding his intentions toward certain alliances. His plans for the future. Well, he would not quite give the man the satisfaction he sought.

“I would preserve what is worth preserving, and I would change what must be changed. The landowners of Derbyshire have prospered under careful management, but our future depends on listening to those who work the land as well as those who own it. I have no wish to upend tradition for the sake of novelty, but I will not stand by while others use that same tradition to mask their own greed.”

Godwin was silent for a long moment. Then, he gave a slow nod. “A measured answer. Perhaps not what I expected.”

Darcy offered a wry smile. “Perhaps you should expect more from me.”

A murmur of appreciation went around the table, and Darcy noted with satisfaction that the stiff set of Godwin’s shoulders had eased. He was not yet an ally, but at the very least, the man would not be as quick to dismiss him.

And that, Darcy thought, was a victory in itself.

Beside him, Elizabeth turned her head slightly, and their eyes met. There was something in her gaze—approval, perhaps? Or understanding? Whatever it was, it sent a warmth through him that had nothing to do with the port in his glass .

He had expected her presence to be useful to him—she seemed to free his tongue somehow. He had not expected her to be a force in her own right.

And he found, rather alarmingly, that he admired her all the more for it.

Elizabeth let Darcy lead her back into the ballroom, her senses still humming with the oddest mixture of alarm and triumph. The supper had been… eventful. That much, she could admit. She had expected to be watched, scrutinized, weighed by those who would determine Darcy’s political future. What she had not expected was how much she had enjoyed herself.

Not just the intrigue, the maneuvering, or even the dancing—but the sensation of standing at Darcy’s side, facing it all together. It almost felt… real.

As they stepped back into the warmth and energy of the ballroom, Darcy turned toward her, his posture as easy as ever, though there was something in his eyes—something private, something almost… reluctant. “I believe I must now surrender you to another.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “Oh? I was under the impression you intended to monopolize my evening.”

“I would hardly call two dances a monopoly, Miss Bennet.”

“No?” she teased. “A pity. I rather enjoyed our agreement.”

His gaze flickered with something like dismay crossing his face, but before he could respond, another voice interrupted.

“There you are, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth turned to find Mr. Redmayne, one of the gentlemen who had been seated near them at dinner, approaching with an amiable smile. He was one of the Derbyshire landowners, a practical sort of man, and their conversation over supper had been pleasant enough—though there was little doubt that his sudden attention was fueled by curiosity about her association with Darcy.

“I believe you promised me a dance,” Redmayne said, bowing slightly.

Elizabeth inclined her head, suppressing a smirk as she glanced back at Darcy. “Ah, yes. I would not wish to disappoint.”

Darcy stepped back, offering a slight bow. “Enjoy your dance, Miss Bennet. ”

She curtsied and let Redmayne lead her onto the floor. The music had already begun, a lively country reel, and as they took their positions, she felt Darcy’s gaze lingering on her for just a moment before he turned away.

By the time the dance concluded, Elizabeth was certain of two things: Mr. Redmayne was a competent, if unremarkable, partner, and she had enjoyed dancing with Darcy far more than she ought to have. If she had the power of choosing, she would never have another partner.

As Redmayne escorted her off the floor and thanked her, Elizabeth turned, intending to seek out her aunt and uncle. But before she could take more than a few steps, a voice—too bright to be sincere—called out to her.

“Miss Bennet, what a delight to see you again.”

Elizabeth turned and found herself face-to-face with Miss Penelope Ashworth. She was smiling—too much, too eagerly. Elizabeth, who had barely received a glance from her at the garden party, knew immediately that this was not a greeting of genuine warmth.

Elizabeth curtsied politely. “Miss Ashworth.”

“I had not realized you would be attending this evening,” Miss Ashworth said, tilting her head in a manner that was meant to look careless but failed miserably.

Elizabeth’s lips curved. “I had not realized you would find my presence so remarkable.”

A flicker of irritation passed over Miss Ashworth’s face, but she recovered quickly. “You must be enjoying yourself. Mr. Darcy is quite the dancer.”

Elizabeth tilted her head. “Oh? I suppose he is. I have only danced with him less than a handful of times. You must have more experience in that regard.”

Miss Ashworth’s smile tightened. “Mr. Darcy was… attentive last season.”

Elizabeth lifted a brow, her voice light with curiosity. “Indeed? How fortunate for you.”

Penelope gave a delicate shrug, her eyes scanning the room. “Of course, I have long since moved on to more interesting prospects.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Ah, yes, I recall you saying that once before. Tell me, who was your partner for the last set? ”

A sharper flicker of irritation now. Miss Ashworth stiffened slightly, then inclined her head. “I was in the lady’s retiring room.”

“Ah. Very wise. One does not wish to overexert herself on the dance floor. Only think of the blisters!”

Miss Ashworth’s eyes narrowed faintly. “My next partner is waiting.” She excused herself with a perfunctory dip of her head and swirled away, her skirts sweeping elegantly behind her as she retreated into the crowd.

Elizabeth watched her go, resisting the urge to laugh.

“You are enjoying yourself,” a familiar voice murmured at her side.

She turned to find Darcy standing there, his expression one of quiet amusement. Elizabeth lifted her fan, fluttering it lazily. “I do not know what you mean, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy arched a brow. “No? That is most peculiar, Miss Bennet, for I could have sworn I just witnessed you thoroughly routing Miss Penelope Ashworth, a lady who considered herself last season’s diamond.”

Elizabeth sighed, tapping the edge of her fan against her chin. “A dreadful misunderstanding, I assure you. I merely wished her well in her pursuit of a more interesting gentleman.”

His lips twitched. “How generous of you.”

“I thought so.” She glanced at him sideways, her smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Should I be concerned that you were watching me so closely?”

Darcy leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough that she had to tilt her head to hear him. “Only if you object to being thoroughly admired.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught—just for a moment—before she recovered, her fan snapping shut in her hand. “Mr. Darcy, if I did not know better, I might accuse you of flattery.”

Darcy inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral once more, and stepped back. “I am only following instructions. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Bennet.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the shifting crowd of dancers and guests, leaving Elizabeth standing alone. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and balling her fists, repeating the same mantra in her head that she had armed herself with before coming tonight.

This was for show—all of it.

The dancing, the smiles, the effortless banter—it was a performance, meant to convince the watching eyes that she belonged at his side, that there was something real between them. Because there was not . Surely not !

But standing there, the warmth of his voice still lingering in her mind, it was difficult to remember that none of this was real.

It only felt that way.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation and careful maneuvering. Elizabeth danced once more, then spent some time at the refreshment table with her aunt and uncle. She was well aware of the glances cast her way—some curious, some approving, and others… assessing.

It was as she returned to the main salon that Lady Matlock intercepted her.

“Miss Bennet,” the countess greeted, her smile warm but her eyes sharp. “A word, if you would.”

Elizabeth curtsied. “Of course, my lady.”

The countess linked their arms, guiding Elizabeth toward the side of the room where the conversation was quieter, the lighting softer. She could feel the older woman studying her, and she wondered—briefly—if she was about to be reprimanded for something.

“Is something amiss, my lady?” she ventured when she could bear it no longer.

Lady Matlock laughed. “My dear, I mean only to thank you. You have done more for Darcy’s campaign tonight than either of you can possibly imagine.”

Elizabeth blinked, startled. “I am not sure I follow.”

“He has always been formidable, that lad. Why, I remember when he was but eight years of age, he frightened off not one, but two tutors! They all said the boy was intractable, but anyone who knew Fitzwilliam would tell you it was nothing of the kind. He was merely sharper than they, and perhaps a bit smug about it.”

Elizabeth could not help grinning. “I can easily imagine it. Mr. Darcy does cut a rather imposing figure.”

“Just so, my dear, but now, he is also… likable. You have made him approachable. And that, Miss Bennet, is the one thing no amount of money or title can buy.”

Elizabeth did not know how to respond to that. So, she said nothing at all.

But as she glanced back over the room, her eyes instinctively searching for Darcy, she found him standing alone by the window, gazing out at the night. He had been surrounded by people all evening, yet just now, by either chance or design, he had found a moment to retreat to the safety of solitude.

Her heart tugged a little. It must be dreadful for such a private man, forced into the center of the stage. Doing his best to right a wrong because there was none other to do it. It was a pity…

She swallowed, afraid of where her thoughts had suddenly taken her.

But truly, it was a pity that when this was all over—when the election was won and her reputation was cleared, they would no longer have each other as a bulwark against the world. Yes, that was… a lamentable fact. One she must take care not to forget.

Lady Matlock was already leading her into a throng of new faces, new people to meet, but before she could lose sight of him entirely, Elizabeth glanced back one more time. And, as if Darcy felt her gaze upon him, he shifted slightly, and his eyes found her across the room.

And he smiled.