Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
F or the first few minutes of her dance with Royce, Elizabeth’s mind was occupied with Mr Darcy and their impending dance. What on earth had possessed that horrible man to ask her to dance after everything he had done to her? Realising she was using up precious time thinking about someone who did not deserve her consideration, she drew her thoughts back to the always pleasant Mr Royce.
He was an able dancer and she always liked the activity in general. Initially, it was difficult to converse because of all the commotion of the party and liveliness of the dance, but she did enjoy talking with him. As always, he could carry the conversation well, and did not leave the burden of finding a topic to her. It was a relief because in her present state, she was unequal to thinking of any subject besides the vagaries of men, and of one man in particular.
Of course, it could not help her distraction when over Royce’s shoulder she observed Mr Darcy talking to her father and Mr Gardiner, and noticed that he often looked in her direction. Why was he always staring at her? And what could he mean in speaking to her father and uncle? Did he hope to discover more objectionable things about her relations so that he might congratulate himself on having avoided them?
She shook her head to help rid her mind of him. Why am I allowing my thoughts to be consumed by him? I had been excited for this dance before Mr Darcy asked me. She looked back to Royce. He was charming, attractive, friendly, and talkative—all qualities someone would usually want in a suitor. It was easy to be around him. Though he did not yet have her heart, she felt that with all his good qualities, he might very soon.
The object of her thoughts brought Elizabeth’s attention back to the conversation when he asked, “How did you spend your day today?”
As the dance required them to circle each other, she replied energetically. “Well, I went for a walk and then planned to take up some needlework, but I confess I ended up getting lost in a book from my father’s study.”
“A book from your father’s study? Pray, which one caught your interest?” Royce looked down at her, a charming smile spread across his face.
“A tome about ancient Greek philosophers.”
“Only some light reading, then?” he teased lightly, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth laughed in agreement.
“Which philosophers did you delve into?” He clasped her hands, and they moved closer to each other.
“I was reviewing the debates between the Platonists and Sophists.”
“I see.” The dance parted them for a moment, and she continued to gaze at him as he began watching the other dancers with a contented expression.
When they returned to each other he looked on her warmly, but did not elaborate on the subject. Desiring some depth in their conversation, she pressed him further. “Have you heard of them?”
“Perhaps a little, but you know I am not well-versed in such matters,” he admitted with an abashed smile.
He is not particularly knowledgeable in intellectual matters, but perhaps he could become so with a little guidance.
“No matter, I shall enlighten you,” Elizabeth said with enthusiasm. “In essence, Plato and his followers believed there are objective and absolute truths. On the other hand, Sophists believed that truth, especially in regards to morality, is relative.”
“How intriguing.” He again turned his head and watched the other dancers glide next to him with evident enjoyment.
Pausing, Elizabeth waited for him to add more to his thoughts. He is so amiable and pleasing in countless ways, but my only complaint against him is that I do not know his genuine opinions. Since we have been reacquainted, I do not know how he truly feels about anything. I wish he would share his real views. When he remained silent, she gently prompted, “Do you lean towards one philosophy over the other?”
“I am unsure, both opinions seem to have value.”
“Yes, but if you had to choose?” She tilted her head as she looked up at him earnestly. “Is there one that appeals to you more? Is truth relative or absolute?”
He looked curious at her persistence. “I am not sure. It is too hard to say. Which side do you lean towards?”
She tried to quiet the stab of annoyance she felt at his evasiveness. “Well, I find myself supporting Plato’s beliefs. I find it rather absurd to deny the existence of objective truths, especially concerning morality. I could not bear to live in a world where heinous acts such as murder were not objectively wrong, but merely a rule created out of societal convention.”
He nodded slowly. “Now that you say it, I believe I agree with that too.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied, her smile a touch forced as she returned his gaze. They parted for a moment. Would he always simply agree with my opinions? Does he even understand these concepts?
When they met again, he promptly changed the subject. “Have you been to Oakham Mount recently?”
She imagined the disappointment on her face was showing despite her efforts to conceal it. “Not recently, have you?”
“Not since I have arrived. Perhaps we could all go soon and take in the view.”
“Perhaps,” she responded in an absent tone.
He continued energetically, “Do you recall the time we raced down it as children?”
She nodded, hoping her lack of interest was not evident.
As he continued reminiscing on the memory with growing enthusiasm, Elizabeth let out a gentle sigh, her thoughts wandering elsewhere. Perhaps he will speak more of his mind and opinions once he feels secure in my affections. Do not most people have difficulty truly being themselves until they know their feelings are reciprocated? He might need a little encouragement to make him feel more confident.
With a surge of determination to reassure him, she gave Royce an arch smile. “And as I recall, you only won that race through dishonest means. ”
He smiled back, clearly pleased, then chuckled.
After the dance concluded, he led her off the dance floor and asked, “May I get you some refreshments?”
“No, thank you,” she answered with genuine regret. “I am to dance with Mr Darcy.”
“I see,” he responded. “Very well, I shall look forward to seeing you afterwards.”
After escorting her to stand near her father, he walked away. Once he disappeared from view, the reality of the impending dance overcame her, and her knees suddenly became very weak. She cast her gaze down to the polished floor, took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to fidget with her dress. When she lifted her eyes again, she glimpsed Mr Darcy towering above the others as he walked in her direction. With every step that drew him closer, her pulse surged stronger within her. Her heart was beating so quickly she feared she might lose her balance if she moved. Nevertheless, she somehow managed to perform a curtsey without mishap.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said after he bowed.
“Mr Darcy,” she said solemnly.
He offered his arm, and she was surprised to find herself grateful to take it and enjoy the stability which it provided as they walked to join the other dancers awaiting the first notes from the piano.
Despite the wild tempest raging within her, once the music began, she was eager to display how indifferent she was to him and to maintain civility in their interactions. Their conversation was polite enough, all formality in fact. They commented on the party, his previous and future travel plans for the wedding, and how he was enjoying Netherfield. While she hoped she appeared calm and collected as she spoke, her emotions were in tumult. It was intoxicating to be so close to him. That certain frisson she felt since he had come back into her life nearly overcame her when they were this near to each other. The pangs she typically felt in her stomach at the sight of him felt as though they had taken charge over her entire being. A surge of frustration ran through her and she wondered, How can I feel this way after everything he has done to me?
As the dance drew long, they entered into silence as they moved by rote through the moves. She studied his person as she contemplated her feelings. He is a very handsome man, yes, but it is so much more than that. Once again I feel utterly drawn to him. This is all so strange! To be so attracted to a man I despise. She took a deep, stabilising breath. But, then again, given the intensity of our past connexion, it must be only natural to have some residual feelings towards him. Without the distraction of making small talk, her pull towards him only intensified. The next time their hands touched, she wanted to let her fingers linger. How I wish I did not feel this way! After they parted, pausing as she waited for the next steps, she looked towards him and found he was casting a searching look over her. She averted her gaze to look up at the ceiling and gave a small shake of her head at her own silliness. Do not overthink it. It is simply a matter of feeling an attraction, but not acting on it, which should not be too difficult for he would hardly reciprocate my feelings even if I were to express mine. When their dance steps brought them closer to one another again his eyes gazed upon her intensely and flickered to her lips for the briefest of seconds. She felt her heart skip a beat and she longed for him to pull her in and even—dare she admit it?—kiss her.
And yet hard on the heels of those longings came another feeling entirely. Anger. How dare he come here, stare at her, and stir her up as he did? In the height of her irritation, she demanded, “Why are you here?”
“Pardon me?”
“Why did you come?”
“Sir William extended an invitation to everyone at Netherfield Park. As a guest of the house, it would have been rude of me to?—”
“That is not what I meant.” She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “I mean, why did you come to Hertfordshire? To the wedding? Surely you knew I would be here. I cannot comprehend that Mr Bingley would not tell you about me and you would fail to recognise the Bennet name.”
“Bingley is one of my closest friends. He asked me to stand up with him. I could not deny him.”
“You could have made an excuse.”
“Perhaps, but I would not do that to him. Bingley is a true friend. Plus, he needed my guidance with some issues pertaining to Netherfield.” He looked off into the distance. “Trust me, it is not enjoyable for me to be here either.”
She felt hurt by this, although she did not know why, and remained silent.
“Do you and Mr Royce have an understanding?” he asked abruptly.
His expression was inscrutable; hers, she imagined, was not. Annoyance commingled with disbelief joined her earlier vexation and prompted her response. “ What?”
“Will an announcement soon be made?”
They had come to a natural stop in the figure but she moved, taking one step closer to him. Looking up she hissed, “How could you feel that you have the right to question me on any topic pertaining to matrimony?”
Realising how close they were standing, and that others were beginning to take notice, she reluctantly stepped back again. Why did tensions soar so highly and quickly between them? Happily, it was soon time for them to move in the pattern and they quickly returned to their steps.
“I do not have a right,” he said at length, “but you would honour me if you answered me regardless.”
After a calming breath, she felt she could answer him. “No.”
“No, I should not expect an announcement?”
She glanced up at him. “No, there is not an understanding between Mr Royce and I.”
“I see.” After a few moments more, Mr Darcy added, “He seems to pay a great deal of attention to you, then.”
“He has made it clear that he would not mind if we…progressed in that direction. I would not be surprised if he asked me…” She trailed off, unsure whether she should say more.
“I see,” he said quickly, and Elizabeth wondered if she only imagined the look of consternation upon his countenance.
Feeling a little mischievous, she added, “He is a very loyal friend. He has known our family for an age and uniformly admired them. He is not a gentleman, but has an excellent fortune. In any case, I do not mind his lack of status, for he is not as self-important as some people with more money and rank.”
Mr Darcy made no reply to her not-so-veiled barb.
“It would be a wise match for me in many ways.” She looked up at him and cocked her head slightly in a nonchalant way.
Mr Darcy still said nothing and stared deeply into her eyes, his lips only thin, terse lines. “Very well,” was all he said.
They did not speak anymore and the dance was soon over. As he led her away from the impromptu dance floor, she scolded herself. Why do you do that, Lizzy? Why try to provoke him by boasting of a potential marriage prospect? You already know he does not want you.
What was it about him that made her act this way?