Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
E lizabeth tugged at the satin dress she was wearing as she sat between Kitty and Mr Hurst at the dining table. She felt wildly uncomfortable in Miss Bingley’s clothes—their garish hues, the tightness of the cut, and the thin material felt almost indecent going over her curves. To say nothing of being cold! Despite the fact that the dress chosen for her tonight was the finest satin she had ever seen, Elizabeth felt unnerved by wearing clothes she did not own. Her discomfort was only amplified at Miss Bingley’s sour expression when she saw Elizabeth and all of her sisters in the borrowed garments. Elizabeth hoped to wear her own much less fashionable gown tomorrow and return home to Longbourn, where she could wear her well-worn muslins and wool without worries of staining or tearing her attire.
Nor would her own gowns give her the sickly pallor that the colour of this particular gown provided; she could not help but wonder if Miss Bingley chose this pinkish-yellow hue for her on purpose. In addition to her usual haughtiness, the lady treated Elizabeth as some sort of rival for Mr Darcy’s affections. Generally, she would laugh at such a thought, for she had previously been so sure of his indifference towards her. But tonight, she could not help but wonder at him.
‘I have been such a fool, Elizabeth.’
She could not understand the meaning of the words he had declared only hours earlier. Did he imply that he regretted ending their previous attachment? Or did he only mean he regretted speaking without tenderness on that fateful day?
She pushed her carrots to the side of her plate as she pondered his most recent disclosures, especially that he had acted so coldly to her out of shock and grief at his father’s untimely death. Was he telling her these things to express remorse that they were not able to marry or was he suggesting that the outcome could have been different had his father not died so unexpectedly? Or, as seemed more likely, he would have expressed the same sentiments but in a kinder or gentler manner? Her head fairly whirled with the attempt to understand him. She was thankful she was not seated next to him at dinner, so she would not be forced to speak to him and decipher his meanings. It would be too overwhelming.
Mr Bingley interrupted her thoughts, as he asked Jane, “How does Miss Mary fare this evening?”
“Much better,” Jane responded. “She remains weak, but has made much progress today.”
Elizabeth glanced towards their end of the table, where Mr Darcy also sat, intending to add her own thoughts on Mary’s condition. However, she was quickly distracted by Mr Darcy’s unyielding stare. She almost started when she met his eyes, as there was something in his looks that was altered. There was no air of awkwardness as there usually was. Instead, he gazed at her with a look of determination.
She hoped her flush was not easily detected by the others as she looked back to her plate. “I am certain she will be fully recovered and out of her room by tomorrow morning. With Netherfield’s drive cleared, perhaps some of my sisters, if not Mary, might return to Longbourn. My mother must be frantic without Jane at home to prepare for her wedding.”
Mr Bingley and Jane exchanged happy smiles and as conversation about the wedding began, Elizabeth was unable to resist another glance at Mr Darcy. Not only was he still looking at her, but he also dared a charming smile. Confused, she looked away abruptly.
He continued with this behaviour throughout dinner. It was unnerving to say the least.
Others at the table began to notice his bold looks at her, but to Elizabeth’s great relief, Lydia and Kitty seemed unaware. Although she did not wish illness on Mary, Elizabeth was thankful she was still absent. Her observant sister certainly would have taken notice, and likely sent disapproving looks his way.
Miss Bingley appeared the most intrigued, as she repeatedly glanced from Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. She attempted to distract him more than once by directing conversation back to herself, but his attentions were not swayed. Elizabeth did not dare to be caught looking at him again, and focused her attentions on her plate and the conversation—dull as it was—of Mr Hurst beside her.
After dinner, the party went into the drawing room. After no little time, Miss Bingley introduced an idea. “Why do we not all dance? We have not partaken in the activity since we were all together at Lucas Lodge,” she suggested as she batted her eyes coquettishly in Mr Darcy’s direction.
Before the ladies could agree, Elizabeth was surprised to hear Mr Darcy energetically speak. “That sounds splendid. Come Bingley, Hurst, let us move the rugs and furniture.”
Elizabeth could not help but raise her eyebrows at him. It was so contrary to his usual reluctance for the activity. The rest of the party agreed to the idea and the men began moving the furniture, so there would be enough room to dance.
“Of course, Miss Elizabeth, you will have to play for us, for no one here plays so well as you.” Miss Bingley smirked in Elizabeth’s direction.
She had just opened her mouth to respond, when Mr Darcy cut in, saying, “I am sure she would oblige, but I would ask you to permit her to begin after the first set.” Then, turning towards Elizabeth, he enquired respectfully, “Miss Elizabeth, will you do me the honour of the first dance?” He smiled as he looked at her, leading to giggles from Kitty and Lydia.
A simple “Yes” was all Elizabeth could muster.
After the room was situated to their liking, Mr Darcy walked determinedly towards her to retrieve her for the dance. Her heart jumped as she saw him come, looking so very tall and commanding. It was not to her credit that he disarmed her so easily merely by walking in her direction.
“May I?” He held out his hand. His demeanour and features were more relaxed than usual. She only nodded and he smiled as he led her to the improvised dance floor. At the pianoforte, Miss Bingley began playing a reel, and they commenced dancing.
“Smiling does you good,” she blurted out. She shook her head slightly as she chastised herself for speaking her thoughts aloud to him.
“What do you mean?” He chuckled softly as he looked down at her.
“Um, only that you just…look…handsome when you smile,” she said, blushing wildly.
“We have only been dancing a minute, and you are already blushing and commenting on my looks,” Mr Darcy whispered in her ear as their moves brought them closer together. Their hands clasped as part of the dance, and he held her hand a moment longer than would be deemed proper.
“Despise me for my lowly country manners if you dare.” She gave him an arch smile, refusing to reveal any other signs of embarrassment. “You know you are a handsome man. You would have to be quite daft to not realise it, or its effect on ladies.”
She could not help herself from laughing as she said it. It was bold to say such things to a man, but though it was surely an awkward conversation, she felt comfortable in his presence. It was, she knew, their shared history; no matter how much pain had been felt in it, they had been linked intimately at one time. In an odd way, speaking with him felt very similar to conversing with a close friend.
“Shall we change the subject?” she said gaily. “It is your turn to introduce a topic, for I seem unable to carry an ordinary conversation this evening.”
His left eyebrow lifted. “I quite like your topic of conversation. I daresay we should keep it going. Let us discuss different settings in which you have seen me, and what degree of handsomeness I had in them.”
They both laughed and Elizabeth marvelled at the alteration in his character. He seemed to be flirting with her! Deciding to change the subject herself, she said, “You have been absent most of the day. I hope nothing dreadful occupied you.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, there was a matter of business, and I had to determine how to approach it.”
“I see. I hope the time alone permitted you clarity of mind.”
“It did. I have decided on the course of action I will take.”
“Good,” she said, and from there conversation seemed to wither. He looked more uncomfortable and for a short time they said nothing, only moving through the pattern silently while Mr Bingley and Jane, Kitty and Lydia, and the Hursts danced down the line.
Elizabeth, unwilling for the dance to end without further conversation, desired to tease him more. “Are you often silent unless your dance partner carries the conversation?”
“I shall talk of whatever you request,” he said. “Should we discuss all the couples dancing? Or perhaps books?”
“No—I cannot talk of books while dancing. My head is always full of something else.”
They carried on in this manner and as the last notes neared, he said, “This is my third time dancing with you. I must say each dance has been different from the one preceding it.”
“How so, sir?”
“The first time we were falling in love, and the second time, I believe you hated me.”
“And what about this one? How would you categorise this dance?”
The music stopped, and the time had come for him to give her up again. He stopped smiling, and looking at her intently, said quietly, “And this time I am imagining what it could have been like for us had I not given you up in Kent.”
She started and almost let out an audible gasp. The invisible but fraught line she had only inched towards, he had completely crossed. As if he had not just said something shocking, Mr Darcy led her towards the pianoforte where she would take her turn to play. He bowed and stepped away. Elizabeth prepared herself to play, even as his words had left her feeling discomfited and unsure of herself.
Her fingers traced over the keys, unable to think of tunes to pull from memory for her mind was too full of thoughts of Mr Darcy. The more distance she had from his advances, the more she felt vexation begin to rise in her chest. He had previously expressed regret over how things had ended between them, but not once had he suggested that regret should be turned into a different future for them. But here he was, seemingly doing just that. How could he play with her emotions so casually? Did he not know how difficult it was for her to be around him after he broke her heart? He could not flirt with her as if he had not crushed her heart all those years ago!
She dared a glance towards him when she could, and had every intention of glaring furiously at him. When her eyes found him, however, her icy heart was thawed at what she saw.
Mr Darcy had walked past Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, Jane, and then Lydia to stand in front of a very unassuming Kitty, who was sitting in an armchair and lightly tapping her feet to the music. Elizabeth saw him bow, and though she could not hear from where she was, could infer that he asked her for the next dance. Kitty’s face filled with pleasure at being singled out, and Elizabeth wondered whether her own surprise was as evident. She had every expectation that he would not dance with any of her sisters after he danced with her, as he typically avoided dancing with those he did not know well. She had doubted that he would even dance with Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst, given his general aversion to the activity and his tendency to avoid doing things that did not align with his own desires. Elizabeth’s vexation faded into appreciation at the sight, realising that Mr Darcy had sought to make one of her sillier sisters feel more welcome during their unexpected stay at Netherfield.
The dancers stood up in their line and she began her chosen piece for the dance. As she touched each key, she attempted to think of his actions with a clear head. She did believe now that he most certainly was making advances towards her. But, she could absolutely under no circumstances take him seriously. He was more than likely caught up in the emotion of being around a former lover coupled with feeling dull while in the country. A fleeting infatuation. She would try to avoid him for the remainder of her time at Netherfield. She would marry Royce, never see Mr Darcy again, and live the rest of her life with him as simply a memory of her youth.