Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The assembly rooms in Lambton were not at all like the ballrooms of London.
Located above the reputable Angel Inn, there was none of the sumptuous elegance Elizabeth had grown accustomed to, yet she found much to appreciate.
Warm fires blazed at each end of the room, with a group of musicians in the middle, many of whom were laughing with fellow revellers.
Everyone seemed to know one another, and it reminded Elizabeth of the dances she had attended in Meryton.
She stole a glance at Mr Darcy, wondering what he made of it all.
By the stony purse of his lips, he was unhappy at being forced to attend.
Never one for idle chit-chat, he had hardly uttered a word since they entered the carriage.
In any other man, such brooding could look churlish, but with Mr Darcy, his dark looks enhanced his allure.
The cut of his black coat accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist, giving him the appearance of a storybook prince: elegant, dashing, and strikingly handsome.
It was impossible to escape the hush as their party entered the room, and they soon became the subject of every scrutinous gaze.
Elizabeth did not mind, for she was used to the crush of London ballrooms, but she worried for Georgiana, who did not like to be the object of so much curiosity.
An acquaintance of Mr Darcy’s called his attention away, and the colonel was pressed upon to make up the numbers for the country dance.
Lady Acaster had made it clear to the master of ceremonies that neither of the younger women was to dance with a stranger, so they had to wait until Mr Darcy and the colonel returned to their side.
They sat and admired the other revellers, though Lady Acaster could not refrain from casting a critical eye over the simplicity of the evening. “Would you be content to have only this as your primary entertainment?” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I would soon tire of the same faces.”
“You have become accustomed to London.” Elizabeth wished her aunt would keep her voice down. “Knowing one’s neighbours builds a sense of community that is sadly absent in our capital.”
Lady Acaster pursed her lips. “If you wish for this to be your life, then perhaps you should show Colonel Fitzwilliam more attention.”
Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana, who was sitting on the other side of her aunt. Fortunately, her friend was captivated by the musicians, and she did not seem to hear. “I remind you of your promise not to meddle.”
Her aunt took no notice. “I suppose you would only attend this assembly regularly if you married Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s heart skipped, her aunt’s words evoking a powerful emotion.
What would it be like to arrive on his arm as his wife?
She would have probably had to coerce him into attending a public assembly, but he would have done so just to please her.
To show her thanks, she would have kissed him when there was no one else present.
He would have laughed and smiled in that private way that he seemed to reserve only for those he cared most about, and then he would return her kiss with one of his own.
A deep yearning flooded her body as she imagined his loving arms around her waist.
“I thought it prudent for Georgiana to primarily sit and observe this evening.” Lady Acaster’s voice broke Elizabeth from her bittersweet imaginings. “Ready yourself. The colonel’s dance will be over soon, and he will come and find you.”
Elizabeth watched as Colonel Fitzwilliam partnered an elegant young woman.
By the sparkle in her eyes, he had obviously just said something amusing.
She watched him move gracefully through the line.
By the time he reached the end, the young woman’s head was tipped back in laughter.
He loves to be merry. But is he capable of anything serious?
Instinctively, her eyes sought out Mr Darcy, who had broken away from his conversation, his gaze fixed on the colonel’s attention to this other woman.
Darkness descended over his expression. As the music ended, Mr Darcy took his cousin by the elbow and whispered several words in his ear.
Whatever was said was not to the colonel’s liking, for he scowled and shook himself from Mr Darcy’s grip.
With determined strides, he approached Elizabeth and bowed, his hand outstretched.
“You must pardon my delay in not dancing with you sooner. Rest assured it is you whose company I desire. May I have the honour of your hand for this next set?”
Lady Acaster all but squealed. “What a fine address!”
The colonel winked. “I shall claim my dance with you as soon as I have finished with your lovely niece.”
The older woman fanned herself vigorously. “You are too charming, sir.”
“Can there ever be such a thing as too much charm?” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied saucily before escorting Elizabeth to the line.
She glanced over her shoulder to see her aunt and Georgiana smiling broadly in her direction.
This is what my aunt had hoped, she thought, forcing down the feeling of guilt.
But I cannot be sure that this is what I want.
The line for the country dance was long, with plenty of opportunity for conversation, but Elizabeth did not have the heart for it.
“You are quiet tonight,” Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked. “The little Lizzy of my memory was forever rattling away about some injustice, or had a song to sing and a game to play.”
“Could it be that I have finally grown up?” she replied wistfully. Over the colonel’s shoulder, she saw Mr Darcy, who was watching their every step.
“It happens to us all.” He followed the direction of her gaze. “There is a man who thinks too deeply.”
Elizabeth flushed. They came together, their hands barely touching. “Mr Darcy seems troubled tonight. What did he speak of before you came to me?”
The colonel regarded her shrewdly. “We spoke of duty.”
“That sounds like a serious topic for a public assembly.”
The colonel laughed before stepping away. “Darcy is insufferably upright and proper. If he were not my dearest cousin, I might dislike him.”
“Honourable conduct is not a reason for disdain,” she admonished softly. He was only teasing, but she could not refrain from defending Mr Darcy all the same.
“I am glad you mention honourable conduct. It has come to my attention that I did not acquit myself with sufficient gallantry five years ago.” The colonel approached her again, this time more intimately, and murmured in her ear.
“I should have informed my uncle and cousin about your encounter with Mr Wickham.”
Around Elizabeth, the world spun. She was no longer in the assembly room but on the hardened ground, sobbing into a pair of strong arms. “You did enough,” she whispered.
“I am sorry I did not do more.” He withdrew.
“All is forgiven,” she replied, forcing her voice to be steady.
“I am glad,” he said, then took his place in the line.
“I should hate for any discord to affect our friendship.” The inflection was unmissable, its meaning clear.
He scrutinised her face, watching for her response.
When she gave him none, he continued in measured tones, his expression suddenly far more sober than she had ever known him to be.
“I feel duty bound to tell you that my father wishes me to marry Lady Violet Bellingford, and for the first time in my life I find myself filled with the inordinate desire to please him.”
Elizabeth looked up into the anxious face of her childhood companion.
In his own way, he is trying to be honourable.
He should not have flirted with me, nor should he have spoken about approaching my father.
Indeed, his actions were reckless, but in truth he has not injured me. I would rather we remained friends.
Seeking to reassure the colonel that this disclosure had not caused her any pain, Elizabeth gave a sincere smile and asked, “Have you met her?”
“Not yet, but by all accounts she is a virtuous young woman who enjoys riding.”
“An ideal match for you, then.” Her gaze drifted towards Georgiana and her aunt, who were doing a poor job of pretending not to watch them dance. “Have you spoken to your family of your intentions?”
“I wanted to inform you first.” A fraction of unease crossed his features. “There was a time, so I am told, that my actions towards you might have been…misconstrued, and I believe it only right to apprise you of my decision before anyone else.”
“And you thought it wise to tell me in the middle of a public assembly?” Elizabeth was caught between vexation and the desire to burst into exasperated laughter.
“If I told you at Pemberley, I think Darcy might have murdered me,” he muttered.
Elizabeth fell silent, thinking of Mr Darcy’s pledge to help her marry the colonel.
They drew together once again; this time Elizabeth hardly touched his hand. “You are very pensive, Miss Bennet. I hope I have not unduly upset you.”
She withdrew, studying the colonel’s anxious face. Five years ago, Colonel Fitzwilliam had been a good and dear companion to her; she had no wish for that to change.
“You worry over nothing.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I am glad to have your friendship.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Capital news! Now that you are back in the fold of our family, I should imagine there will be ample opportunity for our acquaintance to continue.” His eyes drifted to the far wall, where she knew Mr Darcy to be standing.
“Now that I have told you this, it would probably be wise if I make myself scarce.”
“Do you fear Mr Darcy’s displeasure?”
“Never!” he exclaimed with a wink. “My cousin may be momentarily furious with me for breaching his scrupulous notions of honour with this discussion”—his lips twisted into a knowing smirk—“but if I am any kind of authority on Darcy’s feelings, I am confident that I shall be forgiven in time.”
His mock defiance made her laugh. A low tremor of the violin signalled that their set had reached its conclusion. With an exaggerated bow, Colonel Fitzwilliam added, “I do believe Darcy is waiting to claim his dance.”
Heart hammering, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. Standing aloof, Mr Darcy was watching them, his brow creased, his lips tight. Across the room, their eyes met, and his expression softened briefly before returning to the cool, hard mask of indifference that she now knew to look beneath.
“I must catch my breath first,” she murmured, every fibre of her being alive with anticipation.