Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Miss Bennet, would you do me the honour of the next dance?”
Warmth spread through Elizabeth as she accepted Mr Darcy’s outstretched hand.
Could he feel her racing pulse? Around them, the music swelled; the violins’ trembling cry blended with the low, melodious resonance of a clarinet.
She had a vague awareness of other people, dancers and musicians, onlookers and merrymakers, but they faded to nothing in his presence.
All her attention was for him alone. The broad sweep of his shoulders, his decisive, graceful movements, the handsome gravity in his gaze as he looked upon her: she drank them in.
This moment was to be committed to her memory, so that she might treasure it for the rest of her life.
He applied a gentle pressure to her hand and smiled.
Such an innocent action but one that spoke of a genuine, unguarded happiness.
How she longed to touch him, to run her fingers along the stubble of his chin, wind them through his curls.
None of this was permissible in a public place, so instead she returned his gesture with a soft press of her own.
Was it her imagination that saw desire kindle in his eyes?
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, like a bird beating against the bars of a cage.
They drew close together, his broad shoulders blocking out the candles on the sconces beyond, and for a moment it was as though there were no other souls in the universe.
He drew his hand away, the tips of his fingers tracing the edge of her arm.
Desire swept through her. Elizabeth lifted her gaze to his face; his eyes never left hers.
As the music soared, their hands met again.
Under his touch, her whole body was afire.
Nothing else existed but him and her and this relentless, yearning tension.
Elizabeth knew then that her heart was hopelessly and irrevocably lost.
He believes me to be in love with his cousin. The thought sobered her. Valiantly, she tore her eyes from him. “How do you find the assembly room?” she asked, remembering their previous attempt at conversation whilst dancing.
Dimples formed in his cheeks. “It could do with a little more grass, but I like it well enough.” They stood to one side as the other dancers performed the steps. Mr Darcy’s smile deepened. “What do you think of the other couples?”
Elizabeth made a show of looking about the room, taking in Georgiana, who had been persuaded to dance with the colonel. Her heart warmed at the sight. “I am pleased to note there are decidedly fewer sheep than last time.”
Mr Darcy followed the direction of her gaze and frowned. “My cousin seems to be in high spirits.” He returned his attention to her. “I believe I know the cause of his jubilation.”
“It is the colonel’s nature to seek happiness wherever he goes. After the loss of his brother, I am sure he wishes to embrace the joys of living.”
Their hands touched again, this time for Elizabeth to be gently turned under his arms. Quietly he said, “Has he spoken to you of his plans for the future?”
This frank question took her by surprise. She had no intention of discussing her earlier conversation with the colonel, but she would not lie to Mr Darcy either. “He has.”
A shadow passed briefly across his face. “I wish you every joy, Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam is a supremely fortunate man.”
Her chest tightened, and she turned under his arm in the opposite direction. “I must correct you,” she said softly. “He informed me of his intention to wed Lady Violet.”
Mr Darcy stopped still, causing the man behind him to stumble.
Eyes dark, his body trembled with suppressed rage.
Elizabeth swiftly apologised to the disgruntled dancer, guiding Mr Darcy out of position and into a nearby corner.
Reaching down, she rubbed the side of her slipper.
“Let us pretend that my foot is hurting, and you may take a moment to compose yourself.”
For once, Mr Darcy was not paying her any notice, his shoulders tense as he craned his neck to search out his cousin. “I will kill him,” he muttered. “I will remove that charming tongue and shove it—”
“You will do no such thing,” Elizabeth admonished gently. “Robust as you are, I am not sure you would enjoy being incarcerated for murder. Besides, who would inherit Haddon Court? We could not allow that noble estate to fall into disrepair.”
Nostrils flared, he stared at her, still attempting to regain his composure. “Why are you not more upset? Are these jests to conceal your suffering? Do not hide your true feelings from me.”
My true feelings. She swallowed, her mouth dry. If only I were at liberty to speak freely to you! Clearing her throat, she said in a low voice so only he might hear, “You are confused as to my lack of a broken heart?”
He nodded, and, her pulse unsteady, she continued quietly, “Once there was a time when I considered your cousin to be my hero. Foolishly, I took his liveliness and good spirits and built them into far greater qualities than they actually are.” A deep blush burnt her cheeks.
“Recently, I have come to esteem other attributes in a gentleman—ones that I am afraid Colonel Fitzwilliam lacks.”
“Such as?” Mr Darcy’s hands were still clenched, but a raw vulnerability caught in his voice.
“To the colonel, every object is a joke. In my view, he is only just now learning the importance of responsibility to others. I should far rather live my life with a serious man with honourable principles than with a frivolous man with scarcely any at all.”
Mr Darcy’s eyes widened, and he took a step closer, his lips parted as though to speak. Behind him there was a gasp, followed by a clatter. Alarmed, Elizabeth peered over his shoulder. Across from them, sprawled on the floor, was Georgiana, with Colonel Fitzwilliam standing only a few steps away.
Elizabeth immediately hurried to her friend’s side, placing a soothing hand under Georgiana and helping her to her feet. Mr Darcy occupied himself with the colonel, grabbing him by the elbow and hauling him away in the crowd.
Elizabeth guided Georgiana to one side; the musicians resumed their playing, and the dance continued. “What happened?”
“I-I became dizzy and lost my footing.”
“Do you wish to return to your seat? I shall sit with you.”
Pushing a golden ringlet from her eyes, Georgiana drew a tremulous breath. “No,” she said with quiet strength. “For too long, I have avoided situations such as this. It was nothing but a stumble. I have survived far worse.”
Tears of pride pricked Elizabeth’s eyes. Her voice full of emotion, she said under her breath, “From where I stood, it looked like a faultless execution of the Andalusian Fall. It appears I have taught you well.”
Georgiana squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “More than you can ever know.” She looked about herself. “Now, where are our dance partners?”
“They have disappeared,” replied Elizabeth as her gaze fell upon a corner at the far side of the room where Mr Darcy, by the sharp, angry gestures of his hands, evidently had much to say about his cousin’s conduct.
“Good gracious, whatever is the matter with my brother? He must not blame Fitzwilliam for my unfortunate loss of balance.”
Elizabeth’s skin prickled as she recalled Mr Darcy’s blistering anger.
Not yet equal to disclosing what had passed between them, she simply shrugged.
“I cannot be sure what they are discussing.” She watched as Mr Darcy gave one final riposte and stalked away in the opposite direction to the colonel. Though I have my suspicions.