Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
While he never participated enough to have been called a first-rate dancer, Darcy was certain no one in Pemberley’s ballroom went down the set finer than him.
It was an unfair comparison, of course, but Darcy felt it nonetheless as he led his sister down the dance at the Historical Dance Society’s Regency ball.
He was at the top of one set with Georgiana, and Elizabeth was with one of the dancers lower down in the other set, intently watching what the upper couples were doing so she could follow along when it became her turn.
“It is no longer unsuitable for brother and sister to dance at a public ball?” she asked him while they waited their turn. “Should you not ask another lady?”
She was full of questions over every little differing detail between this recreation and a ball she might have danced at last season. But it seemed to him that she enjoyed it more than he did, that she was simply happy for the opportunity to dance every dance.
“No one here is looking for marriage partners,” he answered, looking over the room.
“Groups like this promote education in and appreciation of the performance, costume, and music of dances. Besides, ladies can ask men now. If there was a lady sitting down who wanted to dance, she could approach me.”
His sister gaped, and he added, “Perhaps you ought to try that sort of assertiveness when you return home.”
She turned pink, but at least she did not argue with him, and he just enjoyed dancing with his little sister. The last time he had done so was fifteen years ago, and after the equinox he would never have the chance again.
If those thoughts were near his sister’s mind, she did not show it.
Georgiana grinned the entire time they danced.
Did she, for this short time, working their way down and figuring back up, forget she was in 2026?
In a way, although the dancers wore smart watches and not all of them had gloves, they danced how people had always danced.
Some timidly, some brazenly, some elegantly, some awkwardly, some keeping the figure of the dance and others helplessly lost.
“Will you dance again?” he asked his sister when they finished. “We can easily find you a partner, although it will probably be a lady.” Just like in the past, these events always had fewer men than women.
She shook her head, breathless, and with her hand at her side. “I am out of practice!”
Darcy led her to the chairs and was interrupted by the Historical Dance Society’s chairperson.
“You two are marvellous,” she cried, her smile beaming. “I’m so pleased you decided to join us. Mr Darcy, would you like to call the next dance?”
He turned from her to exchange a look with Georgiana, who gave a bewildered smile while he widened his eyes expressively.
The highest-ranking lady would have called the first dance, then the second-highest-ranking, and so on as ladies moved down.
Or perhaps the chairperson meant what they did nowadays and stand at the top and call out what each figure would be to instruct the novices.
Darcy kept from shrugging his shoulders.
They did their best, but these events were never quite like they once were.
“I am afraid I owe the next dance to another lady.” He bowed, earning himself a charmed giggle.
As he left, half a dozen ladies swarmed Georgiana to ask about her gown.
At least that was a subject she would not struggle with.
Sandra was dressed prettily in a little dress not unlike a gown his sister wore in her girlhood days.
It was far too late for her to be awake, but she loved these events.
Pemberley and its history were in her blood as much as they were in his.
She skipped back and forth in front of the band, but her eyes drooped.
He held out his hand. “Will you honour me with your hand for the next two dances?”
She clapped her hands and threw her arms around him.
It was surely the most cheerful acceptance to this application he ever had.
And it brought to mind the first time Elizabeth hugged him, when he offered to teach her country dances before a party when she feared her lack of knowledge would embarrass her.
He led Sandra to the dance, noting the soft eyes and tender smiles of everyone on this side of the room, his wife included.
Nothing mattered to him more than his wife and his child.
Surely, when his sister returned home, she could do nothing that would harm his family?
No choice of hers would change the life he had here.
His chest tightened at the trepidation of losing them because of some new decision Georgiana made.
Would he go to the stone circle on the equinox and say goodbye to his sister only in his next breath to find that Elizabeth was not with him, that his daughter did not exist?
Sandra was looking at him in some concern; he had to keep his countenance. His worries were nothing a seven-year-old had to think on.
“Do you remember this one?” he whispered when the band began.
“It’s a three-person reel, Daddy. It’s like the easiest one.”
Scotch reels were certainly shorter, and simpler, with merely eight bars of reeling, followed by eight setting in place.
But the steps were lively, and some danced with more vigour than others.
Everyone was constantly moving, so much so that they were once thought to be better adapted to one’s private circle at home than to a public ball, but who was he to deny these re-enactors their amusement?
He and Sandra garnered quite a bit of notice.
She was enthusiastic and talented, and he already knew how much people seemed delighted by a father interacting with his daughter.
He could practically hear every exclamation of admiring approval, although why it was particularly attractive and pleasant to see them together, he did not understand.
Perhaps that would have been the same in any time. He would have to ask his sister.
Elizabeth wore a similar fond look when they finished and he brought Sandra to her.
Elizabeth had the most expressive eyes and smile he had ever known, and right now her countenance burst to assure him he was everything his family needed.
Perhaps she was right that he had not been as dreadful a father at first as he feared.
“You danced so well, honey,” Elizabeth said to Sandra. “And now it’s time for bed. It’s almost eleven.”
She shook her head as the rest of her sagged. “No, I wanna stay up to watch even if I don’t know all the dances.”
“Is it not very late, Miss Darcy?” Darcy insisted.
She yawned widely. “No.”
“Aren’t you cycling with your mother tomorrow? How will you beat her in a race if you’re so tired from watching the dancers?” Elizabeth did not yet have a bike, but she jogged along with her as Sandra pedalled around the park.
“I’m determined to beat you this time,” Elizabeth added with a straight face.
Sandra rubbed her eyes. “No, I’m gonna win,” she said through another yawn.
Georgiana took her hand. “I am tired too. I am not used to dancing all night or these sorts of late hours. Let us get you to bed so you can win your race. I will read you a story.”
Sandra would have stayed up until she collapsed, but Aunt Georgiana swayed her.
“When did she get so big?” Elizabeth whispered as they walked away. “She’s almost eight already.”
In another ten to fifteen years, she would be an adult and leave to live her own life, and as Sandra grew up, she would want his input and guidance less and less.
He must find a way to render less disagreeable that unblinking vigilance any gentle and sensible father judged necessary in the care of his only daughter.
Elizabeth rested a hand on his arm, and he led her a little apart from the crowd. “You’re a devoted father, you know. And you always were. You put every other father to shame as far as I’m concerned.”
He did love that little girl more than anything, save for his wife. And while he still felt he had not done as well as he ought to have at first, perhaps he had done the best he could at the time. But now Elizabeth’s heated look brought other things to mind.
“Are you saying you approve of me, dearest?”
“Not only are you a good dad, but you did a wonderful job welcoming everyone this evening. For such a reserved person, you’re a remarkably good public speaker. Not to mention a skilful dancer.”
“You would never have fit in the nineteenth century, Mrs Darcy, with so many compliments, and to a man, no less.”
“I’m sure the ladies flirted with you in other ways. How were you still single when I met you when you could command a room like you did tonight?” she murmured.
“I was informed at the time it was because I was a jerk.”
Her cheeks tinted pink as she gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, I can admit to being a little wrong about you. It turns out, on top of being a good father, all that confidence and authority is very attractive. You might be able to get away with some very bold things with me, Mr Darcy.”
“I am bold enough to request your fair hand for the next dance.”
Her pretty eyes darkened. “I was hoping you had some other bold things in mind.”
That playfulness, that versatility of expression, and those touches of sensibility were as irresistibly attractive and fascinating now as they were when he first met Miss Bennet in 1811.
And now that they were married, Elizabeth flirted with him mercilessly, and she would with increasing boldness as the evening went on.
He would never react the way she wanted in public, but that was likely the appeal to her.
He would become more austere, more reserved as she grew charmingly, and alarmingly, more provocative.
It would only culminate when they were truly alone, long after the end of the night, when he would pay back every tease in private.
He still did not want to kiss his wife in a crowded ballroom. But why could he not provoke her in return directly?
“What is that grin for, Mr Darcy?”
He lived here now, in this century. They could act any way they wished with each other so long as the other approved. He could be just as flirtatious without kissing his wife senseless in front of gawking strangers. “I think you owe me a penance for speaking so scandalously to me in public.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to lure Miss Bennet to an alcove and have your way with her?” Her eyes danced as she teased him. She was not taking him seriously.
“Never. But I do have designs on Mrs Darcy and a way for her to make amends for teasing me. Pemberley’s events director is behind you trying to catch my eye.
” He nodded to her and held up a hand. “I promised to speak to this group again about the chalked floor, and as much as I know seeing me command a room moves you, I want you to go to the library and wait for me.”
“Why?” A wrinkle of confusion appeared between her brows. He only stared. “What am I going to do while I wait?”
It was so out of character for him that she could not even guess. She wanted an answer, and while he had no trouble speaking it aloud when they were alone, saying it in public was much too far for him. Instead, he whispered it into her ear.
Elizabeth blew out a breath and her gaze darted left to right, likely to see if anyone overheard. He met her eye, silently insisting that she reply. He had absolutely astonished her, but she did not look outraged. “Well,” she said breathlessly, “I could do that, but then what do I need you for?”
He should have known she would redouble her efforts to scandalise and entice him. She expected him to shake his head, amused, and walk away only to answer in the late hours when they were alone in their chamber.
“Because of what I’ll do with you after I watch you,” he murmured.
Her pupils blew open, and he admired the way her short, shallow breaths moved her chest in her high-waisted gown and stays. “Why don’t we,” she stammered, “why don’t we just go to bed after your talk?”
“Because I have to stay until the end of the night, and you can’t wait that long.”
He held her gaze, and if it wasn’t true before, he saw in her eyes it was true now. “I feel like you’re punishing me for flirting with you.”
Nothing in her looks or voice said she objected.
“You can stay here to the end of the event, and we can go to bed after as we always do.” He spread one hand around her waist and held her firm, but not bringing her against his body.
Leaning down slightly, he added in a lower voice, “If you agree you deserve it, go to the library and wait for me.”
He used a sterner tone than was typical.
Not quite a demand, but the slight whimper that escaped her lips told him she didn’t mind it at all.
Elizabeth took a slow, deep breath, and he wondered what she would do.
Deny him now and make it up to him later, or surrender to his request. Either option warmed his blood, but she could choose.
He stepped away, and to his delight, Elizabeth threw him a saucy smile, curtseyed, and said, “I look forward to a thorough and lengthy discussion in the library, Mr Darcy.”