Chapter Twenty-Three #3
Miss Elizabeth, he noted, was lower down the line with Hugh.
He could have wished his young brother was a more attentive partner, for Hugh seemed intent on watching Jane Bennet’s every step as she danced with Hurst, to the detriment of giving proper attention to Miss Elizabeth.
She, luckily, seemed more amused than offended.
Gracious, as always. It amused Darcy that Bingley, too, was so intent upon Miss Bennet, he probably did not notice with whom he danced.
Darcy gave Miss Standley a very proper bow at the end of their set, and escorted her back to her mother. It was a relief to join his stepmother at the table, and he sank down into a chair, sighing. Georgiana drooped at her mother’s side, trying to hide her yawns behind a borrowed fan.
His stepmother’s calm voice disturbed him. “Will you not dance again, Fitzwilliam?”
“Not until the last set, ma’am.” He glanced around the room. Elizabeth and the Bingley ladies had partners. “I have danced with all the ladies of our party, and do not know any other here.”
“And no one can ever be introduced at a ball.”
Darcy snorted. “It was quite enough to dance with Miss Standley. Has she aught amiss with her eyes, do you know? Some ailment? Her eyelashes fluttered so vigorously throughout the set, I looked for a fly in her eye.”
“Fitzwilliam! How ungallant.” She laughed softly, and he returned the smile.
He glanced around the room. Neither Bingley nor Miss Bennet had partners for the current set and sat nearby, their heads close together as they talked.
What did they find to converse about so intimately, each hanging on the other’s every word?
Beside him his stepmother stirred, and when he looked at her, she too was watching Bingley and Miss Bennet.
“Things seem to be progressing nicely.” Mrs Darcy smiled, and looked satisfied. “It is early days, of course.”
Darcy hesitated. The Bennet ladies were her nieces, after all. “He is a fine prospect for Miss Bennet, but her mother… You are better acquainted with Mrs Bennet. She seems quite forward in her machinations and would be very pleased to see her daughters well established in life.”
“Every mother’s hope.” Mrs Darcy glanced at Georgiana, whose eyelids were almost closed now.
“Will she allow her daughter to refuse any eligible offer? I mean no insult to the Misses Bennet, and I hold them in high regard. Bingley is a dear friend and I wish only for his happiness, and knowing his disposition, he would not do well in a marriage without true affection. Miss Bennet’s manners are amiable, she is cheerful and engaging, and she receives his attentions with obvious pleasure, but she is so serene, always smiling…
” Darcy waved a hand to indicate his inability to articulate his concerns.
“Well, that serenity is too complete for me to divine whether her heart is likely to be easily touched.”
“She is as reserved as you, I think.”
That brought him up short, as though someone had hauled back sharply on his reins. He felt his face burn.
“Both Jane and Elizabeth are honest and true. Neither would feign interest or affection for mere pecuniary advantage. What is more, Jane is an eligible match for a man whose roots… well, she is a gentlewoman, and by that measure alone, would raise him in society’s eyes.”
Had he offended her? He nodded acceptance. “Her interest is for Bingley to discover. Taking an estate within easy distance of Pemberley and the Bennets will allow him to do so.”
“It strikes me that you and Mr Bingley—whom I like a great deal—have that in common. I do not think you would thrive within an unhappy connection, either.” His stepmother leaned forward, and laid a hand upon his sleeve.
“I am loathe to offer advice, because it can often go amiss, and you and I have not the ease together that… well. We cannot change the past. But do understand this, Fitzwilliam. As with my other children, I wish you nothing but happiness. Where you find it, is for you to determine, but I cannot imagine you will be content if you opt for a society marriage, based, as they so often are, solely on considerations of connections and wealth. Those are important, of course, but I believe you will be happiest with a wife who has character, moral worth, and good principles, with whom you can share a strong affection and respect.”
His eyes found Miss Elizabeth, dancing with some stranger.
When he looked at his stepmother again, she smiled, patted his arm, turned to Georgiana and suggested she escort her daughter to bed. Georgiana murmured something and dropped Darcy a wobbly curtsey while Mrs Darcy promised to return to resume her chaperone duties when she had settled her daughter.
Darcy sat back, nursing the glass of wine brought him by an attentive servant, and watched the flash of candlelight on the gold embroidery adorning Miss Elizabeth’s dress as she stepped a lively measure.
She was smiling broadly, her head thrown back, her face alive with joy.
Honest and true, worthy and principled. Yes.
That he could believe, without hesitation.
The psalmist must have had her image in his mind’s eye, when he sang about her price being above rubies.
The wait until the last set seemed interminable, but his stepmother, with whom he was more in charity than he had been these last twenty-five years, had left him a great deal to think about.