Chapter 5 #2
“May I have the honor of this dance?” he asked. He reminded himself that he had not intended to dance. Yet intention, he found, was not always proof against curiosity.
There was the slightest pause.
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “I think not, sir,” she said. The refusal was gentle and unembarrassed.
Darcy found himself regarding her more closely. “You refuse me outright?”
“I do,” she said, and turned fully toward him.
The movement brought her face into clearer view. The contrast between her eyes was unmistakable. One clouded, still. The other alive with expression.
She smiled. “I would not wish to disrupt the set,” she continued. “It requires a degree of awareness I cannot promise to maintain on both sides.” There was humor in it, and self-possession.
Darcy felt, unexpectedly, a brief pang of something like sympathy. He dismissed it at once. Instinct told him she would not welcome it. “I am certain you would acquit yourself very well,” he said instead.
“On one side, perhaps,” she replied. “The other might prove less reliable.”
Bingley laughed.
Mrs. Collins’ expression softened, though she said nothing. There was a moment—a brief, unspoken exchange between the sisters. A glance, a shift, something that passed without words.
“Lizzy,” Mrs. Collins said gently, “the air is rather warm. You might find the terrace more agreeable.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Perhaps.”
Darcy observed her more closely now.
There was a faint tension at the corner of her eye. A slight narrowing, as though the light pressed too strongly. A headache. He recognized the signs.
“I should be pleased to attend you,” he said. Darcy spoke the truth. It was not his nature to place himself in such a position, but he could not resist. Something about the lady called to him, and he wished to speak more with her.
Miss Bennet considered him for a moment.
Then she nodded. “Thank you.” She reached for her walking stick, her fingers finding it without hesitation.
It was too long for her, he noted, but the way she caressed the handle told him she was used to its limitations and did not mind.
Darcy offered his arm. She accepted it with her free hand, her grip light but assured.
They moved together toward the doors.
Darcy adjusted his pace without conscious thought, guiding her gently when needed. A gentleman passed too close—Darcy shifted slightly, altering their path before contact could occur.
Miss Bennet did not remark upon it.
The terrace lay beyond, the night air cooler, the brightness of the assembly softened by distance. The contrast was immediate.
His companion exhaled. “That is better.”
Darcy released his breath as well, though he had not been aware of holding it. “The room is excessively lit,” he said.
“It is,” she agreed. “Though I cannot deny that it has its advantages.”
“For you?”
“Yes. It clarifies what lies nearest. At a cost, perhaps, but not without benefit.” She closed her eyes briefly and the tightness around her eyes relaxed.
Darcy considered this. “You adapt remarkably.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “One must.”
They walked slowly, remaining within sight of the room. The sounds of music and conversation drifted outward, softened by the open air.
“I am told your sister is at Netherfield,” Elizabeth said.
“She is.” Georgiana. Yes, his irate, irrational young sister had not answered the door when he tried to bid her farewell.
“And she does not attend?” Her tone was curious, not censorious.
“She does not.” Even though she had wished it.
“Is she very young?”
“Sixteen.” Too young to have men ogling her. And far too young to expose herself to the pettiness of society.
Miss Bennet nodded. “Then Lydia would say she is quite unjustly excluded.” There was humor in her tone.
Darcy’s lips curved slightly. “Lydia?” Who was Lydia? He scolded himself for not paying more attention to introductions.
“My youngest sister.” Miss Bennet tapped her stick on the stones beneath their feet.
“I see.” He did not. In fact, he was more confused than ever.
“She considers herself fully prepared for society. And at just fifteen years of age.” Miss Bennet chuckled, and the sound washed over him, warming him from head to toe.
“And is she?” His words sounded strangled. The smell of Miss Bennet’s perfume filled his senses. It was all he could do to focus on their conversation.
Miss Bennet smiled. “She believes she is. That may suffice. My sister is remarkably mature for her age. Life has the tendency to shape us in ways we did not expect.” There was something in her tone that called attention to more than her words.
He wondered if their meaning was broader than they seemed. Darcy allowed the answer to stand.
“Will your sister join you in society in time?” Miss Bennet asked. “I find that young ladies adapt better to being out if they are allowed some freedom to socialize.”
It was a conclusion he had already reached. “She will,” Darcy said. “Though she was not pleased to be left behind tonight.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “No?”
“No. She wished very much to attend.”
“And you refused her?”
He huffed a little. “I did not think her ready for an assembly. A card party, perhaps, or even supper at another manor, but not a place where she knows no one.” Georgiana was shy. Darcy felt certain his little sister would have joined him on the wall and not danced a single set.
Miss Bennet’s expression shifted slightly. “Was she angry?”
“For a time.” No need to mention that his sister had shut herself in her chambers and refused to speak with him. How had Georgiana grown so…petulant?
“And now?” Miss Bennet’s head was turned slightly so her good eye could examine his expression.
Darcy paused. “She will forgive me.”
Elizabeth’s smile returned. “Then she is a most agreeable sister. Lydia is also at that trying age. She is less forgiving than most, however.”
“Georgiana is…young,” Darcy said. Too young to be giving him so much trouble.
Miss Bennet inclined her head. “That is not a permanent condition. May I recommend introducing her to ladies her own age? It might cure the worst of her rebelliousness.”
Darcy almost smiled. Miss Bennet had much more experience than he had with young girls. Her advice was worth considering.
They continued in silence for a moment. The night air was cool. The tension at the edges of the evening had eased. Darcy found himself less inclined to withdraw, less inclined to judge.
Beside him, Miss Bennet walked with assurance, her steps measured, her attention attuned not only to what she could see, but to what she sensed.
There was a steadiness in her, a composure that did not depend upon ease.
Darcy found it…compelling.
When they returned to the room, the assembly had begun to thin.
Bingley approached at once, his expression still bright. “Darcy—Miss Bennet—there you are.”
Miss Bennet released Darcy’s arm. He felt the loss immediately.
“Thank you,” she said. “Our conversation was enlightening, and I appreciate the company.”
Darcy inclined his head.
The evening drew toward its close. The Netherfield party stood near Mrs. Collins and her family as they, too, gathered their things and readied to board their conveyance. Miss Bingley’s gaze had lingered upon Miss Bennet’s walking stick with poorly concealed curiosity.
Once they were all enclosed and on the way back to Bingley’s leased estate, Miss Bingley spoke.
“I cannot think why such a person would attend a ball,” she said, her tone edged with disdain. “It is quite—uncomfortable.”
Darcy had hardly noticed Miss Bingley over the course of the evening. He had not danced once, even with her. The lady’s remarks about Miss Bennet irked him.
“Miss Bennet is Mrs. Collins’s sister,” Bingley said at once. “She suffered an injury some years ago.”
“Indeed?” Mrs. Hurst asked. “How unfortunate.”
“So, I am told.” Bingley shrugged.
Miss Bingley made a small sound. “It is not suitable. Why torture the rest of the guests with her ghastly face.”
Darcy said nothing. It would do little good to defend Miss Bennet from the harpy sitting across from him. In fact, it would likely make the poor lady a target for Miss Bingley’s vitriol.
He looked out into the darkness. He rather thought Miss Bennet’s attendance was perfectly suitable. And he found, to his own surprise, that he had liked her very much. Darcy had not expected to find anything worthwhile in this part of the country. He was very happy to have been proven wrong.