Chapter Four #3
There was a voice calling Mr. Darcy’s name from behind them, but they ignored it, stepping outside instead. She watched as Mr. Darcy gave the balcony a cursory once-over, and, assured they were alone, began to speak.
“Miss Elizabeth, if it is too soon…”
She placed her gloved hand gently over his mouth and his breathing hitched. “You said you have been proposing all along,” she said pensively, lowering her hand.
His words were tender, but direct. “I have.”
“I will never have a proposal as exquisite as that dance, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly.
Mr. Darcy took her hand and bowed over it to bestow a kiss. His eyes lifted to hers, and in them she saw love, anticipation, even desire. It was lovely and discomforting at the same time.
She touched his face, and his eyes closed as he leaned his cheek against her palm.
“Yes,” she said.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes flew open. “Yes?”
She smiled broadly, then. “This is an unfortunate time to lose your hearing, Mr. Darcy.”
He grasped her hand, reverently turning her palm up, sliding her long glove down, and placing a feather-light kiss on the inside of her wrist. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned against him as her legs weakened. Her lips parted slightly, and she sighed involuntarily.
“Please do not tease me, dearest, I beg of you.” He straightened, pulling her glove carefully back into place while still providing her a steady arm. Then he placed a hand beneath her chin and carefully lifted it. His eyes burned into hers. “Tell me truly. Will you marry me?”
Without moving her eyes, she wrapped both of her hands around his. “I will.”
“You are fortunate it was Bingley and me who made up your set,” Richard hissed in his ear as Darcy entered the ballroom with Elizabeth on his arm. “I do not think anyone else was paying attention.”
Darcy recalled, vaguely, that Richard had partnered Miss Mary and that Bingley had danced with Miss Kitty. They watched as Elizabeth was hurried away by her three younger sisters. He physically felt the loss.
“After a display like that, you had best be on your way to see her father,” his cousin growled in Darcy’s ear.
Already protective of her, Darcy thought, pleased. Elizabeth did inspire that sort of loyalty. He could not help but smile stupidly at his cousin.
Richard cocked his head, then half-grunted, half-laughed. “Of course you are, you old mooncalf. It seems all the crack tonight.” He clapped Darcy on the back. “Go get yourself riveted.” He strode away to seek his next partner, good humor restored.
Mr. Bennet was easy to locate. He was waiting near the first row of chairs, most of them still empty this early in the evening. He motioned silently to the door; Darcy made to follow him.
He was detained by a hand on his arm. “Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley crooned, “I am ready for my dance, sir.” She said it loudly enough that he could not refuse her without appearing churlish. His duty fought with his honor, but the struggle was short-lived.
“I must apologize, Miss Bingley,” he replied, for the benefit of the crowd around them. “I had not intended to dance the third, and I shall not be free again until after supper. Shall we say the dance following?”
Her face froze. “Mr. Darcy,” she said urgently, though she spoke more quietly now, “you need not offer for her out of some misguided sense of…”
“Miss Bingley,” he chided her, also lowering his own voice. “I have been courting Miss Elizabeth since before you departed Netherfield. This is the logical conclusion.” He indicated her hand. “Please release my arm, madam. I have business with Mr. Bennet.”
The woman's eyes opened wide and she pulled her hand back as though she had been burned. “I do not understand,” she said, and her expression was indeed uncomprehending. “I did not think that you would ever consider…”
“I am not certain why you would believe my private affairs open for your review, Miss Bingley,” he replied, shaking his head and making every effort to mask his offense. Bingley did not deserve his ire, even if his sister did. Besides, he had a more pressing concern. “Pardon me.”
He had lost sight of Mr. Bennet, but he knew just where to find him.
Elizabeth was irritated with her sisters for dragging her away from Mr. Darcy the very moment they stepped inside. They rushed her to the retiring room, were they had her all to themselves.
“La, Lizzy!” exclaimed Lydia, “I thought Mr. Darcy would eat you alive, the way he was watching you.”
“Or the reverse,” Mary added teasingly. “Lydia is watching, Lizzy. A little decorum, if you please.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “It could not be so very bad. Papa was watching, too.”
Elizabeth considered that this knowledge ought to make her blush, but it did not.
“I thought it was romantic,” added Kitty, sitting demurely next to Elizabeth. “Like something out of a dream.”
“Has he gone to Papa?” Lydia asked abruptly, pale pink ribbons flying as she bounced up and down in her chair. “Oh, this is so exciting!” She gave each sister a short glare. “I would never have forgiven you all if I had to remain home tonight. I would have missed everything! Two sisters engaged!”
“Please do not say anything,” Elizabeth begged. “Papa should have that pleasure.” Her sisters agreed, though Lydia was not best pleased.
“Congratulations, Miss Elizabeth,” said Miss Bingley from the doorway.
Even Lydia stopped speaking as all the air seemed to leave the room. Mary made a face and lifted a questioning eyebrow at Elizabeth, who nodded. Mary held out her hands to her younger sisters and the three Bennet girls slipped back to the ballroom.
“I thank you,” Elizabeth replied to Miss Bingley as Mary shut the door behind her.
Miss Bingley sat on a chair opposite Elizabeth and closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath and swallowed before clasping her hands together.
“I know enough to know when I am beaten, Miss Elizabeth. Be assured that I shall pay off every arrear of courtesy to you as Mrs. Darcy. As to my advice before I removed to my aunt’s, it was kindly meant.
” Her face was pale with the effort of her good grace.
“Oh, come now, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “Kindly meant?”
Miss Bingley’s eyes opened in surprise. “Yes indeed. I was direct with my intentions so that you would not be embarrassed in public. I truly had no idea you and Mr. Darcy were already courting, or I should not have felt the need to say anything.”
She would have known it was not in her best interest to say anything. “So now that you know I am somebody,” Elizabeth replied, “you will deign to accept me?”
Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “It may not be the world I would wish, Miss Elizabeth,” she said tightly, “but it is the world in which we live.” She frowned.
“Perhaps I should say that it is the world in which I live, as you seem to flout every rule and yet…” She touched a spool of thread that sat in a basket on the table next to her.
“If I might ask, how did you manage to secure him?”
“Secure who?” Elizabeth asked even as she realized that Miss Bingley meant Mr. Darcy. She was a little offended to hear their courtship described in such a way. He had pursued her, not the other way around. Not that she considered his pursuit a hardship.
Miss Bingley pulled a face, which amused Elizabeth no end. She had never seen Miss Bingley behave so authentically.
She laughed a little. “Forgive me. I did not secure him, Miss Bingley. I entirely misunderstood his attentions for some time. Eventually, we had a quarrel over that, and came away with a better understanding of one another.” She paused. “We were simply our own imperfect selves.”
“Well,” said Miss Bingley with a disbelieving huff, “that is hardly a strategy I can employ. When my family behaves like themselves, I wind up dealing with outrageously uncouth accusations and stuffed parrots on the punch bowl.”
The statement was so utterly asinine that Elizabeth began to giggle. Miss Bingley watched her with one perfectly arched eyebrow, which only made her laugh harder.
“Quite right, Miss Bingley,” she said, and feeling almost giddy, leaned forward and whispered, “My mother thought Mr. Collins would make me a good husband.”
Miss Bingley’s mouth fell open before she snapped it shut.
Elizabeth nodded, still giggling. “Can you imagine?”
Despite Miss Bingley’s typical iron control, a laugh escaped her lips. Then another. One more bubbled up before she cleared her throat and ran her hands over her skirt.
“Well,” Miss Bingley said, and stood, “we must simply do what we can to keep your mother and my aunt from ever meeting.” She evaluated Elizabeth, resigned.
“I still do not like you, Miss Elizabeth,” she said, though her lips tugged upward, and Elizabeth thought perhaps the ice had at last begun to crack.
“However, I think we shall get on as best we are able.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I shall look forward to it, Miss Bingley.”
Caroline Bingley squared her shoulders and left the room in a swish of silk.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet drawled from his relaxed seat in the library, a glass of wine sitting on the table next to him. “I was wondering whether you had perhaps lost your way.”
“No, sir,” he replied. “Just a small delay.”
Mr. Bennet then surprised him by laughing heartily. “That was some dance, my boy. Mrs. Russell would have dragged you out by your hair had she seen it.”
Darcy’s cheeks warmed. “I did not intend any insult, sir.”