Cooling Their Porridge
Bingley and Darcy entered Lucas Lodge with identical missions: conversation with their chosen Bennet lady.
Unfortunately, whilst both men had a considerable amount of luck, they were of opposite kinds.
Bingley made a beeline for his favourite and had her undivided attention within minutes.
Darcy had the undivided attention of Miss Bingley and was undecided about how much he was willing to abuse poor Miss Lizzy’s deportment manual in the service of being rid of her annoying presence.
He escorted her for a half-hour and would have found it quite a trial had he not seen Miss Elizabeth’s obvious amusement at his suffering.
He thought her amusement was worth a bit of suffering if it came right down to it, but there were limits.
He finally managed his escape in the most obvious and least subtle fashion imaginable.
“Sir William,” he asked jovially, “am I to understand you received your knighthood at St James?”
“Of course, Mr Darcy, but you must have danced there quite often.”
“I fear not, my good man. I have rarely attended much of anything there. Perhaps you can tell me about it. It must have been quite a speech you made for the king. You might give me the outline in broad strokes.”
He noticed Miss Lizzy laughing as she walked by right after his arch-nemesis finally left him in peace, favouring commiserating with her sister over hearing about St James.
He finally escaped Sir William, but in a bid to not be too obvious, he wandered about the room speaking here and there to people he met at the assembly while listening to Miss Elizabeth speak to her friends.
It did not require all that much effort since she always kept herself within easy hearing distance.
He was not exactly certain what they were doing, but if common sense suggested they were flirting, he would have a tough time arguing against the thesis.
He was uncertain where it might be heading but satisfied to see how things turned out in their own time.
He was just enjoying some of the teasing banter aimed at Colonel Forster, the local militia commander, so he was caught off guard when she launched a surprise frontal assault.
“Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”
Caught flatfooted, he replied with the first thing that popped into his head. “With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic.”
“You are severe on us,” she replied with an impertinent smirk, just short of a smile.
“It will be her turn soon to be teased,” said Miss Lucas. “I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”
“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend! Always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however, she added, “Very well, if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr Darcy, “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”
Darcy chuckled but went along to see how far her vanity was enhanced or wounded by her playing.
Her performance was pleasing, though not capital, but it had a certain spirit that he liked very much.
She would not compete with Georgiana for accuracy, but she had a certain joie de vivre that he thoroughly enjoyed.
Like most men, his tastes were not all that complicated.
In literature, he had firm opinions backed up by extensive reading. In music, he liked what he liked.
After a song or two, and before Miss Elizabeth could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.
Miss Mary was not as accomplished, but Darcy suspected she either lacked the right training, tried too hard, or just chose the wrong music.
He thought he might have to bring Georgiana to give him an opinion, since the only local highly skilled player he knew would just as soon poison Miss Mary’s punch as give her advice.
The dancing started, and he was just looking around for Elizabeth when Sir William ambushed him again, this time with a pean to dancing.
He was not paying the slightest attention, and might even have said something either rude or teasing about savages dancing, but blast it, he was having trouble finding the only lady he really wanted to dance with.
Much to his surprise, Sir William did his work for him.
“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance; I am sure when so much beauty is before you.” And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William:
“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
Darcy gave her a pout worthy of a five-year-old, and she had to laugh gaily.
“I thought we already agreed upon the next available dance, Miss Elizabeth,” he asked slyly.
“You remember incorrectly, sir. That was the possibility I did not choose.”
Sir William did not recognise the teasing, or more likely he could not imagine teasing such a tall and handsome man as Mr Darcy, so he decided the man needed a rescue.
“You excel so much in the dance, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; this gentleman can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”
“Mr Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance, for who would object to such a partner?”
She finally could not help herself and burst out laughing.
Darcy joined her, having thoroughly enjoyed the exchange, and Sir William joined in, saying, “Capital! Capital!” though he had no idea what had just occurred, since he was among the many people who did not know they danced twice at the assembly.
They took their place in the set, and once again they danced together in perfect harmony.
Darcy noticed her sisters were a bit more exuberant than he cared for, but then reflected that, at their age he had still been engaging in behaviour that was as likely as not to leave him dead, so did not worry about it.
It was hard to beat a fifteen-year-old boy for stupidity—unless, of course, you had access to a sixteen-year-old boy.
He decided something might have to be done if he deepened whatever it was that he had with Miss Elizabeth, but for the moment, it was not his business.
He noticed her looking at them with some distress, so he said, “Fear not. They are young and boisterous, but there should be no harm in it as long as they grow out of it before they meet outsiders.”
“Like militia men?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Let us not borrow trouble. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about that.”
She gave a resigned sigh. “You sound like my father.”
Darcy had a minute as the dance pulled them apart to think, and when they came together, he finally said, “I do not know your father, but when I say ‘tomorrow,’ it is a euphemism for ‘soon.’ Many men use it to mean ‘never.’”
“That is my father,” she said resignedly.
“I owe you a great favour, you know. Aside from our budding friendship, I am in your debt for saving me from the neighbourhood at the assembly.”
She laughed gaily, shook her finger, and all was right with the world.
Elizabeth had no idea what they were doing together aside from becoming friends, with a tantalizing possibility of some undefined more.
It was frightening to think beyond that, so she tried not to.
She did not know exactly which sphere of society he occupied, but it seemed likely it was higher than hers.
On the other hand, he was almost certainly a gentleman, and she was the daughter of a gentleman, so in that respect they should be equal.
Darcy understood he had just promised to do something about the younger sisters before they got themselves in trouble, so decided he would have to think on it.
When their dance ended, another local man asked Elizabeth, and Darcy sat out so he could subtly watch her more.
Miss Bingley found him and poured about five minutes of poison in his ear about how tedious the company was, having not noticed him enjoying his dance with Miss Elizabeth, and even speaking with some of the other guests.
For someone who watched him so assiduously, she certainly did not see anything that did not match her narrative.
He finally, perhaps unwisely, perhaps snidely, perhaps in self-defence, spoke as he excused himself to find more congenial company.
“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman like Miss Elizabeth Bennet can bestow.”