Chapter 7 #2
“Are you looking for someone in particular, ladies?” whispered the colonel.
“No, not really, I was just surprised to see so many people,” Jane whispered.
“Oh, I am so happy to see you, Madeleine,” Lady Brightmore cried out the moment she saw them.
“You look lovely, my darling. And these sweet girls—oh, look at you, you are both so beautiful! Stunning! Come and sit near me. These are my nephews—oh, Robert darling, please be sweet and make the introductions.”
The interest showed by the other guests was difficult to ignore.
It appeared that many of them were acquainted with Mrs Gardiner, so all hidden glances were directed towards the Bennet sisters.
With patience and good humour, the colonel introduced them to the others, and Elizabeth managed to count about fifteen “cousins” before she abandoned the task.
She did not remember more than three names—Mr Bertram, Lord Rowley, and the young Lord Montgomery, all Lady Brightmore’s nephews.
∞∞∞
Darcy did not feel comfortable speaking to either of the Miss Bennets; he only greeted them and Mrs Gardiner briefly, as politeness demanded, then stepped away and was content to glance around, silent and preoccupied.
He looked at Elizabeth as she danced with his cousin, gracefully smiling at her partner.
Robert always had been easy in the company of ladies, and he was never careful about concealing his partiality.
Everyone could see that Robert Fitzwilliam was charmed by Miss Elizabeth Bennet—not to mention that he had requested her for the first set of the ball.
That sort of attention could affect Miss Elizabeth’s reputation.
She seemed to enjoy the colonel’s company as well, but she was her usual self: inclined to favour voluble, amiable men such as Bingley and Robert—and Wickham.
The room was exceedingly warm; he could use some fresh air—or perhaps a ride in the sleigh.
That would be refreshing, indeed. Darcy hid his smile behind a glass of brandy while his mind was gripped by vivid memories of Elizabeth walking through the snow, her hair wet and frozen, her cheeks red, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and her small hands resting shyly in his palms…
She danced with the colonel, her hand in his. Robert should not smile so obviously at her; it is not difficult to guess that he is courting her.
Darcy looked at the pair dancing happily, and wondered whether the colonel would make her a marriage offer.
What would she say? Surely, no woman would refuse to marry Robert Fitzwilliam and certainly not a woman of such poor connections and lack of fortune as Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
If Robert proposed, she would certainly accept, more so given that the earl openly declared his wish for such a union.
Darcy took a gulp of brandy then another; the room grew warmer, and he could barely breathe as his eyes remained fixed on the couple.
Suddenly, his eyes were caught by hers. He felt embarrassed, as though doing something improper, but his gaze remained steady, holding hers.
She appeared surprised, but while she continued to dance, she did not avert her eyes.
Even more, she smiled at him, a small, barely perceptible smile, charming nevertheless and meant only for him.
For the rest of the set, their glances as well as their smiles met more than once. He counted the steps, anticipating each turn in the dance when she would face him again—and smile at him.
“So, Nephew, are you enjoying yourself? You know, admiring a beautiful woman is a pleasant occupation, but holding her in your arms is more rewarding.”
“What do you mean, sir,” he said in a low voice.
“I mean go and dance, young man! That is the only way you can hold a woman in your arms…in a ballroom…in public, I mean.” The earl laughed.
“I am not fond of dancing,” Darcy replied. The next instant he felt his arms trapped.
“Oh, we all know you are not fond of dancing, Mr Darcy. But I cannot believe you will refuse to dance with me, especially if I insist upon it.” Both gentlemen turned to face a young lady whose daring smiles and determined expression allowed no opposition.
“Lady Sinclair.” Darcy bowed politely.
“Eve darling, you look beautiful as always,” the earl declared.
“Thank you, Lord Matlock. And you are as flattering as always, while this gentleman here”—she turned to Darcy, a mischievous smile on her face—“is as handsome and haughty as ever. I cannot believe you still do not dance the first set, Mr Darcy. I presume you have yet to find a young lady worthy of that honour.”
“You are too kind, Lady Sinclair, and give me too much credit. I do not dance the first set, but I also do not dance the second or the third if I can avoid it,” Darcy replied, forcing a smile. Lady Sinclair put the other hand on his arm, holding it tightly.
“Well, I am afraid you will not be able to avoid it any longer. I demand a dance, sir. I will only allow you to choose which one.”
“I doubt you will convince him, Eve.” The earl laughed again.
“You should not doubt my ability to get what I desire. So, Mr Darcy, which will it be? You dare not refuse me or you will not be allowed to dance with any other lady this evening.”
“Such a punishment for him! Please be gentle.” The earl laughed.
Darcy glanced towards the dance floor where Elizabeth was moving through the last steps of the first set. She appeared to listen to the colonel as her gaze returned to the place Darcy stood. He smiled at her, but she seemed not to notice it.
Darcy returned his attention to his companion, who was still holding his arm. He abandoned the fight. “Lady Sinclair, will you do me the honour of dancing the next set with me?”
That would do. He would dance with her as soon as possible and be done with it.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth promised herself that she would enjoy the evening as much as possible, but she could not avoid worrying for her aunt as well as for her sister; both appeared sad and out of spirits.
Her heart ached to see her sister scrutinise each gentleman in the room, look towards the door frequently, and startle at each manly voice. Jane still hoped Mr Bingley would come to the ball, but her hopes were in vain.
Where could Mr Bingley be that Mr Darcy did not locate him as he promised?
What if Mr Bingley knew of Jane’s presence in town but chose not to return as he had lost interest in renewing their acquaintance?
Was it possible that Mr Darcy did not keep his word and only pretended to search for his friend?
Could Mr Darcy be so unworthy of trust? She turned her to the gentleman, who was now talking amiably with his uncle and with a young lady.
Who could be the lady attaching herself tightly to Mr Darcy’s arm?
Perhaps one of his many cousins? The earl laughed quite loudly at something the lady said, and Mr Darcy seemed to approve of her.
Mr Darcy can do as he pleases, Elizabeth thought.
It was obvious that he was not pleased to speak to her since he had avoided her from the beginning of the ball.
He said no more than three words to them when they arrived and then put a significant distance between them.
That was understandable. He could not allow himself—Heaven forbid!
—to be seen in the close company of someone so beneath him.
The earl and Lady Selina had no restraint in declaring their friendship with Mrs Gardiner and to present them as friends.
But not Mr Darcy; no indeed! He knew how to behave in a friendly manner—even caringly when they were in private, but not in large gatherings!
She had even wondered whether he would ask her to dance—what a joke! Surely, that was as far as possible from his intentions.
Such a strange man! The entire time she danced with the colonel, she had the clear impression that Mr Darcy was searching for her gaze and that he smiled at her; she was certain that he showed some sort of interest in her.
She had no doubt that he would ask for the next set.
Such a silly presumption! The dance came to an end, and the colonel walked with her towards her family, but at the same time, Mr Darcy offered his arm to the lady next to him and accompanied her to the dance floor.
Elizabeth tried to show a calm and proper countenance the moment they stepped near each other.
She could swear he was smiling at her—a barely visible smile but a smile nevertheless. Hateful man!
∞∞∞
“Miss Elizabeth, you are a skilful dancer,” the earl said as she sat near Lady Brightmore.
“Indeed, my dear. You are just beautiful, and so is Miss Bennet. I doubt you will have a moment to rest this evening. All the men in the room are eager to dance with you,” Lady Brightmore declared, and Elizabeth laughed.
“You are too kind, and your praise is most undeserved in my case. As for Jane—one cannot find a more beautiful, sweet and generous person. She is truly wonderful.”
“Your love for your sister makes you even more praiseworthy, dear,” said the lady, enjoying a gulp of wine. “Oh, but what miracle is this? Is Darcy dancing? With whom?”
“With Eve Sinclair.” The earl laughed. “And there is no miracle; she practically demanded a dance. I am sure he accepted only to escape the punishment of her insisting further.”
“Darcy is the only man who would want to escape Eve Sinclair.”
“She is insistent in an obvious, unladylike manner,” Lady Brightmore admitted. “She is a married woman after all; she could be more…discreet.”
“She is beautiful,” said Elizabeth, unaware that she spoke aloud.
“She is indeed,” the earl admitted. “I have rarely seen a woman with such a perfect complexion. Her beauty helped her make an advantageous marriage.”
“With a man twice her age and twice her wealth,” Lady Brightmore added.
“Of whom are you speaking?” asked Lady Selina, appearing on the arm of her husband.
“Eve Sinclair.”