Chapter 1 The Meryton Assembly #2
Mary added, “And it worked. Look there, Mr. Bingley has returned to Jane’s side.”
“It was badly done. His voice is so carrying. Half the neighbors heard his rejection.” Charlotte placed her hand over Elizabeth’s shoulders in a sisterly embrace.
Mr. Collins moved nearer. “Never mind, cousin. He is the nephew of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and by all appearances as proud and disagreeable as she is. She is the daughter of an earl and never lets anyone forget it. That makes Mr. Darcy the grandson of an earl, and he looks as though he never forgets it either.”
He lifted his head toward Darcy. Elizabeth followed his gaze and found Darcy looking their way, his expression cold and unsmiling. Miss Bingley was smirking at her. She had been near enough to hear the insult and was now gloating. Elizabeth sighed.
“Come, cousin,” Collins said, “let us dance.”
She found him a skilled dancer. He led her through the figures with ease, conversed freely, and even made a few amusing remarks.
But as the dance progressed, she grew uneasy, for he began to make inappropriate remarks.
As they moved to the center of the dance floor, he said, “Your figure is so graceful that I find it impossible not to stare.”
Her cheeks flamed, and she lowered her eyes.
“Come now, Cousin Elizabeth, surely you know that a gown which clings in all the right places will bring a man to his knees.”
Elizabeth knew not where to look, nor did she reply. When they met again in the figure, he said softly, “I confess, your lovely curves beneath that muslin gown are a most exquisite distraction. I wonder that I have not already lost my step.”
“That is too much, sir,” she said sharply. “Comport yourself. You are impertinent.”
He gave a low laugh. “I wondered how much goading you would endure before you fought back. I find myself drawn to a woman of spirit. I can see it in your eyes, Elizabeth, though I believe your mother’s ceaseless barbs have nearly crushed your will to fight.”
She attempted to walk off the dance floor, but he tightened his hold and laughed again as he guided her through the steps. He bent to whisper, “You are not going anywhere, my dear. You were made for me, cousin Elizabeth.”
At last, the dance ended, and Elizabeth walked straight to her father and sat next to him.
Bennet took her hand. “Lizzy, you did not enjoy the dance with your cousin? You look distressed, child.”
Elizabeth lifted her gaze to her father’s eyes. “He was impertinent, Papa. He was vulgar.”
His brows drew together, and his eyes swept the room. “He is looking at you now, Lizzy. I believe you have captured his notice.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “His remarks were coarse, unfit for the ears of a gentlewoman. He frightens me.”
He gave her hand a gentle pat. “We will speak more tomorrow in the privacy of my study.”
She looked about the room until she found Jane.
She and Mr. Bingley were seated upon a couch, deep in conversation.
At least all was going well for her beloved sister.
But why did this always happen to her? She seemed to have ill fortune in matters of the heart.
It had been so with Nicholas. He had loved her, and she had loved him in return. Then he left.
And now this elegant, wealthy man from London, this hero straight out of King Arthur’s legends, had pronounced her barely tolerable.
It stung more deeply than her parting with Nicholas.
In this case, the fault lay with her person.
The standard of feminine beauty must be far higher in Mr. Darcy’s world.
She had always been thought pretty enough by her neighbors, and if not for her lack of dowry, she would have been enough for Nicholas.
Tonight, her person had been judged and found wanting.
She could not change who she was, nor what she looked like.
In that instant, the future spread before her, dark and bleak.
She would remain here, buried in this small country village, sharing a roof with a mother who could hardly bear her presence.
And if she did not marry, in her old age, she would find herself in a boarding house, eking out an existence. Life was a terrifying thing.
Her father was her only solace. And when he was gone, what then? She must speak to her Uncle Gardiner about employment. Better honest work that earned a wage than the kind of servitude where she was made to beg for every little thing.
The carriage rattled through the dark night, guided only by the faint light of a new moon.
Darcy was glad of the darkness; he needed time to think.
How had he come to insult an innocent stranger?
Why had he uttered such a cruel remark? She was more than attractive enough, and there had been no cause for disparagement.
Miss Bingley’s syrupy voice broke into his thoughts. “And how did tonight’s entertainment please you, Mr. Darcy? I believe you found the assembly insipid.”
Before he could reply, Bingley spoke. “Caroline, why must you always find fault? It was a charming assembly, with many agreeable partners, good refreshments, and lively company. I believe I shall like our neighbors very well. If you have nothing pleasant to say, I beg you will refrain from offering your opinion.”
Miss Bingley was not so easily dissuaded. “And you, Mr. Darcy? Did you find anyone in the company at all attractive?” She tittered. “I know one woman was barely tolerable. Charles, whatever were you thinking, attempting to foist a woman of such low breeding upon Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy’s shame deepened as his thoughts replayed the scene over and over.
If Georgiana had been so publicly insulted and within her hearing, he would have called the man out.
He knew Miss Elizabeth Bennet had heard his words; he had seen the stricken look in her eyes.
By then, it had been too late, the words were spoken, and all he could do was turn his back and walk away.
Caroline had fastened herself to his arm, and the only escape was to endure a set of dances with her. After that, he had walked the perimeter of the floor for the rest of what seemed the longest night of his life.
And the woman he had wronged? She had danced once with a striking partner, whose company she had clearly not desired, for she left him standing on the floor and spent the remainder of the evening seated at her father’s side.
He knew, for he had watched her throughout the rest of the evening.
Her lovely eyes were clouded, her brow drawn, and she sat in silence, studying her gloved hands that lay palm up on her lap.
It would have eased his conscience had she been angry and glared at him, but she had not.
She had borne the injury and humiliation in silence.
By the end of the evening, most of the guests had either heard the insult themselves or learned of it from others, and she was left to chafe beneath the weight of her public mortification.
He had done that to her. He had driven her from the dance floor.
Darcy hoped she would recover quickly from the wound his unguarded words had caused.
He resolved then and there to apologize, as any gentleman must do under such circumstances.