CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Darcy coloured faintly, though he managed a low laugh. “I did not foresee that Apollo’s friendship would cause such mischief.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Bennet, “then you wish me to assist in dispelling this nonsense?”
“No, sir,” Darcy said quickly. “That is not my purpose. I only—” He paused, the weight of the next words pressing heavily upon him. “I only wished you to know that my regard for Miss Elizabeth is entirely sincere. That, though the rumours are exaggerated, they are not wholly unfounded.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him with sudden attentiveness. “Not wholly unfounded. That is carefully said, Mr. Darcy. I take it you admire my daughter?”
Darcy met his gaze steadily. “Most deeply, sir.” His voice dropped lower. “And I would not have her name whispered with mine unless it were to her credit. I wished you to understand that my intentions, should they be furthered, would be honourable.”
Mr. Bennet’s expression softened, though a hint of his usual irony remained. “Elizabeth is a singular young woman, Mr. Darcy. She forms her own opinions, and seldom accepts those of others. If she values your company, it is by her own choice.”
Darcy’s eyes followed her once more. The dance had ended; she stood near a group of ladies, her cheeks flushed, her countenance lively with some private amusement. When she caught his glance, she smiled—lightly, but with warmth enough to undo him entirely.
“Then,” he said quietly, “I shall endeavour to deserve her good opinion, if ever I am fortunate enough to possess it.”
Mr. Bennet folded his arms, studying him with mild curiosity. “One question, if I may. Is this declaration of yours prompted by genuine affection, or by a wish to manage the gossip?”
Darcy drew himself straighter. “By affection, sir. Entirely.”
Mr. Bennet nodded once. “Then I shall not interfere. Elizabeth must decide for herself. She always does.” A smile flickered across his face. “But I confess, I shall enjoy observing the outcome.”
Darcy inclined his head. “You are very generous.”
“Not generous, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet dryly. “Merely entertained. And if I may offer a father’s counsel—rescue her from that cousin of mine soon. I fear she is within a breath of fleeing the county.”
Darcy could not help but smile. “I shall do my best, sir.”
Mr. Bennet turned away to greet another guest, leaving Darcy standing in the soft glow of the chandeliers, the hum of music and conversation rising once more about him.
He took a slow breath. His course was set, though the path before him remained uncertain. As the musicians prepared to begin another tune, he adjusted his coat, crossed the floor, and made his way toward Elizabeth.
***
DARCY HAD NOT REALISED, until he found himself standing before Elizabeth, how swiftly his resolve had carried him across the room. She turned at the faint sound of his approach, and the warmth in her eyes, though touched by surprise, disarmed him completely.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, inclining his head with quiet formality, “might I request the honour of the next dance?”
For one heartbeat she only looked at him. Her breath caught, and the hum of the ballroom seemed to fade. She searched for words, yet her voice deserted her. When it returned, it carried a faint trace of playfulness, as though laughter had come to her rescue.
“You are very obliging, sir,” she said, her lips curving. “But you seem unlike other gentlemen this evening.”
Darcy’s brow lifted slightly. “In what way?”
“Unless I mistake,” she replied, “it appeared just now that you were taking my father’s permission before asking me. Most men seek only the lady’s.”
Darcy’s mouth quirked in a smile, rare but unmistakably genuine. “Then I must be guilty of singularity, Miss Elizabeth. For I took his permission for something far more important.”
For a moment, she could only stare at him, colour rushing to her cheeks.
Her heart fluttered, light and wild, as though it had mistaken itself for one of the violins.
What could he mean by that? she wondered.
The steadiness of his gaze was unnerving; it seemed to hold her in place until her very knees threatened to give way.
“The next set is about to begin,” he said, offering his arm.
She took it without a word.
***
THE NEXT SET was a longways country dance, lively and spirited, such as never failed to fill a room with laughter and cheerful confusion.
As the musicians struck the first notes, Elizabeth was drawn into the motion almost before she had gathered her thoughts.
Mr. Darcy’s hand was steady but unpresuming, his manner composed and attentive; and though he spoke but little, his eyes met hers more often than the figures of the dance strictly required.
It was impossible not to feel light. Each turn, each touch of his hand upon hers, seemed to draw her closer into some quiet enchantment. Her earlier unease melted away, replaced by a glow she could neither name nor resist. So this is how it feels, she thought, half breathless. To be seen.
Across the floor, Jane and Mr. Bingley moved with perfect grace, their smiles soft and private.
A little further off, she spied Mr. Collins attempting a set with Charlotte Lucas, whose good humour managed to disguise her suffering.
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in amusement, but the moment she looked back to Darcy, all else faded again.
“You dance very well, Mr. Darcy,” she said when the figures allowed them a brief pause. “For a gentleman who so often declines the opportunity, you are surprisingly expert.”
He inclined his head. “You are too kind. I rarely dance, it is true — though I have had much practice of late. My sister Georgiana is preparing for her first season in London. It would not do for her brother to disgrace her by being out of step.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened. “Your sister — how old is she?”
“Sixteen,” he said, with quiet pride. “She is the dearest creature alive, and all that remains of my immediate family. My parents have been gone these ten years.”
Elizabeth’s voice gentled. “I am sorry.”
He shook his head slightly. “It was long ago. My sister and I have each other, and that is comfort enough.”
“She sounds a most delightful young lady already,” Elizabeth said. “If she shares her brother’s steadiness, I can only imagine she is universally beloved.”
He smiled faintly. “She is far gentler than I am, and far more trusting. Too trusting, perhaps. Yet she sees goodness quickly — in people, and in the world. I am certain she would like you.”
Elizabeth felt an unfamiliar flutter at that. “Perhaps she would think me too quick of tongue for her liking.”
“On the contrary,” he said, his tone low and sincere, “I believe she would find you quite as I do — refreshing.”
Their eyes met again, and this time Elizabeth was the first to look away. The musicians brought the dance to its lively conclusion, and as the couples parted with bows and curtsies, she felt her pulse still racing beneath the calm of her smile.
When they had stepped aside, Darcy turned to her.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I hope you will not think me presumptuous, but I asked your father’s permission earlier this evening.
If it is agreeable to you, I would be honoured to call tomorrow.
Perhaps you might take Pippin for a walk, and I could bring Apollo to join her.
It would be… pleasant to speak without so many spectators. ”
Elizabeth’s heart gave a quick, involuntary leap. “I see,” she managed, with a lightness that disguised her breathlessness. “A proper country engagement for two well-bred dogs and their masters?”
Darcy’s eyes warmed with amusement. “Something of the sort, though the masters may enjoy it no less than their companions.”
She smiled. “Then I shall consent — provided you bring Apollo, and perhaps persuade Mr. Bingley to accompany you. My mother would have the house in an uproar otherwise.”
“Agreed,” Darcy said softly. “We could go on a walk. You may even bring your sister, if you wish. I promise not to let the dogs outshine us.”
Elizabeth laughed, unable to help herself. “A promise, Mr. Darcy? That is a dangerous thing to make.”
“Only if I am likely to break it,” he replied.
Their eyes met once more, and for the briefest instant, the crowded ballroom, the candlelight, the noise — all of it seemed to draw away, leaving only the quiet certainty that something had shifted between them.
“I look forward to tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing.
“And I, sir,” she answered softly, curtsying in return.
As Darcy turned to rejoin the throng, Elizabeth remained a moment longer, her hands clasped before her, her heart unsteady but full. She could still feel the warmth of his hand in hers, still hear the echo of his voice — steady, kind, and wholly unlike any man she had ever known.
For the first time that night, she allowed herself to smile without irony.
Perhaps, she thought, the morrow may bring something truly worth remembering.