Chapter Five #3
They turned away from one another and crossed again, still alone upon the wide floor.
As Elizabeth passed him, the skirts of her gown brushed lightly against his leg and her gloved fingers slid into his for the briefest moment before the figure carried her away.
Darcy felt the loss of her touch at once.
When they came together again, her face was close enough for him to see the quick rise of her breath and the warmth deepening in her cheeks.
He had imagined dancing with her throughout the week, but never really believed he would feel her hand in his again or see her looking at him with anything other than anger.
As they completed the figure, the other couples began to join them.
Darcy was vaguely aware of his aunt angrily gesturing from the side of the ballroom.
A moment later, Fitzwilliam led Anne into the set.
The happiness seemed to radiate from them both and he thought that not even Lady Catherine could fail to see what was between them, though Anne occasionally remembered her feigned injury and added a small limp to her movements.
Elizabeth’s gaze moved briefly towards them. A spark of understanding appeared in her expression before she looked back at Darcy, and she offered him a small smile. He felt overwhelmed by the pleasure of the simple gesture, even though he knew it was not really for him.
"Your cousins appear very pleased with themselves," she said as the figure brought them close again.
"They have been plotting this evening’s events carefully, and apparently making plans for many years now."
"And you assisted them? Even though your aunt wishes for her daughter to marry you?"
"I only knew of their feelings very recently. But Anne and I have never desired a connection. And I was assured my role this evening required nothing more than looking concerned at the right moment."
Elizabeth glanced towards Anne, who appeared to have forgotten her injury entirely and was turning beneath Fitzwilliam’s hand with unrestrained delight. "You performed admirably. I believed her ankle quite injured."
"So did I, briefly. Anne apparently missed her calling on the stage."
"Quite."
There was warmth in Elizabeth’s voice, and Darcy allowed himself to smile.
The ease of the exchange felt miraculous after the strained silence he had imagined.
When the dance separated them, he watched her move away with the feeling that something between them had shifted.
It no longer felt as though every step carried him across hostile ground.
When they came together again, Elizabeth’s expression had grown more serious. "I read your letter."
Darcy’s heart constricted painfully. "I had hoped you might."
"I read it more than once." Her gaze lowered briefly before returning to his. "What you told me of Mr Wickham was difficult to believe, but I could find no reason to doubt you. Not once I had considered how freely he shared his grievances with me, or how willing I had been to accept them."
"You had no cause to distrust him."
"I had cause to question myself." She drew in a measured breath. "I formed my opinion of you very early and welcomed anything which confirmed it. Mr Wickham told me precisely what I wished to hear. I am so very, very sorry that your sister suffered at his hands."
The emotion in her words touched him deeply and he held her hand more tightly. "Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, whatever error you made in judging Wickham, your opinion of my behaviour was deserved. I have given you every reason to despise me."
"I did not despise you," she said softly, then looked startled by her own words.
Darcy scarcely breathed. Elizabeth’s colour deepened, but she did not withdraw the statement. "I was angry with you. Very angry. But your letter made it impossible to think you the man I had imagined."
The next turn of the dance carried them apart before Darcy could answer. He moved through the steps automatically, every thought fixed upon what she had said. She no longer despised him, and that small mercy felt greater than anything he had dared hope for.
When they met again, he said quietly, "I am grateful you read it."
Then Elizabeth’s expression altered, hardening a little. "There is still my sister. She is heartbroken, Mr Darcy, and I don’t know if that is something I can ever…"
The set came to a close and the clapping around them drowned out the end of her sentence.
Darcy desperately wanted the musicians to play on.
It felt like the spell between them had only lasted for the length of the dance and now the resentment she felt towards him bloomed anew.
He offered his arm and she allowed him to lead her to the other side of the room, although she remained silent.
"I am sorry for the pain I caused your sister," he said.
His words rushed out quickly in a desperate effort to retain firmer ground.
"But you must understand that I believed I was acting in the best interests of a friend. It was no reflection upon Miss Bennet’s character.
Bingley has responsibilities to his family, and I feared he was about to form an attachment without considering them. "
"And a connection with my family would prevent him from meeting those responsibilities?
" she asked. Her voice remained low, but anger caused her to bite out every word.
"Jane is the sweetest creature I have ever known.
I have watched her weep herself to sleep night after night because the man she loved vanished without a word, and still you speak of her experience as a blot in a ledger.
A minor inconvenience that you can hand-wave away. "
"I have written to him," Darcy said, though even as he spoke, he knew it was not enough.
"Have you urged him to return?"
"I told him the truth."
"That was not my question. Will you go to him? Will you use the same influence that removed him from Jane to bring him back?"
Darcy’s jaw tightened. "I do not possess that sort of power over him."
Elizabeth gave a disbelieving laugh. "Do not, or will not? You possessed it readily enough when you wished him gone."
"They knew one another for only a few months," Darcy said, frustration overtaking caution. "Surely an attachment formed in such a short time cannot be so very deep."
The moment the words left him, he knew he had made a grave mistake. He of all people knew how deeply and quickly an attachment could take root.
Elizabeth blinked up at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"That is not what I meant to say…"
"No, Mr Darcy, pray do not go on. Your meaning was crystal clear."
He reached for her arm, but she stepped back before he could touch her.
"Obstinate, headstrong man," she said, her voice trembling now with anger.
"You may not be quite the ogre I once believed you to be.
I acknowledge your apology, and I accept that I was wrong about Mr Wickham.
But you remain proud and insufferable whenever you speak of those you consider beneath you, which appears to include almost everyone. "
"Elizabeth—"
Her eyes flashed at the use of her name.
"I hope that, should we meet again, we may manage the civility expected of acquaintances," she continued.
"But at present, Mr Darcy, I cannot bear the sight of you.
" She turned and walked away, leaving him standing at the edge of the ballroom with every fibre of his being itching to follow her.
Before he could decide whether pursuing her would only make things worse, a sharp voice came from behind him, sharp enough to cause his teeth to clench. "Darcy. What is the meaning of this?"
He closed his eyes briefly before turning.
Lady Catherine stood a few feet away, her cane planted firmly against the floor and her face rigid with displeasure.
"You allowed Anne to withdraw from the opening dance on account of the slightest discomfort, then made no effort to resume your proper place beside her when she recovered.
Now Fitzwilliam has monopolised her for the entire set and she has quite forgotten herself. "
Darcy leaned to look past his aunt. Elizabeth had already disappeared through the doors, leaving no glimpse of amber silk among the crowd. "Anne appeared perfectly content," he said vaguely, wondering where Elizabeth could be. Surely she would not return to the parsonage alone?
"That is not the point and you are not attending. Fitzwilliam has encouraged her to exert herself beyond what is prudent. You will dance the next set with her and restore some order to the evening."
"I cannot," he said, his gaze snapping back to his formidable aunt.
Lady Catherine drew herself up. "Cannot?"
"I have another matter requiring my attention."
"What matter could possibly be more pressing than your duty to your cousin?"
Darcy glanced again towards the doorway. Every second he remained trapped in conversation put more distance between himself and Elizabeth "One that will not wait."
He stepped around his aunt, but Lady Catherine caught his arm with the curved handle of her cane.
"Darcy, you will not walk away while I am speaking to you.
Anne has been left to the attentions of a younger son who has neither the fortune nor the consequence to make such marked behaviour appropriate. "
Darcy’s temper, already strained by the evening, finally gave way. "Anne is not a doll to be manoeuvred into whichever position best suits you, Aunt."
Lady Catherine drew herself up, affronted. "I have directed Anne’s interests all her life, and she has never had cause to question my judgement."
"No, but you speak of her as though she has no wishes of her own. She chose to dance with Fitzwilliam, and judging by her expression, she is enjoying herself more than any time she has stood up with me."
"Fitzwilliam is making a spectacle of her," Lady Catherine said firmly. "He always did delight in drawing attention to himself. You will take his place before people begin to talk."
"No."
Lady Catherine’s eyes widened.