Chapter One #2
After two sets with his fiancée, Darcy had retreated from the dance floor. Caroline had taken herself off to the ladies’ retiring room once again, and Mrs. Hurst was dancing with a militia officer.
If only he could depart without causing a minor scandal!
Their party had been in Hertfordshire less than a week, and they were not acquainted with many people in the room.
Balls were such a colossal waste of time.
Netherfield was not the most stimulating place, but there Darcy could read the latest magical journals or write a letter to his sister Georgiana.
In fact, he would have preferred not to visit Hertfordshire at all, but he had been powerless to deny entreaties from both Bingley and Caroline.
Darcy was considering yet another glass of punch when Bingley appeared at his side.
His friend was always in his element amidst a large crowd of people—perpetually well liked wherever he went.
Darcy occasionally envied his friend’s easy ways but found them onerous at other times.
This event fell into the latter category.
“Come Darcy, I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner,” Bingley declared. “I must have you dance.”
“I certainly shall not,” Darcy said. “You know how I detest it unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with.”
“I have never met so many pleasant girls and several of them are uncommonly pretty,” Bingley said.
Darcy had already been importuned into visiting Hertfordshire and attending this vexing dance. He was not about to allow himself to be coerced into additional dancing. “You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” Darcy said, indicating Miss Bennet.
“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But, there is one of her sisters who is very pretty and, I dare say, very agreeable.” Bingley waved his hand toward their right.
Darcy turned his head just enough; Miss Elizabeth stood not far away. He had to admit that she was quite lovely—with particularly fine dark eyes. She regarded him with an enigmatic smile.
He quickly glanced away. Apparently the Darcy fortune would easily overcome any reservations the woman had about his role on the Convocation panel. But Darcy’s reservations were not so easily conquered. Even if he were not engaged, he would not be inclined to give her any encouragement.
“She is tolerable,” Darcy said to Bingley, “but not handsome enough to tempt me.” She could not fail to overhear, which was all to the good; she was less likely to importune him. “I am in no humor at present to give consequence to women with such insufferably high self-regard.”
Bingley laughed uncomfortably. “I would not be as fastidious as you for a kingdom! I understand why the panel denied her application, but surely there is no harm in desiring to attend the Academy.”
“You know what the Academy is like,” Darcy said. “She would not have lasted a single day. There was no reason for the Convocation to indulge her capricious ambitions.”
Bingley shrugged. “Perhaps not, but there is also no reason to avoid dancing with her.” His friend gave Darcy no opportunity to reply. “Perhaps Miss Jane Bennet might agree to another dance.”
A moment after Bingley’s departure, Darcy happened to glance to his right; Miss Elizabeth Bennet had quitted the vicinity. It was just as well. Her presence had been annoying, and those eyes had been a distraction.
***
Jane will be pleased to hear that Mr. Bingley thinks she is the most beautiful creature he ever beheld.
Since Elizabeth had no hopes of a partner for the dance, she might as well relate something that would lift her sister’s spirits.
Since men were scarce at the assembly, Elizabeth had briefly harbored hopes that one of the newcomers to Hertfordshire might dance with her, but Mr. Darcy had dashed that dream quite thoroughly.
She took pleasure in dancing and had no additional expectations for any partner. But since her aspirations for Academy admission had become widely known, many of the young men in Hertfordshire had taken to avoiding her. Certainly “tolerable” was not the worst insult she had ever heard.
A sigh escaped Elizabeth. She did not regret applying to the Academy; she was more than qualified. But occasionally she regretted that her reputation deprived her of an opportunity to dance.
As she crossed the room, she felt a tug on her magical senses that warned her someone was manipulating the ether in the room.
It did not take much searching for her to find Lydia on one side of the room coaxing strands of ether to create a small gust of wind that blew one of the militia officer’s hats across the floor.
Every time the poor officer drew near the hat, it blew away again—while Kitty and the other militia officers laughed.
Apparently the poor man did not command enough magic to counter Lydia’s; no wonder he had joined the militia.
Lydia was the most magically talented of Elizabeth’s sisters, but she never used it to any purpose—regarding it as merely another tool in her perpetual quest for “some laughs.” None of their father’s chastisements curtailed Lydia’s misuse of magic.
At least Elizabeth could benefit the hapless officer.
With a flick of her wrist, she yanked on the strands of ether that Lydia manipulated, causing the wind to reverse itself so the hat landed on the startled militia officer’s head.
Lydia immediately spied who had thwarted her amusement.
“Lizzy!” She stamped her foot and scowled at her older sister.
Lydia never considered the consequences of her actions. Elizabeth drew her sister away from the others. “You were creating a spectacle,” she said in a low tone.
Her sister rolled her eyes. “We were only having a laugh! Even Denny was laughing!”
Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. “Are you bent on achieving a reputation as a girl who misuses magic?”
“I don’t care!” Lydia pouted.
“Be that as it may. If you do not cease at once I will follow you around the ballroom and negate every one of your silly spells.”
Lydia’s chin jutted upward belligerently, but she knew Elizabeth was not making an empty threat. “I would hate to deprive you of the opportunity to dance,” she said in a falsely sweet voice. “Oh, wait, nobody will dance with you.”
Elizabeth forced herself not to react. “Keep this up and nobody will dance with you.” She gave her sister a quelling glance.
Lydia tossed her head and turned on her heel. Returning to her group of friends, she grabbed the hand of the officer closest to her. “Come, let’s go dance!” The man grinned, apparently undeterred by her forwardness, and accompanied her to the dance floor.
Elizabeth found Jane near the punch table. Her countenance was serenely beautiful as always, but her eyes sparkled with an unusual brightness. “Did you enjoy dancing with Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth inquired.
“He is quite gracious, a true gentleman.” Despite her measured words, Jane was obviously fighting to hide a smile.
Elizabeth took her sister’s hand and squeezed it; rarely had she seen her sister so ebullient. “I may have overheard Mr. Bingley relate that you are the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.”
Her sister gave a very un-Jane-like giggle and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. “It is wrong to eavesdrop, Lizzy,” she said with mock sincerity.
“It is not eavesdropping if they are speaking loudly enough.”
Jane peered closely at her sister. “I saw his friend watching you. I thought he might prevail upon you to dance.”
“Watching me? You must have been mistaken. Mr. Darcy is not as gallant as Mr. Bingley, I fear. He declined an opportunity to dance with me because—” She imitated the man’s deep tones. “I am in no mood to give consequence to women with such insufferably high self-regard.”
“He said that?” Jane was more horrified than Elizabeth had been. “To say such a thing in your hearing is very wrong.”
Elizabeth shrugged. Jane had no notion of how frequently people said far worse.
“You know I am not seeking a husband.” She was not averse to marriage, but she had resigned herself to the possibility of dying a spinster.
Most days it did not bother her, although she was occasionally apprehensive that she would feel differently in ten years.
“In any case,” Elizabeth said briskly. “I am far more unhappy that Mr. Darcy denied my admission to the Academy than I am over any slight at a ball.” The injustice of the Convocation’s refusal still rankled.
The panel had not even been willing to test her to determine if she had sufficient magical talent.
Elizabeth did not have unjustifiably high regard for her own abilities, but she had met many Academy graduates with far less skill than she possessed.
Jane nodded. “It was wrong for them to deny you.”
“I daresay I will not languish for the want of Mr. Darcy’s friendship,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “He is clearly a man to make quick judgments.”
“Perhaps he spoke in haste and is now regretting it,” Jane said. “Perhaps he will invite you to dance later.”
“I think I can promise you that I will never dance with Mr. Darcy.”
A commotion at the ballroom’s entrance drew their attention. “Goblin! There is a goblin on the drive!” A coachman shouted as he raced into the room.
The music stuttered to a halt. Elizabeth regarded the coachman skeptically. Goblin appearances were rare—and usually a result of storms. The sky today could not be clearer. Perhaps the coachman had mistaken a bear or wolf for a goblin. “What sort of goblin?” someone shouted at the man.
He shrugged. “Big—at least six feet tall—and blue!”
People gasped all over the ballroom. Very well. Definitely not a wolf or bear.