Chapter 22 An Unspoken Competition
AN UNSPOKEN COMPETITION
Darcy was frustrated by the lack of discourse he suffered with Elizabeth during the week leading up to the ball.
He and Bingley called twice to find them away from home; then he saw them at church which was excellent because Sir James was not there but less excellent because there was no opportunity to speak to her privately.
She was either not walking in the mornings, or taking paths he was unaware of, and she did not attend the one party to which they were invited, a small dinner with the Goulding family.
At last the day arrived and frustration gave way to nervous anticipation of his dances with Elizabeth.
He bathed and dressed carefully and was annoyed to find himself ready nearly an hour ahead of time.
He occupied himself with pacing and fretting until the guests began to move through Netherfield’s entrance hall.
It was excessively reminiscent of Bingley’s first ball where he stood in the hall above, at such a vantage as to see and yet be unseen by the arriving guests.
The only difference was that then he denied his feelings for her; now he gave them full sway.
He loved her, and he could not wait for her arrival.
And that moment was well worth the wait.
He felt himself grow weak upon his first sight of her, entering the hall behind her mother side by side with Miss Bennet.
She removed her pelisse, revealing a gown he had never seen.
She had, evidently, eschewed the maidenly predilection for ivory and light hues of pink, blue, or yellow.
The gown was beet-root red, and Darcy thought no other colour would have suited her better.
As he descended the stair, she walked ahead into the ballroom with Miss Bennet. To his satisfaction, he saw her look over the room, as though in search of something or someone. Dare he hope it was him she sought?
The two ladies paused just inside the ballroom to greet Mrs Collins and Lady Lucas.
Elizabeth turned slightly and saw Darcy moving towards them.
Their eyes met, and he had to own, hers showed pleasure with the sight of him.
His heart began to pound almost painfully as his anticipation for the evening, already high, climbed skyward.
When he joined them, he first greeted the other three ladies, then bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. “How beautiful you look this evening.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said with a little twinkle in her eye.
“Your gown is quite the handsomest I have ever seen,” he said and then worried he sounded too fulsome.
“My mother was horrified by the colour I chose. She very nearly made me change, so she will be relieved to know at least one other person liked it.”
She slid her hand into his arm with ease while she said so, and the simple gesture and the nonchalance with which she performed it, nearly made him swoon. Get hold of yourself, man. No need to act like a schoolgirl.
The opening strains of the first set came, and Bingley arrived, confirming it was time to begin. He scarcely looked at Darcy or Elizabeth, and quickly claimed the attention of Miss Bennet, escorting her to the dance floor.
“I do not think there is a soul in Hertfordshire who is not in attendance this evening,” Elizabeth remarked as they pressed farther into the ballroom. “Mr and Miss Bingley have hosted a crush.”
“They have,” Darcy agreed, “and yet there are really only two people whose attendance signifies. One for my friend and the other for me.”
She looked at him searchingly, and he said, “Your sister for him and you for me. The rest might disappear and we, neither of us, should care.”
She blushed. “You flatter me.”
“I speak no more than the truth,” he said quietly.
Darcy had gone so far as to plan topics for conversation during their dance.
He wanted to leave absolutely nothing to chance with this opportunity; alas, once the dance started, he found he could not utter a word.
He was enraptured by her, rendered mute by the splendour of her nearness.
Her sweet scent enveloped him; her hands, so delicate within his own, reinforced her loveliness.
He hoped he did not delude himself to think she felt it too, for she was uncommonly silent as they experienced the dance together.
Their gazes locked for long moments on several occasions throughout their dance.
He suspected it a first time, and then confirmed a second, that her hand lingered just a bit too long in his, withdrawing in a slight, brushing caress of his gloved palm.
It drove him mad, filling him with the impulse to grab it right back, and use it to pull her tightly to him, crushing her body into his own.
It was over far, far too soon. He felt it had scarcely begun when he found himself forced to relinquish her.
His voice was hoarse as he thanked her, and hers was a mere whisper.
There was more to say, but he knew not what it was, or how to say it.
He stood doing no more than looking at her, caught in the enchantment.
“Miss Elizabeth! I believe we are engaged for the next set, are we not?” Sir James’s voice was like a cannon shot tearing apart the peace of a verdant meadow. Darcy took a deep but surreptitious breath and stepped aside.
Elizabeth agreed and allowed herself to be led away, but not without a small look back over her shoulder at him.
It required most of the dance with Sir James for Elizabeth to regain her equanimity.
Her head fairly swum with the sensations left by her dance with Mr Darcy, sensations she knew not how to name.
Confusion? Nothing so unpleasant. Dizziness?
Perhaps a little. Fluster? Yes, one could not deny she had been in a fluster throughout.
They had hardly spoken and yet just being so near to him, feeling the fullness of his attention upon her even when the patterns led them away, was astonishing. Thankfully, the remainder of her partners were agreeable enough to overlook her uncommon reticence.
Just imagine, she thought as she danced with Mr William Goulding, that Mr Darcy might have some sort of attraction to me, of all people. That perhaps his attentions were not meant to hold off Miss Bingley, but instead were genuine expressions of some sort of…attachment to me. Then what?
It was undeniably thrilling to imagine such a man to be within her power. Flattering and exciting and intoxicating. But surely nothing would ever come of it? Mr Darcy would marry a lady from his sphere, and she would marry someone from hers. Was it not so?
Mr Goulding took her to a place near the matrons after they finished their dance. The supper set was next, and Elizabeth tried, as best she could, to look for Mr Darcy without seeming to seek him. When she stopped looking round, she realised Charlotte was beside her.
“Oh Charlotte! Forgive me, I did not see you there.” She smiled at her friend. “I was so delighted to see you earlier.”
“Were you?” Charlotte’s voice sounded flat. “You went away with Mr Darcy easily enough.”
“Well…yes. It was time to begin dancing.”
To this Charlotte only nodded.
“You have only just arrived today, I think?” Elizabeth asked. “I hope we might have time to really sit down for a gossip tomorrow.”
“I daresay most of the gossip tomorrow will be for you,” Charlotte said without rancour. “Two great men battling each other for your attention.”
Elizabeth forced a little chuckle. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”
“Eliza, pray do not be coy; it does not suit you. I have always seen Mr Darcy’s preference for you, but now it seems you have earned Sir James’s as well.”
“It is just a ball. We both know men come into the countryside seeking diversion and no more than that. I have no expectations of either of them.”
“Good,” Charlotte said, somewhat fiercely. “Because marriage is a sacrifice, and I would not see you having your head turned by these men and their fortunes and forget what you will lose in the bargain.”
Elizabeth drew back and studied her friend closely.
She had been a little worried about Charlotte in her visit to Kent; she seemed very altered in the short time she had been a wife.
She had never been of the disposition that overflowed with mirth, but she had always been possessed of a sedate good humour that shone in her eyes and the pink of her cheeks.
That quiet felicity had not been present in March; Charlotte spoke more of how she endured her marriage than of her pleasure in it.
Elizabeth had tried to speak to her of it, but Charlotte would not, only shaking her head and telling her that marriage was an adjustment, as Elizabeth would one day see for herself.
Evidently the adjustment had not yet happened, for Charlotte looked more unhappy than ever.
“I hope all is well back in Hunsford?” Elizabeth enquired gently.
“Very well, indeed,” Charlotte replied, but her tone was that of someone speaking by rote.
“Charlotte, you know I have a willing ear, should you wish to confide in me. You seem very altered, and I only wish to know you are well. You may depend upon my confidence.”
Charlotte’s eyes roamed the space in front of them for such a time that Elizabeth thought the subject was ended.
“He talks too much and thinks too little,” she said suddenly, “but he is respectable and he is not cruel. He offered me the relief of being no longer a burden on my family, and I took it.”
“Have you regrets?”
Charlotte sighed. “I think of how it was just a few short months ago that I, too, was gaily scampering about on the ballroom floor! It seems an age! Do not be in haste to surrender maidenly delights, I beg you. A man will own you, and you will be his.” She gave a little shudder. “In more ways than one.”
“I see.” Elizabeth laid one hand on her friend’s arm. “Perhaps in time it might improve?”
“Perhaps, when I have children,” Charlotte said, but her voice held no conviction. She gave a bitter little laugh and shook off Elizabeth’s consoling hand. “Pray do not pity me.”
“I do not, I assure you,” Elizabeth said, even if privately, she did.
“I confess, I really thought I had one on you.”
“Had one on me?” Elizabeth drew back. “What do you mean?”
Charlotte waved her hand. “Obviously you are so much prettier and younger and livelier…cleverer too until you refused him. When you did that, and he came for me, I thought at last my day had come. I had bested one of the much-admired Miss Bennets.”
It was a peculiar way to think of things, but Elizabeth made no remark on it.
“Even my own father! Always going about proclaiming you the jewels of the county.” Charlotte shook her head. “But in this I had prevailed. You had given up your chance—foolishly I thought—and I had won.”
Elizabeth laughed uncomfortably and raised one hand to toy with her hair. “I have never thought that we were in competition.”
“All women are in an unspoken competition with one another,” said Charlotte tiredly. “And as ever, you have won.” Her shoulders sagged a little but then she said, “Excuse me. I think I will go back to Lucas Lodge now.”
“But Charlotte—”
“Call on me tomorrow,” Charlotte said over her shoulder, already on her way out.
A good night’s sleep will help restore her, Elizabeth thought hopefully. Then we will talk and perhaps contrive some ways to make her happier in her situation.