Chapter 17 #2
Elizabeth hoped he was correct.
She learnt that Mr Wright’s father had recently passed and that his brother had just ascended to the title of baron. Mr Wright was studying at the Inns of Court to become a barrister, and he loved playing chess, riding, and shooting.
When Mr Wright returned her to her aunt, Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr Darcy shepherding four men towards them.
He reintroduced her to Arthur Moore, who was Viscount Wessex, and he introduced Misters Johnson, Williams, and Bingley.
All four men requested a set from Elizabeth, and she smiled gratefully at Darcy.
He was attempting to fill her dance card with men he knew and trusted.
Of course, she first had to get through two sets with men he disliked. They had a hurried, whispered conference about Mr Jenkins, who apparently was known to be overly familiar with dance partners.
Mr Jenkins started out quite proper, bowing to Elizabeth and escorting her to the line of ladies. But just before he stepped to his own line, he caressed Elizabeth’s back, daring to move his hand slightly into the region one might term the derrière.
She frowned his way and, as they approached one another for the Balance and Rigaudon, she said in a low voice, “If you touch me inappropriately again, I shall pretend an injury.” She saw that Mr Darcy was following them closely with his eyes, as she had expected—he had not danced with any other woman as yet.
She nodded towards him and watched Mr Jenkins nervously cast a glance in that direction.
From then on, Mr Jenkins kept to the proper movements of the dance.
He attempted to smile at Elizabeth, but she kept her face in a pleasant but unsmiling expression.
He asked her questions about how she had met Mr Darcy and, after she briefly stated that Lady Matlock had invited her to a family dinner that included Mr Darcy, Mr Jenkins attempted a few more intrusive questions about their relationship. She managed to elude them:
“I have never seen Darcy dance the first at any dance or assembly. I believe that this surely sends us all a signal?”
“I believe that your question signals to us all your unfortunate want of acquaintance with decorum.”
“But you think Darcy is serious in his attentions?”
“I have heard Mr Darcy being accused of being overly serious in all matters; however, I have observed him to be the correct amount of seriousness in each situation. I am not certain that the same could be said of you, given the nature of your conversation.”
“You were quite unknown before Darcy started escorting you to events. My sister begs me to find out what wilderness you have been living in all these years?”
“In contrast, my sister asks where you have been brought up, to think that questions such as these are polite ballroom discourse.”
That dance set was an exercise in misery, but Elizabeth was much worse off when it was time to partner with Lord Stewart.
This dance partner complimented her effusively, but she did not consider even a single word to be sincere.
At the beginning of the second dance in the set, he began to criticise Mr Darcy.
At first Elizabeth made no response—after all, what could she say, in between dance steps, to murmured comments such as, “There are some excellent reasons—and not happy reasons—that for years now Darcy has been called ‘the Monk’”?
Near the end of the second dance, Lord Stewart said, “You should definitely explore other options, Miss Bennet. I warn you now that the Monk will certainly have no idea of how to satisfy a woman. He might, in fact, be odd enough to know how to satisfy other confirmed bachelors.”
“Oh dear, I seem to have taken ill,” said Elizabeth flatly, with no pretence that she was sincere. She left the dance floor and sank into an empty chair.
Lord Stewart looked half amused and half affronted. He walked towards Elizabeth and smiled as he said, “You are a bold one, I dare say.” He turned to accept the cup of punch another man gave him, and as they walked away, Elizabeth heard the two men speak in low voices and then laugh.
Mr Darcy reached her just moments after he left, and he got down on one knee so that he could easily see her face as he asked, “Are you well?”
“I am. I pretended to be ill to escape my dance partner.”
“What did Stewart say to you?”
“He complimented me rather too unreservedly and insulted you much too vociferously. I put up with it as long as I could.”
At that moment, Aunt Maddie arrived, and Mr Darcy hurried to fetch Elizabeth a cup of wine—the punch, he said, was much too strong.
When he returned, the Viscount Wessex had already stepped up for his dance.
Elizabeth took several sips of the wine, declared herself miraculously cured, and stood up with Darcy’s friend, who murmured to her, “Your last partner is known to flirt in inappropriate ways, but he does not follow through with actions. You are safe from unwanted advances, especially since no one wishes to anger Darcy.”
They took their positions and began to dance, and Elizabeth felt much better about the evening again. She asked, in between dance steps, why nobody wished to anger Mr Darcy. She mentioned that she had seen a few men seem almost frightened of him.
“You need have no worries about Darcy, Miss Bennet. He is not a violent man, although he is a protective one. If someone dared to threaten his sister or you, I could see him doing whatever it took to protect you. But most men are leery about crossing him because he has a reputation of being extremely honest; if there was ever a dispute about who was telling the truth, almost every member of society would side with Darcy. And even though he has never fought a duel, and would almost certainly never do so, everyone knows that he is an excellent shot and is undefeated in fencing. Just his size alone makes many men loath to anger him.”
It took an entire dance for the viscount to say all of that, and Elizabeth began the second dance by saying, “Lord Wessex, I believe that Mr Darcy is entirely too perfect. You must have some tale you might relay about a mistake he has made or a prank he has pulled.”
She had the pleasure of seeing the viscount throw his head back in a laugh, and then he said, “I have an amazing story to tell you, but it is on a topic I dare not bring up here and now.”
Elizabeth cringed, and Lord Wessex hurried to say, “It is respectable enough, especially in medical studies, but it is not appropriate ballroom chatter. I believe there will be a break between this set and the next one if you wish to hear my tale.”
Nodding eagerly, Elizabeth wondered what her sober and respectable suitor could have done that would necessitate these measures.
During the break, the viscount, Elizabeth, Mr Darcy, and Aunt Maddie all went to a spacious balcony. “What are we doing out here?” Mr Darcy asked.
“I owe Miss Bennet a story,” the viscount said with a shrug. “This happened in Cambridge; Darcy wished to do a dissection of a dead animal to better see the anatomical parts about which we had all learnt.”
“Oh, dear, I shall never live this down,” Mr Darcy said with a blush.
Miss Bennet put her hand on his arm in an attempt to provide comfort, but she also urged Lord Wessex to continue.
“Well, he had to ask three professors before he found one that was willing to guide him in the dissection, and he paid to obtain a dead and preserved mammal. But when it was delivered, unfortunately, the mammal was a dog. Darcy felt ill after making the first cut, and he vomited into the body cavity.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth laughed and said, “I certainly see why this might be considered improper ballroom talk.”
“Of course, under the stern eyes of the professor who rode a mile to guide the dissection, Darcy had to clean up the specimen before he could go on with the dissection. The professor advised him not to become a physician, although of course that advice was not needed, since Darcy’s lot in life was set. ”
“Well, Moore, if you are quite finished making me look foolish, perhaps I might guide Miss Bennet back to the dance.”
Elizabeth was still laughing, but she sobered as she said, “It does not make you look the least bit foolish. It tells me that you value learning so much that you put extra time and money into the endeavour. That is admirable.”
Darcy kissed her hand and then led her to the ballroom, where her next dance partner was Mr Bingley.
Elizabeth was surprised to learn that Mr Darcy counted Mr Bingley as a friend, since her only knowledge of the family was that both Miss Bingleys were insufferably haughty.
They had attempted to make her feel inadequate because they wore diamonds and she garnets, when she first met them at Mrs Brummel’s musicale.
She had learnt from Mr Darcy, later on, that the Bingley sisters were insecure of their place in the gentry because their father had made his money in trade.
She had said, “I do not wish to look down on them because they come from trade, Mr Darcy, but neither do I wish them to look down on me because they have more wealth.”
“Of course you are correct,” Mr Darcy had responded.
Now he said, “Mr Bingley is a friend from Eton, even though he is much younger than I am. I imagine you will find him excellent company.”
Bingley’s grin was infectious and, from what Elizabeth had seen of him, he smiled all the time.
He eagerly led her to a place in the lines for their set, chattering away about the ball, dancing in general, his favourite sights in London, and his hopes to one day lease an estate near Town.
“It was my father’s fondest hope that I would bring our family into being landed gentry, but I have not the least idea of how to run an estate. ”
“Perhaps Mr Darcy could help you learn what you need to know,” Elizabeth said.
“That is an excellent idea, Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed.
“In truth, it is an idea I have been wishing to pursue for more than a month now. I have been longing to consult with my friend, but I have not seen him since I began looking for properties—until this evening. I gather that he met a beautiful and accomplished young woman, and he has been very busy courting her.” He gave her a little nod and another of his ubiquitous smiles.
Elizabeth chuckled. “I am devastated that I managed to disrupt your life before I even met you.”
“Of course, I am delighted for my friend that he has discovered you. But I intend to steal him away for at least an hour or two this week, so that I can show him the list of properties I am considering.”
“I suppose I might spare Mr Darcy for an hour,” Elizabeth said. She was surprised that Mr Bingley continued to tease and talk—and, of course, smile—every moment of their dances together. She shook her head, thinking that the man gave the word chatterbox a whole new meaning.