Chapter Forty-Nine
Mr. Fitzwilliam was accustomed to standing aside while others danced, and it disturbed him not at all. It gave him time to think about his book. But suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a soft voice, asking him if he might not wish a drink.
“Some punch, perhaps, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Or tea? I know where my father keeps his brandy, if that might be your preference.”
He looked down. A young lady past her first bloom stood before him, addressing him calmly. There was no fluttering of lashes or fans, no maidenly blushes, merely a question in her eyes. “I am sorry,” he said. “Were we introduced? I am dreadful at remembering names,” he said, apologetically.
Charlotte laughed. “No, we were not introduced, so you have nothing with which to reproach yourself. I shall introduce myself, if you do not mind. I am Miss Lucas; my parents are hosting this party, which is why I felt emboldened to ask if I might offer you some refreshment.”
“I believe the gentleman is supposed to ask that question of the lady,” he managed.
“Perhaps; but if the lady is the hostess, I think we may rather relax the rules, may we not?”
“By all means,” he said, earnestly. “I do not generally understand the rules, so I am always in favour of relaxing them.”
She laughed. “Having now relaxed the rules, will you not accompany me to the refreshments?”
“I should be happy to, Miss Lucas.”
“There! You remembered my name with no difficulty at all.”
He offered her his arm, which she took. She indicated the refreshment table with a nod, and he led her there. He accepted a glass of punch. As he sipped it, he said, “What do you know of Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Why, everything!
“Everything? How is that possible?”
“We have known one another since we were small girls. She is my very best friend. And I am hers, after her sister, Jane.”
“Is that the one Darcy led off with?”
“Quite right; she is the beauty of the neighbourhood, though I consider Eliza’s looks the equal of anyone’s.”
“Eliza? That is what you call her?”
“It is my special name for her. In truth, she hates it, and it is a measure of her love for me that she allows me to use it.”
“And so you use it because it is proof of that love,” he realised.
“You understand perfectly, Mr. Fitzwilliam!” She beamed at him.
He felt a warmth in his breast. “Will you tell me more about the people here? Or are you obliged to rush off and offer drinks to everyone else?”
“I am free for another half an hour; then it will be my turn at the instrument again.”
“Oh! You are playing for the dancers?”
“Mary Bennet and I take it in turns.”
“Mary. I met her, I believe.”
“Yes, when you first entered. She is newly engaged to a cousin.”
“I am not certain it is a good idea for cousins to marry, though it seems to be all the fashion.”
“Does Mr. Darcy feel the same?” An opportunity to learn the truth of Mr. Darcy’s engagement to his cousin!
“I have no idea. In any case, I would not marry a cousin. Who is the woman with all the lace on her dress?”
Charlotte managed not to laugh. “That is Mrs. Bennet. Her fondness for lace is well-known in the neighbourhood.”
“Well, she is certainly wearing a good deal of it.”
“Yes; Eliza despairs of shopping with her mother, as she abhors all the fuss and feathers that her mother delights in.”
“And speaking of feathers…” Mr. Fitzwilliam nodded toward Miss Bingley, who wore a turban with no fewer than six ostrich feathers tucked in.
“It is doubtless the height of elegance in London,” Charlotte said, allowing a note of doubt to enter her voice.
“But likely not in the country?” Mr. Fitzwilliam asked.
“Likely not, if I am honest.”
“Please, do be honest.” Mr. Fitzwilliam turned to face Charlotte. “Society is so complex that deceit of any sort just makes it all that much more difficult. I need you to be honest.” His voice was almost hoarse in its intensity.
Charlotte stared at him. Finally, she said, “Very well; I promise to always be honest – with you, at least.”
“Excellent. I should like that above all things! Tell me, then; should I attempt to dance?”
“Yes.”
“Will you dance with me? I am a dreadful dancer, you must be warned.”
“Give me a moment.” Charlotte dashed off, whispered in Mary’s ear, and then returned. “The next dance will be Heart’s Ease, which I think to be the easiest of the country dances.”
When Mary struck the opening notes, Charlotte led Mr. Fitzwilliam off to the side, and helped him walk through the steps.
For the last verse, he was actually able to perform the steps on his own.
At the end, he bowed deeply to Charlotte, grinning wildly.
“That was – well, most unexpected, Miss Lucas!”
“Unexpected?” She laughed.
“Yes! I danced, I did not step on your feet or damage you in any way, and it was most enjoyable! May we do it again?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course; that is our agreement.”
“If you dance with me twice, the neighbours will wonder if there is an understanding of some sort between us, particularly if you do not dance with anyone else.”
“Well, dash it!”
“I quite agree,” Charlotte said. “But,” she added, her heart pounding wildly. “It would not be considered inappropriate were you to call on me tomorrow.”
“Call?” He sounded puzzled.
“Yes; visit me here at Lucas Lodge in the late morning or early afternoon.”
“I most certainly shall!”
“I must go to the instrument now, Mr. Fitzwilliam; I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
“And that is honest? You look forward to it?”
“It is and I do.” With that, she disappeared in a swirl of skirts. In truth, Charlotte stood next to a wall for several minutes, composing herself enough to play for the dancers.
***
Their dance had not passed unnoticed. The Bennets were happy to see Charlotte and Mr. Fitzwilliam dancing; Mr. Darcy was surprised; Miss Bingley was furious.