Chapter 7
The Stanhope ball glittered with such radiance that Elizabeth suspected half the candles in the city had been requisitioned for the occasion.
Chandeliers sparkled like suspended constellations, their light glinting off the gilt moulding and the jewels at ladies’ throats.
It was far and away the most elegant affair she had been to while in London.
The air hummed with laughter, violins, and the familiar undercurrent of gossip.
Elizabeth felt the burden of curious eyes on her as she stepped into the ballroom on Mr Darcy’s arm.
Every time she thought she’d grown accustomed to the speculative glances, she found herself bowing under their weight, like a branch laden with winter snow.
At least with Mr Darcy by her side, she could rely upon his stoic nature to keep herself upright.
But tonight the stares seemed particularly bold, as if the crowd expected a dramatic declaration or a very public lapse in decorum.
Mr Darcy, as usual, seemed unbothered. “I shall fetch you a lemonade,” he said. “You appear warm.”
“I am perfectly composed,” Elizabeth replied, though her cheeks felt rather hot.
“Even so.”
He left her at the edge of the floor, threading through the crowd with efficiency. How like him to act as if he knew best. Elizabeth merely shook her head as parties continued to flood into the ballroom. All of London, it seemed, had accepted an invitation to tonight’s soiree.
Elizabeth scanned the room, keeping an eye out for the cardinal red of regimentals, or a person who matched the description the printer had given.
She’d spent the previous evening in a state of restlessness, trying to recall who the description reminded her of.
After folding and unfolding the paper Darcy had given her bearing the man’s description, she’d finally surrendered to fitful sleep.
Elizabeth was so intent on finding the mysterious informant that she did not at first notice that the remarks of two young ladies were directed at her as they passed. Feathers trembled in their hair as they swooped by her with exaggerated delicacy.
“— quite shocking, the way Miss Bennet pursues Mr Bingley,” whispered the first. “Such blatant designs.”
“Indeed. And I heard her sister is little better,” murmured the second, nodding slightly toward Elizabeth. “Setting her sights even higher.”
Elizabeth’s spine snapped straight, her entire focus brought to the pair of ninnies who brushed by.
“I fear you are mistaken,” she said, her tone so like Darcy’s stoic, no-nonsense rigidity it startled even herself.
“Had you any knowledge of my sister’s actions, let alone her feelings, you would know them to be everything sensible and just. And as for myself, my sights, I assure you, are fixed only on helping my sister find her happiness.
Would not your own happiness be better served in attending to your own affairs than in interfering in matters of which you know nothing? ”
The two ladies blanched, bobbed curtseys, and scurried off with a look of slight terror in their eyes.
Elizabeth exhaled through her nose. She could not believe that strangers felt emboldened to utter such nonsense aloud.
She clenched her gloved hand into a fist at her side as righteous anger burned in her stomach.
But as the wave of her temper receded, she hoped she had not just made the gossip worse by refuting it so vehemently.
She turned to resume her search for the light-haired man of medium build that they sought, but Darcy rejoined her with two glasses in hand. He offered her the lemonade.
“You defended your sister,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth sipped delicately, still fighting to regain her composure. “I always shall.”
He dipped his head, and for a moment, she thought she saw tenderness in his eyes.
She took another deep sip, taken aback by the softness in his expression. “Did you discover anything new from the Stanhopes’ circle?” she asked.
The stern tilt to Darcy’s mouth returned. “Only that the newest scandal sheet sold out within an hour. The editor may soon be a wealthy man.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “I suppose ruining reputations sells well.”
“Unfortunately.”
Before she could reply, they were hailed by Georgiana Darcy, Mrs Annesley at her side.
“Miss Bennet?” Georgiana greeted her shyly, twisting her fan between nervous fingers. She looked like a pale butterfly seeking a place to land and bobbed a delicate curtsy.
Elizabeth smiled warmly, returning the greeting. “Miss Darcy, what a pleasure! Are you enjoying the ball?”
Georgiana blushed. “I am trying to.”
“The company is hardly as fearsome as it appears,” Elizabeth said, though it was, perhaps, a bit of a lie. “And you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” she said shyly. “You are too kind.”
“No, not at all; I am only truthful,” Elizabeth told her.
Her remark seemed to charm the girl, whose smile shone a little brighter. “Miss Bennet, you make me feel as though there is nothing to be afraid of at all.”
“Excellent.”
Darcy coughed, drawing their attention.
“Is everything all right, brother?” Georgiana fussed over her elder brother, who denied that anything was wrong.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but a snippet of sharp commentary stopped her short.
“I say, is that Miss Georgiana Darcy? Was it not she who was meant by that dreadful little item a week ago?”
The other tutted. “Indeed, it is. Surely her brother ought to keep her closer.”
Georgiana’s face drained of colour. Mrs Annesley patted her arm reassuringly, though she looked stricken herself.
Elizabeth stepped forward before she thought better of it.
“If you have comments about Miss Darcy,” she said to the offenders, a pair of matrons who had powdered their faces too thickly in an attempt to appear younger than their age, “I suggest you speak to her brother directly. I’m sure he would welcome the opportunity to correct your misinformation. ”
The matrons stiffened, then retreated with astonishing speed.
Georgiana stared at Elizabeth as though she had just slain a dragon.
“You did not have to do that,” she whispered. “They only repeat what they’ve heard elsewhere.”
“No one who knows you would speak with such cruelty,” Elizabeth said. “I’m afraid strangers must learn it.”
Mr Darcy studied her with an intensity that made Elizabeth’s pulse skip. Was he angry with her? Had she overstepped in defending Georgiana? They were new friends, but Elizabeth could not bear that anyone should belittle Georgiana, sweet and gentle as she was.
He turned from her then to devote himself to his sister, but all his earnest enquiries as to whether she wished to be taken home were returned with a decided negative.
Having found her bravery to attend the event, Georgiana refused to retreat.
She would rest briefly in the retiring room instead, before returning to show everyone that she would not be cowed.
Though looking surprised at her bravery, Mr Darcy at last accepted this, and allowed Mrs Annesley to lead Georgiana away.
Once they had disappeared into the crowd, Mr Darcy looked at Elizabeth with an expression she could not quite decipher. She held his gaze, wondering if she would now receive a deferred, and perhaps deserved, scolding for her interference.
“I thank you,” he said instead. “More than you know. To hear such slander and do nothing was intolerable, but I did not think I could speak with less fury than I felt.”
“It was nothing,” Elizabeth replied, though her heart fluttered alarmingly.
The orchestra struck the opening refrain of a country dance. Darcy deposited his empty glass on a nearby tray, taking Elizabeth’s as well.
“Miss Bennet, may I have this dance?”
Elizabeth placed her hand in his without a second thought.
Anger still pulsed in her veins, but soon the world narrowed to the music, the rhythmic swirl of dancers, and the firmness of Mr Darcy’s hand guiding hers.
Their steps aligned with surprising ease, and soon Elizabeth felt more calm.
They did not speak, even as they broke apart and came together again, swirling between couples, but there was a comfortable companionship between them now.
One that did not need to be filled with chatter.
Elizabeth let the comfort of their silence and the movement of the dance soothe her.
When Mr Darcy spoke again, it came as a surprise. “I admit, your defence of Georgiana moved me, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “She is dear to you. And undeserving of such cruelty.”
“You see her clearly,” he said. “Many do not.”
They spun, parted, and returned. Mr Darcy’s gaze held hers with gentle steadiness, and Elizabeth felt a rush of affinity for him that unsettled her.
“I believe I misjudged you terribly, Miss Bennet,” he said, low enough that only she could hear.
The words struck her like a physical blow. Mr Darcy, admitting he had committed some fault? She faltered a step, but he steadied her at once, his fingers curling around hers with protective warmth.
She was, uncharacteristically, at a loss for words. “I — thank you.”
Before she could regain her breath, a familiar, sharp voice sliced through the air.
“My, my,” Caroline Bingley drawled from the sidelines, her silk gown gleaming like a predatory flame. “Is it not astonishing how blatant some ladies can be? One would think that a little discretion might come naturally when one has already been dragged through the gutter press.”
Elizabeth stiffened.
Miss Bingley continued, loud enough for a ring of listeners to hear.
“But I suppose it is not so. And you know, I have never believed in the rumours. How could anyone believe such nonsense! Why, to suggest that Miss Elizabeth has led Mr Darcy into an entanglement he now tires of! Quite absurd. Mr Darcy is too clever to be led into anything — though, of course, a gentleman can be misled through no fault of his own.”
A ripple of murmurs spread.