Chapter 20
Twenty
The dancing was already underway when Elizabeth and Jane entered the assembly rooms some half an hour later, having allowed their mother and younger sisters to depart ahead in the carriage, sending it back again so that they might arrive in a less chaotic fashion.
Still, even with that modest delay, the evening had clearly begun in earnest.
Now, as they stepped inside, the air seemed to shimmer with movement and light.
Laughter echoed off the walls, mingling with the strains of a country dance and the rhythm of shoes gliding across the wooden floor.
Elizabeth paused just inside the doorway, blinking at the brightness of the space, her heart thudding in her chest.
Mrs Long greeted them as they entered, pausing to admire Jane’s gown, while Sir William Lucas stepped up with his usual good cheer, declaring the evening vastly improved by their arrival. Elizabeth offered polite smiles and curtsies as her gaze drifted around the room.
There was Maria Lucas, flushed and breathless, being swept into a reel by Uncle Philips’s clerk.
Nearby, Lydia and Kitty held court with Mr King and another gentleman, laughing far too loudly and tossing their curls with practised ease.
Mary sat solemnly near the wall, deep in what appeared to be a moral discussion with the Longs’ eldest son.
And in the far corner, Lady Lucas had fastened herself to poor Mr Goulding, who wore the look of a man resigned to his fate.
It was all as it had ever been, and yet, for Elizabeth, everything had changed.
She leaned towards her sister, calling over the noise, “I do not see Mr Bingley.”
Jane smiled, her eyes bright with quiet amusement. “Oh, I am certain he will be here directly.”
Elizabeth lifted a brow at her sister’s tone but said nothing more.
The music ended, and another set began. The room was alive with motion as couples moved to take their places.
Elizabeth, eager for a moment’s peace, murmured something about finding a glass of punch and excused herself, threading her way through the crowd.
She had just reached the refreshment table and taken up a cup when murmurs began to ripple across the room. Before she could wonder at the cause, a low voice spoke just behind her shoulder.
“Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth stilled, the cup trembling slightly in her grasp. That voice—deep, measured, unmistakably his—sent a current racing through her limbs.
She turned slowly.
And there he stood.
Mr Darcy was unchanged, or so it seemed in every outward respect. He wore his evening attire with quiet elegance—his dark coat expertly tailored, his bearing as composed as ever. But there was something in his eyes, something that arrested her more than any memory could.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, her voice steadying even as her pulse refused to do the same. “I had no notion you were in Hertfordshire.”
The edges of his lips lifted, just slightly, but the effect was startling.
“I arrived only this afternoon. Bingley and your sister were kind enough to allow me a brief stop at Netherfield on my way to town.”
“Oh. I see,” she answered, her thoughts racing. No wonder Jane had been so insistent that she attend the assembly! She looked away, uncertain what else to say. She had imagined this moment so many times, and now that it was here, every practised phrase had vanished from her mind.
He stepped closer, his voice pitched low. “May I hope, Miss Bennet, that you are well?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Thank you. And you?”
“Well enough,” he replied, though his gaze lingered on her face with a tenderness that made her breath catch.
A stillness settled between them, charged with too many unspoken things. Around them, the hum of the assembly continued, yet, for Elizabeth, the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
At last, he addressed her again. “If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of standing up with me for the next?”
Elizabeth’s lips parted in surprise. For a moment, she could only stare, her heart hammering. Then, slowly, almost before she realized what she was about, she gave a single nod.
“I would be pleased to, sir.”
His features shifted, the same small smile playing about his lips. He offered his arm just as the present set ended, and together, they turned towards the floor.
The music began, and they took their places.
As they moved through the first figure, Elizabeth became keenly aware of the room around them—or rather, of how many eyes were turned in their direction.
Jane, dancing nearby with Mr Bingley, caught her gaze with a tender smile.
Mrs Bennet stood beside Lady Lucas, her fan frozen mid-flutter, her expression a mix of astonishment and triumph.
But Elizabeth forced herself to look away.
Whatever gossip might spring from the sight of her dancing with Mr Darcy, she could not concern herself with it now.
Not when the gentleman himself stood before her.
He danced as flawlessly as she remembered.
Every step precise, every movement refined.
And yet there was something different this time.
Although his form remained impeccable, he seemed more at ease than she had ever seen him in company.
His shoulders no longer bore the same stiffness; his countenance, while reserved, held none of its former hauteur.
“I trust you have had an enjoyable summer?” Mr Darcy ventured as they circled through a turn.
“Yes. It has been quite eventful,” Elizabeth replied. “And you? I understand from Mr Bingley that you have been much occupied.”
“Indeed,” he said with a glance towards the musicians. “Affairs at Pemberley kept me longer than I anticipated. But I was gratified to hear of your sister’s marriage. Bingley writes often, and always with great joy.”
Elizabeth’s smile deepened, her chin lifting in quiet pride. “They are well suited, and I believe equally contented with their choice.”
Mr Darcy inclined his head as the dancers changed positions. Then he said, “Lady Catherine informed me that Mr and Mrs Collins are soon to welcome a child.”
“Yes. Charlotte has already entered her confinement. The baby is expected any time now.”
“Then I hope it arrives safely and brings them every happiness.”
They lapsed into silence again, though it no longer felt uncomfortable. The steps of the dance gave them rhythm and space as the music carried them forwards. When their hands met briefly in the final figure, Elizabeth was startled by the faint warmth where his fingers brushed her own.
As the measure concluded and they stepped away from the set, a moment’s uncertainty passed between them.
Then, quietly, Mr Darcy said, “Would you care for a breath of fresh air?”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Yes. I think I would.”
Together, they turned towards the doors.
The night was cool and still, the sky bright with stars as Elizabeth stepped onto the terrace at Mr Darcy’s side.
They remained there for a time, speaking softly beneath the lanterns’ glow.
What they said she could hardly recall, only that the conversation left her heart lighter and her spirits steadier than they had been in months.
The remainder of the assembly passed in a haze of music, motion, and unexpected delight.
Elizabeth danced another set with Mr Darcy, and several more besides.
She stood up with Mr Bingley, with a genial young gentleman she scarcely knew, even with Sir William Lucas, who declared he had never had such a charming partner.
Yet through it all, Mr Darcy was never far off.
When she was not dancing, he remained close at hand; and when she was, she glimpsed him across the room, speaking amiably with her neighbours.
To her astonishment, she saw him in earnest conversation with Sir William, and even engaged in a civil discussion with Mrs Bennet, who appeared on the verge of swooning from self-importance.
The sight might have amused Elizabeth more, had her thoughts not been so curiously divided—half on the moment before her, half on the gentleman who had somehow found his way back into her world.
At last, as the musicians packed away their instruments and the candles burned low, Jane appeared at her side with a knowing smile.
“You look very well, dearest,” she said softly. “More at ease than I have seen you in some time.”
Elizabeth laughed, though it came out shyly. “It has been…a memorable evening.”
Jane’s eyes sparkled. “Would you like to stay at Netherfield tonight?”
Elizabeth hesitated, heat rising to her cheeks. “I should like that very much, but I shall have to return to Longbourn first. I have nothing with me.”
“Oh, that will not be necessary,” Jane answered with a mischievous expression. “I asked Mrs Hill to pack a bag before we left, and Charles has already gone to collect it.”
Elizabeth stared back at her. “Jane Bingley, you are as bad as Mama!”
Her sister gave a little shrug, wholly unapologetic.
Elizabeth could not help but smile, her heart full.
After passing the news to Mrs Bennet, who could not have been more delighted with the scheme if she had contrived it herself, she and Jane stepped into the night, where Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were waiting.
Mr Bingley’s carriage soon arrived, its black lacquer gleaming in the moonlight, and Elizabeth’s heart gave a sharp flutter as Mr Darcy handed her inside.
And in that moment, she allowed herself to hope.
Elizabeth awoke before the sun had fully risen. Pale light filtered through the curtains, and the world beyond lay hushed in the stillness of early morning. For a moment she remained motionless, her thoughts curiously clear despite a night of restless dreams.
At last, she rose and dressed. The house was still, the corridors empty as she slipped downstairs and out through a side door into Netherfield’s gardens.