Chapter 9
Elizabeth was tired and, for the first time in her life, was not overly happy to be at an assembly. She had just come back from London yesterday after a month of upheaval and learning, and she simply was not settled back into her normal life, yet.
The people who surrounded her, however, cared little for her feelings. She was greeted by neighbors and friends alike with smiles and greetings of “Welcome back.” The first question everyone asked was “How was London?” but it was a question she could not answer, because the answer was not simple.
Her mother was doing an excellent job of spreading Elizabeth’s news, and it wasn’t long before those who came up to her cried, “Congratulations!” instead of their previous tired questions. But that was even worse, for now she was peppered with dozens of questions about her new fortune.
She was so surrounded by her neighbors that she missed the moment their new neighbors entered, and she was nowhere near her mother when Sir William introduced them, so she didn’t even know which of the strange men who now circulated among her neighbors was the celebrated Mr. Bingley.
She had no attention to spare to even attempt to discover it, because those who wished to speak with her blocked out her sight of anyone else.
John Lucas was the first to ask her for a dance, but his expression as he did so was rather odd.
Instead of the normal friendly smile due to the best friend of his sister, he greeted her with a grin and a look which was altogether too flirtatious.
Instead of it drawing her in, she was utterly repulsed by such a look, but she could not refuse to dance with a young man who she had known for ten years.
That was just the beginning. For four hours, her attention was demanded by first one person then another. Her dances were claimed with strange and unfamiliar phrasing and heated gazes by men who should be all ease and friendliness.
By the end of the eighth set, Elizabeth was exhausted. She had managed to keep her ninth set free by writing her own name on her dance card for that set. Those who had noticed it gave her a curious look, but she had not commented or explained.
As soon as the dance started, she made her way to the back of the room and exited through the door that led to the large balcony overlooking the gardens.
Breathing in the fresh cold air steadied her nerves for a few moments, and she slowly walked toward the balustrade.
She knew the cold air would chase her back inside soon enough, but for now, she relished the solitude.
It wasn’t complete solitude, however. Once her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she noticed that there was already a gentleman there.
He was one of the visitors, though she did not know which one.
She could not see him well enough to make out any details, but she could clearly tell that he was the tallest of the group.
He looked at her briefly, but without even a nod of acknowledgment, he quickly turned back around to stare out at the gardens which were behind the assembly rooms. They were fairly large since they were often used for gatherings in the summer.
Oddly, Elizabeth was relieved by his lack of friendliness. She had her fill of overly solicitous gentlemen for the evening, and having someone ignore her existence was exactly what she wished.
When she reached the balustrade, she placed her hands on the cold stone and leaned out over it. She never knew why she did this, but she always had. Anytime there was a railing of any sort, she tended to lean against it as if she were trying to break free of its restraint.
She breathed in the solitude and let it calm her nerves for a minute or two. The silence was unexpectedly broken, however, when the gentleman suddenly said, “I wish I was home.”
The sentence was uttered with such sincerity, such longing, that Elizabeth couldn’t help but reply, “Me, too.”
Suddenly, the man swiveled his head toward her and said, “I beg your pardon?”
Elizabeth was taken aback by such a response to a simple wistful statement. So, she blurted out, “I said, ‘me, too.’ I was agreeing with the sentiment that you just uttered.”
“I said nothing,” he claimed, “so, I don’t know what it is that you are agreeing with.”
Elizabeth was confused. She had distinctly heard his statement. She was certain of it. “I apologize if my agreement was offensive to you,” she said.
“That is not what this is about,” he said. His voice grew louder as he approached her. “You shouldn’t be agreeing with silence, which is all that has come out of my mouth.”
Elizabeth decided to allow him his illusion. Perhaps, he had not noticed that he spoke his thoughts aloud. She had done something similar a few times, herself. “Perhaps I was simply agreeing with the silence,” she said. “It was quite a relaxing silence.”
“It was,” he said. “Unfortunately, it is silence no longer, since we are now speaking.”
Elizabeth was annoyed at the implication that this conversation was entirely unwelcome. She was not used to anyone wishing to ignore her completely. However, she could not deny that his statement was correct.
“I suppose,” she said. “Since we both came out here for silence, perhaps it would be best to end this short conversation.”
For a moment he simply looked at her as if she had said something he was finding difficult to comprehend. “Very well,” he said. Then he turned and headed back to his side of the balcony.
Elizabeth again leaned on the balustrade and breathed in the quiet of the night. Her peace only lasted for moments this time before the gentleman said, “What a strange lady.”
It was on her tongue to object to his criticism when she stopped herself.
His voice had been low, as if he was almost whispering.
Yet, it had not felt particularly distant despite the fact that he was on the other side of the balcony, likely about ten feet away.
At that distance such a soft statement should have sounded a bit muffled or difficult to make out.
As she thought about it, she realized that she had not heard his words with her ears. Rather the words were clear in her mind as if she was remembering them instead of hearing them.
What in heaven’s name was going on? Was she going crazy imagining some stranger saying things? Perhaps he was correct to speak to her with annoyance.
Suddenly, a memory popped up in her mind, an image of Jeanie telling her of the wish she would most often make in the future, that she would wish to know what Mr. Darcy was thinking.
Was this Mr. Darcy? Was she hearing his thoughts?
She didn’t know, and she couldn’t exactly ask the gentleman what his name was since they had only just agreed to silence between them.
She settled on hoping that the man’s thoughts would not surface enough to make their way to her, and she tried to relax.
It did not work. Within moments, the man’s thoughts came to her once again. I don’t even know why I’m here. Such chaos. I should have just stayed at Netherfield for the evening.
The statement was long enough that Elizabeth had time to glance at him in the middle of it to verify that she was hearing his thoughts rather than his speech. Of course, the man was not moving his lips, which left only one possibility. This man was Mr. Darcy, and she truly was hearing his thoughts.
Elizabeth was uncertain what to do. It felt decidedly impolite to deliberately impinge on his privacy in such a way, but she did not wish to go back inside just yet.
She vaguely remembered something about a limit to the distance at which she could hear his thoughts, but she could not remember exactly what that distance was. The balcony they were on was fairly small, but she decided she would at least try to get out of range.
She moved as far to the side as she could until she was standing right in front of the stairwell leading down into garden. She held her breath for several moments to see if it had worked. When no thoughts came from the gentleman, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Elizabeth stood there for several more minutes simply breathing in the peace of the night. Oddly, the presence of Mr. Darcy, while not necessarily easy to ignore, did little to disturb her peace. He clearly was not attempting to draw her attention, and his presence was simply relaxing.
Eventually, the cold began to be a bit too uncomfortable. With a sigh of resignation, she turned to head back into the assembly rooms.
Unfortunately, she had forgotten she was so close to the stairs. As she turned, her foot caught the edge and she began to lose her balance. Her arms windmilled in an effort to regain it and prevent a fall, but she couldn’t seem to completely right herself.
For two seconds, which felt more like two eternities, she teetered.
She heard Mr. Darcy’s voice cry, “Watch out!” Then he rushed toward her.
With a feat of dexterity, Elizabeth would not have believed, he managed to grab one of her arms which was still waving wildly in the air.
He pulled, and suddenly she was no longer teetering.
Instead, she was leaning against a strong chest surrounded by the smell of Mr. Darcy’s cologne and shaving soap.
Instinctively, she sighed in relief. Her sigh was interrupted, however, by the intrusion of Mr. Darcy’s thoughts. I’m glad I caught her. What was she thinking moving so far away that she was practically standing on top of the stairwell? I’m not an ogre.
Elizabeth looked up into his face. She couldn’t make out his expression.
Even though she had heard his thoughts, she didn’t really feel as though she knew what he was thinking or feeling.
Nevertheless, as he gazed down at her, she felt as though she were a fly caught in a spider’s web.
She could not move, and she could not turn away.
Those eyes.
The thought she heard pulled her out of her mesmerized state, and she finally managed to pull herself together. She took a step back.
“I am truly grateful for your assistance, Mr. Darcy,” she said.
“We have not been introduced,” he said. “You may know my name, but I do not know yours.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she said with a curtsey.
He bowed slightly and said, “Well, Miss Bennet, I can only say that I am grateful to have been on hand to assist. That could have been a very nasty tumble.”
“It could indeed,” said Elizabeth. “Now, if you will excuse me, it is cold out here, and I must be returning indoors.”
Though she said as much, in truth she was no longer cold. The warmth from Mr. Darcy’s hold still surrounded her. If nothing else, the heat from her cheeks where she could feel herself blushing would keep her warm for quite some time.
“Then I hope you enjoy the assembly,” he said.
She turned to go inside. As she took a step away, she heard his voice say, Why not? She was certain it was one of his thoughts rather than his voice. She was beginning to recognize the difference between them.
Then his voice actually stopped her when he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I wonder if you might grant me one of your remaining dances.”
Elizabeth turned around to face the man. “I am afraid I cannot, Mr. Darcy. My dance card is full. The only reason I have this one open is because I put my own name down as a placeholder. I am truly sorry.”
She hoped he could hear the sincerity in her voice, for she would have liked very much to dance with this man. She still couldn’t see his face very well, but the general shape of it seemed quite nice, and it had certainly been quite pleasant to be in his company.
“Perhaps another time, then,” he said.
“Certainly,” she said, “though I will warn you that dances and balls are few and far between around here. The only home in the neighborhood which has a ballroom is Netherfield. The rest of us make do with a few informal dances at the end of a dinner party or soiree.”
“Then I shall simply have to wait and hope, Miss Bennet,” he said.
Elizabeth did not know how to reply to this, so she simply said, “Good night, Mr. Darcy. I hope you enjoy the rest of the assembly.”
No other words passed between them, either spoken or unspoken, and Elizabeth finally returned to the warmth of the assembly.
The rest of the assembly passed much as the first part had.
She danced every dance, somehow tolerating the altered manners of all her male neighbors.
She tried to excuse their manners, telling herself that it was only natural that such men with little wealth of their own would at least try to win her heart now that she had an independent fortune.
She was somewhat successful. At least it softened her response from anger and indignation to weary resignation.