Chapter Eight
“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.”
MONROE
I STARED ACROSS THE BALLROOM at Fitz during our etiquette lesson, unable to take my eyes off him. If I’d thought he was dishy before, I’d been sorely mistaken. The man was officially a demigod. Sadly, that evil Lady Catherine was determined to keep me away from him. She refused to even let him sit across from me at lunch, even though Fitz tried to insist that Mr. Darcy’s silent fascination with Elizabeth and her fine eyes would certainly make him want to sit across from her. The argument did not persuade her. In fact, she sat Fitz and Winnifred at the opposite end of the table from me, while the miserable woman sat at the head of the table, doing her best Lady Catherine impression. Which meant she placed Mr. Darcy right next to her, as he was the highest-ranking guest. Winnifred cozied up right next to him and whispered continuously to him throughout lunch. Well, that was when Lady Catherine didn’t steal his attention. I could only imagine that both women were doing their best to point out all my flaws. It was funny, or maybe not so funny, how the Pride and Prejudice story mirrored my life. If only I could channel my inner Elizabeth, assuming I had an inner Elizabeth. Please, let me have an inner Elizabeth.
With Fitz’s attention being diverted elsewhere, that left me trying to ignore my ex-fiancé leering at me from across the table, all while I tried making polite conversation with those sitting next to me, including Mr. Collins, who seemed so bored to be there. Not once did he mention the excellent potatoes or pontificate about James Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women . The latter I was more than grateful for, especially because all I could think of was running my fingers through Fitz’s dark mussed hair, styled after Colin Firth’s beloved version of Mr. Darcy. These thoughts scared me, considering what Winnifred had said in the dressing room. I couldn’t make Fitz a social outcast. That was, of course, if he truly wanted to be more than friends. He was sure acting like it. His beautiful line about always seeing me as a woman had me all sorts of fluttery. And don’t even get me going about how I wanted to live out every Mr. Darcy fantasy I’d ever had with him. Fitz had to be the most beautiful Mr. Darcy there ever was. Sorry, Colin.
“A lady must always speak with elegance and propriety,” Lady Catherine expounded, shaking me out of my torrid thoughts, as she walked between the rows of chairs that separated the men from the women. Oh yes, she refused to let the men and women sit together during this portion. It was weird, considering we’d sat together during lunch. I had a feeling she was doing it purposely to keep the duke away from me.
“To add to that, a lady must never force a man to pay attention to her.” Lady Catherine’s commanding voice reverberated through the grand, opulently adorned ballroom, filling the air with an authoritative tone. The room itself was a sight to behold, adorned with intricate decorations, everything from Chinese porcelain vases to solid gold candlesticks. The air was heavy with the scent of fresh flowers, the smell of rain, and polished wood.
“That’s hypocritical of her to say,” I whispered to Jane next to me, “considering all she did during lunch was force Mr. Darcy to pay attention to her.”
Jane giggled, and Lady Catherine whipped her head in our direction, her face so pinched that her wrinkles pleated. It was even scarier than when she’d scolded me earlier for letting Calliope, a.k.a. Mary, wear one of my dresses. Of course, that kind gesture on my part had ended in disaster. The dress I’d given her, and assisted in tying up the back, came loose—let’s just say it mortified the poor woman.
“As I was saying, a lady must never do anything that would give rise to gossip,” Lady Catherine pitched her voice higher.
That piece of etiquette pierced my heart a bit. I knew if Fitz and I became a romantic item, the gossip would run rampant, and it would be cruel. And while I tried not to care what other people said about me, I had a feeling that the situation would be different if the press and media made jokes about me here in the UK—or worse, about Fitz.
Lady Catherine droned on about how well-bred people walked uprightly, moved with grace and ease, and never used vulgarity. Apparently I wasn’t well bred, because I was thinking some choice words about her and Lady Winnifred, who whispered in my ear from behind, “I hope you’re listening and taking notes.”
I wrung my hands together, silently asking myself: What would Elizabeth do? Yes, that was going to be my new mantra—WWED. I knew one thing for sure: She wouldn’t draw attention to herself, but would think of something witty to say that got her point across. Sadly, I couldn’t think of anything along those lines. Ugh. I was letting Jane Austen down in a big, big way. She obviously disliked the Carolines of her day, but I could only sit there and hold my tongue. Sorry, Jane. This wasn’t the experience I’d been hoping for. I wanted to just pretend not to like Caroline Bingley, not actually hate her.
“Now let’s practice the art of the curtsy and bow, as well as properly addressing those within your family, your peers, and those above your station.”
“That would be me,” Lady Winnifred whispered in my ear again.
This time, I turned around and replied with a comeback I thought worthy of Jane Austen. “Not here, Miss Bingley,” I said in my best British accent. “My father is a gentleman and owns an estate. Can you say the same?”
Winnifred tsked at first, affronted, but then she smiled like an evil Cheshire Cat. “I meant in all the ways that count, dear.” Condescension stuck to every word like molasses.
Dang. She. Was. Good. Awful, but good.
I turned around after that brutal takedown, and Jane squeezed my hand, offering me some sympathy. More and more, I empathized with Elizabeth and all she had working against her. I was probably my own worst enemy, but Elizabeth was at times too. She was too proud to hear anything against Wickham at first, and look at the harm that caused. I didn’t feel ready for the Carolines of my world. Sure, I’d learned to laugh them off back in school. But this was different. There would be an enormous cost to be with Fitz. Was I willing to pay for it? I didn’t have time to think about it.
“Everyone, stand and turn to the person next to you,” Lady Catherine instructed. “We will start with the ladies. For a proper curtsy, shift the weight to your left foot while you bring the ball of your right foot behind.” She demonstrated perfectly. “Then you slightly bend your knees while doing a gentle bow of the head. Nothing dramatic, but also don’t rush. And be sure to look down when bowing the head, but when the head lifts, make eye contact.” She made it look easy enough.
I looked over and caught Fitz’s eye, wondering if he remembered the night back in school when I’d made him teach me how to do a proper curtsy—you know, just in case I ever ran into the Queen. Obviously, that had never happened, but it was still a fun night, even if Fitz pretended to grumble about it. But he’d made sure I could curtsy with the best of them. A knowing smile ticked up on his handsome face, telling me he remembered as well.
I thought back to all the nights Fitz would sneak over to our small flat, which was not far from the school. Our alma mater was a boarding school and a day school, and Fitz was part of the boarding crowd. My dad would play us his old Billy Joel records and make us American-style cheeseburgers and fries. Then I would play the old out-of-tune piano Dad had rented for me to practice on while we lived in the UK. While I played, I’d sing my little heart out. Often Fitz would sit on the piano bench with me, not saying much of anything, but occasionally he’d request his favorites. Often it would be something by the Beatles, like “Hey Jude.” But oddly, his most requested song was “And So It Goes” by Billy Joel. Of course, it pleased Dad that he’d made a Billy Joel fan out of Fitz. But I’d always wondered why he loved that song so much. I mean, it’s beautiful, but kind of sad, about a man who guards his heart. Had Fitz been guarding his heart around me? All I know is that each time he left, my dad would say, “I like that kid,” and I would think how much I liked him too.
“Practice,” demanded Lady Catherine, intruding in my thoughts once again, “while I teach the men the proper way to bow.”
“She’s just a ray of sunshine,” Jane snickered as soon as Lady Catherine diverted her attention to the men.
I giggled and did a perfect curtsy, if I did say so myself.
“Impressive.” Jane clapped. “I’m going to try. I’ve been watching Regency-era YouTube videos for days now, learning how to do it.”
Yep, she was definitely my kind of woman. If I hadn’t had Fitz to teach me, that’s what I would have done too. But I did have Fitz, and I wanted to keep it that way, even if that meant staying just friends.
Jane executed the perfect curtsy, and I clapped for her. “Good job.”
Our poor mama was not having the same luck, and being paired with Winnifred didn’t help matters.
“You’re doing it all wrong. Straighten your back, and don’t be so dramatic this time.”
Mrs. Bennet was better at being assertive than I was. “I don’t know who you think you are.” She snapped her fingers right in front of Winnifred’s face. “But you’d better drop the attitude. Most of us are here to enjoy ourselves, so stop trying to ruin it. Maybe if you jumped off your high horse, you might have some fun too.”
I loved Mrs. Bennet. She was my new hero.
Winnifred blinked and blinked, so stunned someone would call her out. “Well, I was just trying to help you not look like a fool.” She spun on her heel and marched off.
“That was amazing,” I sang as I curtsied to her. “I bow down to you.”
“That stick thing probably just needs to eat some carbs.” Mrs. Bennet laughed. “Glucose is a beautiful thing.”
While I agreed about glucose, I wasn’t sure carbs were going to make Winnifred any nicer. I don’t even think landing Fitz would fix her attitude.
Mrs. Bennet wrapped her arms around Jane and me. “You just come to me if that one bothers you.”
Oh, I had a feeling Winnifred had more in store for me, but I wasn’t sure if Mrs. Bennet could protect me from her wrath. Regardless, I truly appreciated her willingness to try.
I leaned my head against Mrs. Bennet. “Thank you.”
We broke apart when Lady Catherine began listing when and to whom we should bow or curtsy. Apparently, all children in that era bowed or curtsied to their parents the first time they saw them each day. I could never imagine doing that to my dad, but it would be fun to do it for the next week. I really wanted to immerse myself in the experience—and especially in Mr. Darcy.
“Now, let’s speak of dance etiquette before the dance lessons begin. We will be learning the English country dance and the cotillion. There will be no waltzing,” Lady Catherine said shrilly. “It is scandalous to embrace one’s partner so closely, as is standing up with the same partner more than two times in a row.”
I had to press my lips together so as not to laugh at how outraged she sounded. It was almost as if she weren’t playing a part, but actually believed it to be true. I caught Fitz staring at me with a look of disappointment. Was he as sad as I was that we wouldn’t be waltzing together? Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I thought about being in his arms and twirling romantically to the music. I knew Fitz was an excellent dancer—he’d taken dance lessons when he was younger because the British still have a social season in which he was expected to participate. If we became an item, I supposed I would have to as well. Oh gosh—that was a daunting thought. Fitz had literally rubbed shoulders with royalty. We are talking about the Queen and now the King of England. Knowing me, I’d probably step on their royal toes or maybe try to straighten their crown if I saw it was askew. Just the thought of making a fool of myself on an international stage gave me heart palpitations. I was just a simple girl from Kansas, and I liked it that way. But I loved Fitz, and I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to fall in love with him—he only needed to knock on that door and I would open it wide. But it wasn’t just Fitz that I had to consider—there was the duke.
“We are going to start with the English country dance. For tonight, we will pair you together. For the rest of the week, you will follow your script.”
Ugh. I knew that meant I wouldn’t be dancing with Fitz tonight. No way was Lady Catherine going to let that occur. Sure enough, I was right; first up was Mr. Collins. It could have been worse—could have been my ex.
Of course, Lady Catherine paired Caroline and Mr. Darcy together. Winnifred looked more than smug about it and practically ran to Fitz, all the while looking elegant. But Fitz surprised me when he dashed over to me, looking as determined as I’d ever seen him. Not even Lady Catherine could stop him, although she tried. She literally stepped in front of him. “Now, Mr. Darcy, we must stay in character.”
“Believe me, madam, I am.” He pushed past her and landed next to me.
Oh. My. Gosh. That might have been the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Fitz was rewriting Pride and Prejudice for me, and I was here for it in a big, big way. Judging by the way my “sisters” and “mother” were all figuratively drooling, they loved this new version too.
Fitz’s eyes roved over me, so slowly and sensually, it was as if he were physically touching me. I held my breath until his eyes had gone the length of my body, leaving a trail of sparks. No man had ever elicited such a reaction with just a look.
“Miss Bennet.” He stepped so close I could feel the heat rolling off him.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy?” I stammered, so overcome by him. I felt as if we’d not only crossed the friendship line, we’d erased it.
He leaned in closer and discreetly placed a folded note in my hand. “You would honor me if you read this,” he whispered between us.
Oh, I was going to honor him all right. “I will.” I beamed, hardly believing this was happening. Every concern I had about being more than his friend faded away.
“Until later, then.” Fitz strode away, and I stared after him, keeping the note completely secreted in my hands.
Best. Honeymoon. Ever. It was like I had died and gone to that old show, Fantasy Island , that my dad loved to watch in reruns. Except, horrible things always happened there before the happy ending. Scratch that. We were not on Fantasy Island ... I dared to hope.