Chapter Four
“Perhaps you might still salvage your reputation if we only dance one set,” Miss Bennet continued. “You can tell your aunt that I threw you over once I recognized your true character.”
“I spoke nothing more than the truth.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I am beginning to see a family resemblance to Lady Catherine.”
Darcy jerked as if she slapped him.
“Truth untempered by compassion is simply cruelty masquerading as virtue,” she continued.
It was their turn to promenade, fortunately preventing Darcy from making an immediate reply.
His aunt did wield “the truth” like a weapon upon occasion.
He had received many of these “truths” as a child, and some still rankled.
Was it possible that Darcy learned such habits from her in childhood?
He shuddered at the idea. He always prided himself on having a better disposition than hers.
Once they could again speak, Darcy was far calmer. “I apologize for my ill-considered words. I should not have said such things to you.” Being excessively frank had caused trouble for Darcy upon other occasions. I must keep my opinions to myself.
“Thank you. I accept your apology. But Mr. Darcy, let me make one thing clear,” she said through clenched teeth. “You are not at all the sort of man I would be interested in marrying.”
Darcy said nothing. Women frequently professed disinterest; it was part of the courtship game.
Her voice was low and urgent. “No doubt many women vie for your attention. It does not necessarily follow that every woman will. You are proud and difficult. You have insulted my family—more than once. No amount of money could possibly entice me into desiring an offer from you.”
Darcy was so startled he missed a step and collided with another gentleman, necessitating a muttered apology.
Am I proud and difficult? Ridiculous! She has just made my acquaintance. What does she know of my character?
Nevertheless, if she viewed him as proud, difficult, and insulting, she surely was not seeking his favor.
A woman who hoped to wed him would ignore the insults to her family and would never criticize him in return.
Oddly, he found her biting words to be reassuring.
She was the right partner for this charade—all the more reason to placate her so she would continue it.
“I spoke rashly. You have my deepest apology,” Darcy said. “I hope you will agree to continue our arrangement.”
She regarded him seriously for a few measures of the music. “Yes. It will benefit us both.”
They separated for the dance. When Miss Elizabeth again took Darcy’s hand, she had a teasing grin on her face. “But I will warn you, Mr. Darcy, be careful not to fall in love with me. For I am not in search of a husband. I would hate to break your heart.”
“I will bear that in mind.” He attempted to match her playful tone. It was all nonsense. Naturally, she was searching for a husband; all young ladies were. But he could easily laugh at the idea of falling in love with a woman like her.
***
Mr. Darcy’s gracious apology mollified Elizabeth, though she doubted his remorse would effect a permanent alteration in his behavior. Such habits of mind did not change easily. Fortunately, their acquaintance would be fleeting. She could endure his pride for a few months.
Surprisingly, she relished dancing with Mr. Darcy.
Her expectations for his dancing skills had not been high.
In the garden, he was stiff enough to be mistaken for an ornamental statue.
But now his feet were nimble, and his posture was no longer ramrod straight.
Who would have guessed a statue possessed such grace?
The ball was quite a crush, and the set contained a great number of couples. A smiling Jane partnered Mr. Bingley at the far end of the line of dancers. Good. Jane’s happiness was Elizabeth’s chief purpose for being in London.
Elizabeth had never desired a fiancé, let alone a secret fiancé.
But at least, Mr. Darcy was an excellent dancer.
She was fortunate that he had come into the garden.
His disposition might be cool, but he had been quick to understand her situation and quite amenable to helping her.
What if someone like Mr. Collins had come through the French doors? Heaven forbid!
“Lady Catherine might ask for more details about the ball where we first encountered each other. We should be able to account for how we made each other’s acquaintance,” she suggested when the set had ended and they were strolling from the dance floor.
“An excellent notion!” Now he seemed quite eager to approve of her.
“Hmm… I visited my aunt and uncle in London two years ago. Perhaps we became acquainted then and have been carrying on a secret correspondence.” Elizabeth had to admit that the idea gave her a clandestine thrill.
He inclined his head. “That would suffice, but we should select a particular event. Did you attend the Harrisons’ ball that year? It was quite a crowd.”
“I did.”
“Perhaps that is where we encountered each other.”
“Now that you mention it, I believe I recall you. You were the tall man in the dark jacket.”
Mr. Darcy scanned the ballroom full of tall men in dark jackets. “Yes, no doubt I stood out,” he said dryly. “Perhaps, I noticed you because you spilled punch on me,” he said.
Elizabeth took on a haughty demeanor. “Mr. Darcy, I would never be so clumsy. You undoubtedly noticed the excellence of my dancing.”
He nodded slowly. “I forgot… It was your dancing that drew my attention.”
“I always have the superior recall of such events.”
They contrived a story of meeting at the ball. How they had been so taken with each other that the meeting led to additional furtive encounters and illicit correspondence, culminating in a secret understanding.
However, Elizabeth foresaw one problem: Mr. Darcy was more starched than his cravat. “Are you the sort of gentleman who would carry on a secret correspondence with an unmarried woman?”
He hesitated. “Apparently, I am. I would not have believed it of myself before.”
“Would you ignore propriety if you were violently in love?”
Frowning, he said, “I suppose I might. I have never been in love, so I cannot say how I would conduct myself.”
Elizabeth was not astonished by this news. He was so formal, so cautious. Love was far too disorderly for him. However, they must convince two people that he was in love when he possessed all the warmth of a blizzard.
“You would not attach yourself to me for any reason other than violent affection,” she insisted. “Do you believe you can dote on me when your aunt and the viscount are near?”
“Dote?” He repeated as if the word were Ancient Egyptian.
“Pay me particular attention? Be solicitous of me—as one does when one is in love.”
His brows drew together. “I suppose I can…if you tell me how I should behave.”
Elizabeth barely refrained from rolling her eyes. He desired lessons on being affectionate? Next, he would be requesting instruction in being human. No wonder he was still unmarried despite his obvious wealth and attractiveness.
“For tonight, it will be enough if you look at me and talk to me,” Elizabeth said.
When they arrived at the punch table, Mr. Darcy first secured a glass for her and then one for himself. She immediately commended his doting, which caused him to redden slightly.
As they walked away, they were waylaid by a smiling blonde woman with a very fair complexion. Her richly embroidered gown suggested great wealth. She was so beautiful she nearly sparkled, and she knew it. “Mr. Darcy, what a fortuitous encounter!”
He smiled in return. “Lady Julia, you are lovely tonight.” Many men’s eyes were directed in her direction, and a number of the women enviously examined her gown. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire, may I introduce Lady Julia Wentworth, daughter of the Duke of Moreland?”
Beautiful and a duke’s daughter. Elizabeth sighed. But has she ever climbed a tree? Such flawless skin suggested the lady never set a foot out of doors.
Elizabeth curtsied, but the other woman only gave her a cursory nod. Her attention was fixed on Mr. Darcy. “I assured Maria Cooper that you would be here today.” She fluttered her fan. “And you have come.”
Her beauty might shine, but her conversation certainly did not. Mr. Darcy regarded her with all seriousness. “You are indeed prophetic.”
Lady Julia offered him a practiced coy expression. “Yes, and I can foretell the future.”
Elizabeth struggled not to laugh.
Mr. Darcy’s expression was studiously neutral; Elizabeth could not discern if he appreciated the lady’s attention. However, her estimation of his consequence had risen. Just how big was his fortune, having drawn the notice of a duke’s daughter?
Lady Julia obviously hoped for an invitation to dance, but Mr. Darcy merely inquired about her family.
Before she could reply, Mr. Bingley bounded up to their party and shook Mr. Darcy’s hand. “Darcy! There you are!”
Mr. Darcy nodded to him. “Bingley.”
Lady Julia gave a little moue of distaste and turned away, gliding effortlessly to another knot of people. How could anyone dislike Mr. Bingley? She might as well have an aversion to puppies.
“I have met the most charming woman! She is an angel.” Mr. Bingley sighed.
“She is indeed an angel,” Elizabeth said. “Your admiration could not find a worthier object.”
He suddenly noticed her. “Miss Elizabeth! What a marvelous coincidence!”
“You have met Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked.
If Mr. Bingley grinned any more widely, his face might crack. “Earlier this evening. I enjoyed the most marvelous dances with her sister.”
“How delightful.” But Mr. Darcy appeared more concerned than delighted.
“May I inquire if you and your sister will be attending the Portlands’ garden party on Tuesday?” Mr. Bingley asked, as eager and affable as his friend was reserved.
“We will. Lady Sterling has been invited, and we are her guests.”
“Excellent!” Mr. Bingley clapped his hands together. “I look forward to speaking with your sister there.”
“Nothing is preventing you from conversing with her here,” Mr. Darcy pointed out.
“You are absolutely right!” Mr. Bingley smiled. “Why am I wasting time talking with you?” He hurried away.
Elizabeth watched his progress across the ballroom floor toward Jane. “If you require lessons in displaying affection, you could do worse than emulating your friend.”
“Never,” Mr. Darcy responded instantly. “That is to say…Bingley is a good friend, but I do not believe I could ever be like him. He would do well to acquire some discretion.”
“I am sure many appreciate his amiable and easy manner.”
“Bingley is quick to bestow affection,” Mr. Darcy said. Was he giving her a warning to convey to Jane? Perhaps he knew that Mr. Bingley would not marry a woman without a fortune.
Elizabeth glanced at the corner where Jane and Mr. Bingley were conversing. “I hope he does not toy with Jane’s heart.” She might not survive another heartbreak.
“No. Bingley is always utterly sincere,” Mr. Darcy assured her, but he regarded the couple in the corner with concern.
He must believe his friend can find a “more suitable” bride. Mr. Darcy clearly rates his consequence and his friend’s consequence highly. Such inflated self-regard would become wearisome. Thankfully, I need not actually wed the man. It would be intolerable.
In the meantime, pretending to be his fiancée would be a diversion—an amateur theatrical—and it would discourage the viscount’s advances.
Accompanying Mr. Darcy into his world for a short visit might be interesting.
And it would be a bit of a lark to have a handsome man doting on her—even if the doting was pretend.
Elizabeth happily agreed when Mr. Darcy requested her to partner him for another dance.