Second Dance
They lined up for the second set, and Darcy decided a little impertinence might go a long way. “Would it be overly forward to suggest you are a practical person, and not a proponent of gossip?”
The lady regarded him critically. “Not overly forward, but I would query upon what evidence you base this conclusion?”
He eyed a group prominently featuring Mrs Bennet. “If you were, those matrons would be driving the stake and gathering the kindling as we speak.”
That brought a completely unexpected small laugh and even a shy smile from the young lady.
She tried to regain her severe demeanour, but apparently that was an art she had little practice in, particularly when the gentleman answered with his own smile.
Elizabeth was surprised to find him quite handsome when he lost his forbidding air.
The gentleman’s chances of retaining any trace of anger at the young lady were dashed. Her laughter was thoroughly enchanting. He already thought her figure light and pleasing, and he berated himself once again for his unkind and inaccurate remarks.
After that spark of levity, the musicians started the dance, and it was a few minutes before a mostly private conversation could be reestablished.
After going down the line, Elizabeth asked, “Was there a reason my propensity for gossip is in question?”
He smiled. “Oh yes! There is actually quite a practical reason for the question, and I am a pragmatic man, as I suspect you are.”
Another brief interlude was required for actual dancing—after all, they were at an assembly.
“You are half-right. I am reasonably certain I am not a man, but I do believe I have a practical bent. To what do these questions pertain?”
He grinned again. Their repartee was so much more interesting than the typical insipid drivel that passed for conversation in most ballrooms. He suspected that if he could extract himself from her brown books, he might find her manners most pleasing, but he certainly was not in the clear yet.
After another turn around a circle, he gave her another lopsided grin, which was practically unheard of for him, but becoming easier with practice.
“From a practical standpoint, I suspect the production of gossip may not be best served if I keep calling you Miss Tolerable, and I suspect your sister's name will not suit our purposes either.”
Elizabeth laughed again, slightly longer. “Would you suggest another name?”
“Easily done! I suggest Miss Generous.”
She raised a single eyebrow to query for more details, so the gentleman after another turn continued, “You have generously agreed to spend your hard-earned leisure assisting a blind man to learn to dance, and simultaneously giving instruction in deportment to the stupidest man in England!”
That did it. The lady dissolved in a laugh that rang across the room and gave him one of her brilliant—and to be hoped, less rare—smiles.
The matrons were already preparing themselves to share the tale far and wide—but oddly enough, he found he did not mind. He had made a lady laugh happily in a dance. A man could not be faulted for that, could he?
Miss Bingley turned red and stalked off the dance floor, so apparently someone could, but he found himself even less concerned with her than with the matrons.
For just a moment—for the first time since Ramsgate—he was simply happy with his lot.
Such a state was surprising, and he did not expect it to last long.
The lady would recover her anger soon enough, but for the moment, all was well.
Another turn down the line brought them back together, and she executed another neatly disguised curtsey. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.”
Following her lead, he executed a bow disguised as a misstep. “I am delighted to meet you, Miss Elizabeth. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley at your service.”
With proper introductions performed—well, not strictly proper but much better than his last attempt—the pair concentrated on the steps. Both were surprised to discover the other to be light of foot and elegant when they were not staring daggers at each other.
They even briefly tried their hands at ordinary conversation, with forays into the weather, the roads, and the other usual topics.
However, neither of them could suppress a giggle at each attempt, so they finally gave it up as a lost cause.
The dance finally ended, as all dances must, but both found themselves curiously reluctant to part company.
After the easy camaraderie of the start of the dance, Darcy found himself nervous, but exerted himself to ask, “Miss Elizabeth, may I offer you refreshment?”
The shyness of the request dissolved any remaining doubts in the lady’s mind.
In the end, she really was no more capable of holding a grudge than Jane; she found herself slightly shy, for perhaps the first time in her life.
After such an ignominious beginning, could they perhaps make something of their acquaintance?
She would have been certain it was impossible an hour earlier, but she found she liked the man standing beside her.
He was of such consequence that she would never be any more than a trifling acquaintance, but she thought if she could chip away further at his obvious reserve, he might be a man worth spending a few hours with before he returned to town.
The slight that began the evening was long-forgotten, and she was only grateful that somehow the fates had spared her the indignity of it being overheard.
She had just barely prevented herself from sharing it.
That would have been an irrecoverable calamity; she would have hated him until the end of time while he was likely unaware of her animosity.
Such was her pensiveness that the gentleman began to fidget nervously; she simply smiled, nodded, and boldly took the arm he had lacked the nerve to offer. His smile brightened his face so much that she found herself quite satisfied with her evening’s work.
They took their punch and stood conversing on the side of the room through much of the next set, where they were joined by Charlotte Lucas, who had the courtesy to ask, “How do you like Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy?”
Darcy returned a shy smile. “I like it very much. The countryside is not quite as wild as what I am accustomed to in Derbyshire, and I have not been through much of it, but what I have seen I like.”
Charlotte owned that she would like to see Derbyshire or the Peak District one day.
Elizabeth added, “I believe my aunt and uncle may go there next summer, and there is some chance I will be able to join them. I should like that very much.”
Charlotte’s next partner approached for their set. John Lucas considered asking Elizabeth for a dance, but a quick shake of her head dissuaded him. They had been friends since childhood; John came to her aid whenever required, but there would never be more than friendship between them.
After Charlotte’s departure, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy fell into easy conversation about travelling, books, and music, discovering a surprising ease and a happy commonality of interests.
They spent most of the first dance in contented discussion, satisfied when nobody, not even Miss Bingley, disturbed their little circle.
“Have you ever toured the continent?” she asked, thinking the question innocuous, but then noticed a look of sadness appear over the gentleman.
“I had a grand tour planned, but it was cut short when my father died some five years ago. I had to take over management of our estate, and the care of my sister, who is more than a decade my junior.”
Elizabeth was surprised. He could not possibly have been much older than Jane when he shouldered responsibility for hundreds. Perhaps the burden of carrying it for years had left him a little rough around the edges; she should reserve judgement and discard any first impressions.
“I am so sorry. That must have been exceedingly difficult. How old is your sister?”
“Georgiana is now fifteen,” he replied thoughtfully.
“A trying age, I am sure,” she replied casually, her gaze drifting to her sister Lydia, who had clearly made too many trips to the punch table. It was embarrassing, but nothing out of the ordinary for a Bennet. She hoped Mr Darcy was not too mortified by the two youngest.
Such was her attention on Lydia that she almost missed the slight gasp from Mr Darcy, for he controlled it quickly.
“What makes you think she is trying? What have you heard?”
She had stepped closer to the mark than intended and hastened to reassure him. “Nothing at all. I did not even know you had a sister. It was simply a general comment that applies almost universally to fifteen-year-old girls. My case in point—” she added, nodding towards Lydia.
The tension drained from his shoulders; she hoped she had not upset their delicate balance. He fell deep in thought, so she kept her peace and waited patiently, trusting he would return when he was ready.
At length, Darcy asked pensively, “Are you knowledgeable about such things?”
She liked this less serious version of the man. “I have four sisters, the two Lucas daughters might as well be related, and I was such a creature myself not long ago. I know a great deal about young ladies—trying and otherwise.”
Once again, Darcy thought carefully for a few moments. “Could I… I mean… Would I ask too much to prevail upon you to offer me some advice about my sister?”
The question surprised Elizabeth, but fortunately the answer was so obvious she needed no real thought.
She replied in a whisper, “I shall be happy to assist in any way I can.”
“It cannot be here,” he said quietly. “Would you mind if I call on you tomorrow? Perhaps we could walk out?”
Elizabeth returned a shy smile. “That would make me happy.”
Darcy noted the rather unconventional reply; he suspected this young lady spoke only what she meant.
A traditional polite reply would not necessarily clarify whether a visit was anticipated, dreaded, or simply expected—but her phrasing suggested she did more than her civil duty and would genuinely enjoy the company.
Of course, it could easily mean she was just nicer than average, or they said things differently in Hertfordshire.
He must not get ahead of himself—he was not as knowledgeable about women as he thought.
Elizabeth glanced at her sister; Jane remained in close discussion with Mr Bingley.
She graced Mr Darcy with a naughty smile possibly suggesting minor mischief, and suggested, “If you have no objection, perhaps when we walk out, our privacy would be better ensured were our chaperone somewhat… ah… distracted.”
Darcy chuckled. “I shan’t even need my horse. I can simply tie a rope to Bingley, and he will drag me quite comfortably to Longbourn in half the time.”
Both laughed heartily, though they did their best to at least maintain some sense of decorum. Elizabeth glanced at her mother and thought she would have a trying homecoming once the assembly ended.