Fourth Dance
After another twenty minutes, Elizabeth eyed her handiwork with smug satisfaction.
Everything was as it should be. Young Miss Darcy had entered looking like a cross between a scared rabbit and an angry bear.
Colonel Fitzwilliam clearly saw only the latter and Elizabeth the former, but the young lady likely had something else to her story.
Mr Darcy’s question implied a specific difficulty she faced, and Elizabeth was determined to get to the bottom of it—eventually.
The Colonel was, as expected on their brief introduction, a jovial man, light on his feet, ready with a laugh, and apparently unfailing in his good humour. He even managed to drag a muffled giggle out of her sister! Mary—dancing and happy with a stranger at a ball! The world had run amok!
Elizabeth was somewhat chagrined that Mr Darcy danced with Charlotte with much more careful attention than she might have expected.
She certainly found him an amiable man once they were past their rough start, and only a simpleton would fail to assert he was fearsomely handsome, an excellent dancer, and an engaging and intelligent conversationist. She knew nothing would ever come of it, but that did not prevent the slightest pang of—what was it? Jealousy? Impossible!
As to Miss Darcy, the prescribed remedy worked exactly as intended.
No bad humour could possibly survive twenty minutes of company with Jane Bennet; everything went according to plan.
Nothing in particular was said between Miss Darcy and Jane, but Jane’s easy manner was enough to settle the young girl and bring her back to some comfort, as Elizabeth readily determined, paying almost as much attention to her as her brother.
At length, Miss Darcy put the sequence of events together and determined that the eldest Miss Bennet had never even spoken to her brother; it must be the second eldest who had somehow arranged all the chess pieces on the board to her design.
“Miss Elizabeth, I find myself all astonishment at the events of the evening!” she said without preamble.
Impertinence was clearly required. “I daresay your brother was not expecting you in the least!”
She gauged the young lady carefully for her sense of humour and was rewarded with a small self-satisfied smirk. “Yes, he certainly did not expect me here; but that was not the particular surprise I meant.”
“Whatever could you mean?” Elizabeth asked with perfect innocence.
“How long have you known my brother?” Georgiana asked carefully. “I am inordinately surprised to find him thus engaged. I would say I was astonished if I had not already used that word, and I cannot at the moment think of a stronger expression of wonder.”
Elizabeth was not quite done toying with her prey. “We are at an assembly. It is the custom to dance.”
“Are you avoiding my question?”
“Oh dear, I completely missed the question,” she replied with perfect innocence, and glanced at the clock. “I have known your brother approximately eighty-seven minutes. I cannot be more precise, as I did not pay strict attention to the clock during the introduction.”
Georgiana gasped. “Eighty-seven minutes, you say?”
“Eighty-eight now!”
This sent the younger girl into a fit of giggles, which was what the elder had hoped for.
Elizabeth grinned along with her. She noticed Mr Darcy coming close by as the dance moved them down the line; he stared at the two of them giggling together in either open-mouthed astonishment or red-faced embarrassment—it was hard to tell.
Georgiana became a little more serious. “And how, Miss Elizabeth, in eighty-seven minutes have you learned to direct my brother’s dancing exploits—and apparently my cousin’s as well?”
“Oh, you have it all wrong. I am not directing either gentleman!”
Georgiana was not to be put off by half-truths, let alone quarter-truths. “Do you assert that, absent your intervention my brother would be dancing with Miss Lucas, and my cousin with your sister?”
Elizabeth grinned, all innocence. “It is hard to say with your cousin, as he seems quite amenable to dancing, but I must confess that your brother is dancing with my friend at my explicit suggestion.”
“And has he danced with others this evening?”
“Of course! He is here with Mr Bingley’s sisters, and it would be exceedingly impolite not to dance with the ladies of your own party. He has danced with each of them.”
“Once again, pardon my impertinence, but might I detect the slightest bit of prevarication?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Five syllables—you are certainly your brother’s sister.”
Miss Darcy was not to be put off again. “Have you portrayed his entire dancing history for the evening?”
Jane followed the exchange carefully, finding amusement in the tête-à-tête, waiting for the last brick to fall, and fully expecting to find it most diverting.
Elizabeth understood the game was just about up. “I might, perhaps, mention that he just may have danced—”
Jane could bear it no longer. “Two sets with Lizzy!”
Georgiana gaped in astonishment, much to Jane’s amusement, and perhaps Elizabeth’s chagrin. The surprise was apparently enough to practically spellbind the girl.
At length, Miss Darcy regained her composure and timidly asked, “Two sets?”
“Yes, two sets.”
“Four dances?”
“Yes, four dances.”
“One full hour?”
“Yes, one hour of dancing, but of course we have been conversing for another hour or so.”
“Conversing?”
“Yes.”
“At an assembly?”
“As you see.”
Elizabeth frowned in puzzlement. What made Miss Darcy so confused? It was not as if she had invented dancing or conversing at an assembly, especially since those were the very reasons they assembled in the first place.
Georgiana shook her head, studied her carefully, and asked quietly, “Do you know how long my brother has been in society?”
“I would hazard around a decade.”
“Close enough. In that decade, can you guess how many ladies he has danced two sets in one evening with?”
The question was even odder. “He must have been to many balls in that time. I would imagine dozens? hundreds?”
Georgiana, relishing the full sweetness of revenge at the impertinence she had endured, smirked. “Exactly one!”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open.
Reduced to monosyllables, she squeaked, “One?”
“One!”
“Only one lady besides me?”
“Only one lady including you.”
“Oh dear.” Elizabeth sighed. Perhaps avoiding her mother’s next attack might require more than two dances.
“Would it be terribly inconvenient to keep that little tidbit to yourself for the nonce?”
“Perhaps, but I believe you are in my debt for a story,” Georgiana replied with a triumphant grin, apparently reverting to the growling bear mode of address.
Elizabeth wondered what kind of a mess she had made of the affair.
The first dance of the current set ended, and the two pairs of dancers returned to the group, feigning fatigue or injury with varying levels of credibility.
It would be clear to anyone with sense that they mostly suffered from curiosity, but appearances must be maintained.
Charlotte walked by and said quietly, “I will have the entire story on the morrow, Lizzy.”
Lizzy nodded, not wanting to say anything that might be overheard, and to be honest, she observed Mr Darcy for his reaction. That gentleman studied her carefully and nodded towards Jane. Elizabeth acknowledged her next victim with a slow nod, and the evening was decided.
Mr Darcy glared at his sister, but he did not seem likely to be as strict a disciplinarian as his initial countenance implied. He appeared far more the doting brother once one knew what to observe.
Elizabeth took the opportunity to lean over and say as softly as possible, “Pray, be easy. My more sensible sisters and I will look after her. All will be well.”
Darcy chuckled and leaned even closer. “Georgiana has actually arranged her own punishment, and I must say it is far worse than anything I would ever impose. She will be a guest at Netherfield with the Bingley sisters.”
The assertion's forwardness thoroughly shocked Elizabeth. That the Bingley sisters were not ideal living companions came as no surprise, as that could be readily determined within five minutes from a dozen paces; but having Mr Darcy say it so impertinently was unexpected.
She rallied herself. “Punishment indeed! She may walk to Longbourn before long; it is only three miles you know. I have walked it many times, and with five daughters; I daresay she could take up residence, and it would be a full month before either of my parents noticed one extra.”
Darcy smiled slyly. “Have a care what you wish for.”
“If you do not oppose the idea, perhaps your cousin might dance with your sister?” she said, leaning closer.
“Perhaps.”
The dance's end naturally signalled the beginning of the assault that had been feared and mostly avoided. The expected enemy contingent fired the first salvo.
“Oh, Mr Darcy, you are such a lovely dancer, and you looked so elegant on the dance floor with my Lizzy. Oh, it was the loveliest dance I have ever seen! And your coat, sir! So dashing! So elegant! I am quite speechless—”
Elizabeth thought her mother differed in the precise meaning of the word speechless, as the matron prattled on for some time.
Not to be outdone, Lady Lucas had to have her share in the conversation, though she did not necessarily feel compelled to await a silent period, since that might take hours in the presence of Mrs Bennet.
“Oh, Mr Darcy. I am certain my Charlotte must have been the most agreeable dance partner, and may I say what a handsome couple you make. You are so light on your feet, sir—”
Lizzy and Charlotte both turned bright red in embarrassment and would never remember a quarter of what was said, since most of it was terribly mortifying. They had years of training for moments such as these, but no amount of practice ever quite prepares one for the real thing.
Mr Darcy appeared inordinately uncomfortable but exerted himself to remain civil, answering with a few meaningless platitudes, though thunderclouds crossed his visage in the process.
Mrs Bennet showed no signs of slackening in her effusions, and surprisingly it was Mary who finally pulled her away, giving Elizabeth a significant look indicating a debt was owed.
The next assault on her ears came from Miss Bingley, but even that lady had barely sense enough not to attempt to separate the group.
Elizabeth later tried to remember exactly what Miss Bingley said, but she found the condescending prattle even harder to endure than her mother’s, probably because she had not had so long to inure herself to the task.
Searching for any excuse to silence the effusive Miss Bingley, she looked about for a distraction.
Any distraction would do, and indeed, a commotion at the door signalled the entry of yet another new participant.
To judge by the bystanders' expressions, the arrivals were strangers, though she could not see them yet.
“Mr Darcy, we appear to have another new visitor. Are any more from your party expected?”