Chapter XIII #3
While the eyes of everyone in the party, and, indeed, those of half the room, were on Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe, Elizabeth watched her angelic sister.
Jane’s gaze followed Mr. Bingley’s path across the floor; she heard him speak to Miss Whitcombe, and her expression settled into happiness, though Elizabeth thought she was the only person in the room who could detect just the smallest hint of regret.
By now Jane was not pining for Mr. Bingley, but she had esteemed him enough to hope.
This was the end of any such expectation—delusion, perhaps, on Miss Bingley’s part.
“Come with me, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth in an undertone to the gentleman standing with her.
With no comment, the gentleman fell into step to her side and a little behind. They made their way past Miss Bingley, who was staring at her brother with shock and perhaps comprehension, to Jane’s side, where Elizabeth enveloped her sister in an embrace.
“It seems everything is now settled, Jane,” whispered Elizabeth to her sister.
“For Mr. Bingley, perhaps,” replied Jane. “But for us, I think, the story is only beginning.”
“I should hope that I am at least a little beyond that,” said Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth turned to face him, an eyebrow rising of its own accord. “What do you mean, Mr. Darcy?”
“Only that you already understand something of my wishes, and that this is something that will last considerably longer than this evening. For the moment, I must have your supper sets.”
Curious, Elizabeth watched him, trying to understand. “For a man as reticent as you are, Mr. Darcy, a second dance with me, especially a dance with the significance of the supper set, is a statement.”
“It is not one that I am unwilling to make.”
A gasp came from behind him, but Elizabeth paid no heed. She cocked her head to the side, the tease coming out of its own volition. “The question is whether I am willing to make it.”
“That is a question only you may answer, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy, not bothered in the slightest. “I think, however, that you are not reluctant.”
“No, I am not. If you wish for those sets, then I shall oblige.”
“That leaves Miss Bennet without a partner,” said Mr. Harrington, appearing satisfied with the results of the evening’s drama. “For that, I offer myself as a poor substitute for Bingley. Will you do me the honor, Miss Bennet?”
Jane’s color rose as it always did when a man paid her a compliment that she never expected, but Elizabeth always did. Soon after she accepted, the music for the supper set began, and the dancers took their places.
As Elizabeth moved to the dance floor with Mr. Darcy, Jane and Mr. Harrington took up position beside them, and Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe further down the line.
The only one left by the side of the floor was Miss Bingley.
The way she watched them, Elizabeth was certain she was trying to understand how it had fallen apart.
“Is it appropriate for me to express pity at Miss Bingley being left alone?” asked she of Mr. Darcy as they moved into place.
“No need,” said the gentleman, gesturing.
Miss Bingley remained where she was, as though the evening had proceeded without consulting her.
Then another gentleman approached to solicit Miss Bingley’s hand, and though she hesitated, Elizabeth saw the exact moment her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted, and she accepted the invitation.
They took positions at the end of the line, arriving just in time as the music started and the dancers began.
“Well, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth as she took his hand. “What do you think of tonight’s events?”
“It seems to me, Miss Elizabeth, that matters have fallen as they should.”
A laugh from her side prevented her immediate response, and she glanced to see Jane and Mr. Harrington, each sharing some secret amusement about something he had said.
Though it was still early, Elizabeth could see promise in that exchange, as much promise as she had ever seen in Mr. Bingley, to own the truth.
“In more ways than one,” said Elizabeth when the gentleman drew closer.
“You suspected all was not as it seemed when Miss Bingley visited your father’s house,” said Mr. Darcy. “But you had not expected another to step in and fill Bingley’s place.”
Elizabeth chuckled, the mirth freeing any lingering effects of the past few months. “Perhaps I did not. Then again, it never surprises me when a man pays attention to Jane.”
“Yes, your sister is an excellent woman,” said Mr. Darcy. “And that excellence extends beyond the superficial qualities of face and form.”
Her eyes finding her sister, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I have always thought that Jane was the best of us.”
“Do you discount your appeal, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No, I do not,” replied Elizabeth, giving him a wicked grin. “But I am not the angel of my family. There is more than a little devil in my halo. The question you must answer is whether you can endure such flaws of character.”
Mr. Darcy drew close and whispered: “It is not a question of endurance. It is those traits that have so intrigued me, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Then I shall be most interested to discover what the future holds.”
“No more than I am.”