Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Darcy had agreed to remain with Georgiana in London until she returned to school at the end of April, and he could not hide completely until then, so he was now attending his first event of the Season, the day after visiting the menagerie. He had still not recovered from that ordeal.
The last social event he had attended, nearly a year ago, had been the enchanting but disastrous night he had danced with Elizabeth. He would not think of her tonight, however. Because what he felt for her was nothing but a passing infatuation.
He had been drawn to her clever mind, but as soon as he found someone else with whom to have meaningful conversations, he would forget her.
He had been telling himself this since leaving the menagerie the day before.
For his own good, he must believe it. And he did. Of course he did. Because it was true.
Tonight’s ball was not for him to seek a wife, though, as he was content to put that off indefinitely. He hoped seeing old friends could lift his spirits, which had remained low all year.
Next week—in ten days—it would be a year since he had seen the Bingleys…
or Elizabeth. Her birthday had been six weeks ago.
She was now eighteen. He sighed and refocused.
He and Bingley had corresponded, of course, but perhaps he needed to see his friend’s carefree face to help him banish the blue devils.
As he walked into Lady Standridge’s private ball—chosen because Bingley would be here and it was too elite for Elizabeth to be, he forced himself to focus on the elegant surroundings.
Music could be heard in each room he walked through, but it grew louder as he progressed farther into the home.
Colorful gowns and cloying perfumes threatened to overwhelm him as he strode carefully between and around couples and groups, nodding to acquaintances and stopping for brief conversation only when necessary. He had no goal but to find Bingley.
He was startled, then, when he saw her almost as soon as he reached the dancers.
At first, he convinced himself it could not be Elizabeth whirling through the movements with such grace.
When she turned, not seeing him but smiling at her partner, he was robbed of air.
His chest hurt; he felt as though he had been pummeled.
She was even more beautiful than she had been in his dreams!
Darcy struggled to inhale as he took in her appearance.
Still with a glow of youth and innocence, she was at least as old as many of the young ladies here and as elegant as them all.
After longer than he felt it should have taken, he forced himself to turn and find a quiet stretch of wall halfway across the room from her.
He still struggled to breathe evenly, but he began to search the room for Bingley. He would need to depart soon.
Before he found his friend, though, the set ended, and Elizabeth was walking closer to him, speaking to her partner and still not seeing Darcy.
The unknown gentleman, who looked to be about four- or five-and-twenty, escorted her to another young woman but remained with them, and before Darcy had formed a coherent thought, he was in front of her. She looked up, clearly startled.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth said a little breathlessly and curtsied but looked as though she had seen a ghost. He had been absent a year, not dead.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?” The gruff words were out of his mouth before he had registered the wish.
“I…yes.”
Darcy nodded and walked away, determined to regain control of his faculties before he must return for their set in a few minutes.
Before he would have to stand in front of her and look into her eyes, touch her hand and perhaps her shoulder, back, or waist, depending on the dance.
Before he would have to speak more to her for the first time since his hateful insult.
“Oh, why could I not think of an excuse?” Elizabeth said in frustration.
“Why should you wish to? And why did you not tell me you are acquainted with the elusive Mr. Darcy?” Her friend, Miss Edith Cage, was not a gossip, but Elizabeth was not ready to tell the whole of her history with Mr. Darcy.
“Barely acquainted,” she huffed. “And until tonight, I had not seen him for a year.”
“Robert, would you be a dear and fetch us some punch?” Edith asked Elizabeth’s previous partner.
As Edith was the daughter of a tradesman, it was her gentleman cousin, Mr. Robert Cage, who had gained them admittance to this ball in the finest home Elizabeth had ever seen.
Elizabeth had met them both, along with Edith’s mother, at a card party she had attended with Aunt Gardiner about a month earlier.
Right after her eighteenth birthday, she and her aunt had filled her social calendar with small events and calls for the first few weeks, but Elizabeth was now experimenting with grander occasions.
Most of the people she had encountered in the past month reminded her of Caroline Bingley.
She had, in fact, seen Miss Bingley at more than one event, though their interactions had been brief.
Elizabeth had made some friends, however, including Edith and Miss Priscilla Harte, who was not in attendance this evening.
This was Elizabeth’s third ball of the Season and by far the grandest. Wealth dripped from stunningly attired lords and ladies by means of jeweled necklaces, cravat pins, and self-important expressions.
When Mr. Cage had gone for punch, Edith asked, “Now, how do you know Mr. Darcy?”
“I met him several times when we were both visiting the Bingleys,” she said.
“I see.”
“Yes.”
“So, is he like Miss Bingley? Is he as arrogant as the rumors say?”
Elizabeth felt a twinge of protectiveness even now, but she knew she had no need of it. “I did not always think so, but yes, he is.”
“Strange, then, that he asked you to dance,” Edith mused.
“Likely it is only because his friend and my cousin are…close.”
Mr. Bingley and Jane seemed to be courting, but it was far from settled.
They had not seen each other for nearly ten months, since Jane had returned to Longbourn the previous summer.
He had not visited Hertfordshire, though he had begun a three-and-a-half-month break from Oxford right before Jane left London.
He had said something about visiting friends, but Elizabeth thought he could have easily made a short trip to visit Jane, as well, if he truly cared for her.
The next day, Jane would arrive at Gracechurch Street again for a fortnight, timed to see Mr. Bingley before he returned to his college at the end of the following week.
Although Elizabeth had not spoken more than a few words to Miss Bingley for many months and to Mr. Bingley little more, she knew Jane and Miss Bingley corresponded.
Jane’s letters to Elizabeth proclaimed her as devoted to Mr. Bingley as ever.
She had supposed small messages would have gone back and forth between the couple in his sister’s letters.
Thus, Elizabeth had been surprised when, at a supper and card party only the previous week, she had seen Mr. Bingley with an elegant young woman on his arm the whole evening, until he had departed with her.
She had seen him talking closely with the same young woman a few days later at a ball—a ball at which she had watched him dance two sets with the woman.
Had Miss Bingley not informed him Jane would arrive on the morrow?
Elizabeth was unsure whether she should prepare Jane or whether she was misinterpreting his apparent regard for the other woman.
Elizabeth’s own relationship with Jane had steadily improved the summer before, although her cousin could never be her confidante.
They had discussed the transfer of information to Mr. Darcy and had realized it was probably Mr. Bingley and not his sister who had spoken to the man.
Jane had admitted to telling him of her family when they had first met, a year before Mr. Darcy had hurt Elizabeth.
Jane confronted Mr. Bingley about it in July, and he had apologized but said he was only answering his friend’s questions in defense of his choice to court Jane.
In that light, it was difficult for the cousins to blame him.
Elizabeth also realized Miss Bingley had not been as poisonous as she had at first suspected, so she was always kind when they met in public, but neither sought out the other for private calls anymore.
“Speaking of his friend,” Edith said, nodding to her right. “Mr. Darcy is bringing Mr. Bingley with him. Will you introduce me to them?”
“Oh, certainly. I should have before.”
“You were a bit preoccupied with other thoughts, I think,” Edith laughed.
“Indeed.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not watching the gentlemen as they approached but reflecting on how well Mr. Darcy had looked when he had asked her to dance. Grim and pompous, yes, but handsome all the same.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Mr. Bingley greeted her with his contagious smile. “Imagine my surprise when Darcy told me he had seen you here. Such a pleasure.” He bowed, and the ladies curtsied.
“Edith, may I introduce Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy? Gentlemen, this is my friend, Miss Cage.”
“How do you do?” Edith asked politely.
“Very good, very good.” Mr. Bingley smiled eagerly but seemed at a loss for conversation. Mr. Darcy did no better, merely attempting to bore a hole in her head with his gaze.
“Mr. Bingley, I assume your sister informed you that my cousin Jane will be in town tomorrow?”
“Will she?” His face blanched, and he glanced at Mr. Darcy before returning to Elizabeth. “I did not know. Caroline told me Miss Bennet ended their friendship months ago and would not likely come to town this year.”
Elizabeth felt the old familiar fury caused by Miss Bingley, but she pushed it down.