Chapter 41
Lady Howard’s ball marked the Bennet ladies' first step into London society.
They were greeted with warmth by that lady and her distinguished husband on their arrival.
Once the greeting line had cleared, Lady Howard performed the service of introducing them to nearly everyone in attendance, particularly young gentlemen, all of whom seemed grateful for the introduction to two very handsome ladies.
Elizabeth was dancing the first set with Simon Howard, Lord and Lady Howard’s nephew, when she saw a head of dark, wavy hair.
She nearly missed a step but managed to save herself in time.
Mr Darcy had arrived. Elizabeth did not know whether his aunt had informed him of their attendance, but she hoped that she had.
She would not want him to come across her so unexpectedly after their last meeting.
He may have no very cordial feelings towards her now, and she did not want to see his first reactions to seeing her again.
She need not have worried, as his aunt had told him of meeting with the Bennet ladies and that they would attend Lady Howard’s ball.
She also had no cause for concern because Mr Darcy’s feelings for her were unchanged.
His heart once engaged was not easily swayed;.
Even on the refusal of his proposal, he remained steadfast in his affections.
His eyes had sought her out as soon as he had entered the ballroom and had seen her momentary misstep.
Had anyone been looking his way, they would have seen every emotion he felt play out on his face, but he went unobserved.
“Mrs Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, making his greetings to the ladies once he saw Jane and Elizabeth return from the dance floor.
They all acknowledged him and curtsied at the greeting. Elizabeth’s eyes sought out his, but she saw only indifference in his countenance. He did as expected, requesting dances from Jane and then Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s eyes followed him as he guided Jane in their set, barely leaving any attention for her own partner.
Thankfully, it was a dance she knew well, or she might have missed her cues.
When their dance arrived, Elizabeth placed her gloved hand in his as he led her to the dance floor.
Elizabeth was not sure what the feeling in her stomach was as their hands met, but it was most disconcerting.
They flowed together to the rhythm of the music, their bodies in perfect accord, their eyes caught by each other’s, and Elizabeth felt as if they were completely alone, until the last notes died and she once more became aware of her surroundings.
Mr Darcy kept hold of her hand as he returned her to her mother’s side, making a final bow before disappearing into the crowd.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, apparently arriving late to the ball, approached before Elizabeth could be taken away for her next set.
She was still disconcerted by her dance with Mr Darcy when he made his greetings, but she managed to rally tolerably.
She made the requisite responses, including acceptance of a dance for later, her dance card being quite crowded.
Jane and Elizabeth danced every dance, and their mother was approached by many of the matrons with sons of marriageable age.
Discreet enquiries as to the dowries of the ladies were answered with scant but sufficient detail to reassure the mamas of the ton that the Bennet girls were well worth catching.
And as their carriage drew up outside the house at Connaught Place, Mrs Bennet confirmed herself well pleased with the evening.
Elizabeth knew she should also be well pleased.
She danced all evening and had many handsome men offering to bring her refreshments, and the Colonel danced the dinner set with her and was a most engaging companion.
But she could not pull her thoughts from Mr Darcy.
Mr Darcy, appearing and disappearing like a genie, had vexed her quite as much as he always had.
So much so that she could not help but express her annoyance at breakfast with her younger sisters the next morning.
“What can he mean to be dancing with both Jane and I and yet disappearing without any adieu,” she said.
“You must admit, Lizzy, that his singling us out for such attention, when it is well known that he prefers not to dance, added to our acceptance by the ton?”
“It may have given us some credibility,” she reluctantly admitted, “but it in no way excuses his ill-mannered departure with a proper farewell.”
“How can you speak of him thusly?” Lydia inserted, her face red and her fists clenched. The anger in her words was clear for everyone at the table to hear. No one replied to this outburst, for everyone was equally surprised at Lydia defending Mr Darcy.
“It was he who saved me,” she said in a whisper, the anger now gone from her voice, which now held only a quiver.
“Saved you?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Lydia replied. “He came for me, and he punched Mr Wickham in the face, and he saw me safe to Mr de Grey and his maid. Her whole family looked at her in silence, and the whole story poured out, haltingly but clearly.
It had been Mr Darcy who had arranged for the gentlemen from Derbyshire to search for her.
It had been he who had searched day and night through the seediest parts of London until he had discovered her.
It had been he who had seen to it that Mr Wickham would never again be seen in England.
And it had been he who had assured her that she was safe and that her reputation – and that of her sisters – was unsullied.