Chapter Nine
Elizabeth danced next with Colonel Brandon, who matched her pensive distraction with his own, and then with Mr. Willoughby, who did not endear himself by pitying her for enduring her previous partner.
She was not impressed with his brazen mockery of Colonel Brandon, nor did it inspire her to the exertion of returning his banter.
She could not fancy the good colonel, but she respected him with warm regard, and very much wished for him and Anne to form an attachment.
After parting ways from Mr. Willoughby, Elizabeth was approached by Colonel Brandon, who endeavored to warn her that the lively fellow was not to be trusted.
“You will be relieved to hear, sir, that a dance with him has already fixed my ill opinion of Mr. Willoughby. I shall tell you candidly that he thinks just as poorly as you, but you need not share any particulars which may be private, for I am naturally inclined to suppose you have the right of it.”
His gaze softened and he brought a hand to his heart. “You honor me, Miss Elizabeth.”
She did not wish him to make too much of her good opinion, and so she merely nodded. “I trust if he is any danger to the ladies, you may warn the brothers of those lucky enough to have some protection – and I hope you will tell Anne.”
“I have told her, yes, and I will certainly heed your advice.” The colonel gave a stiff bow and moved away, and Elizabeth was left considering whom she might partner for the supper set.
She tried to cajole her uncle into standing up with her, but Lady Blanche insisted this would throw off their numbers, for Elizabeth still had five eligible gentlemen to stand up with.
“Sir Walter Elliot is already poaching partners from our poor young men; you cannot leave another of them in want of a partner. Look, here is Mr. Darcy – we have all seen what a splendid dancer he is!”
Lady Blanche’s gold bracelets jangled about her slender, gloved forearm as she reached out and waved him over. Elizabeth had already seen him approaching; she already knew he sought her out.
“Mr. Darcy, I see your travels have not exhausted you in the least – you dance beautifully, sir. But here is a pretty partner for you! Is she not handsome enough to tempt you?”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell agape. Her hostesses were very well-informed! “Oh – no – I….”
Mr. Darcy bowed. “You were once in my position, Miss Elizabeth, and you insisted you had not moved about the room in want of a partner – but I cannot make the same claim.”
“You certainly cannot! I will not permit it,” Lady Blanche cried.
Mr. Darcy extended his hand to Elizabeth, his gaze piercing her own. “I daresay we have little choice in the matter, Miss Elizabeth. Fortunately, I know you to be a fine dancer, as well.”
Lady Blanche swiftly placed Elizabeth’s hand in his and fairly shoved them toward the dance that was forming up.
Elizabeth stumbled a little, but Mr. Darcy smoothly steadied her as they took their place beside the other dancers.
The music began, and Elizabeth willed herself to perform the proper steps, feeling entirely detached from her own feet.
For a few minutes, Elizabeth managed to evade Mr. Darcy’s gaze and focus completely on the movements of the dance. She knew them well, but she felt that to meet his eye would cause her fragile composure to evaporate completely.
Finally, he spoke. “I might quote a certain lively young woman I met in Hertfordshire, and observe that we must have some conversation.”
She drew in a deep breath and looked up, summoning the courage she often boasted of, but did not truly feel at present.
“The night that I said that, I badgered you quite cruelly about Mr. Wickham. I owe you an apology, for that impertinence as well as the foolish conclusions I was led to by his lies. I am heartily ashamed for trusting that man so implicitly.”
He gave her a sad smile. “I think I owe you an apology, as well. I saw how you reacted to what Lady Blanche said. If she knows that I once spoke such words, I cannot doubt you are aware – you heard me, and I am heartily sorry.”
She could not resist a little smirk. “Mr. Darcy, surely you were aware at the time that I was standing near enough to hear you.”
He sighed, then nodded slowly. “I cannot reflect upon that moment with any pleasure. At the time, I cared nothing for the opinions of those around me. The events I told you of in my letter were very recent, then, and troubled my mind so greatly that I ought not to have attended any public event in such a state. But it is a poor excuse for my boorishness. It has tormented me for many months, and my relations have tormented me for it.”
“Your relations?” Elizabeth could easily imagine Colonel Fitzwilliam avenging her slight with every manner of ridicule, but Mr. Darcy spoke in the plural, which puzzled her exceedingly.
“I believe you have met my cousin, Lady Rebecca.”
Elizabeth was chagrined to discover that the dark beauty was not the sort of fine lady to delight in seeing another woman put down. “Yes; she certainly made quite an impression.”
“She is very like her brother; indeed, Richard’s antics pale in comparison. The pair of them considered what I did not, in coming here. Apparently the Gouldings have a reputation for….”
“Causing uncomfortable chaos,” she suggested with a wry smile.
“Precisely. We were already in sight of the manor when they disclosed this to me. I was at once pleased by the possibility of making amends to you – my letter was an awful, bitter endeavor at what ought to have been a much humbler apology for how I expressed myself. And yet I feared you may consider my presence here an intrusion, after the mode of our parting.”
Mr. Darcy was stiff and awkward as they went down the dance together; she had never seen him so discomposed, nor had she often heard him make so long a speech.
Elizabeth used these moments to collect herself, for she had sometimes feared he would come to the conclusion that she had come to Richmond Cove aware that they might meet, perhaps even hoping for it.
And yet, to be speaking with him now felt strangely like a relief, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps it was only the ending of her suspense, but she was glad to be past the worst of what she had imagined since hearing of the house party.
When the movements of the dance allowed her some chance to respond to him, Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment before she spoke. “I came here hoping for the best – to see my sister’s spirits lifted.”
She decided that Mr. Darcy could make of that what he would; he looked unaccountably disappointed that she had not owned to any anticipation of meeting with him… though she had not denied it.
There was a heavy sadness about him that Elizabeth could not abide. Her lips twitched into a lopsided smile. “Of course, it has crossed my mind, what the Goulding ladies might have intended, inviting us both here….”
His lips curved upward, but his eyes remained lidded with dejection. “I should be grateful enough if it only amounts to our making amends. I have not been easy since that day at the vicarage.”
“Nor I,” she said hastily, her fingers brushing against his as they made the next figures of the dance.
“I have never spoken to anybody in such a way, and I hope I never shall again. I am very sorry for it. You will meet with no further cruelty from me; we might remain cordial, while we are here, though I have no wish to gratify our hostesses – whatever else they had in mind….”
Elizabeth grew flustered at what she was insinuating, and gave a breathy laugh. “Did you know they have placed bets?”
His voice was gruff, almost strangled. “What?”
Elizabeth wanted to amuse him, to laugh with him at the sheer absurdity of their dilemma – to make him laugh enough that she might be absolved of the uncomfortable stirrings in her heart when he looked so sorrowful.
“I have it on good authority that they have bet on the matches they mean to make, the mischief they mean to inflict. Well, you know me, sir – I cannot be maneuvered into anything I do not like.”
Her jest did not quite land, for still he looked pained. “I am aware.”
Elizabeth offered him a tight smile. “I am sorry for your discovery of my willfulness, but I find I feel not the least remorse for resolving to be as obdurate as possible where our hostesses are concerned.”
Her gaze pleaded with him to let the subject turn, and his posture deflated a little, but he gave the barest nod of his head before his countenance shifted, his disappointment fading. “Well, you are certainly going to love Rebecca.”
A convenient turn in the dance allowed her to conceal her sudden flinch.
Did he love Lady Rebecca? Did he expect Elizabeth to be relieved that he had moved on with another?
It did not occur to her that he could wish her to feel jealousy, but it was just this ugly sentiment that gnawed at her, followed closely by shame.
Elizabeth forced a smile. “She seems eager that I should; she apparently holds me in higher regard than she bears for her rival, Miss de Bourgh.”
“Her rival?” Several expressions played over his face in rapid succession.
Never before had she seen such a comprehensive range of emotion written there; even when she had abused him in the most animated language, his inscrutable veneer of cold pride had remained mostly intact.
Tonight was the first time she had seen that mask slip away, revealing that he was not devoid of every proper feeling.
At present, Mr. Darcy looked bewildered, offended, amused, and even a little frightened. “Miss Elizabeth, surely you must comprehend that my supposed engagement to Anne de Bourgh was a fabrication of my aunt’s own fancy – if I had ever had any intention of – I would never have….”
Elizabeth might have enjoyed Mr. Darcy’s discomposure, if not for her awareness of a watchful set of dark eyes following her movements throughout the room.
She dared a brief glance at Lady Rebecca, who watched them with intense curiosity, paying little heed to her own partner, Lord Bixler. Elizabeth could not blame her for that.
Lady Rebecca was a beautiful woman, to be sure, and her features were similar to Elizabeth’s, though nature had been kinder to the higher ranking woman.
She was irreverent and gregarious, too, prone to inhibited laughter.
Elizabeth felt a pang in her chest as it occurred to her that perhaps Mr. Darcy had chosen better the second time, after being refused by the lesser version of his new paramour.
When the dance ended, the whole party was ushered onto the terrace to dine al fresco.
Torches had been lit at intervals, and a long garland of shimmering tulle suspending dozens of small paper lanterns was hung above the marble railing to the terrace, which looked out on the sea.
Several small tables were set, draped in more shimmering fabric, festooned with blue and purple flowers that matched the fading twilight.
It was a magical scene, but Elizabeth comprehended that custom would oblige her to spend the meal at Mr. Darcy’s side.
She saw Lady Rebecca moving toward him, and Elizabeth tugged at Mr. Darcy’s hand, causing him to gape at her in stupefaction.
She dropped his hand, and took his arm instead.
“I should like to sit with the Gardiners. If it does not rain tomorrow, they will be departing for London.”
She watched him with a trace of challenge; these tradesfolk she loved so dearly might have been his kin – she would not abide him snubbing them now.
His gaze settled on her with understanding, and he did not falter.
“Might I invite Bingley to join us? He did not know what to expect here any more than I did, but when he realized – he is very keen to speak with your sister.”
Elizabeth saw that Jane was already with the Gardiners – and Captain Wentworth, with whom she had danced again for the supper set. “I think it best you do not meddle again, sir. She appears perfectly content. So, too, does your friend.”
As Elizabeth led him to her relations’ table, she subtly dipped her head in Mr. Bingley’s direction. He approached Lady Rebecca, and the pair began to whisper and grin together; he seemed perfectly content where he was.
To Elizabeth’s astonishment, Mr. Darcy also appeared perfectly at ease when they joined the Gardiners, Jane, and Captain Wentworth.
He spoke very warmly with her aunt and uncle, particularly with Aunt Madeline, when he learned she grew up in Derbyshire, and he was even very civil with Jane and the captain.
He appeared to several times be studying the shy flirtation between Jane and her beau, betraying neither relief nor displeasure, but only a genuine willingness to engage with them as she had never before observed in him.
Elizabeth allowed herself to relax, as the twilight faded.
The distant sound of waves crashing, the sight of so many stars above, the fine meal, and the prospect of more merriment to come – it was all too irresistible for someone so prone to good cheer.
And just as fascinating was Mr. Darcy’s inexplicable ease at her side.