Chapter 16 #2
He smiled, and she was forcefully reminded that Mr Darcy was a very handsome man.
“I never expected that you would be, though I did think to provoke you by ending my declaration there. But I shall leave you in suspense no longer. Mr Wickham has concluded that his best chance of a fresh start in life lies outside England’s shores.
He wishes to join a regiment of Regulars who are bound for India early in the new year, and it may surprise you to know that there are still those among his acquaintance willing to assist him to a commission. ”
The dance separated them for a few seconds, and when they were face to face again, she said thoughtfully, “No, I find I am not at all surprised. I can very well imagine that someone who knows him well might be eager to see him settled in a post half the world away. Two people, perhaps, a man of means to provide the funds, and one with military contacts to see him placed where he may be properly supervised?” She saw from his astonishment, quickly masked, that she had hit squarely upon the truth.
“It would be preferable,” he replied carefully, “if little were generally known save that he has accepted a commission in the Regulars.”
“I know nothing for certain,” she smilingly replied. “I have merely indulged in a bit of speculation, and I am perfectly willing to keep my notions to myself on this particular subject henceforth.”
“Thank you. Now that he is to leave England, we both feel it best that his connexion to our family be allowed to fade from the public memory. Did you know that Bingley leaves for town tomorrow, to attend to some business?”
“My sister mentioned something of it.”
“We will go with him and make the arrangements. I hope Wickham will be away from here and training with his new regiment in a fortnight.”
“That would be a great relief,” Elizabeth replied, thinking not only of her silly youngest sister, but of all the others who might in time let their guard down with the scoundrel, if he remained in the area and exercised his charm.
She could not forget how plausible he had seemed even when she had been forewarned.
Some, she knew, would conclude that he had reformed purely on the basis of pretty manners and easy speech.
“But enough of that odious man,” she declared. “Will you see your sister while you are in town, or is she at your estate?”
“She is in town with Fitzwilliam’s family, and though we intend to be there only a few days, I do hope to see her often.”
They spoke of the joys and trials of having younger sisters and then of a subject dear to both their hearts: books.
Elizabeth was aware of the looks they were attracting, as the reserved gentleman smiled and even laughed, though she paid them little mind.
Her neighbours might be as astonished as they liked, and Miss Bingley as angry.
She felt that she might have never before enjoyed a dance so much as this one, and she would not spoil it for herself by caring what others thought.
At the conclusion of the set, Mr Darcy escorted her to her father, who was standing with Jane and Mr Collins and Charlotte Lucas. “Well, Lizzy, are you having a good time?” Mr Bennet asked.
She replied that she was, and with a nod, his fatherly duty done, he turned to Mr Darcy to ask if he had seen a particular column in Friday’s Times.
Mr Collins was eager to be told that Lady Catherine’s nephew was an excellent dancer and tried Elizabeth on the subject for some time.
Though she had nothing but praise for the gentleman’s ability to navigate the steps, he seemed dissatisfied with her response.
“I cannot imagine that you have ever had a more skilled dance partner than Mr Darcy. No relation of Lady Catherine de Bourgh could be less than exceptional at the art,” he hinted with all the subtlety of a pig escaped from its sty.
Though Mr Darcy was yet speaking with her father, she saw him flush at this excess of praise, and hurried to say, “I am no judge of such things, sir. I know what is considered excellence here in Hertfordshire, but that might be deemed commonplace in London or Bath.” The musicians sounded some notes to signal the formation of the next set, and she added, “And now it is your turn to display your skill, Mr Collins, unless you mean to mortify me by failing to claim the set you secured?”
He was quick to reassure her that he would never be so ungentlemanly, and most particularly not to one of his beloved cousins. As he bowed low to punctuate this declaration, Jane murmured in her ear, “Mind your toes, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth would soon be grateful for that warning, though Mr Darcy and Charlotte took their places next to her and Mr Collins in the dance and assisted in keeping him generally pointed in the right direction. Even so, the moment of her release from him was ecstasy.
She was claimed for the fourth by Captain Carter, who knew his steps and could keep to them while maintaining a pleasant if less than stimulating conversation. Near the head of the line, she saw Mr Darcy dancing with Mrs Hurst, and next to them were Miss Bingley and young Mr Goulding.
During the pause between sets, Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain attempted to lower her spirits by saying, “Well, Miss Eliza, I am sure you are very proud of yourself for inducing Mr Darcy to escort you to the floor before any other lady, but you must not deceive yourself that such stratagems will win you his notice. If you expect to capture him, you will be sadly disappointed.”
Elizabeth, feeling no need to defend herself against such a ludicrous charge, but a great desire to confound the woman who levied it, smiled and replied, “I expected nothing but a pleasant half an hour when I accepted his request for a set, and that is what I received. With regard to Mr Darcy I am perfectly satisfied, I assure you. Which set of yours has he claimed, pray?”
“I believe he intends to ask for the supper set,” she said and sniffed haughtily, setting the feathers in her turban to quivering.
“He had best get to it, then, before some other gentleman steals a march on him. Time grows short—is not supper after the sixth?”
“The seventh,” Miss Bingley replied shortly.
Elizabeth begged her pardon for the mistake, assured her that she expected the meal would be as elegant as all the other arrangements, and excused herself to secure a cup of punch before the next.
Minutes later, she was hard-pressed not to laugh when she witnessed Mr Darcy escorting Miss Bingley to the floor.
Perhaps she should have felt some sympathy for the lady, as her hopes were dashed; Miss Bingley would not now be able to regale her friends with the tale of dancing the supper set and sharing the meal with the object of her affections, or at least of her ambitions.
Her manners did not invite sympathy, however, and Elizabeth did not try very hard to conjure it forth.
Mr Sloan, an officer of the militia, approached her then to ask her to dance, and her hostess’s disappointment was forgot in favour of her own enjoyment.