Four
Meryton Assembly
Darcy
"Perhaps you will lay aside some of the melancholy you have worn like a greatcoat since we arrived." Bingley leaned towards Darcy as they descended from the carriage before the assembly rooms. "If Hertfordshire cannot improve your spirits, I begin to despair of anything."
Darcy managed a faint smile. "Then let us hope your neighbours prove more entertaining than your sisters."
Bingley laughed outright, though Darcy's remark had not been made entirely in jest.
A fortnight at Netherfield had confirmed much of what Darcy had already discovered before they quitted London.
The rumours circulating there had reached the Bingley sisters well before they ever set foot in Hertfordshire.
Caroline, whose attentions had once been so persevering as to require more patience than encouragement, had settled into a civility remarkable chiefly for its caution.
Whilst her elder sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst, had acquired an unfortunate habit of steering every third conversation towards some tale of gentlemen whose fortunes had suffered reverses, or of the imprudence of connecting oneself with those upon whom misfortune seemed determined to fall.
Neither lady had spoken Darcy's name outright.
They had not needed to. Even Mr. Hurst, who ordinarily concerned himself with little beyond his dinner and his cards, appeared to find reasons to absent himself whenever Darcy entered the room.
Bingley alone remained happily untouched by such considerations.
He had admitted, before they quitted London, that he too had heard the whispers.
Yet, so far as Darcy could perceive, they had altered neither his opinion nor his friendship in the smallest degree.
He found himself valuing that constancy more than he had ever imagined necessary between two gentlemen who had known one another scarcely five years.
Had the choice been entirely his own, Darcy would willingly have remained at Netherfield that evening. Bingley's repeated persuasion, together with the favourable impression left by two of the neighbouring gentlemen who had called since their arrival, had at last prevailed upon him to attend.
One of those very gentlemen came forward to welcome them almost as soon as they entered the assembly rooms. Darcy recognised Sir William Lucas at once.
The knight, as he had taken some care to style himself when first they met a week before, possessed a cheerfulness that seemed proof against every ordinary disappointment of life.
As master of ceremonies, he lost little time in presenting the Netherfield party to his own family before conducting them amongst the company with an enthusiasm that suggested no introduction could possibly be made too soon.
Sir William had just undertaken to introduce them to Mrs. Long and her niece when Darcy became aware that someone was watching him.
Ordinarily he should scarcely have noticed it.
Their arrival had naturally drawn the attention of nearly every person in the room, for the new occupants of Netherfield had become the principal subject of curiosity throughout the neighbourhood.
Darcy had chosen to believe that most eyes were directed towards Bingley, whose arrival had furnished the county with its most agreeable topic of conversation.
He had hoped, too, that whatever idle reports had circulated in London had not travelled so far into Hertfordshire as to make him the subject of attention.
These eyes, however, were different.
They possessed a steadiness that distinguished them from mere curiosity, and were, Darcy thought, the finest pair he had ever seen.
His gaze lowered almost despite himself. They belonged to a handsome young lady who stood beside another of even greater beauty, the resemblance between them leaving little doubt they were sisters.
As though noticing the direction of his gaze, Sir William soon supplied the introduction, presenting the two young ladies and the three younger others who presently joined them as the daughters of Mr. Bennet of Longbourn.
Darcy's attention sharpened immediately.
Mr. Bennet had proved the most agreeable of the neighbours who had called at Netherfield.
During his visit only the previous Thursday, the older gentleman's dry wit, together with an unexpected admiration for several of Darcy's favourite authors, had rendered an hour's conversation remarkably pleasant.
Darcy found himself looking about the room for the gentleman before Mrs. Bennet, answering Bingley's enquiry after her husband, apologised for his absence with easy good humour.
One thing, however, had already become perfectly plain.
Bingley had conceived a decided admiration for the eldest Miss Bennet.
No sooner had the introductions concluded than he requested the honour of her hand for the first set, wearing a smile Darcy knew well enough to recognise as the expression of a man already very much disposed to admire.
Sir William soon claimed them again, eager to present the new tenants of Netherfield to every family of consequence assembled that evening.
Darcy submitted to the succession of introductions with as much patience as he could command, though he found his attention wandering more than once towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Her elder sister had plainly engaged Bingley's admiration.
Darcy, however, found his own attention returning, rather against his judgement, to Miss Elizabeth.
There had been an uncommon intelligence in her expression, and her eyes possessed a liveliness that refused to be easily forgotten. The thought was an unwelcome one.
He had resolved before leaving London that he should encourage no acquaintance capable of becoming more than an acquaintance.
Whether his suspicions proved well founded or not, too much misfortune had lately attended those whose lives touched his own for him to expose another unsuspecting person to the same uncertainty.
It was one thing for Bingley, whose friendship had survived five years of every disappointment Providence, or some unseen hand, had chosen to place before it.
It was quite another to draw an innocent young lady into a circle of danger he did not yet understand.
By the time the second set concluded, Darcy had persuaded himself that keeping to the edge of the room was by far the wiser course.
He had scarcely taken his place beside one of the windows when a ripple of subdued conversation reached him from a group of ladies nearby.
The voices lowered almost as quickly as they had risen, and when he happened to glance in their direction, more than one pair of eyes turned hurriedly away.
He forced himself not to attach undue significance to it.
Yet scarcely a minute passed before he observed much the same thing again.
A gentleman, standing with his wife near the refreshment table, looked towards him whilst speaking.
The lady followed her husband's gaze, murmured something Darcy could not hear, and both returned their attention elsewhere with a haste that struck him as studied rather than natural.
He silently reproved himself for the thought.
Hertfordshire lay far enough from London that it was absurd to suppose the idle reports of the society had travelled before him.
These people scarcely knew him. If they spoke of him at all, it was surely because he stood apart whilst every other gentleman in the room appeared eager to dance.
That explanation was infinitely more reasonable than imagining the whispers followed him wherever he went.
"There you are." Bingley approached with all the animation of a man whose evening had thus far exceeded every expectation. "I had begun to think you meant to spend the whole night studying the wallpaper."
Darcy drew himself from his thoughts. "I find it less demanding than dancing." He managed a faint smile that convinced neither of them.
"Nonsense." Bingley's eyes were bright with satisfaction. "I have just secured the third set with Miss Bennet."
"I had not supposed she would refuse you."
"I almost feared she might." He laughed. "Civility demanded that I stand up with another lady for the second set. I could scarcely claim Miss Bennet three dances in succession."
"Everyone in the room can see how thoroughly satisfied you are with your choice."
Bingley laughed again and shook his head. "She is an angel, Darcy. The finest young lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."
"I shall not dispute it. Miss Bennet is indeed very handsome. You were fortunate no other gentleman secured her hand before we arrived."
His approval seemed only to heighten Bingley's satisfaction, the smile upon his face broadening still further.
"Now, Darcy," Bingley said after recovering himself, "I cannot have you standing here by the wall all evening. I have already heard one or two people remark that you mean to dance with no one."
"I would rather not dance, Bingley. My mind is too much occupied to pretend otherwise."
"Nonsense!" Bingley protested. "There are a dozen ladies here who would improve any gentleman's spirits. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for instance. Her sister assures me she is an excellent dancer and a most agreeable companion. Surely you might be persuaded to ask her."
The image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet rose unbidden in Darcy's mind. Those lively eyes presented themselves before he could banish them. For the briefest instant he found himself tempted again.
Then, just as quickly, came the memory of Miss Harwood... and Miss Harper.
Until recently he had remembered them only with regret. Now their recollection raised far graver questions.
No. He would not encourage another attachment only to wonder, months hence, whether he had drawn yet another innocent lady within reach of a danger meant for him alone.
"I have no wish to dance." Darcy said at length.
"You cannot mean that."
"I do."
"Come, Darcy." Bingley lowered his voice. "She is handsome and lively. Surely even you cannot find fault with Miss Elizabeth."
"She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me."
The words escaped before Darcy had properly weighed them.
Bingley's smile disappeared at once. His eyes widened, not with offence, but with sudden alarm.
Very slowly, they shifted beyond Darcy's shoulder.
A cold certainty settled over Darcy as he followed his friend's gaze.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet stood scarcely a few feet away.
There could be no doubt from the colour that had risen to her cheeks, nor from the composure with which she turned and walked towards her sister, that she had heard every word.
For the first time that evening, Darcy wished he had chosen to dance after all.