She wished Darcy would not have to listen to that, and so she found herself closing the distance between them, so that she stood close enough to converse.
“It is quite a gathering here tonight, is it not, Mr. Darcy?” she said.
“Indeed, it is,” he said, inclining his head.
Thereafter a great silence swallowed the two of them, which vexed Elizabeth, for it was not actually silent but echoing with her mother’s loud proclamations that she thought Jane could have her pick of Bingley or Wickham, but that Wickham was so handsome and so charming and clearly the better choice.
“Mr. Darcy, I have commented on the gathering. Perhaps you ought to make some sort of remark.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ought I?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “That is how conversation works, or were you unaware?”
Rather than taking offense at this, which he well could have, after all, Elizabeth had not meant it to come out so sharply, he only looked amused. “What do you wish to me say?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion. It is incumbent upon you to think of something.”
“You’re making this all sound rather dire, Miss Bennet. This is more than simply a conversation. It seems practically an occupation to you.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” She glared at him. “It is a simple thing. Perhaps you might remark on the number of couples or the size of the room.”
“This is a room with a number of couples in it.”
“Oh, Lord.” She sighed.
He laughed. “I deeply apologize. Have I offended you? Perish the thought? I must flagellate myself, I suppose. To cause you displeasure is not to be borne.”
“Oh, now you sound like Wickham.”
He stopped smiling. “You had best take that back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He stepped closer. “Listen, I have given you impressions of my character that are not accurate. I would that there was some way we could start over, take back all that has passed between us.”
“Take it back? But why would you wish that?”
“I only meant that I have overstepped every boundary of proper society when it comes to you, and I deeply regret it all, and I wish I could make that right.”
“You regret touching me?” She raised her eyebrows.
He coughed.
“I don’t regret it,” she breathed.
He stiffened.
Then she winced. “Oh, heavens, what you must think of me. I am sorry. Of course I must regret it too. If I didn’t, then you would assume I was some sort of wanton, some sort of fallen woman, and you would never wish to… uh, associate with me.” Dear Lord, had she been about to say “marry me”? Perhaps it had not been a good idea to talk to Mr. Darcy.
“I think nothing of the sort,” he said. “I am the one who crossed lines. You were quite innocent.” He peered at her face.
She got lost in his dark eyes. Her lips parted.
“I wish I could ask you to dance again,” he said.
“You do?” She smiled.
“Maybe I shall,” he said.
She drew back. “But if we were to dance together three times, that would practically be proclaiming…” Proclaiming an engagement.
“True,” he said. “Perhaps that isn’t appealing to you?”
“Well, Mr. Darcy, you are… that is…” She was having trouble catching her breath.
But then the music stopped, and they were called in to supper. There would be an interval now, when there would be no more dancing. Once the interval was over, it would be time for the waltzing demonstration.
Elizabeth and Darcy were parted, and she could not fathom what had just passed between them.
Had he asked her to marry him?
Had he just proposed?
She didn’t eat anything. She stared at her plate and tried to make sense of it.
They didn’t even know each other. They’d only been in each other’s presence a handful of times. Surely, there was no time to make an attachment.
Except that it wasn’t so uncommon for people to become engaged rather quickly. She had thought nothing of the time that had passed between Jane meeting Wickham when it came to his possibly proposing to her, after all. It was mostly that he was, well, Wickham.
The only thing that brought her out of her reverie was that Mary was singing. Badly. Very badly.
Elizabeth was horrified. She turned to see that Darcy was watching Mary’s performance. The look on his face!
Oh Lord, she wanted to die.
She caught her father’s eye and nodded at Mary furiously.
Her father inclined his head in agreement and began to applaud furiously—right in the middle of Mary’s song. “That will do extremely well, child,” he called. “You have delighted us quite enough.”
Mary stopped jarringly, turning beet red.
Elizabeth slid down in her chair. Her family, Lord! Had she never noticed how awful they were?
* * *
“What is it that you’re about?” said Bingley to Wickham. The two were outside the room where Mary Bennet was returning to her seat amongst scattered and confused applause.
Wickham turned to Bingley. “I beg your pardon?”
“With Miss Bennet,” said Bingley. “I danced with her twice tonight, but she never took her eyes off you.”
“Oh, is that so?” Wickham laughed. “Yes, she’s a frightfully responsive little thing, I must say. I hadn’t expected it with her. You know what they say about the quiet ones.”
“What have you done to her?” Bingley’s voice shook.
“Nothing. It’s as I promised,” said Wickham. “And, no, she has not yielded to me, but there was an instance in which I was quite sure she was about to do so. Unfortunately, we were interrupted.”
“I want you to leave her alone.”
“What? I’m doing this for you.” Wickham laughed.
“Oh, so that I can sail in and save her after you’ve broken her heart?”
Wickham sighed. “I think she’s not worth your while, Bingley. I’m sorry to say, but I feel quite strongly that she has the heart of a trollop.”
“No, no, it’s not her fault,” said Bingley. “She doesn’t stand a chance, what with you at her side every moment, fawning over her.”
“So, what are you saying? You fancy her so much you’ll still want my leavings after I’m done with her?”
“I’m saying it’s gone on long enough. Leave it be. Everyone thinks you’re going to marry her.”
“Oh, yes, I did hear her mother,” said Wickham, laughing. “Of course, they heard her mother in London, am I right?” He threw back his head, bellowing out a laugh, clearly enjoying his own joke.
“Are you going to marry her? Do you have any intention of doing anything honorable by her?”
“You know I don’t. I told you this already.” Wickham clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t see why you can’t understand that I’m saving you. This woman has loose thighs, and if you’d married her, she’d never have opened them only for you.”
“Stop,” said Bingley. “Why, I have half a mind to send you packing.”
Wickham drew back. “You can’t be serious. Over that chit?”
“What happens to her after you’ve used her and tossed her aside? What happens to her family? Have you no thought for the calamity you wreak on others?”
“You know what?” Wickham pointed at Bingley. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Why don’t we both calm down? We’ll talk about this in the morning, hmm?” He slid away, patting Bingley on the arm.
Bingley shied away from the man’s touch, happy to see him go.
He wasn’t sure that he truly could call Mr. Wickham a friend. But how to turn him out without causing an uproar? Everyone loved Wickham. He was the favorite in every party, in the whole of Hertfordshire. If he tried to explain it to anyone, none of them would understand. They would assure him that Wickham didn
’t mean it, that he was a good fellow deep down.
But he couldn’t abide the sight of the man.
And watching him with Miss Bennet, well that was a special sort of torture.
Of course, it had made one thing plain to him. He might care about Miss Bennet, but she clearly had no feelings for him. She was smitten with Mr. Wickham, and that was to her detriment.
No, Bingley had no inkling that she would ever consent to be his wife.
Still, he could not allow her to be hurt. He had to protect her anyway. So, he would get rid of Wickham. He would do it for Miss Bennet. Because she didn’t deserve to be treated so wretchedly.
“You don’t look so pleased with him these days,” said a voice at Bingley’s ear.
Bingley looked up and there was Mr. Darcy. Oddly, he felt a surge of relief, of joy, at the sight of his old friend.
But that was ridiculous. He knew what Darcy had done. Still, when he had heard about the waltzing, he had paid this money for a demonstration, knowing it would help his friend.
He believed that Darcy had turned over a new leaf. He listened to gossip and made inquiries now and then. As far as he knew, Darcy hadn’t been to a gambling table in years. He was making his way in the militia, and he wasn’t up to his old tricks of carousing and gambling. So, he felt it was a good thing to make sure Darcy got a bit of money. He might have even offered it outright, but he knew Darcy was far too proud for charity.
“Pleased with who?” said Bingley.
“Why, with Wickham,” said Darcy.
“Oh,” said Bingley, sighing. “Yes, well, there is a bit of disagreement between us. Something rather pedestrian, I’m afraid. We’re quarreling over a woman.”
“The eldest Miss Bennet?”
“How did you know?” Then Bingley laughed. “No, don’t answer that. Anyone with eyes can see that he’s won, and I’ve lost.”
“He’s got no intention of winning her,” said Darcy. “You may not realize this, but Wickham is rather frightful when it comes to women.”
“No, I… yes, I’m aware.” Bingley grimaced.
“I don’t think you are,” said Darcy. “If you were, you’d keep him away from her by any means necessary.” He sighed. “Ah, but this is an old argument between us, isn’t it? Wherein I say disparaging things about Wickham and you disagree with me and say I am seeing him incorrectly.”
Bingley turned to scrutinize Darcy. “I say, those things you said about him? That he stole the money from me, not you? Were you telling the truth?”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. “And you’ll believe me now? Truly?”
Bingley shook his head. “Oh, it was preposterous, even for Wickham. Stealing your identity. Pretending to be you. Wearing disguises. It was like something out of a very bad play. You couldn’t have been telling the truth.”
“Of course not,” said Darcy dryly.
“But…” Bingley wavered. “I know you’ve changed. I know you’re trying. I’m sorry that you’ve been brought so low, but I can see that you’re climbing out, doing whatever you can, even dance lessons and demonstrations. That’s all quite good. Perhaps someday, things will be different between us.”
“Perhaps,” said Darcy. “But they’ll never be as they were, will they?”
Bingley hung his head.
“Thus is the damage Wickham leaves in his wake,” said Darcy. “Mark my words, you must get rid of him. You will regret it if you do not.”
Bingley swallowed.
Darcy gave him a little bow. “Well, I have a demonstration to give.”
“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” said Bingley.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Miss Bennet,” said a deep voice behind Elizabeth.
It was Mr. Darcy.
A little jolt went through her, and she turned to him, the sides of the mask she was wearing obscuring from view until she looked at him straight on.
He chuckled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t. I’m not frightened.”
“Startled, then.”
“Yes, perhaps. What you said to me before—”
“I oughtn’t have. It was precisely the wrong way and the wrong time to say something like that.”
“No, I’m not saying that I… what I mean is that I don’t really understand why you said it, what you meant by it—”
“Miss Bennet, let’s concentrate on the waltz.”
“I don’t know if that’s entirely possible, not when I have all this else buzzing about in my head.”
“We shall talk of it later,” he murmured.
Her body went stiff and then loose at the note of promise in his voice. She struggled to find her equilibrium. “We shall?”
“Yes.”
He was masked as well, but there was a smile playing at his lips.
She smiled back, feeling shy now, feeling as though she was about to burst with the possibility of the future. And then, in the distance, she heard the squawking tones of her mother’s voice, although she could not make out the words, and she grimaced.
Mr. Darcy laughed.
“Oh, don’t laugh,” said Elizabeth. “I can’t bear it if you laugh.”
“I do apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t laugh. It is your mother, after all, and it’s frightful of me to make fun.”
“Well, she does make it easy,” said Elizabeth. “She’s the frightful one.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” said Darcy. “She cares about you. How many sisters do you have again?”
“Four,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, four. I knew that.” Darcy winced. “Ah…” He seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment and then he found it. “Well, what I mean is that she must be quite concerned about seeing all of you well taken care of. It’s the way with all mothers. And not just with daughters, but with second and third and fourth sons. There is so much uncertainty in the world. And even if it seems one’s future is assured, there is no telling what can happen to change that.”
“You are speaking of yourself. Of what Wickham did to you.”
He sighed. “I suppose that colors everything for me these days. You know, Miss Bennet, I am not by any means a wealthy man currently. Someday, when my father dies, I will inherit a fortune and an estate, but until then I am rather humbly situated.”
“Yes, I do know this. You have told me of it already.”
“And yet, you seem to be, dare I say, welcoming to me?”
“I thought we were to speak of this later.”
“Yes, you’re right.” He smoothed at his jacket. “Forgive me.”
They did not speak for a moment.
Then, at once, Elizabeth said, “You should know that I intend—”
And Darcy said, “I want to assure you that—”
They broke off, both laughing.
“Pardon me,” said Darcy. “Please, go ahead.”
“No, you first,” said Elizabeth. “I insist.”
“I was only going to say that you mustn’t take the fact that I could not remember the number of your sisters to mean anything. I do remember each of them. It is only that when I was introduced in Meryton, one of them was not in attendance, and that is why I was momentarily confused. I don’t want you think that I haven’t paid attention to you and to everything about you, because, frankly, I have thought of little else but you, Miss Bennet, since we met.”
A thrill went through her. She felt warm all over. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, do not trouble yourself with that. I have a great many sisters.”
They gazed at each other.
Distantly, they heard Bingley calling the assembled guests to attention.
“Thank you,” rang out Bingley’s voice. “I have a special treat for everyone tonight. Many of you may be acquainted with a new dance that has been sweeping Europe. Some think it too provocative for proper society, but most of us have never observed it before. So, I thought I would bring some dancers to my ball to show it ev
eryone so that we could see it and make up our minds. I give you… the waltz!”
And then the music was beginning.
Elizabeth’s heart rose to her throat, beating wildly against the confines of her neck. She was worried that her insides were suddenly coming apart.
Everyone at the entire ball was looking at her.
Mr. Darcy put his hands into position, an invitation.
She stepped closer, one hand on his shoulder, one hand in his.
The music swelled.
And they began to move.
And it was miraculous, as if the music propelled her limbs, guiding them into the steps, as if her body was meant to move this way. She and Mr. Darcy twirled around each other and circled the room, and she looked over his shoulder at the gathered guests, who were all watching.
And forgot how to move her foot.
She covered it, barely, getting back into rhythm and keeping her smile plastered in place.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to look at the people.
She looked up at Mr. Darcy instead, wondering if he was angry at her mistake.
But he didn’t look angry. His dark eyes were intense, and she was abruptly aware of his hand at her waist, his feet moving with hers, under her skirts.
She stumbled again, this time more noticeably.
Again, she managed to cover it up.
Well. Best not to look at Mr. Darcy’s face either.
Instead, she fixed her gaze on his cravat, and looked there for the rest of the dance, which went as well as could be expected, though she was terrified of making another mistake the entire time.
When the dance was over, the guests burst into applause and Mr. Darcy bowed and she curtsied.
And the clapping thundered against her eardrums.
She knew it was only a matter of time before the dam broke.
Her parents were not going to be pleased.
* * *
“Oh, Lizzy, it was you!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, clasping her hands together. “I thought it was, but I couldn’t be sure. You were so graceful out there. I never saw you dance so charmingly.”
Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Page 29