Mr. Darcy's Noble Connections: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  Elizabeth hid a smile as she saw him glancing at Eleanor even as he spoke to her. "My home is in Hertfordshire, but I cannot deny that the scenery here is lovely. I have always been fond of visiting Bentham Park."

  Eleanor turned to Elizabeth. "My stepmother tells me she plans to invite Mr. Paxton and his friend to join us for our picnic."

  "That is good news," said Mr. Paxton quietly. "I had been unsure if she would include me again. Ah, and here is my friend!"

  Elizabeth looked up to see a phantom from her imaginings, one who did not look at all pleased to see her. "Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, hardly believing her eyes. What in the world had brought him there? His name had not been on the list for the house party, of that much she was certain.

  If it were possible to bow in a curt fashion, he did so. "Miss Bennet, may I entreat the favor of your hand for this dance?" He sounded as if he were a judge pronouncing a death sentence.

  It took Elizabeth a moment to find her voice over the pounding of her heart. "It would be my pleasure, sir."

  Mr. Paxton said, "You are already acquainted?"

  "We have met," Darcy said.

  His poor manners were enough to set Elizabeth's spirits to teasing. "Oh, yes, we have encountered one another before, enough for me to know that it is quite an extraordinary event for Mr. Darcy to invite a lady to dance. I do hope he is not falling ill."

  His lips tightened, a look quite unlike the sort of smile that had formerly come over his face when he gazed at her. "I am in perfect health, Miss Bennet."

  "Then you must allow me to introduce my friend. Lady Eleanor Carlisle." Elizabeth said brightly. "Lady Eleanor, may I present Mr. Darcy to your acquaintance?"

  "Lady Eleanor and I are also old acquaintances." Darcy bowed to her with none of the curtness he had shown Elizabeth. "You have changed a great deal since our last meeting."

  Eleanor's curtsey was all that was elegant and feminine, despite her look of confusion. "I am afraid I cannot recall meeting you before, sir."

  "That is hardly surprising, since you were perhaps four years of age at the time, while I was all of eleven. I spent the summer with your family many years ago along with my sister, who was but an infant at the time."

  "Oh, I do remember you! You were the one who claimed to have picked all the flowers from the garden border even though I was the one who did it."

  Darcy cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "It seemed the least I could do since you knew no better."

  "Then Edward could not bear it that you were being more noble than he was, so he said it was him, not you, and the two of you began quarreling about which of you had done the wicked deed."

  He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "As I recall, your grandmother questioned us regarding what kind of flowers we had picked, and when neither of us could answer, she turned to you and told you not to pick flowers without permission ever again. I was certain she must have magical powers of perception and was very careful with her ever after."

  "That was wise of you, since she does have a knack for knowing everything! But the musicians are about to begin, and I see my next partner coming this way. Perhaps we can speak further later on."

  "It will be my pleasure. Lady Eleanor." Darcy's eyes swung back to Elizabeth. He held out a gloved hand to her. "Shall we take our place?"

  Numbly she set her hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the floor, wondering why he had asked her to dance when he seemed so displeased with her presence. She would have thought he would avoid her, not single her out. Was he deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable? "You took me quite by surprise, sir. I was unaware of your presence here."

  "Until half an hour ago, I assumed you were in Hertfordshire. You had said it was your plan to return there after your stay in Kent." His words had an almost accusing quality.

  "That had been my intent, until I received a letter from Lady Eleanor begging me to come here." He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. "You are Lady Eleanor's friend?"

  "Is it so shocking that a peer's daughter would associate with someone with my low connections?" she shot back.

  "You misunderstand me. Perhaps I should have asked if you were that one of Lady Eleanor's friends, the one she sent for, just as Paxton urgently requested my company."

  Now it was Elizabeth's turn to feel shocked. "You are the one that he asked...Oh, dear." This was beyond embarrassing. It was mortifying. How could she work together with Mr. Darcy to chaperone Eleanor and Mr. Paxton?

  "I had other business here as well, so it worked out conveniently."

  With a start, she realized the music had begun, and they had not taken their place in line. "Shall we join the set?"

  The corners of his mouth twitched but without humor. "This is a waltz, Miss Bennet."

  "No, it cannot be. There was but one waltz on the schedule." Even as she said it, she heard the distinctive waltz rhythm, making her feel twice a fool.

  "That was before Lord Charles Carlisle bribed the musicians to play one earlier," he said darkly. As if it took effort, he took hold of her waist.

  "Oh." Elizabeth's cheeks grew warm, recalling the liberties Lord Charles had attempted during their dance. She had hoped no one would notice his behavior, but if Mr. Darcy had been watching her as closely as he had in the past, he was unlikely to have missed it. Now she had to put her hand on his shoulder, which suddenly seemed a far more intimate action than it had with Lord Charles. Experiencing an uncharacteristic urge to flee, she raised her hand and carefully rested it on the superfine linen of his coat. There - if she focused on the fabric of his coat and avoided looking in his eyes, it was hardly embarrassing at all. "I should warn you, Mr. Darcy, that I am not an accomplished waltzer. This is only the second time I have danced it, but I will do my best not to tread on your feet," she said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  "You have the advantage of me, madam. Although I know the dance, this is the first time I have performed it in public." His hand pressed against her in a cue to begin.

  Something she could tease him about - that was a relief! "Truly? My lack of experience stems from the fact that it is not performed at the sort of country assemblies that I frequent. But what is your excuse? You certainly cannot have lacked for opportunities, nor for eager partners."

  "All the more reason why I choose not to waltz." The words could have been playful, but his tone was flat, almost insulting.

  From her meager experience, he seemed to lead well, and she suspected he would have cut a good figure as he did so, had his expression not been quite so dark. How was she to make him out? When a man who had previously professed ardent love to a woman asked her to waltz, one might reasonably expect it to be a sign of courtship, but this had none of the hallmarks. If anything, he appeared to be undergoing punishment.

  "Lord Charles is not a man to be trusted," he said abruptly as they spun around the room.

  Not that again! So he had seen her earlier waltz. "I will take your opinion under advisement," she said coolly.

  "I am not jesting, Miss Bennet. He is a dangerous man and not above taking advantage of...." Darcy broke off, as if he had suddenly realized he was about to say something inappropriate.

  What gave him the right to decide with whom she should spend her time? "I thank you for your concern. Perhaps it will reassure you to know that I am well aware that he is a rake and that he is only amusing himself with me."

  "If that were all, it would not matter, but he delights in making trouble and cares little for the consequences to anyone else."

  Elizabeth had reached her limit with his scowls and warnings. "You may consider me duly warned." she said sharply.

  His breath hissed through his teeth in evident frustration, but he said nothing further. It was just as well, since Elizabeth doubted her own ability to make a temperate answer. What was it about this man that he could infuriate her in a matter of minutes?

  At least one of her questions had been answered. She had wondered wha
t Mr. Darcy thought of her after she refused him, whether he had been angry or hurt, whether he still cherished tender feelings for her or whether those sentiments had turned into hatred. Well, now she knew. He despised her and thought her a fool to boot.

  She swallowed hard, then stumbled as she missed a beat in the dance. To anyone else, she would have made a joke at her own expense; but with this man, she could find no humor in it. Her failures no doubt just reinforced his disdain for her. Her arm was so tense that her shoulder began to cramp.

  Oh, if only she could just walk away from him! That would never do. She needed to concentrate on her dancing, to make her feet move in time to the music, and to keep at least a bit of a smile, however false, on her face. Taking a deep breath, she focused her gaze on his shoulder and forced herself to relax. To relax? All she wanted to do was flee, but instead she had to keep moving in concert with him, turning in circles, his powerful body just inches from hers. No wonder the waltz was considered so risqué! The room spun around her, the candles just a blur of light. The only solid thing was the gentleman whose hand rested on her waist. At least he, unlike Lord Charles, did not attempt to take advantage of the possibilities inherent in that position; but then again, she doubted he had any desire to do so.

  A few minutes before, she had been grateful for his silence, but now she recognized the danger in it. Silence left too much opportunity for thinking and feeling. Even quarrelling would provide some distraction. There must be some neutral topic of conversation! "Have you known Mr. Paxton long?" she asked, pleased that her voice was steady.

  "We met at Cambridge. He was one of the few there who took their studies seriously. He was one of the finest scholars of his year."

  She raised a teasing eyebrow. "Along with you. no doubt?"

  "I cannot be the judge of that." His voice was tight.

  "In that case, I will have to ask Mr. Paxton. What of Mr. Bingley? Was he a scholar as well?" Immediately she wished she had not mentioned him, as memories of the last time Mr. Bingley's name had come up between them intruded.

  "Bingley attended Oxford, and I did not make his acquaintance until afterwards."

  "A tactful answer, sir!"

  Darcy's hand pressed against hers as he whirled them in a tight turn, apparently to avoid another couple. Elizabeth's head spun a little with the movement. To regain her balance, she focused on his face. Looking directly into his eyes for the first time, she felt a shock that raised goose bumps on her arms. Had they always been so dark and unfathomable, or was it just the shadows that danced across his countenance in time with their movement? His eyes held her captive, and she could not look away. If it were not for the slight sardonic twist to his lips, she might have thought he still admired her.

  Somehow that idea made her angry once more. "Why did you ask me to dance? Clearly it was not for the pleasure of my company, and we have already established that you do not enjoy the waltz." His lips pressed together, and for a moment she thought he would not respond at all. "Must I have a reason?" he asked, his voice toneless. "I was invited here to dance, and you are the only lady with whom I have an acquaintance - a recent one, at least."

  She raised a mocking eyebrow. "I had forgotten. You are the singular gentleman who believes no one can be introduced in a ballroom."

  Darcy's jaw tightened and a pulse throbbed in his throat, but he did not reply, instead averting his eyes from her.

  Elizabeth's stomach began to rebel, less from the circles they spun in than from a pang of guilt. Mr. Darcy had never been one to allow her to have the last word, yet he had just done so for the second time tonight. She had been so caught up in her reaction to his presence that she had hardly considered how difficult this meeting must be for him. The memory of their bitter conversation in Hunsford still haunted her, and she was not the one whose love had been spumed in a harsh manner and with false accusations. Her anger had made her needlessly cruel then, yet tonight he had made the effort to be civil, if not amiable, in asking her to dance. She should be feeling sorry for his pain, not baiting him. He had more than enough reason to resent her as it was.

  On impulse, she said, "I owe you an apology. Your appearance here tonight took me by surprise, but that is no excuse for incivility."

  That made him look at her again, the lines of his face softening a bit. "You have nothing for which to apologize. It is a difficult situation."

  "You are very generous," she murmured, hoping the room was sufficiently dim to hide the color that rose in her cheeks.

  "I was also unaware that you would be here, but I had half an hour to become accustomed to the idea before speaking to you. I doubt I would have behaved with any credit otherwise."

  Why was he being kind to her? She certainly did not deserve it. Perhaps he was trying to make the best of a bad situation. If they were to be thrust into each other's company through the machinations of Eleanor and Mr. Paxton, it would be easier for all concerned if they could be on civil terms. "Perhaps we could start this conversation over from the beginning. I might comment on the fine weather we have had of late."

  The corners of his mouth quirked. "It has rained for the last three days. Miss Bennet."

  She arranged her face in stem lines. "Mr. Darcy, if you are going to allow facts to interfere with a perfectly good topic of conversation, our situation will be desperate indeed!"

  The sound he made was almost a laugh. "It is a foolish obsession of mine, the facts. Perhaps we are better off simply enjoying the dance."

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "It would be a pity to dislike your first waltz."

  "Indeed it would be."

  Elizabeth's breath left her in a rush as he drew her closer to him and led her through a series of turns that left her dizzy. There were still half a dozen inches between them, but it seemed far too intimate, especially in the darker corners of the room. It had not felt like this when she had danced with him at the Netherfield ball, but that was before she knew he admired her. All she had cared for then was to torment him about Mr. Wickham. When had she developed this tendency toward cruelty? True, she had not known of his vulnerability to her then; she had not even thought that a man like him could have vulnerabilities, as if his pride and his fortune would do away with any human frailties.

  They managed to remain civil for the remainder of the dance. Still Elizabeth was relieved when Mr. Darcy returned her to Eleanor and Mr. Paxton.

  Eleanor congratulated Elizabeth on her waltzing. "If I had not known you only learned it yesterday, I would have thought you quite proficient. I do not know how they came to play two waltzes, though. My stepmother will not be pleased."

  "She must take it up with your brother," said Elizabeth. "Apparently it was his doing."

  "I should have known!" Eleanor exclaimed.

  Mr. Paxton spoke quietly to Darcy. "You are a success. We are invited to join the party for a picnic the day after tomorrow in the Abbey ruins."

  "Fortunately, it is not difficult for me to play the part of my grandfather's grandson," said Darcy. Pretending indifference to Elizabeth Bennet was far more difficult.

  Chapter 4

  Miss Elliot slipped into the seat next to Elizabeth at the breakfast table, though there were several other places available. Even her morning dress was of the finest muslin, and her hair was as carefully dressed as if she were attending a ball. After exchanging a few comments about the food. Miss Elliot said. "You have a talent for finding highly eligible men as dance partners, Miss Bennet. Have you known Mr. Darcy long?"

  "Not long. We became acquainted in the autumn when he was visiting a neighbor in Hertfordshire." Had it really been only eight months since she first met him? It seemed so much longer. With a polite smile, she added, "If you intend to warn me that Mr. Darcy is also a rake, I am afraid I will not believe you."

  Miss Elliot tittered. "Mr. Darcy? Not at all. He does not pursue ladies; they pursue him."

  "So I have observed." Elizabeth thought of Miss Bingley's constant efforts to attract hi
s attention.

  "Is it any surprise? He is a remarkable catch - wealthy, yet not predisposed to gamble his fortune away; of good family, yet without parents to interfere with his choice of bride. The woman who marries him will be mistress of her own home with no mother-in-law to interfere."

  Amused by the characteristics that Miss Elliot apparently valued in a potential husband, Elizabeth said, "Has he no faults, then?"

  Miss Elliot appeared to consider this. "He has not been well received in the ton, but it is nothing that could not be remedied by the proper sort of wife. One may safely assume he will choose his wife carefully. Since he is very conscious of his rank and his duty to his estate, he would not consider marriage to a woman without equal rank and dowry."

  Elizabeth had to hide a smile at this. "Not to mention that such a woman must be truly accomplished."

  "Precisely." Miss Elliot gave her a warm smile, no doubt for having taken her hint. "He is not the sort of gentleman from whom one has to worry about improper advances, but it would be wisest not to hope for anything more."

  Opening her eyes wide. Elizabeth said. "I am fortunate, then, to have made the acquaintance of someone who knows so well what Mr. Darcy would want in a wife. Tell me, are there any other gentlemen you would like to warn me about, or do you prefer to wait until you see me waltzing with them?"

  "Pray excuse my interference. It was kindly meant." With a haughty look, Miss Elliot stood and crossed to the other side of the table.

  It might even have been true. After all, a naive girl could find herself in difficult straits in company this elevated.

  Lady Mary Huggins spoke quietly from her other side. "Do not let it trouble you. Miss Bennet. Miss Elliot is in a difficult position."

  Startled. Elizabeth turned to her. "Her position is difficult?"

  "She has a spendthrift father, no brothers, and a taste for the finer things in life. If she does not make a good marriage, her future will be one of genteel poverty. She has been on the marriage market long enough to be feeling desperate."