Darcy’s mouth quirked up.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honour of the next set?” Fitzwilliam asked just as Mr. Collins held out an arm to escort Elizabeth to the dance.
“Certainly, Colonel,” she said with a smile.
Mr. Collins hurried her over to the other dancers, the profuse apologies he was making to the other couples drifting back in his wake. Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy could see Miss Bingley gliding towards him, perhaps hoping to make yet another bid for dancing the first set with him. The woman was determined, he would give her that. He turned to Fitzwilliam, intending to suggest they circulate in an effort to avoid Miss Bingley’s attentions.
“Mr. Darcy!” Sir William said as he bustled up to them.
Darcy noticed that Bingley and Miss Bennet were taking their places on the dance floor and once more blessed his friend for giving him moments with Elizabeth. Miss Bingley halted, then changed direction, heading towards another part of the room as though it had been her intention from the start. For the first time, Darcy was grateful for Sir William’s gregariousness. The man would not finish speaking to him and Fitzwilliam in time for either of them to take part in the first set regardless of their inclinations.
“Sir William,” Darcy replied with a bow. He turned to his cousin whom Sir William was eyeing with interest. “May I present my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam? Colonel Fitzwilliam, Sir William Lucas.”
Both men bowed.
“I welcome you to the neighbourhood, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Sir William began. “The weather has prevented me from doing so prior to now, however, you are no less welcome.”
“Thank you, sir.”
From there the conversation devolved into pleasantries about the weather, the area, Fitzwilliam’s journey, and Sir William’s knighthood. It was much the same conversation Bingley had had with the man upon their introduction and, despite his best efforts, Darcy’s attention wandered to where Elizabeth was being mauled by Mr. Collins. The man evidently had little idea of how to dance and was continually turning the wrong way, bumping into his partner or other dancers, trodding on Elizabeth’s toes, or otherwise disrupting the dance. Darcy winced as Mr. Collins knocked Elizabeth so hard that she nearly lost her balance.
“Your friend appears to be an excellent dancer,” Sir William said to Darcy, apparently thinking his attention fixed on Bingley.
“Yes, Bingley has great pleasure in dancing.”
“His fair partner does not do him a disservice,” Sir William said. “They look well together, don’t they? It bodes well for their future felicity when a certain desirable event shall occur.”
Darcy hesitated, unsure how to handle this blatant allusion to Bingley’s attachment. He had been shocked Before when Sir William had said something similar, too wrapped up in suppressing his feelings for Elizabeth to realise that Bingley had created such an expectation in the neighbourhood.
“Indeed!” Fitzwilliam said heartily. “Miss Bennet appears to be an excellent dancer. I shall have to ask her for a dance sometime this evening.”
“Do not delay,” Sir William advised. “Miss Bennet rarely lacks partners. My own daughter, Charlotte, is dancing with Mr. Goulding now, but she would be glad to dance a set with you as well.”
“Of course,” Fitzwilliam said amiably.
“And what of you, Mr. Darcy? You are an excellent dancer, and you so rarely grace us with the sight. Will you be dancing tonight?”
“I shall,” Darcy said, already longing for the supper set so that he could dance with Elizabeth. He hesitated, then decided he would take Fitzwilliam’s advice and attempt to build a rapport with Elizabeth’s closest sister and dearest friend; he would dance with Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas tonight. “Perhaps your daughter will grace me with a set as well.”
Sir William blinked at him. “She will be glad to, of course. Yes.”
Darcy manoeuvred Fitzwilliam to where Elizabeth was being escorted away from the dance. Was she all right? Obviously, she had danced the rest of the night Before so she could not be badly injured, but his heart refused to listen to reason. Over the course of the set, her exasperation had rapidly melted into misery and mortification. Darcy wished he had the right to rescue her. For now, he could only ensure she was as well as possible and perhaps shield her from more of Mr. Collins’s prattle.
“Miss Elizabeth, you are promised to me for the next set,” Fitzwilliam said.
Mr. Collins smiled and bowed again. “Of course my fair cousin will be very much honoured to dance with the nephew of my esteemed patroness. I am certain she is cognisant of the very great compliment she has been granted.”
Darcy cast Elizabeth a sympathetic glance; however, her eyes remained fixed on the floor as though she were too wrapped up in the lingering misery of her dance with Mr. Collins and could not bear to meet anyone’s gaze.
“And I am cognisant of the very great honour I have been granted to dance with such a beauty,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said merrily.
Mr. Collins appeared puzzled.
“Do you require anything, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked gently. “Perhaps some punch?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and looked up. “No, thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled at her, then turned towards Mr. Collins. “How long have you held my aunt’s rectory, Mr. Collins?”
Chapter 23
In the midst of Mr. Collins’s voluble explanation of how Lady Catherine had come to extend her beneficence to him, Miss Lucas arrived, her gaze assessing Darcy. Had her father spoken to her? Mr. Collins halted his paean to Lady Catherine long enough to greet Miss Lucas, and Darcy took the opportunity to ask her for the next dance.
Elizabeth turned shocked eyes on him as though waiting for him to explain it had been a mistake. Miss Lucas agreed easily, and the four of them left Mr. Collins on the outskirts of the dance. Darcy steered Miss Lucas to a place two couples down from Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. If they danced next to them, he would spend the entirety of the dance watching Elizabeth and fail to engage Miss Lucas in conversation.
“Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Lucas?” Darcy began, then suppressed a wince at the inanity of the comment. Elizabeth would have certainly had a better opening, but he was little practiced at conversing about trivialities.
“I do, Mr. Darcy. I did not think that you enjoyed it, however.”
“As a rule, I find it enjoyable when I am acquainted with my partner.”
“I see.”
“Have you lived in Hertfordshire all your life?” Darcy asked after several moments of silence.
“Yes. My father was a merchant before he was knighted,” she said with a calculating look.
“And have you—” Darcy’s throat closed up as the enormity of what he was trying to do hit him. He cleared it. “Have you been friends with the Bennets that whole time?”
Miss Lucas chuckled. “For the past several years, yes. I am afraid the age difference and the gap between our stations meant that we did not become close until Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were nearly 15 and 13 respectively, however, Miss Elizabeth and my brother John were fast friends from a very early age.”
Darcy’s lips quirked up as Miss Lucas’s words immediately conjured a picture of Elizabeth climbing trees and generally running wild with John Lucas.
Their dance continued in a similar fashion with Darcy asking roundabout questions regarding the Bennets and Miss Lucas answering them. Darcy did his best to ask also about Miss Lucas herself and learned that she was a very practical person. Through it all, his attention wandered to Elizabeth, his heart longing to be the one to make her laugh as Fitzwilliam was doing.
Upon the end of the dance, Mr. Collins rushed forward, stationing himself once more by Elizabeth’s side. Darcy steered Miss Lucas towards them, hoping to once more save Elizabeth from the annoyance of Mr. Collins’s attentions.
“—as I have told my cousins many times,” Mr. Collins was saying to Fitzwilliam as Darcy arrived. “In fact, do you not think t
hat this room resembles the smallest ballroom at Rosings?”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “No, I do not think this room resembles the smallest ballroom at Rosings; Netherfield is much more congenial.”
Mr. Collins flinched as though Fitzwilliam had struck him.
“Are you often at Rosings, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, only once a year. Darcy and I have the duty of overseeing the estate on behalf of my father.”
“I am certain it is more than just a duty, sir,” Mr. Collins interjected. “Indeed, anyone admitted to the splendour of Rosings cannot help but profess it a pleasure. I myself have been graced by Lady Catherine with several invitations to visit Rosings and even to dine there.”
“How very fortunate for you,” Miss Lucas said, insinuating herself between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth.
Darcy suppressed a sigh of relief that there was another who could provide a buffer for Elizabeth. “I believe I shall go ask Miss Bennet for a set before her dances are all taken,” he announced.
Colonel Fitzwilliam asked for the next set from Miss Lucas and arranged to meet her on the dance floor so that he could accompany Darcy.
“Good Heavens, that man can talk!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed once they were out of earshot. “I do not think I have ever met anyone more loquacious. It is a wonder that Aunt Catherine hired him given her fondness for her own opinions.”
Darcy suppressed a snort. Having seen his aunt with her rector, he was aware that Lady Catherine thoroughly enjoyed having someone take her every pronouncement as gospel. Though garrulous, Mr. Collins regularly parroted her ladyship’s opinions, something that heavily counted in his favour, not to mention that since Lady Catherine liked the distinction of rank preserved, she would find Mr. Collins’s fawning to be perfectly appropriate. “I believe she appreciates his, er, malleability.”
“Ah,” Fitzwilliam said. “Well, then I cannot account for his choosing to fix his interest with Miss Elizabeth, who, according to what I have observed, is one of the least malleable people, save a certain cousin of mine.”
“Fixing his interest?” Darcy asked incredulously
“Of course, why do you think he has been watching her the entire evening as though she were a chance for him to become head of the Church of England?”
Darcy narrowly avoided running into one of the other ball goers. “He cannot be fixing his interest with Miss Elizabeth.”
“Of course he can. No law against that. After all, it is not as though she were in a courtship or engaged to someone else,” he said pointedly.
Darcy stared at him. “But he married Miss Lucas.”
“That may have been true in your vision, but that does not make it certain now. You said yourself that events have changed. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth will accept an offer from him. He will, after all, inherit her home.”
Darcy opened his mouth to reply but was halted by Miss Bingley calling his name and hastening towards him.
Miss Bingley gave him a wide smile. “And how are you finding the ball? Though the people present are insipid beyond belief, I hope you do not find the ball itself miserable.”
“Not at all,” Darcy said politely.
“The servants have done a splendid job,” Fitzwilliam jabbed.
Miss Bingley’s smile froze.
“If you will excuse us, I need to speak with Miss Bennet before the next set begins,” Darcy said. Then, not waiting for an answer, he walked away.
Chortling, Fitzwilliam followed him. “You were not jesting about your incivility.”
“It would be unkind to allow her to believe my feelings mirror hers.”
“Well, I cannot see how she could hold on to any such hope in the face of your repeated set-downs,” Fitzwilliam said as they hurried towards where Miss Bennet stood engrossed in a conversation with Bingley.
“You would be surprised,” Darcy muttered, thinking of Miss Bingley’s unremitting determination in her pursuit of him despite his confrontation of her behaviour, despite his incivility, despite her knowledge of his feelings for Elizabeth. Most women would have given up long ago.
“Capital ball!” Fitzwilliam said as they reached Bingley.
“My sister has done a magnificent job,” Bingley agreed.
“Miss Bennet,” Darcy began.
Miss Bennet turned wide eyes on him, apparently having expected him to speak only to Bingley.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing a set tonight?”
“I would be pleased to do so.” Miss Bennet opened her dance card. “Perhaps the third set after supper? It is my first open set,” she added apologetically.
“Miss Bennet is a sought after dance partner,” Bingley said with the air of one speaking of royalty.
Did he have the same calf-eyed look towards Elizabeth? Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had said he looked at Elizabeth as though she were the sun in his sky, but he hoped his expression was not quite as besotted as Bingley’s.
“It would be my pleasure,” Darcy replied, noting down the dance on his own card. In a way, Darcy was rather pleased with this outcome: Few young women refused him or deferred him to a different set. He had never considered the matter before, but they must have rearranged their dance cards in order to be available for the next set. Not that he often danced with young ladies. In the beginning, he had felt awkward around young women (which he still felt) and did not wish to dance. Later, giving consequence to one over another (which was the certain result of breaking his customary abstention) was the last thing he desired to do as it led to expectations and a redoubling of the matchmaking mamas’ efforts to snare him.
The musicians called the dancers to the floor, and Bingley escorted Miss Bennet away, Fitzwilliam accompanying them. Darcy considered returning to Elizabeth, but another young man was escorting her onto the dance floor as well. He had no desire to return to Mr. Collins until Elizabeth needed rescuing from the man’s volubility. Thus, he made his way towards the punch bowl, attempting to appear friendly enough to speak to.
Was Fitzwilliam right? Was Mr. Collins pursuing Elizabeth? And if he was, would she accept him? If she had rejected Darcy, despite his greater fortune and consequence, she would certainly reject Mr. Collins, wouldn’t she? Doubt gnawed at his insides as though he had swallowed a squirming bundle of weasels. What if something he had done caused Mr. Collins to propose, and she accepted him? What if her parents forced her to accept a proposal in order to keep Longbourn in the family? They could not have been happy with Miss Lucas inheriting the estate. If they had the opportunity to secure their daughters’ futures, they would seize it, would they not?
Darcy frantically rifled through his memories of Mr. Collins’s behaviour Before. He remembered Mr. Collins dancing with Elizabeth for the first dance at this ball and remaining close to her through much of the evening. At the time, he had brushed it off as Mr. Collins being most comfortable with Elizabeth, but perhaps he had misread the situation.
His mind full, he took his punch and slipped to the back of the crowd, intending to find a quiet spot to think until the dance was over. However, Elizabeth’s younger sister, Miss Mary, was ensconced in one of the nearby chairs reading. A certain tightness about her eyes and lips caused Darcy to detour in her direction, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Bennet and Miss Bingley.
“Miss Mary,” Darcy greeted her.
The young woman did not seem to hear him so he repeated the salutation. She started and looked about as though there must have appeared another “Miss Mary” nearby. Compassion welled up in Darcy. Though he had more trouble avoiding the people who wished to speak to him than being avoided, he too was uncomfortable in large gatherings and often felt separated from the rest of the guests. At least, he supposed that must be how she felt given the few interactions of hers he had witnessed.
“May I join you?” Darcy asked once Miss Mary was looking at him.
“M-Me? I—I suppose.”
“Thank you.” Darcy sat in the chair next to her. “What are you reading
?”
“Fordyce’s sermons volume two,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the floor and her fingers white against the spine of the book.
“I am not familiar with that book. Do you recommend it?”
Miss Mary started.
“I am a reader myself, and I have a sister not much younger than you who is also a reader.”
Miss Mary straightened her shoulders. “I find it provides a welcome counterbalance on occasions such as these. One must remind oneself of the ills attached to wanton behaviour when one is surrounded by it lest a person be enticed into impropriety.”
“Do you find that country balls are full of wanton behaviour?” Darcy asked, confused as to what behaviour she had noticed.
Miss Mary nodded importantly. “Yes. Many members of my sex are in the habit of attempting to allure a man with her dress and comportment when a wise man will seek out the woman who avoids such behaviour. If a man is drawn to such allurements, then he is not a worthy man. A modest woman will avoid putting herself forward in such an unseemly manner.”
Darcy tried to untangle what might underlie Miss Mary’s convoluted statement. She appeared to object to women chasing a man—something he wholeheartedly supported—however, he did not believe that sitting on the outskirts was the way to maintain modest behaviour. He suppressed a chuckle, reminded of how he traditionally prowled the periphery of a ball. But he was honest with himself: he did not like crowds. He did not need to moralise to provide a reason for his behaviour.
“What if a worthy man is not aware of said modest woman’s presence?” Darcy asked.
Miss Mary froze. “If he is a worthy man, he would be aware.”
“Ah. I see,” Darcy replied. “I often prefer to remain on the outskirts of a crowd too, but it has little to do with modesty and more to do with my own comfort. I do not care for crowds,” he confessed.
“I do not either,” Miss Mary mumbled to her lap.
Darcy softened as her manner forcibly reminded him of Georgiana’s timidity. “However, I have attempted to change my behaviour since it seems like the Christian thing to do.”
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 24