His Choice of a Wife

by Heather Moll

  “I must tell you that I insisted,” Elizabeth interjected, “although I can hardly credit the scandalous reputation of such a dance. I think your sister will agree when I say that we managed to face each other for fifteen minutes and our moral compasses remain pointed true north.”

  While Darcy hoped that would hold true in his sister’s case, the desire came, unbidden, that perhaps waltzing would do violence to Elizabeth’s invaluable notions of delicacy and reserve and she might throw aside all propriety and kiss him.

  “Fitzwilliam, will you wind the musical box?”

  “Do you wish to keep dancing?”

  “No, but since you are here, you may teach Miss Bennet. I am afraid that my skill at turning a partner is poor.”

  His younger sister could not know how affected he was by the suggestion of clasping Elizabeth in his arms. Since he could only stare at Elizabeth in silence, Georgiana wound the box herself. She then sat and waited for them to begin.

  “As we discussed yesterday, Miss Darcy, I believe your brother is fond of neither music nor dancing, and we ought not to put him on display.”

  “Do you again refuse to dance with me? My tally is now one success for four requests. Perhaps I should cease petitioning for your hand.” The unintended double meaning of this was not lost on him, and Darcy winced.

  “But you have not asked me. Your sister has put me forward as being in want of a partner, but perhaps you do not find me handsome enough to dance with?”

  “Who could object to such a partner?”

  ***

  They moved to the center of the room. To cover her nervousness, Elizabeth teased that they might offend Miss Darcy’s sensibilities. Miss Darcy laughed and said she saw no reason for two friends not to practice a dance at home. Elizabeth thought she detected an upturn to her new friend’s lips, but she was distracted by the sight of Mr. Darcy standing before her in his shirtsleeves.

  “I have no gloves.”

  “Neither do I—nor do I have my coat. Fortunately, Georgiana will keep our confidence, and you may return to Hertfordshire more fashionable than all your sisters.”

  “Very well,” she said and held out both hands for him to hold, just as she had done with Miss Darcy. “I trust you know who is to step to which side and you will not lead me into the fireplace.”

  “It is unlike a country dance. It is a continuous whirl of amusement.” He still remained several paces away. Were they truly about to dance a waltz in Miss Darcy’s sitting room?

  “Then you had best show me.”

  His gaze at no time wavered as he held his left hand open and asked for hers. She had never been so close to him for so long, and her left hand was trembling in his as she stood beside him, both of them facing the wall.

  “Were we in a ballroom, would we not exchange partners?” Elizabeth hoped her voice did not betray her nervousness.

  “No, you and I would dance face-to-face as a couple for the duration of the set.”

  “How will you hold my right hand?”

  “I—to begin, your right hand goes behind your back to hold mine.” Elizabeth thought this side-by-side position not so shocking; he then turned her to stand in front of him. Mr. Darcy raised his left arm above his head, pulling her left arm in a matching arch over her own. There was scarcely three inches between them. His right hand had let go of hers and was now on the small of her back.

  “Does my right hand now hang at my side?”

  “No,” Mr. Darcy replied hoarsely, “your right hand rests…around me, high on my back.”

  Elizabeth gave him a look of expressive wonder.

  “I am not joking.”

  Elizabeth moved her hand around him to rest her fingertips on his shoulder and felt the muscle contract. She slowly slid her hand down the gentleman’s shoulder onto his back. She watched him close his eyes and heard him swallow thickly.

  Elizabeth’s senses were in confusion; Mr. Darcy was everywhere, and she knew not where to look. Directly in front of her was the white fabric of his neck cloth. Beneath the fingertips of her right hand, she could feel the strength of his muscles through his shirt and waistcoat. Elizabeth could not think long on where his right hand rested; otherwise, she might stop breathing. Her eyes flitted left and right, avoiding his piercing gaze, and she fought to suppress a giggle that threatened to announce her giddy bout of nerves.

  ***

  He had never been so aware of another human being in all his life. He could hear her short, shallow intakes of breath through narrowly parted lips and feel her nervousness through his hands. She smelled faintly of lavender, and he wondered whether this was her gown or her perfume. It would be easy work to lean forward and kiss her forehead. Good God! How was he ever to let her go now that he had held her close?

  “Your hair is not curled,” he whispered.

  “No, it is not.”

  “I have never seen you this way.”

  “I did not see the need to wrap my hair since we were to spend the day traveling.” She added archly, “And I doubt the fashionable circles have seen you without your coat.”

  He was sure the others could hear the pounding of his heart. Why did she come? Was it only a civil call on a new acquaintance, or did she want him to come to Hertfordshire? The thought of never seeing Elizabeth again made his blood run cold, but if she was not at least willing to consider loving him, then he would rather never see her again than bear another rejection.

  Georgiana reminded them of her presence by asking whether her brother remembered the steps. He started as if he had forgotten she were in the room. He asked Elizabeth whether she was ready to begin, saying she would start with her right foot, and he would pivot her in a quarter turn.

  She nodded, and they began to dance.

  ***

  Elizabeth watched her feet and absently observed that the gentleman’s foot would disappear from time to time under her gown in the midst of the dance. What seemed trivial with his sister was now overwhelmingly intimate with Mr. Darcy as they circled the room in a near embrace.

  “It is not such a challenging dance, is it?”

  Elizabeth replied it was not and was again silent, keeping her head turned to the side as Mr. Darcy rotated her around the room. After they whirled about the room once, he addressed her a second time.

  “This is a well-appointed sitting room and just the right size for one couple to dance.”

  Elizabeth knew what he was about and smiled. “You talk by rule, then, while you are teaching scandalous dances to young ladies?”

  “I have little practice dancing at all, whether they be scandalous or not. However, I cannot stand with you and be silent. I shall not have you accuse me again of being unsocial and taciturn.”

  He said this without any bitterness, but Elizabeth felt a sting of shame. Instead, she made an attempt at levity. “Can you imagine Sir William Lucas’s reaction were he here to witness your superior dancing?”

  “As long as Sir William would not detain me from dancing with you, he may speak with me as he pleases.”

  “There was a time when you did not always think so.”

  “My de—I think we may agree that Sir William is by nature of an obliging temperament, and I shall bear his comments with a calmness you could admire. Should you be referring to my refusal to dance with you at the assembly, I can only now say that I am exceedingly sorry.”

  Miss Darcy made her excuses to leave on an errand and promised to return quickly. They danced in silence, and Elizabeth was swept up in the music, the warm look in her partner’s eyes, and the firmness of Mr. Darcy’s hand on her back.

  The waltz playing from the musical box slowed to a halt, and Elizabeth suddenly stopped twirling. She found herself standing still in Mr. Darcy’s arms as he gazed into her eyes with more than his usual intensit
y. Elizabeth attempted to remove her hands and step away, but he held her fast.

  “Tell me: Why did you come today?”

  “Do you not believe I wish to continue my acquaintance with your sister?” Elizabeth felt too much to say more.

  “You are all goodness, and if that is the only reason you called today, then say so at once.”

  “At the very least, I hoped, if I left my card, that Miss Darcy would tell you I called and perhaps you would come to Hertfordshire after all.”

  “You wish for me to call on you?”

  Elizabeth eagerly nodded.

  “You must know why I would call. You act as though your feelings for me have changed, that I am no longer the last—”

  “Do not repeat what I said! I am heartily ashamed of it. My conscience tells me that I deserve no extraordinary politeness from you and I hardly can expect more, no matter how much I might desire it,” she quietly added.

  “We are not the same people as we were that night in Hunsford, and more to the point, we are not the same people who met in Mrs. Collins’s drawing room the following morning. The feelings of the man who wrote and the lady who received that letter are so widely different from what they were. Perhaps every unpleasant circumstance attending to it ought to be forgotten.”

  “You would have me think of the past only as its remembrance gives me pleasure?”

  “It should be no trouble for you because your actions are void of reproach, but with me it is not easily so. When I wrote my letter, I imagined myself to be indifferent, but I had only been angry because you would not have me.”

  “No, we have both been wrong. I came here with no expectations, only to profess that I think my heart could be yours if you give me the time to know you better.”

  Mr. Darcy gazed at her in silence, and she could not know what was in his mind. She was terrified that she was too late. What if his feelings for me are no longer the same? Her voice dropped and was almost inaudible. “Do come to Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley in June. Please come—you must come.”

  “I shall join Bingley after he reopens Netherfield, but I shall call on you before then. Now that you are not decided against me, I cannot bear the thought of not seeing you for another month.”

  Their eyes locked, and Elizabeth felt her tension and fears slip away. She smiled at him and hoped he understood the difference between this smile and all the teasing grins she had given him before. An expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face, and his gaze fell from her eyes to her mouth.

  The door opened, and when Miss Darcy entered, Elizabeth realized they were no longer dancing but still entwined; they hastily moved away from each other. While they were speaking, they had lowered their hands from above their heads; Elizabeth’s left hand had been resting around his neck while Mr. Darcy had allowed his to wrap around her waist to draw her closer. Elizabeth was unsure of what might have happened if her hostess had not interrupted, but she was certain she would have enjoyed it.

  Miss Darcy told Elizabeth that her maid realized it was time to be at home. Mr. Darcy looked meaningfully at his sister, but she remained silent, and he ultimately offered to have his carriage return her to Gracechurch Street. He exited the music room to make the arrangements, and Miss Darcy approached her.

  “I have been delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  “As I have yours, Miss Darcy. I enjoyed my dancing lesson, but I am sure the next time we meet that we may pass our time without resorting to moving the furniture.”

  Elizabeth felt guilty for neglecting her new friend as soon as Mr. Darcy made an appearance. She suspected many women had feigned friendship with the sister in hopes of securing the brother. “Please forgive me for deserting you. I cannot deny that I was…pleased to encounter your brother, but I hope you are willing to overlook my rudeness and continue our acquaintance.”

  “Fitzwilliam has written and spoken of you for months, and I suspect he was just as pleased to see you as you were to see him.”

  This knowledge gave her an unexpected thrill, and she tried to hold back a smile. “Be that as it may, Miss Darcy, I would like to see you, in particular, again.”

  “Please do call me Georgiana. I feel as if we know each other very well now.” In anyone else, these words may have appeared haughty, but coming from this faint-hearted girl, Elizabeth took it to be a gesture that she did not bear her any ill will for taking advantage of their visit to have the chance to speak to Mr. Darcy.

  “Thank you, Georgiana. I ask you, in turn, to use my given name—or Lizzy if you prefer.”

  “Lizzy, would you and your aunt and uncle visit us at Pemberley when you travel this summer? I know my brother intends to stay with Mr. Bingley for part of the summer, but we are to return north in August, and I would like to see you again.”

  Elizabeth told Georgiana she would be pleased to visit her at Pemberley and likewise welcomed her to Longbourn should she join her brother at Netherfield. After several more minutes of conversation, Mr. Darcy returned, this time wearing his coat, and said the carriage was ready. Mr. Darcy attended Elizabeth and her maid to the carriage, and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him standing before his townhouse watching them drive down the street.

  Chapter 5

  Jane’s impatience to learn what happened with Mr. Darcy could no longer be overcome once they were alone at Longbourn. Elizabeth suppressed every particular where Jane and Mr. Bingley were concerned and related only the chief of the scene between Mr. Darcy and herself. Jane was sorry that Mr. Darcy had delivered his proposals in a manner so little suited to recommend them, but she was ready to forgive him given his immediate efforts to attend to her reproofs.

  “He must have been so unhappy when you refused him!”

  “He appeared shocked. He was so sure of his success.” Elizabeth was still impressed at how improved he had become in so short a time. Of course, he was a good man to begin with! He was the sort of man she could envision sharing her life with, one who would respect her and consult her happiness in all things.

  “What happened after he handed you the letter?”

  Elizabeth repeated the whole of its contents as far as they concerned Mr. Wickham. She spoke of her shame and her decision to tell Mr. Darcy that she credited his account when he called on Mrs. Collins. Next she described how he began to act with more civility and offered to visit Cheapside for her sake.

  “Poor Mr. Darcy! Such a disappointment, and with the knowledge of your ill opinion too!”

  “I expected to leave him unconcerned and indifferent. Had we not met in Charlotte’s sitting room, we might have parted ways forever.” She was grieved to think that otherwise they never would have met again.

  “I believe he took your admonitions to heart and still desires your favor. But you must tell me what happened in Berkeley Square.”

  Elizabeth did not feel equal to the task of expressing what it felt like to waltz with Mr. Darcy and be held in his arms. “I spent a lovely half an hour with Miss Darcy, and before I left, I saw her brother. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to offer his own carriage to take me home.”

  “But did you tell him you would be happy to receive him here?”

  “I did!” However, after listening to their mother’s raptures on Jane’s renewed acquaintance with Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth had chosen not to mention Mr. Darcy’s intentions of calling to her parents. “In fact, he led me to believe I could expect him before your Mr. Bingley takes residence.”

  “He is not my Mr. Bingley,” Jane demurred.

  Elizabeth dared not relate the other half of Mr. Darcy’s letter—the description of his and Mr. Bingley’s sisters’ interference. Should Mr. Bingley offer for Jane, Mr. Bingley might tell the story in a more agreeable manner himself. Jane may be troubled to learn that Elizabeth had been so secret with her, but if Jane were engaged at that time, her
distress of knowing the entire truth would likely be of short duration.

  It was the last week of the regiment’s stay in Meryton. Kitty and Lydia’s misery was extreme, and their mother shared all their grief and desires to follow the regiment to Brighton. Elizabeth felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections to her family’s behavior. When she thought of seeing him again, she was irrepressibly happy until she remembered that, in order to see her, he must come to Longbourn. Elizabeth feared that her family’s behavior might remind him of his previous misgivings.

  The ladies were in the parlor when Lydia received a note from Mrs. Forster, and she and Kitty ran outside to read it. Elizabeth glanced out the window to see their reaction and, instead, saw Mr. Darcy ride into the paddock. She fell into her seat, and when she tried to pick up her workbag, her fingers trembled.

  “Lizzy, has something distressed you?” Jane asked, taking the needle and threading it for her.

  Elizabeth shook her head and gave her a smile but was unable to speak. She was absolutely happy and anxious in the same moment. Elizabeth had told no one, save Jane, of her improved opinion of Mr. Darcy, and he was about to enter the house!

  “There is a gentleman riding up to the house. Who can it be?” their mother asked as she walked past the window. “It looks like that man who used to be with Mr. Bingley before—the tall, proud man.”

  Jane looked pointedly at her sister, but Elizabeth was overwhelmed and said nothing. It was one thing to imagine him calling and entirely another to know that he was here. Jane answered their mother that it was likely Mr. Darcy.

  “Mr. Darcy! Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure. But else I must say I hate the very sight of him.”

  Elizabeth knew she must speak, uncomfortable as it must be. “Mr. Darcy visited his aunt while I was with Charlotte in Kent. We…Mr. Darcy has an attachment to me…perhaps as tender as Mr. Bingley does for Jane…and he asked permission to call on me, and I granted it.”