Mr. Gardiner made an observation about the ball and soon the others were conversing about the impressive size of the crowd. Darcy said nothing, so intoxicated by Elizabeth’s proximity he noticed every move of her hand or tilt of her head. Everything was charming and graceful; he thought he could watch her all night.
He was close enough that he could reach out his hand and touch her back through her gown. Even that limited sensation would be close to heaven, but they were surrounded by guests on all sides who might observe him. Maybe I could…no, I cannot risk it. In fact, the logical part of him dictated that he should depart her immediate vicinity, but he could not bring himself to move a muscle.
The Gardiners went to join the dancing and Miss Bingley promptly took their place. Darcy suppressed a groan since Miss Bingley topped the list of people he would like to keep away from Elizabeth. She knew about Lydia and Wickham – and had every reason to wish Elizabeth ill. His protective instincts surged before the woman said anything.
“Dear Georgiana! So pleasant to see you again!” She greeted his sister with such embarrassing effusiveness that Georgiana was immediately uncomfortable and quickly excused herself to greet a friend. Then Miss Bingley turned to Elizabeth, “And my dear Eliza Bennet! What an unexpected pleasure.”
“Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth replied, her tone carefully neutral.
“I want to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your sister’s disgrace! That loss must be felt very keenly. My heart goes out to your entire family.” Her words were warm, but her delivery could not have been falser. Darcy’s ire rose immediately, but before he could say anything, Elizabeth responded.
“Thank you, Miss Bingley, I will take your words in the spirit in which they were intended.” It took Darcy a minute to notice how barbed this response was.
Miss Bingley’s false smile turned sour as she noticed the slight. “I am surprised you do not feel the need to be by your parents’ side at a time like this. Your mother’s nerves must be in a sorry state.”
“I will be departing for Hertfordshire very soon,” Elizabeth said serenely.
“I am sure you miss it very much. I have heard that many country-born ladies become very attached to the lands of their birth. And to be so far away from your family….” Every word she uttered dripped with condescension.
“I do miss Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said. “But I think I could live anywhere happily if those I loved were with me.” She glanced sidelong at Darcy, and he returned her grin. A quick frown creased Miss Bingley’s features – Elizabeth had scored a hit. Why on earth had he thought he needed to defend his wife from anyone? Georgiana drifted back to the group and appeared to notice the tension between the other two women. Darcy was thankful that she had missed the conversation about Lydia’s scandal; although, he knew he would have to tell her of Wickham eventually.
Miss Bingley was quick to launch another attack. “I have the happy talent for being at home wherever I am. Why I was in Paris five months ago and felt not the least bit of homesickness!”
Elizabeth rose to the challenge. “Yes, Paris is enough to make anyone forget their homesickness. I was there not a fortnight ago.”
“You were in Paris?” Miss Bingley could not conceal her astonishment.
“Yes, I even encountered Mr. Darcy at a ball there. Did he not mention it to you?” Elizabeth radiated so much insincere innocence Darcy was tempted to laugh. “He was such a great help to me in getting out of the country when all the unpleasantness erupted.”
Clearly nonplussed by this information, Miss Bingley murmured, “Mr. Darcy is always a valuable friend.”
“Indeed.”
Darcy enjoyed how well Elizabeth had handled this attack. Now Miss Bingley would wonder how he had helped Elizabeth escape France and how closely they had associated. However, she would tell no one; exposing that he had possibly compromised Elizabeth’s reputation would not serve Miss Bingley’s purposes at all.
Finally Miss Bingley said, “I think I will collect some punch. It is a little warm in here.” She glanced at Darcy as if hoping he would beg her to stay, but when he said nothing she quickly melted into the crowd.
Darcy leaned close to Elizabeth and whispered in her ear, “Well played, darling.”
Georgiana was watching Elizabeth with ill-concealed glee. “I hope sometime you can teach me how you do that.” Darcy knew that Georgiana disliked Miss Bingley, but feared her sharp tongue.
“It is not difficult,” Elizabeth explained with a lively twinkle in her eye. “Although it does help if you find the other person very vexing.”
Georgiana and Darcy were still laughing when his aunt arrived, giving Darcy a withering glance for associating with Elizabeth – although he found it hard to care. His aunt had another young lady in tow and Darcy found himself obligated to invite her to dance. Her purpose accomplished, Lady Matlock retreated, undoubtedly in search of fresh women to foist on him.
After a dance with an unobjectionable lady whose biggest flaw was that she was not Elizabeth, Darcy returned to Elizabeth and the Gardiners. He was horrified to see Lord Lennox holding Elizabeth’s hand. Jealousy surged through him. During their travels in France, Lennox had haunted Darcy’s dreams nightly, always swooping in to claim Elizabeth before he had a chance to declare his love for her. In one of his dreams, Elizabeth had stared directly at Darcy and said matter-of-factly, “I have always wanted to marry a lord.”
Darcy tried to master his emotions, telling himself that Lennox was only holding her hand because he was preparing to escort her onto the dance floor. However, the very idea of Lennox dancing with her was itself alarming. How had that happened? Why had he left her unattended even for a second?
He hurried over to the pair. “Miss Bennet, I apologize for leaving so abruptly. I had intended to ask you for this dance.”
To his jealous eye, Elizabeth gazed at him rather coolly, “I am sorry, I have promised this dance to Lord Lennox. But the next dance is available.” Darcy stood rooted to the spot, trying to restrain his urge to wrench her hand from Lennox’s. At that moment, he would have happily thrown Elizabeth over his shoulder and carried her back to Darcy House. It did not help that Lennox gave him a triumphant smirk.
As the two passed him, Elizabeth gave a sudden lurch as if falling, causing Darcy to instinctively reach out to steady her. Her mouth came near his ear and she whispered, “Do not worry. I am not planning to marry him!” An involuntary smile came to Darcy’s lips.
“Sorry,” she said to Darcy in a normal tone of voice. “My slipper caught in my hem. Thank you for your assistance.” Then she put her hand on Lennox’s arm and said lightly: “I promise not to be so clumsy on the dance floor!”
“You could never be less than graceful!” Lennox said gallantly and swept her away.
As he watched them dance, Darcy tried to retain the sense of reassurance her jest had given him, but it was short lived. He could not tear his eyes away from them, instead noticing every laugh and gesture they exchanged. Each time Lennox touched her, Darcy wanted to challenge him to a duel.
While she danced with Lennox, Elizabeth was aware of Darcy’s eyes on her – when she turned in his direction, he was always gazing darkly at her. Knowing the intensity of his affection made her feel very desirable, but she was also vexed with his behavior. She feared that his obvious jealousy would expose her to gossip and bring more scrutiny upon her family, the kind of scrutiny they could ill afford. And she was aware that his aunt had asked him to be discreet about his preference for her. Would Elizabeth now have to face his aunt’s wrath?
Lord Lennox was very complimentary of her dancing and her appearance. At every moment he seemed desirous of her good opinion, but she found it hard to focus on the conversation with him: her thoughts always returned to Darcy.
When the dance ended, Lennox thanked Elizabeth and kissed her hand, but Darcy appeared immediately to claim her for the next dance. Lennox gave an ironic little bow to Darcy before departing.
Da
rcy took her hand immediately. “I believe this is my dance.”
“William,” she said softly, “I thought your aunt wanted you to avoid showing me too much attention.”
“I do not care what my aunt thinks,” he growled. “I am my own man and want to dance with my wife.”
“Please keep your voice down!” She hissed.
The music started and they moved somewhat stiffly into to position. Elizabeth enjoyed this dance with Darcy less than the previous one. Although she still experienced a tingle wherever he touched her, she could tell his jealousy was getting the better of him. Perhaps this was the inevitable result of their constant need to avoid touching or otherwise betraying their affection. It was difficult to pretend to be almost strangers when she knew him so intimately.
As they danced, his hand lingered longer on her waist than it should and he held her hand in a way that was not quite proper. She noticed these moments time and again and was certain that anyone observing them would as well. Since Darcy had favored her with a second dance she would already be the subject of speculation. If only Darcy would be more discreet! She had no desire to make enemies among those guests who had hopes of him, since her family’s situation would already cause everyone to see her as a fortune hunter. They would gossip about her family and that would inevitably trigger talk about Lydia and Wickham. Oh, I never should have come! She thought miserably.
She greeted the end of the set with relief and relaxed instantly when Darcy escorted her from the dance floor. He did not relinquish her hand immediately, but instead said, “I think perhaps you should forgo dancing for the remainder of the evening. I would never forgive myself if you experienced a set-back in your recovery.” There was a sizeable crowd in their path, so they stopped where they were rather than return to her aunt and uncle.
“I thank you for your solicitude,” she returned, finally removing her hand from his. “But I feel perfectly well. And I very much enjoy dancing.”
Darcy leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “That is enough. I do not want you to fall ill again.” She stepped backward so he needed to speak aloud once more. “I am certain your doctor would not want you to be out at such a late hour, let alone engaging in vigorous activity,” he continued forcefully.
Elizabeth felt anger building inside her. She was well aware of the true reason he wished her to quit the dance floor, but knew she had done nothing to spark his jealousy; it was difficult not to resent these high-handed attempts to control her. If he wanted a meek and obedient wife, he had married the wrong woman!
Curious glances were turned in their direction; her anxiety grew as she considered how they were drawing attention to themselves. “Unless my doctor is here personally, I will have to depend upon my own judgment. Thank you for your concern,” she said coldly. Then she turned and stalked away to the room where they were serving beverages.
Darcy wanted to follow Elizabeth, but was aware of the eyes on him. Their conversation had been soft and brief, so he doubted that anyone nearby knew its substance, but he had no doubt the tension between them had been obvious to bystanders. He schooled his expression into one of indifference and told himself he could follow her in a few minutes when it would be less noticeable.
Casting about for a distraction, Darcy’s eyes found Fitzwilliam, who came over immediately. “Is there a problem? Your face has that dark look again.”
Darcy tried to make light of it. “Nothing of import. You know how Eliz—Miss Bennet and I are always sparring.”
“I see,” Fitzwilliam’s tone was carefully neutral. “Was she chastising you on your lack of manners again?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Darcy said stiffly. Fitzwilliam’s face was skeptical and Darcy recalled that his cousin was better at reading him than anyone else he knew. Sometimes that was an asset; however, at the moment it was a definite disadvantage. He had no desire to stay and undergo his cousin’s inquisition. “I do believe I will avail myself of some of your parents’ excellent punch,” he said and strode away.
However, when Darcy arrived in the punch room, Elizabeth was not there. He returned scanned the ballroom, but did not espy her. However, there were more than one hundred revelers; she could be buried in the crowd. Then Darcy noticed a door near the punch table that led to the terrace – following his instincts, he opened it and walked through. He did not notice Fitzwilliam follow him a moment later.
The terrace was quite large, running along one entire side of the house. The staff had set up a few torches outside, but it was not enough to illuminate the whole expanse, so much of the terrace was in shadows. Darcy scanned the area, noting a few other couples and clusters of partygoers cooling off and chatting in the relative quiet of the outside. Then, far down at one end he could barely make out a solitary woman’s figure. As he drew closer, he knew it was Elizabeth.
Elizabeth gazed into the darkness surrounding Matlock House, still seething with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. While part of her knew that jealousy was a common reaction for many men, she also knew that most married men at the ball were content to let their wives dance with other men. Why did Darcy have to treat her like his chattel? Was this a harbinger of future difficulties? That thought chilled her more than anything else.
Then Darcy’s figure loomed out of the darkness. His expression was unreadable to her; she could not ascertain if he was contrite or angry. “My love, I am sorry I let my jealousy get in the way of my better judgment. Can we put this unpleasantness behind us?” Now there was pain on his face.
He reached to put his arms around her and lean in for a kiss, but she pushed him away. She could smell the wine on his breath and suspected he had drunk more than usual as a means of enduring a trying night. “No we cannot!” She exclaimed with some heat. “It is not that simple to forget. I watched you dance with seven other women – all of them more elegant and wealthier than I, but I said nothing.”
“That bothered you?” Darcy asked, sounding surprised. Does he think that only he suffers from jealousy? She thought furiously. He even sounded a little pleased, which enraged her further. Again he tried to embrace her, but she turned away so her back was to him.
“Naturally it did!” Elizabeth stopped and swallowed, trying to modulate her tone. “But I know those women meant nothing to you. I know that you are not contemplating marrying them. And you know the same about me! I only danced with two other men all night and yet you do not trust me! Is this how it will be for the rest of our lives?”
This last question seemed to strike him forcefully, causing him to stop and consider his answer. “No, of course not. You are not my – my – possession!” Darcy put his hands on her shoulders to turn her in his direction, but Elizabeth stepped backward, breaking his hold on her.
“Then stop trying to grab me like I am something that belongs to you.” Darcy instantly dropped his arms. “I am guarded like some precious jewel – instead of being seen as a living, thinking woman. Why do you act so?”
As Darcy’s anger appeared to ebb. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes so he could think. “I should ask myself the same question. I do trust you, but….I suppose I am still insecure of your love for me.”
“Why?” Elizabeth was genuinely shocked.
“Because it is so new. Because I have spent so much time convinced of your indifference.” Darcy struggled to articulate thoughts that he recognized only now. “I have a difficult time believing that this is real, that it will last. You held such a bad opinion of me for so long; I fear you will change your mind again. Such doubts result in behavior that confirms your bad opinion. I am so sorry.”
“Oh, William…” His admission of insecurity did more to quell her anger than all of his fury had. She was now heartily ashamed of her display of temper. I should have understood what was underlying his behavior. And, she realized, her angry rejection of him in the ballroom had exposed both of them to possible repercussions. What if someone guesses the truth? At least this end of the terrace was des
erted, she reassured herself; no one could have overheard their conversation.
“I am sorry too,” she said softly. “I should have understood why you reacted as you did. This is a difficult situation. It is taking its toll on both of us.”
“Yes,” his voice was hoarse. “I never imagined how hard it would be to be away from you – or to be near you and not permitted to touch—“
“You can touch me now. There is nobody who will see,” she suggested impishly.
“You minx!” He chuckled. “Does this mean our argument is over?”
She nodded slowly and seductively, causing Darcy to pull her to him roughly. Instantly he was raining kisses on her lips, her neck, her shoulders. Every touch, every kiss felt like it left a trail of fire on her skin. Then his hands rose to explore her back, caressing her curves and pulling her more tightly against him. She moaned as he moved one hand to cup her breast.
Darcy was wondering what could be accomplished if he pulled her deeper into the shadows or even into the bushes when they heard voices approaching. As he reluctantly pulled away from Elizabeth, she turned away to straighten her clothing. Meanwhile, he stepped up to the terrace’s railing as if he were simply enjoying the night air – knowing that merely being alone with Elizabeth would be enough to compromise her in some eyes.
He was relieved to see that the approaching figures were Fitzwilliam and an army friend of his, Lieutenant Preston. He knew Fitzwilliam would never reveal any possible improprieties or start rumors. The two men were talking rather loudly and laughing; Darcy wondered how much they had had to drink. “Hello, gentlemen!” He greeted them as they approached.
“So this is where you went,” Fitzwilliam exclaimed, scrutinizing him rather sharply. “My mother was searching for you.”
The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 18