Netherfield never looked finer. Lady Lucas, known for her financial efficiency, kept the decorations simple and classic. Gone was the ostentatious display of the previous Netherfield Ball. Elizabeth found she preferred Lady Lucas’ taste to that of Caroline Bingley.
“Everything is splendid,” she told Bingley as he bowed over Elizabeth’s hand. “I am certain you and Jane will be most happy here.”
“I am anxious to claim Miss Bennet,” Bingley assured in his customary amicable manner. “I believe your sister will make an excellent mistress for Netherfield.”
“As do I,” Elizabeth assured.
Bingley nodded his agreement.
“Now, if you will pardon me, I must see to my other guests,” he whispered. “You will save me the second set.”
Elizabeth smiled easily; Mr. Bingley brought out the softer side of everyone, except perhaps his sisters.
“It would be my pleasure.”
As she watched Bingley greeting other neighbors, Elizabeth sighed with envy.
“I wonder what a ball at Pemberley would entail?” she murmured.
For a brief second Elizabeth closed her eyes to bring forth an image of Pemberley’s largest ballroom and its Master in all their glory. Despite her best efforts, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Dreaming of anyone I know,” a seductively familiar voice said close to her ear, as warmth claimed her back. The scent of sandalwood flooded Elizabeth’s senses.
With a start, she turned to stare up at Mr. Darcy’s chin. Elizabeth did not realize he was so close.
“What are you…?” she began before remembering her manners. “Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth dropped a curtsy. “I was unaware, Sir, that you would attend tonight. I understood you held business in Town until next week.”
Even though Elizabeth did not offer it, Mr. Darcy claimed her hand and brought it slowly to his lips.
“I did not wish to disappoint Bingley.” He placed a kiss on the back of Elizabeth’s gloved hand, before adding, “Or you.” She felt the warmth of Mr. Darcy’s caress race up her arm.
“You are quite certain of your attentions, Sir.” Elizabeth said in chastisement. She had no idea why she rebuked him for she was never happier to see anyone. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had the empty satisfaction of noting the mirth crossing Mr. Darcy’s features.
“Do you wish me to leave forever, Elizabeth?” he asked softly. “Just say the words.”
However, before Elizabeth could put thought to her answer, a bubbly voice came from behind her.
“You found her, William!”
Elizabeth turned to discover Miss Darcy on the arm of Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Miss Darcy. Colonel.” Elizabeth dropped a curtsy. “I am pleased to see you again.”
“And I you.” Miss Darcy said with a speculative glance to her brother. “Darcy permitted me to join in your sister’s celebration.”
Elizabeth noted the practiced smile on Mr. Darcy’s lips. The gentleman thought Elizabeth would not send him away if his family accompanied him.
“I am certain Jane will be honored by your presence.” With a hint of a grin, Elizabeth turned to the colonel. “And you, Sir, how went your business with General Leigh-Hunt?”
“It was much as I expected,” Fitzwilliam said with a shrug. “Rumors exist that I am to the American front shortly to train some of the newer recruits. I must report to the Upper Canada frontier.”
Miss Darcy wrapped her arm through her cousin’s.
“I am not best pleased. How are we to exist without Fitzwilliam’s sensibility?” the girl declared. “As I always do, I shall worry every day the colonel is away.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam brought Miss Darcy closer to his side.
“Well, I shan’t be leaving tonight, and Darcy promised that I might claim at least two of your sets.” The colonel glanced to Elizabeth. “Might I claim the third set, Miss Elizabeth? Bingley says he is to have the second, and I am certain Darcy means to claim the first.”
“I do,” Mr. Darcy said with the faintest hint of irony in the lift of his lips. “That is, if Miss Elizabeth will permit my doing so.”
“Certainly she will accept, shall you not, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Darcy declared. “We may form a quartet.”
Elizabeth blushed scarlet as she handed Mr. Darcy her dance card.
“I would be honored, Sir.”
“Shall I sign for you, Colonel?” Mr. Darcy asked his cousin.
The colonel laughed easily.
“We might as well claim the attentions of two of the most handsome women in the room. I will sign for you on Georgiana’s card.”
“You think I am handsome,” Miss Darcy asked wistfully, and Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy’s sister felt more than cousinly affection for the colonel.
“No fishing for compliments, Georgie,” the colonel teased with a wink directed to Miss Darcy.
Mr. Darcy returned Elizabeth’s card before placing her hand upon his arm. They followed the colonel and Miss Darcy to the floor, where the lines formed.
“Your sister is most kind,” Elizabeth spoke for Mr. Darcy’s ears only. “I am certain she knows of my open disparagement of claiming her friendship.”
Mr. Darcy tilted his head where he might speak with privacy.
“I explained to Georgiana that it was I that you found revolting, not she.”
“I never found either…” Again, Elizabeth could not say the words her heart pronounced. “Neither of us performs well in such situations. We both expect our words to know authority.”
“Do you truly believe your declarations?” Mr. Darcy asked as he set her in the line of ladies before stepping away. “I am of a different mind.” His smile widened, and Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Mr. Darcy was an exceptionally handsome man when he smiled. “We have proved ourselves congenial more often than not?”
Elizabeth made herself speak with lightness. She would not ruin a dance with Mr. Darcy by arguing as she did the one time they danced in this very room nearly a year prior. While she circled him, Elizabeth set her mind to being witty.
“Then we shall speak of something pleasurable, Sir. What say you to books?”
Elizabeth crossed behind the colonel, laughing at the gentleman when he wagged his eyebrows at her. With a girlish giggle, Elizabeth extended her hand to Mr. Darcy, who used his strength to bring her closer to him than propriety declared.
“I say we are a book in two volumes but with one tale to tell,” Mr. Darcy pronounced seductively.
A shiver of delight ran down Elizabeth’s spine. It was all she do to remember the next steps when Mr. Darcy guided her toward Mr. Bingley while Mr. Darcy accepted Jane’s hand.
As Bingley spun Elizabeth in a tight circle, she turned her head often to watch Mr. Darcy with Jane. Even without hearing his words, she knew Mr. Darcy wished Jane happy. As the dance brought her to Mr. Darcy’s side again, they caught hands over their heads and behind their backs to turn in place.
“And what of art, sir?” she teased.
Mr. Darcy’s lips twitched in amusement.
“I would quote Aristotle: The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.”
Elizabeth thought immediately of Mr. Darcy’s portrait hanging in the Pemberley’s gallery. It spoke of the gentleman’s inner goodness.
“What of music?” Elizabeth demanded as she skipped away toward Mr. Grange, who claimed Mary for the set. Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand as they passed. Mary rarely danced at such functions, and it did Elizabeth well to see Mary’s eyes glisten with the joy of recognition.
Returning to Mr. Darcy’s side, Elizabeth waited for his response, but when none came, her eyebrow rose in proof.
“Have you employed all your witty remarks, Sir?”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said softly.
“Then what of music?”
They repeated the first pattern, and Elizabeth accepted the colonel
’s gloved hand. She glanced up at the man.
“Your thoughts, Colonel?” she questioned.
“I am gathering memories to carry me through the dark moments ahead.” He smiled sadly at Elizabeth. “I will remember this moment. I pray you accept my cousin before I receive orders to depart. I wish to stand with Darcy in his happiness. Doing such would mean I might some day know the same.”
Elizabeth had no time to respond before the music and the pattern whisked her back to Mr. Darcy. His humor softened the lines of his face.
“Music can transform into loneliness or contentment. Into strengths or weaknesses. Into a joining or a tearing away.”
Mr. Darcy’s words were as if an omen of what was to come, and Elizabeth felt the dread of loss claiming her tongue. They did not speak again until the second dance of the set. The minuet permitted them a closer proximity and an easy conversation.
At length, Elizabeth gave in to finishing what they left dangling some minutes prior.
“I do not know how to start over.” She dared a glance to Mr. Darcy. His steady gaze was as controlled as everything else about the man. A unconscience stirring of Elizabeth’s hopes brought a frisson of awareness as it ricocheted through her.
“We do not begin again.” Mr. Darcy’s countenance spoke of his adamant refusal, and panic returned to Elizabeth’s breathing. “We have taken the first step, Elizabeth. We must either halt our progress or walk into the future, hand-in-hand. Before this night is over, I mean to have an answer.”
* * *
Elizabeth introduced Miss Darcy to many in the room, especially to her two younger sisters. As she expected, Elizabeth found the girl quite agreeable. Miss Darcy made a friend of Mary by sneaking off to the music room to share a duet, and Georgiana impressed Kitty with the girl’s sense of fashion.
From a respectable distance, Mr. Darcy kept a close eye on his sister, and Elizabeth had the strong suspicion upon her, as well. The gentleman nodded his approval of Mr. Grange’s claiming a set on Miss Darcy’s dance card, but he shook off Mr. Lincolnton’s offer.
Yet, her brother’s disapproval did not seem to bother the girl. Miss Darcy chattered with many of the younger sect, making Elizabeth feel ancient. The girlish giggles and the red-faced youths held no interest for her: Elizabeth preferred the chiseled features of Mr. Darcy.
Bingley claimed Elizabeth’s second set and Colonel Fitzwilliam the third. Bingley spoke extensively of Jane’s merits, while the colonel apologized for his earlier maudlin. Yet, no matter where Elizabeth went or to whom she spoke, she felt Mr. Darcy’s eyes upon her. She found herself turning often, seeking his gaze when it was not offered. As if by their own accord, Elizabeth’s eyes would meet his. She would glance away, but each time she did, an urgency–a feeling of being bereft of Mr. Darcy’s closeness–would bring her back to the one countenance that provided Elizabeth peace and that wreaked havoc on her emotions at the same time.
“Lizzy,” her mother tugged at Elizabeth’s arm. “Come with me.” In reluctance, she followed Mrs. Bennet to a nearby alcove.
“What is amiss, Mama?” Elizabeth asked with a glance over her shoulder to see to where Mr. Darcy had gotten.
Her mother reached up to pinch Elizabeth’s cheeks.
“You have an excellent opportunity to earn Colonel Fitzwilliam’s interest if you would ply a bit of flirtation.”
Mrs. Bennet followed the pinch with a tug of Elizabeth’s sleeve to set it aright.
“And why would I wish to draw the colonel’s attentions?” Elizabeth rubbed the spots her mother reddened.
Mrs. Bennet tutted her disapproval.
“He is a gentleman and the son of an earl,” her mother reasoned. “The colonel is the desire of every young lady in the room, but you have an advantage: you hold the longer acquaintance. Mr. Bennet says the colonel is the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and he was at Rosings Park when you were at Hunsford Cottage.”
“Mr. Darcy is also Lady Catherine’s nephew,” Elizabeth countered.
Her mother’s nose snarled in disappointment.
“Mr. Darcy is all that others say of him, but his father was not an earl.”
Elizabeth wished she never disparaged Mr. Darcy to her family. She wished she could speak to her mother of George Darcy’s heritage and of Lady Anne Fitzwilliam connection to the Matlocks–of Mr. Darcy’s steadfast interest in her, but putting the idea of Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth’s suitor into Mrs. Bennet’s head would spell disaster.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of Lord Matlock,” Elizabeth explained. “He has no fortune of his own, thus his service in the King’s army. Therefore, the colonel must choose a wife with a large dowry.”
“Nonsense!” her mother declared. “The Earl of Matlock would not leave his son destitute.”
“Pardon, Miss Elizabeth.” Elizabeth looked from her mother’s anxious features to Mr. Darcy, who stood some three feet removed. “I believe this is our set.”
Elizabeth glanced to her mother, who appeared displeased that Mr. Darcy interrupted her manipulations.
“I believe it is, Sir. I apologize. I did not realize the set was forming. We shall speak more at home, Mama,” Elizabeth said in parting.
Elizabeth placed her hand on Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm and walked with him toward the dance floor.
“You appear upset,” Mr. Darcy said softly.
“It is nothing,” Elizabeth assured.
Mr. Darcy led her upon a leisurely turn of the room before assuming their places in the line.
“When your hazel eyes change to a cross between dark honey and cinnamon, something is amiss.”
Elizabeth frowned, but a fissure of pleasure claimed a spot in her stomach.
“How is it you know me so well?”
Mr. Darcy smiled with satisfaction.
“I made a study of you.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose in dismay.
“I do not know whether that particular fact is a compliment or something of which I should know concern.”
“A compliment,” Mr. Darcy assured. “Now, speak to me of what troubles you.”
“You shall not be pleased,” Elizabeth warned.
“Yet, I would hear it, nonetheless.”
Elizabeth shrugged her resignation.
“Mrs. Bennet is as she always is: She fears my father will pass before all her daughters marry. Although I do not approve of her proposition, I understand my mother’s urgency.”
Mr. Darcy studied Elizabeth closely.
“I assume Mrs. Bennet chose a potential suitor for you.”
Glee claimed Elizabeth’s lips.
“Yes. Mrs. Bennet believes with a bit of effort on my part, I could become Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”
Mr. Darcy’s frown lines deepened.
“Mrs. Fitzwilliam…?” he probed.
“Nothing more,” Elizabeth teased. “Mrs. Bennet thinks your cousin a viable candidate.”
Mr. Darcy’s mouth formed a grim line.
“I do not find your mother’s persuasion to my liking.”
Elizabeth joined the other ladies in the line.
“Why does that fact not surprise me? You and Mrs. Bennet are both singular in your opinions.”
“Do not argue with Mr. Darcy,” her sister Jane admonished as she joined Elizabeth in the female line. “Charles and I require your good sense over supper. There are still many decisions to make for the wedding.”
“Supper?” Elizabeth’s voice squeaked in surprise. “This is the supper set?”
Jane patted Elizabeth’s arm good-naturedly.
“Certainly, it is the supper set.”
Elizabeth glanced to Mr. Darcy. Other than one set with Jane, Mr. Darcy had divided his attentions between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy, but the supper set was a different matter.
“I assumed you would see Miss Darcy to supper. If I realized, I would never have accepted your arm, Sir. Please think nothing of it if you must speak your regrets.”
Mr. Darcy’s e
yebrow rose in challenge.
“I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, my name is on your dance card for this set, and as to Georgiana, I gave her permission to join your younger sisters and several of the young gentlemen for the meal. It will do Miss Darcy well to possess company of a like age. My sister knows my cautions in such matters.” The devastating smile Mr. Darcy so often hid escaped. “Did you not look at your card this evening?”
“Lizzy does not attend to such frivolities,” Jane teased. “My sister claims to possess a fine memory of all who request her attentions.”
Elizabeth laughed self-consciously.
“I am never as tolerable as you, dearest Jane.” She shot a knowing glance to Mr. Darcy, and the gentleman returned her look with one of bemusement.
“Not so,” Jane countered. “You are quite lovely, Lizzy.”
“The handsomest woman of my acquaintance,” Mr. Darcy declared before assuming his place in the line.
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy meant to have another private word with Elizabeth, but her sister whisked Elizabeth away before he and Miss Elizabeth could converse upon the possibility of their own happiness, rather than on the details of Bingley and Miss Bennet’s nuptials.
“At least the lady no longer avoids my company,” Darcy murmured as he watched Elizabeth and Miss Bennet with their heads together. “It appears I must risk it all to prove my affections true.” Darcy imagined such a state of affairs only last evening. “Then so be it. Embarrassment or success? Painful memories or delightful contentment? My future rests in Miss Elizabeth’s hands.”
* * *
“I am pleased to observe how well you and Mr. Darcy are getting on,” Jane hinted as they watched the after supper set forming. “Do you expect Mr. Darcy to renew his earlier proposal?”
Elizabeth found her eyes searching the room for Mr. Darcy’s familiar steady gaze. He stood up with his sister. Without realizing her expression relayed her very intimate feelings for the man, Elizabeth looked upon the scene with fondness.
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