One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (40 page)

“Are you unwell?” asked Fitzwilliam, alarmed at the sudden change in his partner. He removed her from the floor, finding a chair upon which he made her sit and drew another chair close for himself. After some several minutes of attention, he found her color turning to normal.

Elizabeth looked around the room to assure herself that no one would overhear their conversation before she began. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, there has been a dreadful misunderstanding.”

“I should say so!” Fitzwilliam appeared slightly relieved.

“I must tell you that the offer made tonight by Mr. Darcy was not, as you mistakenly appear to believe, a proposal of marriage.” Elizabeth rushed to say it. “He offered to teach me to ride a horse, which offer I did not accept. That is all.”

Fitzwilliam closed his eyes, as though in so doing his
 
faux pas
 
would vanish. When he opened them, all signs of levity were gone. “Miss Elizabeth, I fear I have done great harm tonight, for I
 
did
 
mistake your meaning and, in so doing, have given away that which was not mine to give. I know not how to repair what I have done.” His head drooped sadly, and he shook it in disbelief.

He looked across the room to where Darcy was dancing with Caroline Bingley and then back to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, my cousin is an exceptional man—the best of men. There is not time to elaborate on this point but only to assure you that it is so. I mistook your meaning because I know that Darcy has come to regard you in a way that transcends casual acquaintance.”

“What are you saying?” Elizabeth shook her head, for although she understood the words, she did not comprehend what she was hearing.

“He is never going to forgive me for this.” Richard muttered under his breath, “He may never speak to me again.” A deep sigh escaped his lips, and he said, “My cousin is in love with you, Miss Elizabeth, deeply, passionately, ardently in love.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Netherfield Ball Part Two

F
itzwilliam Darcy met the final strains of music with relief. It had been a punishment to stand up with Caroline Bingley—a dismal half-hour of marking time to music, made worse by the tantalizing presence of Elizabeth Bennet, her vivacious smiles and witty conversation bestowed on her partner, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the second set of the evening.

Envy, where he was not the object of it, was a new experience for Mr. Darcy. His only relief from the dull ache it burdened him with had been the two brief interludes in the dance when he and Caroline had been part of a triple that included Elizabeth and Richard. The fleeting series of steps before the progression moved on had been a torment, for too soon Elizabeth had drifted away again to the next triple.

Darcy witnessed the moment when Elizabeth had faltered in the dance from across the room. He had tracked her through the weaving dancers as Richard walked her off the floor and seated himself familiarly next to her. Darcy's feet and arms had continued going through the motions of the dance with Caroline, yet his eyes strayed continually to where his beloved Elizabeth tipped her head toward Richard in animated conversation. They were clearly in one another's confidence, and as the music faded away, both Elizabeth and Richard turned and looked at him.

Richard's face, which Darcy noted for but an instant, was apologetic, but Elizabeth's expression he could not readily understand, although he perceived a profound shift in her countenance. The demure tilt of her head, the shine in her eyes, the almost-smile that played on her slightly parted lips combined with a lingering gaze that nearly brought him to his knees.

“Mr. Darcy.” Caroline's voice purred in his ear and brought him out of his reverie. “I believe the dance has come to an end.” She snapped open the fan that dangled from her wrist and fluttered it rapidly, just beneath her eyes. With some impatience, Darcy realized that in an uncharacteristic show of bad manners, he had neglected to escort his partner from the floor.

“So it has.” He nodded, reluctantly breaking his eyes from the vision that had mesmerized him, and offered Caroline his arm. He delivered her to the table where the refreshments were available between dances as rapidly as he was able.

“Did you hear Mrs. Bennet during our dance, Mr. Darcy? It was shocking!” Caroline sniggered, “But of course you heard her—that voice could shatter glass. Those Bennets are positively medieval!” Caroline said as she raised a cup to her lips. When no reply was forthcoming, Caroline turned to discover Lady Lucas standing where Mr. Darcy had been, eyebrows raised in a manner that left no doubt as to whether she had been overheard.

~*~

When Mr. Darcy took Caroline Bingley on his arm after the dance had concluded, Elizabeth Bennet fled. She had whispered a soft “Please, Colonel, I beg you, excuse me,” to a distraught Colonel Fitzwilliam. She stood and shrugged with a shake of her head in answer to Jane's quizzical look across the room. Her short residence at Netherfield when Jane had been injured worked to Elizabeth's advantage in navigating the house as she left the noisy, well-lit rooms and sought a place of solitude in the darkened corridor that led to the library.

The library itself was not her destination, but rather a nook by a window near it. A cushioned bench had been fitted to the recess in the wall, and although Elizabeth had not availed herself of the spot previously, she had noted it and instinctively sought it now.

The cool air in the passageway brought sweet relief to Elizabeth's cheeks as she tucked her body into the quiet alcove and stilled herself. The faint strains of the music in the distance added to the serenity of the otherwise quiet corner.

So much had changed, so quickly. She needed to contemplate the meaning of it all and sort, yet again, her feelings. In light of what Colonel Fitzwilliam had said, and she had no reason to doubt his word, her mind was free to allow thoughts she could never before have fully entertained.

The thought of joining with Mr. Darcy in dance had filled her with joyful anticipation only that morning, and knowing that he too was eager for it had increased her expectations of a pleasurable evening. Such a leap as this, though, she had never pondered. She had realized, of course, that he found her interesting and, eventually, that he liked her. She even allowed that he was partial to her, but
 
love
? Not just a vague inclination, or even a fine, stout love, but a
 
deep, passionate, ardent love!

Her heart pounded with the realization that Mr. Darcy had, in fact, attempted to communicate the depth of his regard directly for some days now. Tender moments in his company, conversations that hinted at his admiration, smoldering expressions that caused her stomach to flutter, and all the kindness conveyed in his actions toward her collided in her mind to deliver her to the inevitable conclusion that it must be true. Mr. Darcy loved her.

Do I love him in return?
 
She pressed her fingers against her temples as if the pressure would clear her thoughts and reveal the answer. She felt some urgency to discover it, for when she had looked to the dance floor after Colonel Fitzwilliam's disclosure, her eyes had met those of Mr. Darcy. She had seen in that moment not arrogance or pride but an anguish and vulnerability in his eyes that she never would have supposed was there.

The sound of approaching footsteps prompted Elizabeth to quiet her breathing. She could see a dim pool of light getting nearer and could soon make out a single candle lighting the path of its bearer. She saw the flame rise higher, and a soft voice called out, “Miss Elizabeth?”

Upon hearing her name specifically called, Elizabeth felt obligated to reply. “I am here.” A hastening of steps soon brought Anne de Bourgh to stand awkwardly before Elizabeth.

“Miss Eliza, what are you doing here?” Anne asked, “Are you unwell?”

“Oh no,” Elizabeth replied, “I am well, or I think that I am. The drawing room was peculiarly warm, so I came here to cool myself—that is all. What brings you to this hallway, Miss de Bourgh?”

“I came in search of you.” Anne said, “My cousins were distressed when you disappeared.”

“Your cousins?” Elizabeth echoed.

“Yes, my cousins. The tall, handsome men you have been dancing with this evening.” Anne laughed quietly.

“Why should my leaving cause distress? I have already danced with both ... I do not understand.” Elizabeth shook her head.

Anne set the candle down and sat next to Elizabeth on the bench. “I will tell you if you will return to the ball with me.”

“I only stepped away for a few minutes” Elizabeth replied, “I had not quit the ball entirely.”

“Indeed, I can see that, but you have foiled their plan nonetheless.” Anne smiled.

“Plan?” Elizabeth frowned slightly.

“It would not have been necessary if it were not for my mother.” Anne began, “She became insistent about certain expectations for tonight, and my cousins were not pleased nor were they inclined to comply with her demands. For that matter, nor was I.” Anne drew in a deep breath. “I believe you are aware that my mother intends that Darcy and I marry.”

“I had heard it.” Elizabeth acknowledged.

“This idea has poisoned her mind of late. She has become obsessed with it, even though no offer has ever been made, nor is it likely to be. She has forgotten reality and speaks of little else, at least to me. She is determined to see the two estates joined together.”

“What is your position?” Elizabeth asked gently.

“I am sick of hearing of it. Darcy is as a brother to me, and the idea of marriage to him feels very wrong. We would both be miserable in such an arrangement, and even if we could get past our unhappiness, I could never provide an heir. Five physicians, three of whom my mother took me to see in London these past weeks, have informed us that my constitution is too weak to carry a child. To attempt it would mean certain death for me.”

“Oh no!” Elizabeth cried out, “This is terrible! I am so very sorry to hear this!”

“Do not be sorry for me. I am reconciled to it even if my mother is not.” Anne sighed. “She wishes to announce an engagement between myself and Mr. Darcy this very night. Hence, the plan.”

“Oh yes, the plan.” Elizabeth nodded.

“The plan must necessarily include you, Miss Elizabeth, for in addition to my engagement, my mother has made it clear to Mr. Collins that he is to secure the promise of your hand without any further delay.”

“She has?” Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot understand why Lady Catherine would invest herself in whom I marry, but in this, she must accept disappointment. I am not inclined to receive addresses of that nature from Mr. Collins, should he attempt them.”

Anne laughed merrily. “My cousins are unwilling to subject you to the prospect of even one dance with Mr. Collins! As part of the plan, they had recruited Mr. Bingley to dance the third set with you—before you disappeared.”

“I never had any idea of slighting Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth sighed with a frown. “That was rather high-handed of your cousins to interfere with my dance partners in such a way. I am perfectly capable of handling even such a partner as Mr. Collins.”

“You must not be upset, Miss Elizabeth! Their interference was well meant.” Anne cried out in some dismay.

“So this plan—was it merely to prevent Mr. Collins from dancing with me?” Elizabeth inquired curiously.

“Oh no.” Anne smiled. “They are also determined to prevent my mother from engaging you in conversation past your initial greeting. Mother already traumatized poor Miss Bingley earlier today. I was not there when mother spoke with her, but Miss Bingley was distraught for several hours afterward.
 
She retired to her quarters, but her unhappy rantings could be heard in the hall for quite some time. My cousins suspect that Miss Bingley may have directed mother's attention toward
you
, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I do not understand.” Elizabeth shook her head in confusion.

“They believe that Miss Bingley hinted to my mother that Darcy favors you with particular regard. Mother suspected, of course, that Miss Bingley was merely attempting to divert her attention, but after the first set, when she observed you and my cousin on the floor, she must have been convinced. When Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted me to my mother's side, we were both subjected to a vile discourse on your use of 'arts and allurements' to ensnare Darcy’s affections during the dance.”