Unforgiving Temper (37 page)

She gently removed her hand from
Lord Grissholm's arm, prompting him to glance down with a
curious eye. “Miss Bennet, is anything wrong?”

“No, not at all! I just had not expected so
many people. I can only imagine what you would consider a 'grand'
affair!”

“I trust it has not overwhelmed you?” he
asked with a hint of humor.

She rose to his challenge with an impish
grin. “Not in the least, my lord. I believe I can manage quite well
regardless of the size of the room; however, my young companion
here may be another matter entirely.”

Rebecca stood stiffly beside them, her eyes
staring wide in trepidation at the teeming throng in front of her.
Elizabeth moved quickly before the girl became totally paralyzed
with fright.

“Please do not concern yourself, my dear,”
Elizabeth murmured encouragingly. “It is not as bad as it looks.
Just follow my lead.” Turning to Lord Grissholm, she gave him
a meaningful smile. “Would you excuse us, my lord? I believe
Rebecca's new friend, Miss Allsop, wishes our company.”

Grissholm looked at Rebecca with mild
disappointment before glancing in the direction Elizabeth
indicated. “Of course. I shall not detain you.”

Keeping her eye on Fanny Allsop, Elizabeth
steered Rebecca determinedly across the crowded room. Coming to the
side of Rebecca's equally young and intimidated friend, she tried
to focus on her two charges. While neither girl would be dancing,
it was still their first experience at a ball and this one was
daunting enough for any novice. Elizabeth endeavored to put them at
ease, explaining what to expect during the evening.

Glancing about the room, she could not keep
her thoughts from returning to her last ball and Mr. Darcy.
Memories of their dance together loomed large, and she felt the
familiar sting of regret that had plagued her from the moment
Mr. Darcy's letter exposed her foolish prejudice.

At one time, he had regarded her favorably.
Had he not made her an offer, astonishing as it was? And he had
trusted her with the knowledge of his sister's troubles, even after
her abominable abuse in Charlotte's parlor. She was certain he
played a part in Mr. Bingley's return to Netherfield, but all
this was before Mr. Wickham had turned her world upside down.
Time and distance had blurred everything in her mind and, in truth,
she had now come to believe the worst.
His regard for me has
been justly reconciled and his good opinion is lost forever. The
worst of it is knowing that he is somewhere in the world and
thinking ill of me.

She shook herself slightly, refusing to dwell
on circumstances that could not be undone. It was not likely she
would ever see him again and it would not do to remain in a
quagmire of lamentable memories.

Pushing all thought of Mr. Darcy out of
her mind once and for all, she drew a deep, cleansing breath,
determined to enjoy everything an evening at Hartley Park had to
offer.

* * * *

“Darcy, I am surprised you agreed to come at
all,” said Robert Driscoll, descending from their carriage. “You
certainly never showed any interest at Cambridge!”

“That was then, my friend,” replied Darcy.
“It is possible for one to change, you know. I was at Pritchard
Abbey just last week and I do not think Thomas Nielsen found me
wanting at his soiree.”

“I think you are an imposter, sir! The Darcy
I remember would never spend idle weeks gallivanting about the
country, giving hope to swooning maidens and scheming mamas. I do
not believe it! What has effected this amazing transformation?”

Darcy had no intention of discussing the real
reason for his travels through the north country, so he merely
smiled and replied, “Believe it, you must. I have seen the error of
my ways and am endeavoring to rectify them, although I think I
shall never be as easy in company as you. How do you do it?”

“Watch and learn, my friend; watch and
learn!” Driscoll laughed, setting his bicorn to the precise angle
required before leading Darcy up the steps of Hartley Park.

Darcy followed his friend up the steps of
Hartley Park, his eyes narrowing in anticipation as he looked up at
the row of windows standing open to the night air. Sounds of
merriment from Sir Henry's ball drifted out into the darkness. He
stifled a weary sigh. How many more of these dreaded affairs would
he have to attend before he would find success? The thought of an
evening with a roomful of strangers still brought out his reserve
in large measure, but he had to admit he was getting better at it.
He had learned a hard lesson in Hertfordshire.

Elizabeth Bennet's frank and honest opinion
of his manners had taught him a great deal indeed. His mouth
tightened into a thin line. Although it was nearly a year to the
day when he had first seen her at the Meryton Assembly, the
intervening months – the last three in particular –seemed a
lifetime. That he had ever considered her unworthy of his attention
was beyond his comprehension.

A well-worn vision of Elizabeth sprang easily
to his mind. Her smile, her wit, her fine eyes that sparkled in her
expressive face when she found something amusing – they were all an
inseparable part of him now. She was the reason he was here,
hundreds of miles from London, renewing old acquaintances and
facing strangers with growing equanimity.

His visit to Robert Driscoll, an old
classmate from Cambridge, was one of many in the excruciatingly
delicate scheme he had developed to discover Elizabeth. For more
than six weeks, he had been making his way through the western
counties on the pretense of a tour of the north country, calling
upon families he knew. While he attended the obligatory social
engagements associated with the visit, Denham would make discreet
inquiries of the household staff to determine if a young lady of
Elizabeth's description had been seen in the neighborhood.

It was a cumbersome process; but any more
direct approach would have almost certainly alerted Wickham, and
Darcy would not run the risk of further harming Elizabeth or her
reputation.

There had been no success to date, but as
long as there was a great house to be visited, Darcy would persist.
The scarcity of news from the eastern coast told him that Bingley
was faring no better. Even though their only clue to finding
Elizabeth had been the postal stamp on a letter he had never seen,
it was enough for him to know she had to be somewhere in the
northern counties.

And so tonight he was attending Sir Henry's
private ball with his friend, Robert…and unlike the time in
Hertfordshire, he would dance. He would not be the man he was a
year ago. He had labored hard to practice “performing to strangers”
in the months since Elizabeth's painfully accurate judgment laid
bare this deficiency in his character. As in other areas of his
life these days, he would show himself to be a better man, for her
sake.

Entering the room, Darcy flinched
involuntarily. “Good heavens, Driscoll, I thought you said this was
a small gathering.”

“It is!” his friend laughed sympathetically.
“You should see when they really go all out!”

“Well, I would say this is closer to a crush
than a gathering,” Darcy murmured. “It is a wonder there is any
room to dance at all.”

“Rest assured, Darcy, there is always room
for dancing. You will not get off that easily. I will hold you to
your promise to dance at least one set. You are not at Cambridge
any more, my friend; and you must join the rest of us in assuming
the responsibilities of an unattached, eligible male at a
ball.”

“I shall, Driscoll, I shall; but I see there
are more than enough gentlemen in attendance so that I need not be
in any hurry. I believe it may take some time just to find the
dance floor!”

“Very well, but I refuse to see you sulking
on the sidelines for long. He who hesitates finds all the best
partners engaged, you know!”

“Go enjoy the hunt! I shall find you when I
am ready to join in the fray.”

Darcy watched his friend melt effortlessly
into the surrounding crowd, returning the enthusiastic greeting of
several young ladies in the process. Yes, it was getting less
painful to mingle with strangers, but he knew it would be years
before his ability to converse would come as easily to him as it
did to Driscoll.

* * * *

Robert Driscoll drifted amiably through the
crowded room, convinced that his friend would not have an enjoyable
evening without some assistance. It was the least he could do after
all the consideration Darcy had shown him over the years.
Assiduously, he evaluated the compatibility of the young ladies of
his acquaintance to Darcy's naturally reticent nature. Because he
had often seen Darcy dance a full set without saying a single word
to his unlucky partner, it was requisite that the young lady be
kindly disposed to his friend's temperament.

At first glance, there were several ladies
that appeared to be excellent choices, yet upon further
deliberation, they lacked the most indispensable attribute of all –
an ability to encourage conversation in a man of reticent
disposition. It did not take long, though before Driscoll spied the
perfect partner for Darcy. She was young, clever, and witty. He had
often observed her gentle and encouraging manner with those who
found the demands of society particularly daunting. And though she
was always handsome to look at, tonight she was exceptionally
pretty. He was sure even Darcy would not turn down the opportunity
to dance with her.

It was settled then. Once he secured her hand
for a dance, he would set up an introduction for Darcy before
anyone else had the chance to take her away.

With a little scheming on his part, he
managed to succeed for the very next dance. Her company was
everything he expected and he found her to be a surprisingly adept
partner. Maneuvering to execute the fifth figure in the quadrille
they were dancing, he proceeded to enlist her help.

“May I say you dance as beautifully as you
look this evening?”

She gave him a small, embarrassed smile. “I
thank you, and may I say that you are being very generous with your
complements!”

“It is easy to be generous when the subject
is as lovely as you,” he countered sincerely. “I daresay you have
been much engaged. I was quite fortunate to secure this dance.”

“Only because I was in search of refreshment
when you intercepted me, sir. I do believe Mr. Whitely is
displeased with you for stealing me away. I shall have to promise
him the next.”

“The evening is young. He will have his
chance, I am certain. As for me, I must confess that my purpose for
dancing with you is two-fold.”

“Really, Mr. Driscoll? Two-fold! I am
intrigued. Am I to know your purpose?”

“By all means! The first was because you are
quite easily the prettiest girl in the room.”

“I believe we have already exhausted that
subject, sir,” she chided him gently. “And the second?”

“The second is that I am in need of a
particular favor. May I be so bold as to ask a dance for a friend
of mine?”

“You are asking for a friend? Tell me, Mr.
Driscoll, what manner of man is he that he cannot ask for
himself?”

“He is a very good sort of man, really. He
has been a mentor of sorts to me, especially when I was
inexperienced and in need of a friend. It is just that he seldom
travels to this part of the kingdom and he knows very few people
here. He also tends to be rather diffident in large crowds. I am
very much indebted to him and I should like for him to have an
enjoyable time.”

“Very well then. With such a high
recommendation as that, I cannot but like the man already! I should
be happy to dance with him if he is agreeable to your scheme.”

“Thank you very much!” Driscoll grinned
broadly as the dance ended and he offered a low bow. “He is just
over there. Shall I introduce you?”

“Certainly,” she replied, and held tightly to
his arm as he navigated the press of couples going to and from the
dance floor.

“Here we are,” Driscoll announced cheerfully,
pulling her into a relatively clear space near one of the open
windows. “May I present my friend –”

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried in
amazement.

Darcy's eyes widened in shocked disbelief.
What was Elizabeth doing here – at a ball? His eyes hastily swept
her figure. The fit of her gown plainly revealed there was not the
slightest possibility of her carrying a child. By all accounts, she
should have been nearing her confinement; but the graceful figure
beneath the pale blue silk was as slender and trim as it ever
was.

Elizabeth dropped to a curtsey in an effort
to escape Darcy's intense stare, only to be reminded of the too-low
cut of her gown. Rising abruptly, she stood in silent agony, not
knowing what to say.
Why is he staring at me so? Does he
disapprove? I wish I could tell him the wretched gown was not my
choice!
But to disclose that sort of information would only
make matters worse. In spite of the viscount's successful efforts
in elevating her status from paid companion to Rebecca's “friend”
in the eyes of his neighbors, Mr. Darcy would no doubt see
through the deception immediately.

Elizabeth recalled that he abhorred disguise
of every sort, and knew she could sink no lower in his estimation.
In fact, the crease now furrowing his brow told her that she had
succeeded in losing the last of any regard he may have had for
her.

Discomfited by Darcy's silence, Driscoll
leaned in, speaking under his breath. “Acknowledge the lady, man!
What is wrong with you? Have the goodness to say
something
!”

Fighting his way through the paralyzing
mixture of shock at finding her here, relief of finding her at all,
and the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and never let
her go, Darcy bowed stiffly.