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Before Elizabeth could respond, one way or another, Darcy approached the instrument and recommended a lively duet. Georgiana and Elizabeth readily conceded. Georgiana saw and suspected enough to be intrigued, and her great affection for her friend Elizabeth and her ardent esteem for her brother kindled her desire in seeing the two of them in company more often.
When the clock struck two, the time had come for the Darcys to take their leave. While Georgiana had been rather effusive when speaking of their upcoming outing, Darcy was rather reserved. When at first he had arrived, Elizabeth’s nearness overwhelmed him; he was finding it hard to breathe—hard to concentrate, hard to find the words.
Having sat patiently through the young ladies’ chit-chat on the affairs of the evening before, including all the fashions and the like, Elizabeth’s charm and her witty conversation put him at ease. She had likened some of the young ladies at the ball to Caroline Bingley on more than one occasion. No doubt Caroline used her time with Miss Elizabeth in Hertfordshire to plant seeds of a possible alliance between the two of us. It would have not have been the first time. Miss Elizabeth meant to test me to ascertain the veracity of Caroline’s claims. At least, Miss Elizabeth saw fit not to mention George Wickham’s name again.
The more he thought about it on the carriage ride home, the more he considered that Elizabeth was flirting with him with her witty repartee and her teasing smile. Darcy had never been more bewitched by any woman as he was with her.
Were it not for the inferiority of her connections, I might be in some danger.
CHAPTER 8
MUCH BETTER DANCE
Lord Davenport approached him at a table in the smoke-filled game room. “Pray Darcy, who is the fetching young creature who accompanies your sister this evening?”
Fingering the rim of his glass, Darcy said, “Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She hails from Hertfordshire.”
“Hertfordshire, you say? That is quite an inconvenient distance from Derbyshire. Do you suppose your sister is playing matchmaker again?”
Both Lord Davenport and Darcy knew all too well the folly of Georgiana’s last matchmaking attempt. Upon meeting Lord Davenport’s sister, Lady Mary, Georgiana had thought her brother and the young heiress would be a perfect pair, and thus she did everything to put her in Darcy’s path. Unbeknownst to nearly everyone, Lady Mary’s heart belonged to another—a gentleman of inferior birth who had supposed Darcy was a competitor for his fair lady’s affections. The foolish man had gone as far as to call Darcy out. Only a full accounting of the scheme to the aggrieved gentleman as well as to Darcy, who had no awareness whatsoever of why the fool perceived him a threat, as well as a solemn declaration of contrition from the false accuser, could settle the score.
Darcy tightened his expression. She would not dare. “Hardly.”
“Then you will not mind if I seek the young woman’s hand for a set. I have it on good authority that Lady Richardson plans to throw caution to the wind and delight us all with a scandalous waltz for the sixth.”
Scandalous, indeed! Though popular on the continent, the dance was frowned upon in England. Darcy was not surprised by Davenport’s pronouncement, for this was a Richardson ball. Her ladyship was no stranger to challenging convention.
“Surely you do not suppose you need my permission to dance with a woman whose only connection to me is her acquaintance with my sister.”
“Not ordinarily, but as we both know, things are not always as they seem.” With that, Lord Davenport nodded and went on his way.
Darcy left the game room too. He deemed it necessary to rearrange things a bit. His first order of business was to speak with Lady Richardson. If Miss Elizabeth could be so easily persuaded by the likes of George Wickham, she stands no chance against Lord Davenport.
Elizabeth found her friend lingering in a corner, ostensibly admiring a large floral arrangement. “Georgiana, why are you standing here looking as though you wish to be anywhere else?”
“Elizabeth, I am endeavouring to escape Lord Riley’s attentions. I have but one spot open on my dance card, and he is the last person with whom I wish to stand opposite this evening.”
“I dare say the gentleman is agreeable.”
“He is too agreeable. Add to that, he is in desperate want of a wife. I have no intention of affording him the opportunity to single me out as the object for his affections—ever! Even though this is my second season, I mean to enjoy it to its fullest with no thoughts of love and matrimony. In fact, I am not truly persuaded I shall ever marry.”
“You are blessed to enjoy such a luxury.”
“I suppose you are correct.”
“I realise you are young still, but have you ever met anyone who captured your fancy?”
“There was one time, one particular gentleman. It turned out he did not share my affections equally. I truly supposed I was in love. Finding myself suffering such unsettling emotions that come about with believing one’s self in love is not an experience I am eager to repeat.” Sighing, her voice grew into a whisper. “I must confess I sometimes do not trust myself to know whether gentlemen fancy me or my fortune and connections.”
Elizabeth had heard it said that the first heartbreak is the most heartfelt. What has been the means of Georgiana’s injury? Elizabeth would not press. “I am sorry.”
“You need not be. No irreparable harm resulted from my foolishness. Though I shall not look for love, as long as it is not Lord Riley, who is to say love shall not find me.”
As Elizabeth had never given her heart to anyone, she was hard pressed for the right words to say to her friend. Her situation was nowhere near as advantageous as Georgiana’s, and yet she had not married merely out of necessity, even though it might have been the most prudent course of action for a young woman whose prospects were as lacking as hers. Of course, it would not always be that way. Papa has made that abundantly clear.
When Mr. Darcy claimed Elizabeth’s hand for a waltz, one question was uppermost in her befuddled mind: why was he torturing himself this way? Did he not proclaim that he had little interest in dancing? What is more, why is he torturing me? Not only was he torturing her, but her body was torturing her as well.
He had not spoken a single word to her all evening other than to express his pleasure in seeing her again and to request her hand for the set. Now her body ached to hear his voice. When he placed one hand on her waist and took her hand into his other, she lost her breath. She placed her hand on his shoulder and went weak in the knees as a bolt of heat radiated through her. His firm yet gentle grip on her waist whilst bracing her left her both disquieted as well as intrigued.
