Page 7

As they proceeded to the punchbowl in a stately fashion, Caroline greeted her guests with great condescension, dropping Darcy’s name into each exchange in a way that went beyond civility and started to feel decidedly proprietary. Reaching the drinks, Darcy gratefully extracted his arm from Caroline’s claw-like grasp when she filled their glasses. Soon after, the musicians struck up the next set, and Darcy was relieved when Miss Bingley was claimed by Mr William Goulding, the heir of Haye Park—a respectable man, who would have been well looking, were it not for his legs, which had earned him the soubriquet of ‘spider shanks’.

It had been Darcy’s intention to stand against a pillar in the ballroom for the rest of the evening, not being inclined to play cards with strangers or raise the expectations of any damsel by seeking her hand for a dance. But upon taking his place there, he found himself strangely dissatisfied with his plan. He would be heading back to London tomorrow, now that he had put Charles in the way of management of his estate, and the prospect of letting Miss Elizabeth have the last word rankled.

Darcy watched her now as she performed the quadrille, laughing with each of her partners in turn; and he mulled over how this country miss was making a fool of him—a man known for his clever comments at London soirées. Darcy had topped all his classes at Cambridge and been Senior Wrangler in mathematics. Were it not for his inheritance he might have made a successful career as a university fellow. He had no doubts that he was Miss Elizabeth’s intellectual superior, though for a woman she was very witty. He reasoned that, as a member of the fair sex, her social mindset put her at a decided advantage in verbal wordplay. He, on the other hand, had always been a man of letters.

Darcy stood there trying to convince himself that engaging her in battle was not worth his trouble, but his pride got the better of him, and he resolved to have one more tilt at besting her. He would ask her to dance. Such was his intention, but when the set finished, the crowding in the ballroom impeded Darcy’s progress, and he arrived at the place where he had last seen Miss Elizabeth to find her nowhere in sight.

During the quadrille, Elizabeth had spotted her mother harassing Mary, who had failed to gain a partner for the second set. After curtseying to her own partner at the completion of the set, Elizabeth had gone off post-haste to find Charlotte, hoping she had been able to further their scheme of inducing Mr Collins to dance with Mary. She discovered Miss Lucas and her betrothed near the punchbowl. Her friend quickly signed to Elizabeth to keep her distance, but gave an infinitesimal nod, presumably indicating success. Lizzy then watched as Charlotte led Mr Collins to Mary’s vicinity, and after offering his elbow to his cousin, the clergyman led her into the dance.

Occupied with her machinations on Mary’s behalf, Elizabeth found herself partnerless for the next set and, when the musicians heralded the dancers to take their places, she was moving to stand against the wall when two men converged on her from both sides.

“Miss Elizabeth, could I request…” they started simultaneously.

Elizabeth was highly gratified to see that Mr Darcy was one of the pair, the other being Colonel Forster.

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, hoping that one of them would retire and make her choice easy, but they both stuck out their chins pugnaciously and glared at each other.

As the richest of the two, Darcy expected the colonel to resign, and as a military man, the colonel expected the opposite.

Elizabeth appreciated this in a flash and immediately saw a way of having her cake and eating it too.

“Well, Mr Darcy, if you will permit, I will dance with the King’s man in this set and you after?”

The colonel grinned in triumph.

Thus, having put Mr Darcy in his place, Elizabeth accepted the colonel’s arm and took to the dance floor. She had got what she wanted, Mr Darcy had noticed her, and quite definitively too; and she had managed to pay him back, very poetically, for his insult at the assembly. But as she danced with the colonel, she could not help noticing her heart was beating faster, and she knew it was in anticipation of dancing with Mr High-In-The-Instep.

Darcy retreated to his pillar to watch them jealously and stew. Miss Elizabeth soon progressed, and as his eyes followed her as she moved down the line, he began to prepare some witticisms to launch at her.

Finally, the set finished, and seeing at least one gentleman glance in Miss Elizabeth’s direction, Darcy moved to appropriate her before some other fellow muscled in.

“Miss Elizabeth, you are in demand,” commented Darcy, coming up to her.

“Yes, it would appear so,” she returned lightly. “Much better than sitting against the wall at the assemblies, but the militia’s recent deployment to Meryton has filled the gap admirably.”

Darcy briefly wondered if she was slyly rebuking him for his lack of participation at the only Meryton assembly he had attended, completely oblivious to the fact that he had insulted her there. He did not like dancing with strangers and had not even directed his attention towards the lady Bingley had pointed out as a possible partner. Although Darcy had been aware there were a number of women without partners, he thought it beneath him to be some sort of consolation prize for unwanted females, whatever Bingley’s public-boy’s-school opinion of what constituted ‘gentlemanly behaviour’. Darcy had, of course, been educated at home by private tutors before embarking on his university studies.

Upon moving towards the dance floor, Darcy and Elizabeth were both very much surprised to hear the band strike up a waltz.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Elizabeth, “I fear I do not know the steps very well. The waltz is never danced at the assemblies.”

It had been on the tip of Darcy’s tongue to suggest they wait out the set, but the words that actually came out of his mouth were quite different: “If you will permit me to guide you, perhaps we may manage tolerably.”

The musicians launched into the distinctive three-four time and Elizabeth offered her hands in what she hoped were the correct positions. Darcy grasped her right glove in his left and placed his right hand on her upper back, while she rested her left glove on his upper arm above his elbow. Elizabeth then focused all her attention on her feet as they took the first steps.

“That is right,” he assured her, “but you will find it easier if you move a little closer.”

Elizabeth wondered if he was being fresh but complied nonetheless and found it was true. As she stepped in the prescribed pattern, Darcy seemed to direct her movements on the dance floor. After the first minute, Elizabeth felt she might dance the waltz in her sleep. It was at that point she inhaled with relief and realised that all she could smell was him. He exuded soap, a spicy cologne, and an earthier scent that was quite exhilarating.

“Well!” Elizabeth said as they twirled, “I did not expect to dance the waltz tonight, but I expect it is de rigeur at all the London balls.”

“That I cannot tell you,” he replied. “I thought Caroline and Louisa had decided that only country dances would be performed tonight, but women are always changing their minds.”

“Really?” said Elizabeth archly. “Whereas men are more decisive, or perhaps, just opinionated?”

“A solid education provides a steady mind,” replied Darcy urbanely.

Elizabeth flinched slightly in annoyance at this pronouncement, knowing her own education deficient, whereupon Darcy’s hand dragged slightly across her back. She was disturbed to feel her stays pop open at the top. They were her best pair, slightly tighter than was comfortable, and fastened with hooks and eyes. She had forgotten they needed repair: the top hook had slipped out of the catch when she had crouched to enter the carriage after the Meryton Assembly, and Lizzy had meant to sew the hole smaller before wearing them again.