“Mama.” Elizabeth flushed and looked at the other occupants of the carriage.
Mr. Gardiner raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Darcy is an exceptional man from what I have heard, though he has a reputation for being a hermit and avoiding the company of women except his sister.”
Papa shifted his legs to be more comfortable in the cramped family carriage. “No speculation on this topic. Unless Lizzy wishes to speak upon it herself.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Matters had gone so far that even her mother expected an engagement, despite the initial meeting betwixt Elizabeth and Darcy having been comprised of Darcy insulting her and her laughing in his face.
Mrs. Gardiner had told her many years ago when they sat together in the Gardiners’ yellow drawing room in London — in a speech Elizabeth had always kept deep in her mind — that in marriage disagreements would always arise. Couples always argued, and two persons, no matter how in love, never agreed on every matter. And Elizabeth and Jane — the occasion of this conversation was several months prior to Bingley’s entering the neighborhood — must accept once they married that in the end their husband would choose when they disagreed. If a woman loved her husband, she could find joy in such submission.
That conversation was part of why Elizabeth had always kept her heart distant from every man who approached her and flattered her and made love to her — therehadbeen many. She wouldnotsubordinate her judgement; she would not place herself under the control of another.
Perhaps the simple solution to the mystery of why she had fallen in love with Darcy. Helikedwhen she argued and disagreed with him. She must make him understand that he must always allow her to disagree with him. He must allow her to maintain her own opinions and keep to her own judgement. He would not choose for her. He and she must be equal partners, if they were to be anything.
She could both be rational and in love. She thought through a list of questions she could ask Darcy about how he would behave once they married. She would demand he answer those questions in a way which satisfied her before she agreed to marry him. He would agree that he never expected her tosubmitto him, or they would not marry.
The carriage jolted to a halt. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley stood in the carriageway to greet them.Hehelped her down from the carriage, smiling and complimenting her dress with his words and with his eyes.
Elizabeth’s stomach leapt wildly. She was scared. There was something in his manner, there was something in her own. She imagined — not just fancy — that her fate would be sealed this night.
They entered the hall, and Elizabeth smiled to Georgiana. She felt lightheaded, but was still able to attend to her friend. Mr. Darcy watched their interaction with his happy eyes.
“Ready for the crush?” Elizabeth took Georgiana’s long white ball glove in her wrist. “You look lovely — I did not know you had such a dress.”
“It was delivered two days past. From London. Lizzy, I am scared. So many people.”
“They all shall wish to shake your hand.” Elizabeth thought light teasing would help her friend best. “You might hide from them. I know Netherfield well enough to sneak you away.”
Darcy said, with a grave voice, “I as well have made the acquaintance of nooks and crannies where the guests will not light upon us.”
Georgiana giggled and shook her head. She glanced briefly at Mr. Peake who stood with them, on the side of the conversation. “I am scared, but I shall do well.”
Darcy put his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “I am proud of you.”
Georgiana nodded and smiled. “You have — it feels as though today is the beginning of something new, different. You have always been the kindest, and best, and most observant brother. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, Fitzwilliam.”
The first of the other guests arrived. Elizabeth, Darcy and Mr. Peake all stood next to Georgiana, as person after person was introduced to her, with a curtsy or a bow and a short conversation. For nearly an hour people passed through. Darcy shook everyone’s hand as well, and he watched his sister like a hawk, but she stood up well, though Elizabeth detected signs of exhaustion in Georgiana by the end.
Then the time to dance was at hand. Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand, and he led her out to the floor. His hand was warm. He smiled at her. She looked back, smiling widely.
“Miss Bennet.” Darcy grinned at her. “Should you continue to look at me in that manner I shall grow concerned there is something about my appearance.”
“There is something about your appearance,” Elizabeth replied breathily. She wanted to hug and hold him and discover if he smelled as good as he looked. A faint whiff of his masculine scent touched her. The dance was surreal, like a dream. They talked no sense. How could they?
Everything felt right in his presence, and Elizabeth’s being fluttered.
She never gained a very clear sense of the night. Dancing, food, wine, conversations with other people. Elizabeth’s body whirled. She behaved almost rudely to others. The two of them talked more than half the time they did not dance — Elizabeth once forgot entirely a person on her card for a dance. The gentleman in question teased her about this for years.
After supper, the parties broke apart, and a confusion of people moved through the rooms and many guests left. A room with card tables was occupied, and other rooms for resting, and many of the women retired to the drawing room to rest and converse. More determined couples returned to ballroom once the supper table had been removed and the musicians brought out once more, though the hour was past midnight.
With a wordless agreement between them they decided to escape public scrutiny for a half hour. Elizabeth and Darcy found a small warm nook in the conservatory to sneak to, away from other eyes. The room was slightly warmed by a coal stove during the entirety of the year to protect the delicate plants.
The instant they sat next to each other, their knees brushing together, on the wicker chairs in the flowered room, Elizabeth and Darcy became awkward. They could no longer look at each other; though their bodies were only six inches apart, their eyes were against the opposite walls. Darcy sat still, while Elizabeth looked down and up and every way.
She decided to encourage him. Elizabeth could not allow his nerves to overcome his resolution. This waiting for him to speak was dreadful, and she feared something could go amiss and separate them, one from the other.
“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth’s voice cracked. Hardly a propitious beginning.
He looked at her, his eyes shadowed by the few candles they had carried with them.
