This time, he did not try to fight against the break in his voice. He simply stared at her for a few seconds, refusing to make an attempt at a reply, then resumed walking. As her hand was resting on his arm, she was obliged to either join him, or sever the contact, and walk away.
Naturally, she followed him, the vexing creature.
“Did you know there is to be a waltz at the ball?”
He stopped again. “That is something of a break from convention, but I am hardly surprised.”
“You are not scandalised?”
“I have waltzed many times in London. I find nothing scandalous about it, but it is a particularly onerous dance if one does not enjoy one’s partner.”
“Too true. I suppose I ought to be glad that I shall not be obliged to stand up with Mr Collins for that.”
Darcy’s head was still floating from the laudanum, but he did manage to pick through his memory of those he had met in Meryton, and that name did not surface as familiar… which meant he was probably forgetting something again. “Ah… Mr Collins?” he asked hesitantly.
“Oh, you have not met him, but Mr Wickham and Mr Bingley did. He is Papa’s cousin—his heir, actually, and he came to… I do not care to saywhathe came to do, but the short of it is that when he met Mr Wickham, of course, he was pressed with an invitation to the ball.” She sighed.
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose and held it tightly for a few seconds, hoping for either ample pain to break through the laudanum haze or sufficient numbness to deaden the piercing inside his head. At least in talking to Elizabeth Bennet, he felt like he could make sense of what she was saying, quick and whimsical though she was.
“I take it you do not relish the thought of dancing with your cousin.”
“Oh, I shall have to dance with him, but at least it will not bethatdance, for Mr Wickham has already offered.”
Darcy tripped.
Hard.
“Mr Darcy, are you quite well?” Elizabeth ducked under his pinwheeling arms to safety, but then tugged at his hand as he was in the process of righting himself.
“I am…” He shook his head, which was a mistake, for his vision shuffled and jiggled about inside his skull. “Egad. What the devil was that rock doing in the path?”
Elizabeth bit her lip and looked back over their shoulders with a doubtful expression. “Yes… a rock,” she said slowly. “How very unsporting. Mr Wickham should have words with his gardener.”
“What was it you were saying about Wickham offering… was this the supper set, by any chance?”
She tilted her head. “Why, yes, it was. I understand I shall have to ‘make do’ with him as my partner since you will be returning to London.”
Darcy secured her hand upon his arm once more, and only then did he discover they were nearly out of sight of Bingley and Miss Bennet. Fine chaperons they made. “I did not realise I would be causing you a hardship, Miss Elizabeth.”
“It is not—”
“I should hate to disappoint a lady. You may count on my attendance at the ball.”
Her mouth drew into a thoughtful bow, and she studied him as she walked, but Darcy looked swiftly away. Too much laudanum in his blood, and too little clarity in his head… if he looked at her for much longer, Bingley and Miss Bennet would be long gone, and Elizabeth Bennet’s reputation in tatters by the time he returned her to the house.
“What about your important business in London, sir?” she asked softly.
His chest rose and fell. What was the use? A second surgeon’s opinion? A third? His will was in order, save for a few details to update, Georgiana was cared for by Lady Matlock better than he could do. He would only cause distress to his family when he began making his preparations to die sooner than necessary.
And perhaps, just once, he could enjoy the company of a lady he admired on the dance floor. One last ball.
“It will wait, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr Bennet is heedlessand does not listen to me,” Mr Collins declared as he trudged along behind Elizabeth and her sisters. “Had he only taken my advice, the flooding could have been mitigated by now. Lady Catherine would most certainly have supported my recommendations, I assure you.”
Elizabeth traded a glance with Jane, who rolled her eyes in silent agreement. She suppressed a sigh, for there was little hope of deterring Mr Collins once he was on such a topic.
“Indeed, Mr Collins,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound patient. “And what was it you suggested to my father?”
