She put a hand on her hip. “You are purposely missing my point.”
“Indeed, I am, and I still say you ought to count yourself fortunate that you were spared the trouble. The very idea! It is not as if you would consider anything else with the man.”
“Well…”
“Come. Here is a nice seat, and let me fetch you a glass.” I swiped one from the tray of a passing footman and placed it in her hand. “There. I shall return straightaway to tell you how odious a half hour I passed.”
“Be careful not to accidentally enjoy yourself, Lizzy.”
Everyone was staring atme. I swallowed and lifted my chin against the aghast expressions all around—all my neighbors who either knew of my dislike of the gentleman or thought me so far beneath him that they must have assumed it all a good joke. I drew back my shoulders and hoped Mr. Darcy didn’t have sweaty palms or clammy fingers.
In point of fact, his hands were quite nice. Just what I might expect from the rogue. And he seemed to know his way about the dance floor, for which my toes blessed him. But he was excruciatingly silent all the while, and the way he stared at me did nothing to settle the flutter of nerves that suddenly tickled my stomach. Why would the man just gape blankly into my eyes, with no thought for conversation or admiration or even a jolly good row? Terribly disconcerting.
Very well, if he would not say something, I would do it. I waited until he stepped forward to lead me down the set. “Mr. Walton’s fingers have recovered admirably.”
Mr. Darcy’s face jerked down to me as we stepped apart. “What?”
“Mr. Walton. He is the violinist, do you see? There. Bitten by a horse last week, I’m afraid. One would never know by his enthusiasm for the piece this evening.”
“Er…” Mr. Darcy adjusted his cufflinks. “Indeed. He plays very well.”
“There. Now we may be silent until we must step together again.” I turned my head to watch a servant replacing a set of nearly guttered candles at the edge of the room, but when I looked back, Mr. Darcy was still staring at me. Oh, bother.
“Do you find the tempo a little fast this evening, Mr. Darcy?”
He looked at me strangely. “I find it precisely as it should be. Do you not?”
“Oh, no, I think it accurate in every way. For, you see, it took us exactly one measure to traverse the line, just as it ought. I only wondered because you look displeased by something.”
“Nothing at all, Miss Elizabeth.”
“That is very fine. Now, it is your turn to think of something to speak of, Mr. Darcy. Might I suggest observing something about how much pleasanter it is to attend a private ball than a public one? Or perhaps you could comment on the flavor of the soup.”
He stepped forward and took my hand to lead me around the next couple. “The soup?”
“Just as you please. The pheasant was done to a turn. Do you not agree?”
“Indeed.”
“Oh, come, Mr. Darcy! You must give me something better than one-word answers.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I would be happy to discuss anything you prefer. Pray, tell me what you would most like to speak of.”
I considered his question as he marched me around, then returned me to my place. “It must be difficult to settle on a topic, is it not? For I have noted that you, like myself, are usually unwilling to speak at all unless you can say something profound indeed.”
“I would argue thatyoupossess no such difficulty,” was his dry retort. “And I cannot control how my own words are perceived.”
“There, an answer that I must think on for a moment. That will do for the present.”
He stepped back, but his face did not look so grave as it had. In fact, he almost appeared to be amused, and searching for something to say. “Do you often walk toward Meryton?” he ventured.
That was a piteous attempt. But at least it was a question that evoked a response, so I smiled. “Yes, often. In fact, we had just been meeting a new friend yesterday when you happened upon us.”
My heavens! I did not know Mr. Darcy possessed so many feelings, but a great cascade of them blasted over his face all at once. His jaw rippled, his throat bobbed, and his eyes glittered to a fearsome black. “I do not wonder that Mr. Wickham was able tomakea friend of you. Whether he deserves tokeepyour friendship is another matter.”
“A friend is a valuable thing to have, would you not agree?”
His nostrils flared slightly. “I would.”
