A portly gentleman approached, bowing with evident pleasure as he greeted Bingley. “Mr. Bingley! It is a pleasure to see you this evening. I am eager to meet your guests. Might I request an introduction?”
“Certainly,” Bingley replied readily. “Darcy, this is Sir William Lucas, the master of ceremonies and proprietor of Lucas Lodge.Sir William, my dear friend Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
Bingley proceeded to introduce Mr. Hurst and his sisters. The ladies offered shallow, barely polite curtsies, their expressions making plain their assessment of the surroundings.
If they held their noses any higher, Darcy thought, they would scarcely be able to see where they were going. Even he, with all his reserve, did not comport himself with such obvious superiority.
Darcy scarcely listened as Sir William introduced his wife and daughter, also gesturing toward his son, who stood on the opposite side of the room in earnest conversation with a young lady.
“Ah, here is Mr. Bennet,” Sir William continued brightly as a gentleman approached from the left. “Mr. Bingley, I believe you have met him?”
Mr. Bennet had an intelligent air, peering at their group over wire-rimmed spectacles. His white hair was neatly arranged in the prevailing style, and his attire spoke of plentiful means rather than conspicuous wealth—a man secure enough to need no display.
“May I present Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn? Mr. Bennet, you know Mr. Bingley…” Sir William went on to complete the introductions, his enthusiasm undimmed.
“Longbourn is the largest estate in the area, except for Netherfield, or so I understand it,” Bingley remarked amiably.
Miss Bingley’s mouth curled in faint disdain.
“Yes,” Mr. Bennet replied evenly. “My family has owned the land for almost eight hundred years.” A fleeting shadow crossed his face before it was replaced with a genial smile. “Mr. Bingley, my family has been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to be introduced. Might I escort you to them?”
Bingley agreed at once, and after securing Miss Lucas for the first set, followed Mr. Bennet across the room. Darcy chose to accompany them rather than remain behind with the others. Though he shared their desire to be elsewhere, he maintained his stiff mask of indifference as they advanced.
They approached a matron with three daughters in attendance. Good God—three young ladies in the household? Darcy’s mind wandered briefly to the inevitable expense and concern such a family must present. Introductions were made, and Darcy noted, with some surprise, Bingley’s immediate interest in the eldest—Miss Bennet, Jane, if he recalled correctly.
“Miss Bennet,” Bingley said warmly, “I would be pleased if you would dance the second set with me. And Miss Elizabeth, the third, if you will.” Miss Mary Bennet accepted the fourth. An awkward silence followed.
Darcy realized then that they expected him to make an offer. He had no intention of doing so. He affected complete inattention, fixing his gaze upon the far end of the hall as though something of great importance had caught his eye.
The first notes of the music sounded, and Bingley excused himself, promising to return for the later sets. Darcy followed him to the side of the room, positioning himself against the wall. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were soon claimed by local gentlemen—a small mercy, for Darcy refused to encourage Caroline’s hopes by offering her his hand.
As he surveyed the room, his gaze fell upon one of the Bennet sisters—Miss Elizabeth. She danced with an ease and assurance that caught his notice despite himself. Her movements were lively yet controlled, more graceful and refined than those of many around her. There was an intelligence in her expression, an animation that suggested thought rather than artifice.
Likely another young woman exerting herself to impress wealthy newcomers, he told himself sternly. He scowled, hoping his forbidding air would deter any attempt at conversation.
Midway through the evening, Miss Elizabeth took a seat uncomfortably near his position. Darcy sensed her presence at once and assumed her intent: she wished to draw his notice, perhaps to induce him to dance. Resolutely, he turned away—only to nearly collide with Bingley.
“Darcy! Have you been holding up the wall for the entire evening?”
“I have danced with your sisters,” Darcy replied coolly. “My obligations are complete.”Do not, Bingley. You promised.
“So they are,” Bingley conceded, though his smile lingered. “And you cannot be induced to dance even one more set?”
“I made my position clear before we left Netherfield.”
“You are missing out on a lovely evening. I have never seen such pretty girls. Some of them are very pretty, indeed.” He nodded toward the nearby chairs positioned on the edge of the dance floor. “There is Miss Elizabeth. I danced the third with her, if you recall. She is very talented—and an engaging conversationalist.”
“Bingley,” Darcy said sharply, lowering his voice, “you could not induce me to dance with her if she were the last woman in the world.” He winced inwardly at the harshness of his words. “Go back to your partner and enjoy her smiles.”
“Really, Darcy, you are a bore!” Bingley laughed. “And lower your voice, lest the whole gathering hear your nonsense.”
“Let them,” Darcy retorted. “Then they shall have no illusions as to my position, and none will prevail upon me for notice or acknowledgement.”
“I would not be so fastidious and stubborn as you for a kingdom,” Bingley said, shaking his head. “Very well, I shall leave you to brood in silence.”
Bingley turned away, leaving Darcy blessedly alone—at least for a moment.
“Be careful with your words, Mr. Darcy.”
