And the rest of the assembly seemed to fade away.
Darcy had expected little pleasure from the assembly—he rarely took delight in such social situations. Yet as he led Miss Elizabeth Bennet from the dance floor, he found himself reluctant—absurdly reluctant—to release her hand. Her lively conversation, her warm smile, her graceful movements through the figures… Everything about her had rendered the dance surprisingly, disarmingly enjoyable.
More than enjoyable,he admitted to himself as she dipped into a curtsy and excused herself to join her sisters.I have never spent a more agreeable half-hour in such a place.
When he had first seen her upon entering the assembly hall, all the breath had been pulled from his lungs. The gown she wore accentuated her fine figure perfectly. The delicate embroidery and beadwork must have taken some time to complete. In Darcy’s humble opinion, she outshone every other lady in the room.
He drew a steadying breath. The hall suddenly felt warmer, brighter, and more welcoming than any assembly he had everattended. When he approached Miss Jane Bennet for their set, he bowed to her with genuine goodwill. She was sweet-tempered and polite, speaking gently about her family and the neighborhood. Miss Charlotte Lucas proved intelligent and sensible; Miss Mary Bennet shy but earnest. By the time Darcy completed the three required dances, he realized he had not felt irritable once.
Heavens,he thought with faint amusement.Bingley will never let me hear the end of this.
As he stepped aside for a moment’s respite, Bingley bounded toward him with Miss Bingley gliding at his elbow like an elegant, orange-silk shadow.
“Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed. “I have never seen such a successful introduction to a neighborhood! Everyone is perfectly charming, do you not think?”
Darcy’s gaze flickered briefly toward Miss Elizabeth—now laughing with Miss Lucas—and warmth stirred in his chest. “I find myself…very satisfied with the evening.”
Miss Bingley sniffed loudly enough for both gentlemen to hear. Darcy turned to her with cool civility.
“Miss Bingley, I have observed you scowling at the wall for most of the evening. You should dance. Assemblies are intended to be enjoyed.” He offset his bluntness with a slight smile.
“There is no possible way no one has asked her,” Bingley said cheerfully. “Caroline, surely—”
Miss Bingley cut him off with a disdainful flick of her fan. “Indeed, I have received several offers. Yet the gentlemen present are hardly of a standard to tempt me. Truly, there are but two in the room who would not make standing up to dance a punishment.”
Darcy stared at her, appalled.
Bingley’s mouth fell open—yet he did nothing, merely clearing his throat awkwardly. “And now,” he said hastily, eager toredirect, “I must return to Miss Bennet. She promised the next set.”
Miss Bingley’s lips curled into a thin smile. “The only other tolerable woman here, I daresay.”
Bingley, oblivious, nodded and turned to gaze at Miss Bennet.
Darcy, however, caught Miss Bingley’s eye again—cold, triumphant, and dismissive of every woman present save herself and Miss Bennet.
He stepped closer to Bingley, catching his arm before he could disappear into the crowd.
“Bingley,” Darcy said quietly but firmly, “you must rein in your sister. Her remarks will offend half the neighborhood if she continues in this vein.”
Bingley laughed as though Darcy had made a joke. “Oh, nonsense! Caroline means nothing by it. Besides, strong women speak their minds. She does not mean to give offense.”
Darcy released him slowly, watching as Bingley strode away with unshaken optimism.
No,Darcy thought grimly,that is not how others see it at all.
His gaze drifted once more toward Miss Elizabeth—radiant, lively, utterly unaffected by pretension. And for the first time that evening, Darcy felt truly vexed…but not with her.
Not at all.
The evening progressed with surprising ease. Elizabeth danced twice more before sitting out so others could partake—once with Mr. Goulding and once with John Lucas. Yet neither dance compared to the first set she shared with Mr. Darcy. Shewould not admit such a thing aloud, of course, but the thought persisted.
Around her, the assembly mellowed into a contented hum. The candles had burned low, casting warm golden halos across the room; the musicians wiped sweat from their brows and tuned their instruments with weary determination. Most guests stood in small clusters now—comparing dances, gossiping, or partaking of a final helping of punch.
Mr. Bingley had scarcely left Jane’s side all evening, and Elizabeth was pleased—for Jane’s gentle smiles were radiant, and her soft conversation had clearly enchanted their new neighbor. Even Mrs. Bennet’s exuberant fluttering at the edges of the room could not dampen their mutual delight.
Elizabeth stepped aside for a moment of peace, folding her hands before her and breathing in the mingled scent of beeswax, perfume, and warm wool coats.
A familiar presence approached.
