When Bingley approached, all good humour and warmth, he leant near with a smile. “Darcy, I must have you dance. I believe that is my partner’s sister there behind you, and as she is unengaged for this dance, I daresay she would be delighted for your attention.”
Darcy attempted civility. “You know I rarely dance and do not care for such diversions. Excuse me, Bingley, but I told you earlier that I am not inclined to dance this evening.”
But Bingley persisted, his cheerful insistence unshaken. “Come now, I will not hear of it. She is a very pretty girl, and I could almost wager you will enjoy yourself. Only look—she sits just there. Allow me to introduce you.”
His patience giving way, he muttered, “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.”
The words were no sooner uttered than he regretted them, for he knew at once they ought never to have been spoken. There were few gentlemen in attendance and several ladies were sitting out; it was his duty, as a gentleman, to dance regardless of his humour. Having escaped his lips, the words could not be recalled, and he had no notion how to atone for so needless a slight.
Darcy could not be certain that she had heard; indeed, he almost persuaded himself she had not. Scarcely a moment after the ill-judged remark, she had turned, and their eyes had met.
The encounter had been blessedly brief. She showed no overt offence, no dramatic display of affront. There had been an intensity in her gaze that unsettled him. A faint heat rose along his cheek. Whether it sprang from guilt or merely from the warmth of the crowded assembly, he could not have said.
After a moment’s hesitation, he looked away first.
Soon after, she moved off, clearly having espied a friend across the room. Against his better judgement, Darcy watched as the two ladies conversed. Something her companion said drew from her a laugh.
The sound surprised him. It was light and unforced, entirely at odds with the injury he feared he might have given. Relief stirred—she did not appear wounded—but it was accompanied by something less comfortable. If she had heard him, she did not seem disposed to resent it. If she had not, then he had spoken with needless cruelty.
Neither conclusion afforded him ease.
As the evening progressed, his attention strayed to the lady more often than propriety required. The look she had directed at him lingered in his thoughts. There had been something deliberate in it; yet whether it signified offence or mere scrutiny, he could not determine.
In observing her, he saw more than he had at first allowed. She neither languished in reserve nor sought admiration. Instead, she engaged those about her with an animation entirely her own. There was ease in her manner and a quickness of expression that lent uncommon intelligence to her features. When she smiled, it transformed her countenance; when she laughed, it revealed a liveliness untouched by self-consciousness.
Her eyes, too, possessed an uncommon brightness when she spoke; Darcy told himself such animation was merely the effect of good spirits.
It was only natural, he assured himself, to notice those within one’s line of sight. His attention returned to her repeatedly, drawn by a quality he could neither name nor wholly resist.
The words ought never to have been spoken. They had been unnecessary, ill-considered. If she had heard them, he owed her an apology. But how was one to apologise for an offence when one could not be certain it had been given? To raise the subject without cause would only expose his own impropriety.
Such enquiries required a delicacy he did not possess, and Darcy had never been a man inclined to invite embarrassment by ill-judged attempts at conversation.
The evening did not improve.Miss Bingley proved relentless in her attempts to secure his notice. He danced the one set required of him and, afterwards, she contrived every excuse to place herself near him. Already out of humour, Darcy found her attentions even more tiresome than usual and offered little encouragement beyond the civility propriety demanded.
In the carriage returning to Netherfield, she launched into a long account of the company at the assembly. The ladies’ gowns were ill-made, the gentlemen awkward, the music provincial, and the refreshments beneath contempt. Hardly anyone escaped her censure. Bingley, as ever, bore her commentary with good humour, but Darcy remained silent, attending only in appearance while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.
The recollection of his earlier remark returned with unwelcome persistence. Spoken in vexation, it had been unnecessary, and the impropriety of it sat ill with him. Before the evening ended, he had at least learnt the lady’s name—Miss Elizabeth Bennet—and it lingered in his mind.
Whether she had overheard him remained uncertain. If she had, he owed her an apology; if she had not, to raise the matter would only expose his own rudeness.
The truth was,tolerablehad been a most inadequate description. She might not possess the striking beauty of the lady he believed had been introduced as her elder sister—the very one with whom Bingley had danced twice that evening—but she was nevertheless lovely. Unlike his friend, who was inclinedto admire every fair-haired beauty he encountered, Darcy had long found himself more susceptible to darker eyes and hair.
In this, as in so much else, he differed from Bingley. Darcy was not a man easily moved by the women he met. He could acknowledge beauty without being swayed by it. None had stirred his heart or mind in any meaningful way—until, it seemed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
His musings were cut short by their arrival at Netherfield. He was, to his surprise, the last to descend, and only did so when the footman cleared his throat with sufficient force to break him from his reverie. Darcy murmured an apology for having kept him waiting, and with his long stride soon caught up to Bingley.
“Join me in my study, Darce?” his friend asked cheerfully as they entered the front hall. “I should like to hear your impressions of the evening without my sister’s endless complaints. Your conduct tonight was hardly excusable, but I must admit I goaded you into it. It seems that I owe you an apology for disregarding your insistence that you were in no humour for company.”
“Your sister would never have left Netherfield had I not agreed to accompany you,” Darcy replied, casting him a look that conveyed more than words.
“As you know, I invited you for a shooting party that never came to pass,” Bingley admitted with a rueful smile. “Several other gentlemen had been asked to complete the party, but once my sister caught wind of the matter she contrived—somehow—to make each of them feel unwelcome, and they all declined. I cannot even say how she managed it. When I returned to Town a few days ago to finalise the arrangements, she coolly informed me that she and Louisa would be joining me to act asmy hostesses. I attempted to argue the point, but it was quite useless. You know how rarely Caroline listens to me.”
Darcy fixed him with a steady look. “You are well aware of her motives, Bingley. Your sister never acts without design, which is still firmly fixed upon me regardless of my attempts to persuade her otherwise. She still flatters herself that she may one day persuade me to make her mistress of Pemberley. My presence is of little consequence to her—what she covets is the wealth and consequence of the estate.”
Bingley laughed uneasily. “Yes, well—you know how Caroline is. Once her mind is set, there is scarcely any reasoning with her. Still, I am sorry her schemes have diminished your pleasure in being here. Netherfield was meant to offer us sport and good company, not a trial of patience. For my part, however, I cannot be dissatisfied, not when I have been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. I have never seen such sweetness united with such beauty. The evening was perfection for me.”
“I am glad for you, Bingley, but remember that ladies in the country are not quite the same as those you encounter in town. In town, your flirtations are tolerated because both parties know they are only that, but in the country, if you dedicate your attention to Miss Bennet as you did tonight, your honour will be engaged before you realise it,” Darcy warned.
