Dressed in a white, Empire waist muslin gown, Elizabeth’s appearance took on classical lines. Beaded hairpins reflected a halo quality, and Darcy gulped for air as he witnessed her entrance into the drawing room. He watched as she circulated about the room, obviously looking for someone in particular. Of course, he hoped the person might be he, but it was not to be. She briefly acknowledged his polite inquiries but quickly moved on to find her friend Charlotte Lucas.
As the dance began, the pudgy clergyman came forward to claim Elizabeth’s hand. Darcy watched with initial amusement as Mr. Collins, who obviously thought himself to be adept on the dance floor, spent most of his time apologizing instead of attending and often moving wrong without being aware of it. Such a disagreeable dance partner should not be wished upon anyone. Collins’s ineptitude would amplify Darcy’s prowess later; however, Elizabeth’s distress and mortification became so severe, it was all Darcy could do to not interfere and replace Collins in the set somehow.
Elizabeth next danced with an officer, and then she returned to Charlotte Lucas’s company. Darcy decided it was now or never, andhis approach took her by surprise.“Miss Elizabeth, may I apply for the pleasure of the next dance?” he said as he bowed to both ladies.
“Mr. Darcy, I . . . I . . . I would be pleased.”
Not wishing to allow her the opportunity to change her mind, Darcy took his leave, but when the dancing recommenced, he returned to claim her hand. As they took their place in the set at the top of the line of dancers, a place of prestige, Darcy could not help but hope the uniqueness of the situation impressed Elizabeth; her neighbors recognized the honor he bestowed on her; he only danced with Bingley’s sisters up until this point. Singling her out made a statement to the amazement of all who observed it.
As the dance began, Darcy planned to make amends for his earlier cut, but within her presence, he found himself to be embarrassed by those actions and was tongue-tied. She broke the silence first, commenting on the dance as they waited their turn. He replied and again fell silent. “It isyourturn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, andyouought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”
He smiled. “Tell me what you most desire to hear, and I will happily comply.”
“Very well.That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. Butnowwe may be silent.”
He nearly laughed out loud. She obviously demanded the long overdue apology, but he would make her wait a few more moments to take her by surprise when he did offer his amends. Instead, he said,“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”
“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet, for the advantage ofsome, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”
So, she noticed his bias for silence.Was Elizabeth suggesting he did not enjoy their conversations? “Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”
Taking a jab at Darcy’s haughty humor, she responded, “Both, for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.”
The verbal warfare was back. God, he missed this foreplay during the ten days since they last spoke! He would not let her win this skirmish, though.“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure. How near it may be tomineI cannot pretend to say.You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”
They were again silent until they went down the dance. He did not like the coolness the turn of the conversation took.Wanting to lighten the tension their need for dominance created, Darcy tried to steer the interplay in a different direction. “Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?”
“Yes, we do,” she added.“When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”
Darcy’s heart stopped; she was speaking of Wickham. He knew Elizabeth saw the exchange between the two of them. Wickham had, most likely, spoken of their relationship to Elizabeth; of course, he would not tell her the truth of their dealings. Darcy discovered jealousy at Wickham’s intimacy with Elizabeth after only a few days’ acquaintance. He could barely control his feelings when he next responded to her. “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure hismakingfriends—whether he may be equally capable ofretainingthem, is less certain.”
“He has been so unlucky as to loseyourfriendship,” replied Elizabeth with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
Darcy made no response. His anger came close to taking control of his tongue as well as of his mind; he searched for another subject. He did not want to spend his precious time with Elizabeth speaking of his worst enemy.
At that moment, Sir William Lucas cut through the set. “Mr. Darcy, may I compliment you on both your dancing and yourchoice of partner. It will be my pleasure to see you repeat your choice in the near future.” Sir William gestured toward Bingley and Jane Bennet. Obviously, the Netherfield neighbors already spoke of the likelihood of upcoming nuptials. Sir William insinuated Darcy and Elizabeth would often, therefore, be thrown together.
Darcy barely heard what Sir William said, his attention drawn to Bingley and Miss Bennet. A force hit with the seriousness of the situation. Darcy realized he was so enamored with Elizabeth he did not try to stunt Bingley’s growing attraction for Jane Bennet. He planned to leave Hertfordshire soon, but Bingley took up residence here. He could not allow Bingley to be so foolish; Bingley would quickly learn to regret Jane Bennet’s bad connections.
The second dance approached; his time with Elizabeth grew short, and he still did not make his excuses to her. Recovering himself, he turned back to his partner and tried to reestablish some sense of dialogue. Elizabeth resisted his suggestions, decrying each hint of civility. Her thoughts wandered to their earlier conversation, and she exclaimed, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable.” She did not wait for the reply.“Would it not behoove a person to then be accurate in his judgments if there is no room to change one’s mind?”
When she repeated his earlier contentions, they took on a coarser tone than Darcy intended.“May I ask if you have a particular situation to which you refer?”
“Merely to the illustration ofyourcharacter,” she sallied; “I am trying to make it out.”
Their parley took an unexpected turn. “And what is your success?” Darcy heard himself challenging her.
Elizabeth shook her head as if confused.“I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”
Darcy wanted her to know the real him, but he had no way of changing the opinions she formed at the assembly hall; it was too late for that. Nor could he acquit her of the lies she heard without putting his sister’s honor on the line too. Darcy would never betrayGeorgiana.“I can readily believe that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Darcy, if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”
“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.What you ask are not my answers to give at this time, Miss Elizabeth. I would ask you to trust your inclinations to know what is true.” Their time together ended on this bitter note; they finished the second dance in silence and parted. The way things ended dissatisfied both of them. Elizabeth’s natural curiosity initially told her things were not as they seemed, but she could not see past Darcy’s earlier behavior to her to distinguish the truth from the lies. Darcy’s hurt came from knowing he could never be anything more to her than he was at that moment; he forgave her for her disdain because he knew it was formed on half-truths. Instead, he directed all his anger on George Wickham.
Darcy left the dance floor in an agitated state; his performance left him wanting to say so much more to Elizabeth Bennet. He moved about the room oblivious to the civilities being offered on his behalf. He stood along the rim of a cluster of partygoers, pretending to be interested in their tales when the bow of the same pudgy clergyman who tormented Elizabeth with his “lightness of foot” interrupted his thoughts. Darcy could not comprehend the man’s affront at first. Collins made him a low bow. “Mr. Darcy, I learned by a singular accident you are indeed the nephew of my esteemed patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh; I wanted to assure you her ladyship was quite well yesterday sennight.” This unsolicited address astonished him, and Darcy eyed the man with unrestrained wonder; and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, he replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, set about an equally pompous second speech, which increased Darcy’s contempt. Finally, he made the imbecile a slight bow and movedaway. He thanked providence he was wise enough to not make a permanent alliance with Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed she possessed no shortage of poor connections. All he wanted at that moment was for the ball to come to a close so he could be rid of his promise to Bingley and to his time in Hertfordshire.
He moved with the others to take supper. Unfortunately, he found himself in close proximity to Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Lucas. In an energized manner, Mrs. Bennet confided to Mrs. Lucas, “Mr. Bingley so honors our Jane with his attentions. He singles her out above all others. We expect a wedding at Netherfield very, very soon, and when Jane is so well placed, I told Mr. Bennet, we may cosign our other daughters to Jane’s care in hopes of likewise excellent matches.”
