He dipped his chin, and she supposed it was in acceptance of her apology. She silently willed him to say he had no interest in dancing with any lady but her. To her regret, no such sentiment crossed his lips.
CHAPTERSIX
Darcy stood in a corner, a glass of punch in his hand. Across the room, Bingley was busily making friends with every person he met, and elsewhere, Miss Bingley was engaged in conversation with several young ladies. He was glad they found the evening so enjoyable. No doubt it was an excellent opportunity to meet many of their new neighbours.
That did not mean he liked being here. If he had had his way, he would have stayed at Netherfield instead of attending the assembly. How he despised this sort of gathering! If he knew some of his fellow guests, it was not terrible, but having to talk to so many strangers, people with whom he could have nothing in common, was distasteful. It left him feeling like his clothes were ill-fitting—too tight in one place and too loose in another—and he had no idea how to arrange his features to hide his discomfort. He had asked Miss Bingley to dance because it was expected of him. Since they knew each other, it was not without pleasure, and it occupied twenty or thirty minutes, bringing the end of the evening that much closer.
Darcy studied the room and watched as couples lined up to wait for the next set to start. Bingley partnered the lovely blonde lady he had danced with earlier. She was the eldest Miss Bennet, if he remembered correctly, and he was not surprised she had caught Bingley’s eye. She was beautiful, and if she was also soft-spoken and gentle, Darcy would hear a great deal about her when they returned to Netherfield. If one of his friends was there, he would be tempted to wager with them how long it would take before Bingley called her an angel.
Looking about, it was evident Miss Bingley was correct about the lack of gentlemen. Roughly a dozen young ladies sat to the side of the room. While Miss Bingley was not wrong to suggest he ask one of them to dance, he had no stomach for it. To stand up with someone he did not know, who would likely want to talk the whole time…Darcy shuddered. With Miss Bingley, he could be quiet. She knew how little he liked to chatter simply for the sake of hearing his own voice, an opinion unfortunately not shared by the vast majority of other people.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a slim lady with hair the colour of rich chocolate. She found an empty chair, sat, and regarded the dancers.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
There was something alluring about her. When she smiled, it took over her entire visage until she radiated good cheer, something he had sorely been lacking of late. Darcy had felt her power when they had been introduced early in the evening. Her eyes had sparkled and said what she could not—she was excited and interested to meet new people and be here amongst her friends. Everything about her seemed entirely genuine. She was not one to purposely seek to capture attention, not coquettish or dishonest.
Almost without volition, Darcy’s curiosity had him walking towards her. She did not notice him until he was almost in front of her. His mouth dry, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, would you care to dance?”
Their eyes met, and he had a moment of panic when he thought she might decline. But then she said, “I would be happy to. Thank you, Mr Darcy.”
She placed her hand in his, and it felt half the size of his own. Darcy contemplated closing his fingers around it, but rejected it as too bold, too reckless a move for one accustomed to keeping himself under good regulation. It was difficult to decide if the odd sensations she created in him were more pleasurable or irksome.I need not let it concern me today or ever. It is just a dance.
Soon after, the music started. As they moved through the steps, she said, “Am I correct that you are from the North, sir?”
The fog that had enveloped Darcy dissipated in an instant. His eyes narrowed as he considered her. Hardly had he been in the room five minutes before people were talking about his estate and wealth. She must have heard it, so why was she asking? “I am from Derbyshire.”
“Ah. I believe that accords with what someone told me earlier. You must understand how new people, such as you and your friends, excite interest within a small community like ours. More than one person was speaking of you.” She chuckled.
“Yet you asked. Did you not give credence to what they said?”
She smiled at him, and once again, the spell she wove began to take him. A part of him wanted to do whatever was necessary to make her continue casting her delicious magic in his direction.
“Not entirely, no,” she said. “What begins as truth often becomes exaggerated or distorted in the retelling, and I refuse to trust any information I have not verified directly with its subject.”
“That is very wise of you. Please, if you have any other questions, I shall answer them.” He wanted to say he appreciated it. Being often the object of speculation, it was refreshing to find someone who preferred to know about him from him rather than rely on rumour. As it was, nothing said that night was substantially untrue.
She inclined her head. “Your friendship with Mr Bingley is long-standing?”
“We met at a club meeting where a man was speaking of trains about three years ago.”
“Oh?” Her eyes lit up with even greater interest.
“I am several years Bingley’s senior. I do not know why I said that.” His cheeks warmed. Should he next tell her he liked cauliflower more than peas and green more than orange? What was the matter with him?
“Did you meet Miss Bingley at the same time?”
He had to think about it for a minute to remember. “We were not introduced for another half a year or nine months. Their father died soon after Bingley and I met. Having lost my father about five years ago, I understood how difficult it would be for him and his sisters—he has another, who is married—and that cemented our friendship.”
She offered her sympathy for his loss, adding, “It is very good of you. I am sure the Bingleys appreciate everything you did for them.”
Embarrassed, he shrugged, and to prevent any further unintended disclosures, asked about her family.
“I believe you met all four of my sisters. We live with our parents at Longbourn, which is the nearest estate to Netherfield. My cousin, who is from home presently, lives there as well.”
“Have you always lived in the neighbourhood?”
“I have. Bennets have held Longbourn for…goodness, how long has it been? Several centuries, but I cannot recall whether the original gift was from Edward the fourth or fifth. In what part of Derbyshire is your home? Not that I am particularly familiar with the geography of Derbyshire, but my aunt—the lady married to my mother’s brother—spent her childhood in that county. She often speaks of it in such fond terms that I long to visit.” She laughed, the sound so full of joy, Darcy’s chest felt lighter.
