Page 45 of Dear Friend

Mrs. Bennet’s delight required no words. Elizabeth saw it plainly enough in the brightness of her expression, though Sir William mercifully began speaking of introducing the party to several other families before she could contribute anything to the exchange.

The Netherfield party moved on.

Elizabeth watched them go, still puzzled by Mr. Darcy’s extraordinary behaviour.

Just before he reached the Kings, he looked back.

Directly at her.

Elizabeth’s brows rose.

Whatever Mr. Darcy of Pemberley found so remarkable about her, she hoped he would eventually remember enough of his manners to explain it.

She had little opportunity to consider him further. Soon, the musicians were preparing for the first set, and the room had begun to shift as gentlemen sought their partners and ladies moved towards the floor. Jane had already been claimed by Mr. Bingley, much to Mrs. Bennet's poorly concealed delight, while Kitty and Lydia appeared to have secured officers for themselves.

Elizabeth was looking about for Charlotte when she saw Mr. Sotherton approaching, and immediately wished she had found her sooner. His course across the room was too direct to leave any doubt that she was his object, and after his increasing attentions over the past month, she could guess what he intended before he reached her.

“Miss Bennet.” Mr. Sotherton bowed. “I had hoped I might find you disengaged for the first dance.”

Elizabeth's heart sank a little. She had discouraged him as much as civility allowed, yet nothing seemed sufficient to persuade him that his attentions were unwelcome. Indeed, she had lately begun to fear that unless she made herself unmistakably clear, he might carry his intentions still further, and she had no desire to receive an offer merely for the unpleasantness of refusing it.

“You are very kind, Mr. Sotherton, but I...” Elizabeth faltered. He knew she was not engaged, and refusing him only to accept another gentleman would be discourteous enough to invite notice. Yet to dance with him when she already suspected the direction of his hopes seemed worse. How was one to discourage a man who appeared determined to mistake every civility for encouragement?

“Miss Bennet, shall we join the dancers for the first set?”

Elizabeth turned sharply at the familiar name and unfamiliar voice beside her. Mr. Darcy stood there, his expression composed despite the extraordinary stare with which he had regarded her only minutes earlier. One of his hands was extended towards her as though there could be nothing unusual in the request.

Mr. Sotherton looked between them, then smiled with evident understanding. “I beg your pardon. I did not know you were already engaged for the first dance, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy's waiting hand. She ought to correct the misunderstanding, particularly since she had exchanged scarcely a dozen words with the gentleman and certainly had not promised him a dance. Then she glanced at Mr. Sotherton and decided that honesty, admirable as it generally was, might on this occasion be permitted to wait.

“Yes,” she said, placing her hand in Darcy's. “I am engaged.”

Chapter Sixteen

15th October 1811

Meryton Assembly

Darcy

Darcy could not have said exactly what he expected when he left Somerset for Hertfordshire on the tenth of October. Elizabeth’s next letter had arrived only the day before his departure, rewarding his decision to remain at Willowbrook a little longer, and amongst its accounts of Longbourn and Meryton she had mentioned an assembly to be held the following week. No particular date had been given, but he had carried that small piece of information with him nevertheless.

Upon reaching Netherfield, Darcy discovered that no enquiry on his part would be necessary. Bingley had already accepted an invitation to the assembly, a circumstance he announced with delight almost before Darcy’s travelling case had been carried upstairs. Miss Bingley and the Hursts meant to accompany him, and Bingley appeared to consider Darcy’s attendance equally settled.

Darcy had not expected to find himself at a Meryton assembly within two days of arriving in Hertfordshire. In truth, he had possessed no settled plan at all. He had brought Elizabeth’s letters with him, together with the reply he had written and never sent, and had supposed that at some point he must contrive a proper means of approaching Mr. Bennet. How precisely a gentleman introduced himself to a stranger in order to confess that he had read nineteen private letters belonging to his daughter was a difficulty Darcy had yet to resolve. Still, he had intended to explain the extraordinary circumstances by which the letters had come into his possession and, at the very least, put an end to Elizabeth’s belief that Julia Harding remained at Willowbrook.

Bingley’s determination that he attend the assembly had rendered such careful contrivance unnecessary, at least for the present. Darcy could think of no reasonable excuse for refusing him without provoking precisely the questions he wished to avoid, and so he had agreed.

Now, standing in the crowded assembly room two evenings later, Darcy was conscious of an anticipation he had not experienced upon entering a ballroom in many years.

Elizabeth Bennet was here. Or she ought to be.

He had been careful to ask no questions concerning Longbourn or the Bennets since arriving at Netherfield. Bingley was naturally curious, and his sisters considerably more so; an unexplained interest in a family with whom Darcy had no acquaintance would not pass unnoticed. Thus he knew the workings of Elizabeth’s mind with an intimacy that had become increasingly difficult to justify, knew the names of those she loved and particulars of her life he had no right to possess, yet might have passed her upon the road that afternoon without recognising her.

The absurdity had occurred to him more than once.

Bingley, predictably, was delighted with everything. Within seconds of entering the assembly he had pronounced the room cheerful, the company numerous, and the evening certain to be agreeable. Darcy scarcely attended. His gaze travelled instead amongst the ladies in the room, though he knew perfectly well there was nothing by which he might distinguish one particular woman from all the rest.