Page 26 of Idle Gossip

She swallowed. “You may.”

The musicians struck a chord.

“I believe this is our set.” Darcy held out his hand. Elizabeth placed hers in his, and he led her to the floor.

“Miss Bingley is staring daggers at us,” she whispered as they took their places. Netherfield’s hostess stood a few paces down the line with Mr. John Lucas.

“She is disappointed. There were many conversations over the last few days where she hinted that I should ask for her first set. I did not inform her that I had already asked for yours.” Darcy shrugged indifferently.

The music began, and they moved through the steps. Elizabeth sparred with him when they were near enough to converse. He responded enthusiastically to her repartee. When the set concluded, he led her to the side of the room, where they conversed until she was claimed by her next partner.

Darcy did not stalk the side of the ballroom, either. He danced the second set with Mary and the third with Jane before standing up with Miss Bingley for the fourth. The lady’s expression was sour throughout, especially since the set was a lively jig that prevented discourse.

The fifth came before supper, and Darcy appeared at her side to claim her hand. It was another slow, stately dance, and they continued their conversation from the first set.

Afterwards, Darcy led her into supper. They sat together at one end of the table, speaking as though they had known each other for years rather than months.

At one point, Mrs. Bennet’s loud exclamations reached them. She speculated about how long it would be before Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were engaged and boasted of Jane’s triumph in securing Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth flushed and hung her head.

“We have spoken of embarrassing relatives,” Mr. Darcy consoled her. “Your mama is nothing to my aunt, I assure you.”

“You are too kind. My neighbors are forgiving, for they know her to be a good lady who is only concerned for her future. It is harder for strangers to accept her lack of refinement.”

I ought to tell him I do not wish to end our courtship, she mused as the meal went on. But she could not find the right time. Such information seemed too intimate to be disclosed over the white soup.

After the meal, the ladies went to the drawing room. Miss Bingley had the instrument opened and invited ladies to perform. The gentlemen joined them, and Darcy arrived just in time to witness Mary’s attempts at a difficult concerto. Though technically proficient, her playing lacked feeling, and the applause was weak. Thankfully, Mary surrendered the instrument to Miss Goulding after only one selection.

“Will you not delight us?” Mr. Darcy’s whisper in her ear sent chills down Elizabeth’s spine.

“I think not. I would not wish to injure your ears.”

“I have heard you play before. There is nothing that brings me more delight. You play very well.”

“You have deceived yourself, then. I fear I take delight in many things and so have neglected to master anything at all.”

“And yet,” he continued, speaking quietly in her ear, “I should like nothing better than to listen to you play for hours.”

“For you, I will exhibit.” Elizabeth stood as a lady left the pianoforte. Miss Bingley’s face took on a pinched look, but she made no objection.

Elizabeth chose a simple piece she knew well, one that spoke of love, trust, and future happiness. She sang as she played, keeping her eyes on the music until the crescendo of the piece. Only then did she look up and meet Mr. Darcy’s gaze.

His eyes were full of longing and desire. The raw emotion she saw there told her of his affection, of his unchanged wishes.

He truly loves me. And she knew then that she loved him, too.

The dancing resumed after Elizabeth’s exhibition. She had a partner for every set but the last. Darcy was certain to approach, then. If she accepted, he would know it constituted an acceptance of him and his suit.

As she danced a lively country dance with Mr. John Lucas, there was a loud bang. Heads turned, and the musicians fell silent. Standing in the doorway of the ballroom were two people: a lady dressed in a traveling gown and a tall, portly gentleman in the garb of a clergyman.

“Where is my nephew?” the woman cried.

“Blast.”

Mr. Darcy approached from her left, murmuring apologies to Kitty, with whom he had been dancing. He met Elizabeth’s gaze as he walked past; his brow was furrowed in concern and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“There you are! Darcy, gather your things. We are leaving immediately.”