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“And Mistress of Longbourn eventually.”

“Yes, but hopefully that day is long off. The parsonage at Rosings sounds very comfortable. I believe it will suit me wonderfully.”

“Very well, Charlotte,” sighed Lizzy, convinced her friend was making a big mistake. “I will not argue with you; but how we will get through tonight, I do not know. Mama has just spent hours grooming Mary to catch Mr Collins’ eye. If she finds out he is engaged to you she will have hysterics at the ball.”

“Yes, I can understand your trepidation, Lizzy; and I have spoken to Mr Collins. He was not happy, but he has agreed to keep silent for tonight. We can decide together tomorrow how best to break the news to your mother.”

“All right, but I cannot help but think…”

“Yes?”

“Could you convince our cousin to at least dance once with Mary? If he does not, Mama will spend the whole ball badgering her to try harder to gain his attention.”

“I see,” said Charlotte, biting her lip. “Very well, I’ll do what I can, but I cannot promise anything. His nose was very out of joint after your refusal, and it took all my powers of persuasion to delay him making the announcement of our betrothal till after the ball.”

Lizzy could only think that Mr Collins had made his second proposal in a single day out of pure spite, and she could well imagine him wanting to bask in his triumph. Her estimation of him plunged even lower than it had dropped after his childish reaction to her refusal in the morning, and as she had not held him in much esteem prior to that, it was now very low indeed.

Unhappy for her friend whom she felt had made a poor choice, Elizabeth returned in silence with Charlotte to the ballroom where they were immediately approached by Mr Collins. Thinking he had come to claim his dance, Elizabeth was just about to beg him to consider Mary as a partner when he pre-empted her by launching into another of his pompous speeches.

“You will understand, Miss Elizabeth, that under the circumstances, I am unable to honour my previous request for your hand for the first set,” he declared, sticking his nose in the air.

Charlotte, who had expected her betrothed to honour his previous arrangement with his cousin, was considerably embarrassed by this speech, but before she could mediate, Mr Collins had grabbed her hand and dragged her away from her best friend. All Charlotte could do was cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Elizabeth.

“Well! His loss, I say!” declared a voice behind her. “Miss Elizabeth, are you free for the first set?”

Turning around, Elizabeth perceived Captain Carter. “Thank you, Captain. I am,” she said. Then, glancing around, she spotted Mary nearby, and was about to shrug her shoulders in apology to her sister when, thankfully, Elizabeth saw Mr Denny approach and ask Mary to dance.

Not a moment later, the band struck up the first notes, and with a smile to Captain Carter, Elizabeth took his gloved hand and let him lead her into the formation.

As the musicians tuned their instruments, Elizabeth saw Caroline sail regally into position at the head of the line, on the arm of Mr Darcy. Caroline’s dress was excessively fine, and she was wearing an expensive-looking parure that Elizabeth had no doubt would be the topic of conversation for the matrons of her mama’s social set for days; but Elizabeth’s attention was quickly diverted to Mr Darcy. He was dressed in a midnight black coat with a silver waistcoat, and rather than sporting satin knee breeches and stockings as she had expected, he was wearing full-length knitted pantaloons which clung to his well-muscled legs rather distractingly. He seemed no worse for wear from his recent accident. Lizzy forced her attention back to her partner as the set began.

Elizabeth and Captain Carter cut a dash, and after the progression, Elizabeth danced in turn with several other officers who were next in line. She smiled and exchanged pleasant chitchat with each of her partners during the heys and dos-á-dos, but her mind was not grounded in her immediate occupation. Instead, she found herself sneaking glimpses at Mr Darcy and counting the number of men between him and her current partner. By this estimation, she thought it unlikely that she would end up dancing with him in the half-hour allotted to the set and breathed a sigh of relief. She was not sure she could deal with those distracting pantaloons.

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Darcy was also sneaking glances at her, but very cleverly doing so when her face was turned away from him. He was admiring her figure and the light and pleasing way she moved in the dance. He was, however, blessed with a piece of information that Elizabeth was in ignorance of: the first set tonight would not be a half-hour set as typically enjoyed by the citizens of Meryton at their monthly assemblies. As hostess, Miss Bingley had instructed the musicians to play until the progression of her group was complete, so that Caroline would finish the dance as she started it, with Darcy. As part of his group, Miss Elizabeth could not escape dancing with him. With each progression, he got closer, and after making momentary eye contact with each of his new partners, his mind became otherwise occupied with making and noting every novel aspect of Miss Elizabeth that his new perspective afforded—the style of her hair, the line of her neck, and finally, as they reached each other, the curve of her lips.

Those lips had kept him quite entertained during the tedium of recuperation after his fall. Confined to the house and plagued by Caroline, he kept reliving each of the smart exchanges he had shared with Miss Elizabeth during her short stay at Netherfield. He embroidered those exchanges into full-length conversations, which often ended in his besting Elizabeth with some incredibly witty bon mot, but just as frequently resulted in her getting the better of him, whereupon he silenced her by kissing those lips. That shut her up.

As they met, Elizabeth curtseyed to him and he bowed.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, Miss Elizabeth,” he essayed as they stepped into the first hey.

“Your thanks are unnecessary, Mr Darcy. It was your dog who came to your rescue. I was merely drafted. As The Lord Protector, he is aptly named.”

“I am not so sure of that, Miss Elizabeth. As he was largely the engineer of the entire incident, I am thinking of rechristening him.”

“What can you mean, Mr Darcy?” she asked in the dos-a-dos.

“Merely that he dug out a rabbit hole and caused my horse to come to grief in the first place. Unfortunately, his depredations were hidden by a clump of grass. My horse is no stumbler, and I can assure you that it is only the third time in my life that I have been unseated.”

“Ah!” cried Lizzy, amused that Mr Darcy felt it necessary to defend his horsemanship, “so Cromwell is instead The Lord Projector!”

Darcy could not help a small smile twist his lips. His mind churned furiously for an apt retort and… they progressed.

Damnation! She bested me again! he thought as he reached his next partner.

This was Miss Goulding, the daughter of a respectable local squire who lived some ten miles away at Haye Park. Had she possessed three heads, this lady might have appropriated some of Mr Darcy’s attention, but unfortunately, she only had one—and thus was sadly neglected by him. Although Miss Goulding did not attend the Meryton assemblies, she had heard through the grapevine of the haughty Mr Darcy visiting at Netherfield Park. She could now confirm he was just as rude as common report painted him.

After his encounter with Miss Elizabeth, Mr Darcy progressed twice more before remembering his manners sufficiently to make eye contact with his subsequent partners, but he had enough presence of mind not to look back towards his sharp-tongued temptress. Finally, he arrived back at Miss Bingley and took her off for refreshments before the beginning of the next set.