Page 34 of Pride and Proposals


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Darcy said nothing but looked as if he had chewed on something unpleasant. Lord Kirkwood merely nodded to them both and departed. Elizabeth glared at Mr. Darcy. “We are to dance? It must have slipped my mind.”

He had the grace to color. “I was planning to request the next set.”

“And you were so certain I would accept that an actual invitation was rendered unnecessary. How efficient of you,” she said archly.

His color deepened. “Naturally, if you do not wish to dance with me, I will understand.”

Elizabeth was immediately contrite. She wished to act as his friend, not cause him additional distress. “Forgive my teasing. I would be very pleased to dance the next set with you.” Her reward was a relieved smile. Did a dance with her mean so much? “Do you find something objectionable about Lord Kirkwood?” she asked, wondering if perhaps he saw her dancing as disloyal to his cousin.

Darcy glanced briefly at the man in question where he stood a short distance away. “There are rumors his father left him with many gambling debts.”

“And therefore, I should not dance with him? You are very severe, sir.”

“He may be seeking a wife of some fortune.” Mr. Darcy addressed his remarks to the space above her left ear.

It took a moment before Elizabeth comprehended his meaning. “While my finances have improved, I am hardly a temptation to a fortune hunter!”

Mr. Darcy scowled at the floor but did not respond. Upon reflection, she realized with some surprise that her fortune might be considered large enough to interest a desperate man, but she would never believe such motives of Lord Kirkwood. He was merely acting as a friend in Richard’s memory. You promised to be better friends with Mr. Darcy, she reminded herself.

“But I thank you for your concern,” she added, somewhat stiffly. Mr. Darcy’s eyes darted to her face, regarding her in surprise, but he said nothing. Silence descended on them.

Being his friend was more difficult than she had anticipated!

Couples were moving into position for the next set. “I believe the next set is forming,” she observed with relief.

Mr. Darcy seemed to be recalled from a reverie, although she had the odd impression he had been staring at the flowers in her hair. Nonsense! You do have a vivid imagination, Lizzy!

He took her gloved hand in his and led her into position for the set. As they waited opposite each other, they were silent. He did not smile at her—as almost any other dance partner would have—but his attention was wholly fixed on her face as if he would memorize her features. After a moment, she felt unequal to meeting the intensity of his gaze and had to glance away. It was a relief when the music commenced.

The dance at Netherfield had demonstrated that Mr. Darcy was an excellent dancer. He was quite light on his feet, and they were well-matched as partners.

Unlike at Netherfield, he made an effort at speech, particularly as they waited to take their turn in the figure. He commented on the progress of the ball and how Georgiana seemed to be faring. Was it possible he attended to her earlier reproofs about his taciturn demeanor? No, most likely he had entirely forgotten that conversation. Perhaps he was simply more at ease with her now that they were better acquainted.

When the set was complete, Elizabeth felt it had been too short. Dancing with Mr. Darcy had actually been quite enjoyable, and she would have been pleased to stand up with him again. However, as they left the dance floor, he was holding her hand rather tightly, and his mouth was set in a stern line. Perhaps he had not enjoyed the dancing as well.

Lord Kirkwood emerged from the crowd to claim her hand for the next set. Mr. Darcy must have noticed the other man but ignored him. Mr. Darcy focused all the power of his penetrating gaze on Elizabeth, taking her hand in both of his. “I thank you for the dance. Rarely has anything given me more pleasure.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught, and her heart suddenly pounded very loudly. Why was her mouth so dry she was unable to speak? So he had enjoyed the dancing, she thought inanely, but was unable to account for why his simple compliment had such an effect on her. “Would you do me the honor of reserving the final set for me?” His expression suggested her response was of the greatest urgency.

She swallowed. “I-I thought you would dance it with Georgiana.”

Mr. Darcy’s expression darkened, and she thought he might actually utter an oath. “Yes, you are quite right. The penultimate set then.”

Elizabeth nodded, a little stunned. “Of course.”

With another deep, penetrating look into her eyes, he turned and melted away into the crowd, never acknowledging Lord Kirkwood, standing only a few feet away. The other man watched Darcy’s retreating back with a frown. “I do not understand Mr. Darcy’s behavior at times.”

Elizabeth sighed. Neither do I. Nevertheless, she could not help bristling at the implied criticism. “He was always a good friend to Richard.”

“Yes, yes.” Lord Kirkwood seemed eager to clear up any misimpression. “Richard always spoke very highly of his cousin. I do not know him well, but I am certain he is an excellent man.”

“He is indeed.” Why does it trouble me if Lord Kirkwood is less than complimentary of Mr. Darcy? I have voiced far less kind thoughts about the man in the past.

In fact, two years ago, she would have been his severest critic. As they took their places in the figure, Elizabeth remembered with shame how she had allowed her opinion of him to be founded on misunderstandings and a credulous belief of Wickham’s lies. God forbid Mr. Darcy ever learned the extent of her previous dislike!

The music started, and she and Lord Kirkwood moved through the figures. She responded automatically to his conversation about the size of the crowd and the weather, but her thoughts seemed fixed on Mr. Darcy. His behavior had altered considerably, she realized.

The Mr. Darcy she knew today would not describe anyone as “tolerable” or “not pretty enough to tempt me.” When had he changed? And why? Had he been in a particularly foul humor in Meryton so that she formed an erroneous impression of his character? Or had he made an effort since then to become more agreeable?

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