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Fitzwilliam shook his head in disgust. “Did my mother lecture you about your duty to the family? Are you going to let that stop you?”
“No. Although I plan to be circumspect.” Fitzwilliam nodded his understanding.
As soon as he was finished greeting guests, Darcy procured a glass of punch and took it to Elizabeth, who was talking with Georgiana while the Gardiners observed. Darcy stood at Elizabeth’s elbow, amazed how easily she conversed with his sister. It was probably the most he had ever heard Georgiana say to someone who was not in the family.
Soon the orchestra started playing some introductory notes, signaling the beginning of the dancing. He saw his uncle escort his aunt – every inch the countess – to the dance floor to open the ball. “I believe this is my dance, Miss Bennet?” He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Colonel Fitzwilliam came to claim Georgiana as a partner. Since she was not officially out, Darcy’s sister could only dance with family members and Darcy had considered this night to be a good rehearsal for her eventual debut. Next year, for her first season, she would be obligated to attend balls and dinners almost every night.
Darcy and Elizabeth beheld each other as they waited for the dance music to begin. He could hardly wait to touch her, even though the strictures of the formal dance would allow only limited contact. The music started and he took Elizabeth’s hand as she circled around him. When she passed close enough, he murmured, “My bed was very empty last night.” He was rewarded by a delicate blush coloring her cheeks, but then she looked pensive. As she circled again, she said: “What a coincidence. So was mine.” He felt himself flush and then chuckled, realizing she had gotten her revenge.
As they negotiated the dance’s intricate figures, Darcy felt more at ease than he ever had at a ball. Elizabeth’s smiles touched his heart – and every time their hands met, he felt an electrical shock. His frustration at their limited contact was tempered by a deep satisfaction in the knowledge she was his.
At first he danced in a haze of love, oblivious to anything outside their private world; however, eventually, he noticed an inordinately large number of people watching them. Young women were staring, while mothers and chaperones were talking with great animation, no doubt wondering about the identity of his partner and her family. As his aunt had predicted, anyone he danced with would become an object of interest. He would find the whole thing laughable except that he was sure the news of Lydia and Wickham was circulating as well, and people would soon connect the scandal to Elizabeth’s family. It could not be helped, but he vowed to shield Elizabeth from the vitriol as much as he could.
When he turned his attention back to Elizabeth, her beautiful eyes were full of concern as she recognized what all the whispering meant. As the steps of the dance drew them close, Darcy murmured to her, “Do not be concerned, my love. We will face it together.”
“William, are you sure you do not—”
He knew what she was about to say. “I do not have one moment’s hesitation about what we did,” he whispered. “My only regret would have been if you had refused me a second time.” His words were rewarded with a slow smile spreading across her face.
The first dance ended and Darcy passed Elizabeth over to Colonel Fitzwilliam, while he danced with Georgiana. Darcy found it hard to keep his attention on Georgiana, who, fortunately, did not seem to expect him to converse much. His gaze continuously drifted to Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. He could not hear what they were talking about, but she was laughing and smiling. Darcy noticed every time his cousin’s hands briefly touched her waist or her hand. You have nothing to worry about; she has chosen you, he reminded himself. However, the necessity of concealing their marriage meant it was difficult to believe in the reality of her choice. He was especially sensitive to Fitzwilliam’s attentions, since he knew his cousin had admired her at Rosings.
Then Darcy noticed Georgiana watching him watching Elizabeth, so he smiled reassuringly to his sister and focused his attention to her. The expression on her face suggested she had guessed his attachment to Elizabeth; he would need to tell her the truth soon.
When the second dance ended, Darcy handed Georgiana to Fitzwilliam and quickly strolled toward Elizabeth, intending to make sure she rested – and did not dance with anyone else, except maybe her uncle. However, before he reached her, he was intercepted by Aunt Alice. “Fitzwilliam,” she said softly but firmly, “you promised me not to be excessively attentive to Miss Bennet – and to dance with other eligible ladies.” While she was speaking, she put a hand to his elbow and guided him over to a young lady who stood waiting with her mother. She was quite pretty, he supposed, with blonde curls and blue eyes. Her dress was quite au courant and showed a pleasing figure; however, he knew that only one pair of eyes and dark hair would satisfy him.
“May I introduce Miss Penelope Maddox? Her father is the Earl of Colting,” Aunt Alice said. “Miss Maddox, this is my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Miss Maddox curtsied and Darcy bowed.
Time to pay the piper, he supposed. “Miss Maddox, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”
She lowered her eyes demurely and smiled slightly. “Yes, thank you.”
For the next several dances, his aunt kept him well supplied with partners – as if she hoped she could erase her son’s scandal if her nephew made a brilliant match. After a few dances, the women started to blur together: all were fashionably dressed, well spoken, and good dancers who conducted themselves impeccably…and he could not have been more bored. The ball would improve dramatically, he knew, when he could return to Elizabeth.
As he danced with his sixth – or maybe seventh – partner, he realized with alarm that he was failing utterly in his vow to protect Elizabeth from mean-spirited inhabitants of the ton. He could not deflect criticism if he was not with her. On the other hand, she might not be the subject of much speculation if he did not converse with her much. One dance – even if it was the first dance – might not be enough to stir gossip and jealousy, but all of him rebelled at the thought of leaving her to fend for herself.
The dance ended and Darcy thanked his partner, although he could not remember anything they had discussed. He saw his aunt bearing down on him, but he preempted her. “I have danced enough for now. I need to rest.”
She regarded him coldly. “I have already selected another lady.” She gestured with her fan to a nearby woman whose profile Darcy recognized all too well.
“Caroline Bingley!” Darcy had not known the woman was at the ball or he would have taken pains to avoid her. Her party must have arrived after the receiving line ended. Darcy rounded on his aunt. “I have had plentiful opportunities to court Miss Bingley if I so desired. Her brother is my friend.”
“I know,” she smiled at him serenely. “Their fortune is in trade, so she’s not the most eligible
lady here. But her dowry is far better than what some women bring to the table.” Darcy knew this was an oblique criticism of Elizabeth and wondered if arranging a dance with Miss Bingley was his aunt’s revenge for his attentions to Elizabeth. Ah well, best to get it over with….
He approached Miss Bingley. “How good to see you again. May I have the pleasure of this dance?” She acquiesced with a smile which she probably believed appeared sincere.
As he led her into position, he asked, “Is your whole family here?”
She shook her head. “I came with my friends, the Winslows. Charles and Louisa are at home. So you will have to make do with me,” she said with a simpering smile. Darcy clenched his jaw, it would be a long set. It was as torturous as he expected. She agreed with his every opinion and denigrated the Bennets at every opportunity until he finally growled at her to stop.
When the dance was over, Darcy returned Miss Bingley to her friends, and was able to disengage from her attempts at further conversation. Before he could move toward Elizabeth, his aunt swooped in with a calculating gleam in her eye. Darcy relentlessly strode past her, determined not to fall prey to his schemes and this time she let him pass.
He hurried over to where Elizabeth talked with the Gardiners and Georgiana and positioned himself at Elizabeth’s elbow. During a break in the conversation, he asked in a low voice: “How are you feeling? Are you excessively fatigued?” He saw Mr. Gardiner regard him curiously and realized his tone was more suited to the familiar role of husband than the more formal and tentative tone of a suitor.
Elizabeth’s arched eyebrow showed that she also recognized his faux pas. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am quite well. I think it will take more than two dances to fatigue me!” Although her last words were teasing, her tone was formal, making Darcy cringe inwardly at having forgotten himself. The idea of pretending to be a courting couple had seemed simple when they had planned it, but it was much more difficult to execute than he had anticipated. He wanted so much more from her than propriety allowed him.
Mr. Gardiner made an observation about the ball and soon the others were conversing about the impressive size of the crowd. Darcy said nothing, so intoxicated by Elizabeth’s proximity he noticed every move of her hand or tilt of her head. Everything was charming and graceful; he thought he could watch her all night.
