Page 16 of Love Drunk for Mr Darcy

"So did I, briefly. Anne apparently missed her calling on the stage."

"Quite."

There was warmth in Elizabeth’s voice, and Darcy allowed himself to smile. The ease of the exchange felt miraculous after the strained silence he had imagined. When the dance separated them, he watched her move away with the feeling that something between them had shifted. It no longer felt as though every step carried him across hostile ground.

When they came together again, Elizabeth’s expression had grown more serious. "I read your letter."

Darcy’s heart constricted painfully. "I had hoped you might."

"I read it more than once." Her gaze lowered briefly before returning to his. "What you told me of Mr Wickham was difficult to believe, but I could find no reason to doubt you. Not once I had considered how freely he shared his grievances with me, or how willing I had been to accept them."

"You had no cause to distrust him."

"I had cause to question myself." She drew in a measured breath. "I formed my opinion of you very early and welcomed anything which confirmed it. Mr Wickham told me precisely what I wished to hear. I am so very, very sorry that your sister suffered at his hands."

The emotion in her words touched him deeply and he held her hand more tightly. "Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, whatever error you made in judging Wickham, your opinion of my behaviour was deserved. I have given you every reason to despise me."

"I did not despise you," she said softly, then looked startled by her own words.

Darcy scarcely breathed. Elizabeth’s colour deepened, but she did not withdraw the statement. "I was angry with you. Very angry. But your letter made it impossible to think you the man I had imagined."

The next turn of the dance carried them apart before Darcy could answer. He moved through the steps automatically, every thought fixed upon what she had said. She no longer despised him, and that small mercy felt greater than anything he had dared hope for.

When they met again, he said quietly, "I am grateful you read it."

Then Elizabeth’s expression altered, hardening a little. "There is still my sister. She is heartbroken, Mr Darcy, and I don’t know if that is something I can ever…"

The set came to a close and the clapping around them drowned out the end of her sentence. Darcy desperately wanted the musicians to play on. It felt like the spell between them had only lasted for the length of the dance and now the resentment she felt towards him bloomed anew. He offered his arm and she allowed him to lead her to the other side of the room, although she remained silent.

"I am sorry for the pain I caused your sister," he said. His words rushed out quickly in a desperate effort to retain firmer ground. "But you must understand that I believed I was acting in the best interests of a friend. It was no reflection upon Miss Bennet’s character. Bingley has responsibilities to his family, and I feared he was about to form an attachment without considering them."

"And a connection with my family would prevent him from meeting those responsibilities?" she asked. Her voice remained low, but anger caused her to bite out every word. "Jane is the sweetest creature I have ever known. I have watched her weep herself to sleep night after night because the man she loved vanished without a word, and still you speak of her experience as a blot in a ledger. A minor inconvenience that you can hand-wave away."

"I have written to him," Darcy said, though even as he spoke, he knew it was not enough.

"Have you urged him to return?"

"I told him the truth."

"That was not my question. Will you go to him? Will you use the same influence that removed him from Jane to bring him back?"

Darcy’s jaw tightened. "I do not possess that sort of power over him."

Elizabeth gave a disbelieving laugh. "Do not, or will not? You possessed it readily enough when you wished him gone."

"They knew one another for only a few months," Darcy said, frustration overtaking caution. "Surely an attachment formed in such a short time cannot be so very deep."

The moment the words left him, he knew he had made a grave mistake. He of all people knew how deeply and quickly an attachment could take root.

Elizabeth blinked up at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"That is not what I meant to say…"

"No, Mr Darcy, pray do not go on. Your meaning was crystal clear."

He reached for her arm, but she stepped back before he could touch her.

"Obstinate, headstrong man," she said, her voice trembling now with anger. "You may not be quite the ogre I once believed you to be. I acknowledge your apology, and I accept that I was wrong about Mr Wickham. But you remain proud and insufferable whenever you speak of those you consider beneath you, which appears to include almost everyone."