Page 54 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“But perhaps if you would only correct them–”

“Tut, tut, Mrs Bennet! My affairs are none of their business or yours,” Lady Barry chided. “But I will not allow her to be harmed because of the foolishness of society. All that is necessary is for her and this young man on the dance floor with her to acknowledge what the rest of us have already seen, and once she is married, she will be safe.”

“It is obvious to everyone that they are in love,” Charlotte complained. “What are they waiting for?”

“Lizzy-girl is waiting to be sure that what she feels is abiding, and Darcy-boy is respectfully waiting for her to be ready.” Lady Barry rolled her eyes. “No one would disapprove of your choices, Mrs Bennet, but a marriage without affection would destroy our Lizzy-girl.”

“She has confided all of this in you?” Charlotte sounded hurt, for Elizabeth still did not confide in her as she once did.

“She has not.” Lady Barry continued to watch Sir Rupert vigilantly. “But I understand her.”

“And who says my marriage is without affection?” Charlotte demanded, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Am I mistaken?” Lady Barry asked with interest.

“You are correct that it was not a love match.” Charlotte turned back to the dance floor. “Though even in the beginning, I believe expectations were similar on both sides. But if you suggest my union lacks mutual respect and affection, you would certainly be mistaken now.”

“Good for you, Mrs Bennet.” Lady Barry was tolerably impressed. “No one could be happier to hear it than myself.”

On the dance floor, Elizabeth finally relaxed. Darcy danced beautifully, of course. The gentleman was steady, composed, and entirely considerate. Every moment she spent in his company, she felt safer and more cherished.

The room was energetic, warm, and full of that agreeable hum particular to an assembly full of amiable people.

Darcy spoke quietly. “I hope you do not consider yourself inconvenienced by my remaining close to you.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You mean you intend to stay near me all night?”

“If possible.” He appeared worried. “Though I do not wish to curb your enjoyment of the evening.”

“Mr Darcy, you are my friend, remember? I enjoy your company, and you are a surprisingly effective human barricade.”

That earned a genuine laugh from him. “Then I have performed tolerably?”

“You have exceeded my every expectation,” she assured him.

“That is high praise, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Do not allow yourself to become vain, Mr Darcy.” She laughed.

“My future happiness is still too uncertain for that,” he assured her. Then as they came together again in the set, Darcy’s expression softened and he lowered his voice. “I would wish to remain by your side all night whether you required protection or not.”

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. Not because the declaration was dramatic. Quite the reverse. His assertion was simple; almost shy, which made it far more compelling.

“It is unfair to make me blush in the middle of the dance, Mr Darcy.”

He laughed. “I shall strive to time my unfairness more thoughtfully.”

Beyond them, Lady Barry and the others concerned watched with profound gratification. Sir Rupert simmered with rage, and Miss Barry miserably experienced complete social extinction in Ramsgate.

Mr Bingley first noticed Anne de Bourgh because he did not, at first, recognise her. This was not entirely his fault. Anne had fallen under Lydia Bennet’s recent campaign of fashionable reform and was completely altered in appearance, exposing the angelic beauty always carefully hidden by her mother to others.

Gone were the intolerably outdated garments Lady Catherine favoured…garments that seemed to be designed by someone who disapproved of both youth and bosoms. Gone was the unflattering hairstyle that Anne had been obliged to endure.

Instead, Anne wore one of Priscilla’s ballgowns, altered slightly. The effect was both astonishing and effective. The gown was graceful, with a finer silhouette and lighter sleeves that no longer appeared to be devouring the wearer. Her hair was arranged more softly. The effect suited her, and her green eyes, beautifully.

Liberated from layers of maternal subversion, Anne revealed what was always present. A delicate, serene loveliness. Not unlike Jane Bennet. The resemblance struck Bingley with the force of a blow to the head.

“Good Lord,” he reached out and grasped Darcy’s sleeve. “Who is that?”