Page 22 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

His mother’s brows rose. “How commendable. Though I am told your forbearance did not extend to every young lady in the room.”

Darcy leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Bingley wanted me to dance, and if I did, I would have to dance with his sisters. I did not wish to dance with his sisters for fear of raising Miss Bingley’s expectations higher still, but I could not tell him that, so I blamed it on the inferior company. And when I saw that a young lady was listening to me embarrass myself, she bore the brunt of my frustration. She was eavesdropping, and I gave her something to hear. It was ungentlemanly of me.”

“Eavesdropping?” His mother held his gaze. “Mr. Bingley told George the young lady was already seated and that you looked directly at her before speaking. Is that untrue?”

He had to admit that it was not.

“Fitzwilliam, we have all of us said something foolish at an assembly or ball, and Miss Elizabeth’s response did her credit. The lady won that particular hand. I should be content to leave it there.”

He waited for the rest.

“However, there was another insult at Miss Bingley’s ball, was there not?” She did not pause for him to fill in the silence. She simply went on. “I do not know what passed between you and the lady that Bingley’s sisters felt entitled to remark upon it in Mr. Bingley’s presence. I only know what Mr. Bingley relayed to George, which was that you departed before the figure was complete and did not return to the lady afterward, that you did not, so far as Mr. Bingley is aware, ever seek out Miss Elizabeth to repair what you had done before you came away to London.”

The ball. Darcy closed his eyes as he recalled the disaster of it. Miss Bingley had been standing near enough to invite his notice. Darcy had noticed her, but he had not approached. He refused to raise her expectations, particularly by dancing the first set with his hostess, though he knew it was custom to do so. He danced with no one for the first set.

And for the second, he had asked Miss Elizabeth.

Miss Elizabeth, across from him at the bottom of the line, had been the object of Miss Bingley’s silent wrath. She had been for some time, in fact, and Darcy could not pretend ignorance of the cause. At Lucas Lodge, he had called Miss Elizabeth pretty and had complimented her “fine eyes.” Miss Bingley, who had expected to hear herself complimented, had been jealous. It had been rather more direct than he would have preferred, but it had been true. It had also been intended as a warning.

But Miss Bingley had taken it as a challenge instead.

“Do you not mean to ask Miss Bingley to dance?” Miss Elizabeth had asked.

Darcy had looked at her, startled less by the question than by the source. Bingley’s sisters had spent much of their acquaintance slighting Miss Elizabeth both in her hearing and out of it. He would never have expected Miss Elizabeth to take up for Miss Bingley.

“I did not consider it necessary.”

“No?” Her brows had lifted. “She is, in effect, the lady presiding over the house. I believe even an indifferent hostess is owed one dance by a gentleman residing under her roof.”

Darcy had been at a loss. Miss Elizabeth had actually defended Miss Bingley. To him. Miss Elizabeth had somehow concluded that he, and not Miss Bingley, was the party behaving ungenerously.

The injustice of it still astonished him.

Miss Bingley had pursued him relentlessly from the moment the dancing began, had interrupted every tolerably peaceful conversation he attempted, and had finally succeeded in placing him in such a state of aggravated self-consciousness that Miss Elizabeth’s rebuke had prompted him to abandon her like a man suddenly called away to extinguish a fire.

Darcy suddenly recalled where he was. He lifted his head and met his mother’s gaze. “No, I did not attempt to repair the damage.” After all, there seemed little purpose in attempting to save a ship after one had personally blown a hole through its hull.

He did not add that, after leaving Miss Elizabeth standing on the dance floor, he had abandoned the ball entirely, retreated to his rooms, locked the door, and spent the remainder of the evening staring at the fire.

It had not been his strongest social performance.

“No?” His mother, when disappointed, did not raise her voice. It was not required, for he felt every bit of shame he ought. “Then we shall speak of it once and no more. The Meryton remark I might have laid at the door of the assembly itself, at your dislike of country balls, and at the unhappy arts of Miss Bingley to which you are evidently not equal. The second breach I cannot.”

“No.”

“Miss Elizabeth had given you no offence that I have heard. You invited her to stand up with you and then left her standing alone. Whatever else passed between you, that fact remains.”

“I do not offer a defence.”

“I am relieved to hear it.” She sighed. “I shall not lecture you further. You are not a schoolboy, and I have no desire to continually remind a grown man of his own conscience. I am, however, still your mother, and also a hostess.”

Darcy knew exactly what was coming. Unfortunately, his mother disliked being anticipated almost as much as she disliked being interrupted.

“Given where you were today, I must assume that Mr. Bingley remains interested in Miss Bennet.”

Darcy did not respond.

“Should a match between them take place, Miss Bennet may at some time accompany her into his circle, and his circle is, you will recall, entangled with ours. I therefore foresee future encounters.”