Page 11 of Most Truly the Gentleman

Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s smile had turned to cool civility, and her ease to stiffness. By these signs, Darcy understood that though she had spoken with him in a friendly manner more than once since the assembly, his slight there had not been forgiven, likely as a consequence of his failure to make any sort of apology or amends. She was telling Sir William that she had no intention of dancing and had certainly not passed them in order to beg for a partner.

Darcy was well aware that he was not gifted in his speech; he understood also that he must speak now, or the misunderstanding between them, engendered by his thoughtless words on the occasion of their first meeting, would persist. And so, as Sir William drew breath to entreat them both further, he interjected, “I hope that you might reconsider your intention, Miss Elizabeth. I have been regretting my failure to secure a set with you at the assembly recently past, and, well, I should be glad of the opportunity to correct that mistake now, if you would be so generous as to allow it.” He could only hope the sincerity of this faltering speech would make up for its lack of eloquence.

“There!” cried Sir William. “You cannot be so cruel as to deny such a request, Miss Eliza, nor deny me the happiness of seeing you dance together.”

She regarded them both with some bemusement, but said only, “Indeed, I cannot.”

Darcy offered her his arm and escorted her to the end of the line, where they finished out the final few measures of the first dance and embarked upon the next. It was a lively jig, which did not allow for much in the way of conversation, a circumstance which suited him excellently. To watch her light figure move through the dance, to clasp her hand within his own as the figures demanded it, was too great a pleasure to admit the addition of discourse.

At the end of the dance, once they had moved away from the bustle of another line forming, he bowed and thanked her for granting his request. “It was very kind of you, particularly after my idiotic declaration the other night,” he added contritely. “I beg you will forgive me, and allow me to demonstrate henceforth that I am not such a boor as I then appeared.”

She beheld him with something like wonder. “Consider it forgot, sir. I am certain I have also said things I regretted on occasion. I hope you enjoyed your time with my father yesterday?”

“Indeed I did. A most learned man, your father—we had a stimulating discussion on the works of Fielding, in all their deeply flawed glory. He has invited me to call upon him again, and I shall not tarry long before doing so.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she said. “You may have noticed that my father has no male companionship within his home, and as he does not venture from it as often as other gentlemen may, he might go many days together without a single conversation that does not involve silk, or lace, or such tittle-tattle as arises in a country neighbourhood. I expect he shall be delighted to receive you whenever you may come.”

“I sympathise with your father to a certain extent, for when I am at home in Derbyshire, it is most often only myself and my sister in residence. Had I more patience for London, I should stay there more often simply for the access to my club and friends like Bingley.”

“There is no stimulating conversation to be had with the other gentlemen near your estate?”

“Pemberley is surrounded by much smaller estates. We speak with some regularity on matters of local interest, such as shared boundaries and the maintenance of the poor, but beyond that we have little in common.” His neighbours were good men, by and large, but most of those who had gone to university had not opened a book since, and few could afford even an occasional jaunt to London to experience the theatre, the museums, and other such cultured pastimes.

A young lady—thankfully not Miss Lydia, for once—shrieked with laughter nearby, and he could not entirely suppress a flinch. Miss Elizabeth stepped a little closer so that she might be heard by him and none other. “Is it too noisy in here for you, sir?” she asked sympathetically.

With real gratitude for her consideration, he replied, “More so than I would prefer, but not so much I cannot bear it. The addition of a few more people or another instrument to accompany the pianoforte might see me fleeing to a corner,” he admitted.

“Now that I know your limits, I shall take care not to trouble you when it is much louder than this,” she said with a smile.

“I wish you would seek me out then, in truth. One of the few things which can distract me from a clamour is the company of one or two people of good conversation, so long as the din is not so great that we must shout at each other.”

“In that case, I reverse my previous statement, and thank you for the compliment.”

Mr Denny approached then and blushingly asked Miss Elizabeth to dance. She accepted, far more readily than she had accepted him, he noted with a pang, well though he understood her hesitation. With a brief farewell to Darcy, she allowed the young officer to bear her away. He retreated farther into the room, casting about for his cousin and Bingley. The latter was handing a cup of punch to a smiling Miss Bennet, while Fitzwilliam was part of a lively-looking conversation with Colonel Forster, Captain Carter, Miss Lucas, and several young ladies of the area whose names Darcy did not immediately recall.

Just as he made to join them, he was arrested by a grasp upon his arm. Far too close to his ear, Miss Bingley purred, “How insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner, in such society. I was never more annoyed! I saw that Sir William pressed you into dancing with Miss Eliza Bennet; how entirely dreadful for you.”

“Your conjecture is entirely wrong, I assure you. Rather, Sir William and I pressed Miss Elizabeth into dancing with me.”

“I cannot believe it!” she exclaimed.

“Whether you do or do not, it remains true,” he replied indifferently. “If you will excuse me, I wish to join my cousin.”

“I was just moving that way myself,” she replied brightly, her grip on his arm tightening. “Shall we?”

With an inward sigh, he capitulated and escorted her to the group. His cousin greeted him with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smirk. They were speaking of the advent of Colonel Forster’s regiment of militia, and what activities his officers could expect to partake in, such as the quarterly assembly and the local holiday traditions.

“How wonderful,” Miss Bingley murmured for his ears alone. “A great rabble of soldiers to add to the sophistication of the area.”

“The officers he has brought with him tonight seem gentlemanly enough,” he replied, before pointedly returning his attention to the larger conversation. She did not grasp, or else chose to ignore, the hint. For the next several minutes, she continued to attempt to draw him into private conversation, but he would not gratify her. When Miss Lucas began to cough softly, he saw his chance of escape.

“Please, Miss Lucas, allow me to fetch you a glass of sherry,” he said. The lady nodded with a grateful expression, and he was able to extricate himself from Miss Bingley’s grasp that he might hurry to the sideboard. His prize secured, he returned, insinuating himself between Miss Lucas and one of the Miss Longs rather than returning to his former position where his friend’s sister waited.

“Thank you, sir,” Miss Lucas said as she accepted the glass. As she raised it to her mouth, there was a hint of mischief in her smile which gave him pause. He hoped it meant only that she understood his approach to her opposite side, and not that she intended to use his temporary freedom from Miss Bingley’s clutches to put herself forward for his notice.

Such fear swiftly proved unfounded; the lady paid no less attention to the talk, and no more to him, than she had previously. When Mr Denny returned, with Miss Elizabeth on his arm, Miss Lucas made space for her friend between them as the officer left her to attend his colonel, further separating him from Miss Bingley, who was beginning to look quite put out. He put the lady and her machinations from his mind as Fitzwilliam launched into another amusing tale of his purported exploits on the Continent, which was even more entertaining with Miss Elizabeth’s burbling laugh soothing his ears.

For all their protestations of wishing to know the eldest two Bennet sisters, as the autumn advanced, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst hardly had a word to say to Elizabeth when they met with her over dinner or cards, or during calls between the ladies in Longbourn’s parlour or Netherfield’s.