Page 60 of Master of Himself

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “According to Mr Denny, he meant to avoid a certain gentleman.”

Now that he need not worry about Wickham confronting Charles, he relaxed. “I’m confident that the gentleman appreciates his absence.” When the master of ceremonies announced the third set, he offered his arm. “Shall we take our places, Miss Elizabeth?”

She accepted and walked beside him. “Everyone is remarking that Mr Darcy has already danced twice tonight.”

He had predicted that this crowd would notice his altered behaviour. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. I took him to task for his last performance, and he has promised not to repeat the error.”

She pressed her lips together to stifle a smile. “I shall offer my encouragement when I speak to him.”

He thought it best to change the subject. “Mr Collins’s performance was regrettable.”

She grimaced as though in pain. “Apparently, my cousin’s skills aren’t quite as advanced as he had claimed.”

“I’ll try not to disgrace myself,” he said with a teasing smirk as they took their places.

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I have every confidence in you, Mr Bingley.”

Once the music began, all conversation was at an end. He longed to share his observations about the evening with her, but had to settle for leading her through a riotous third set, while Charles danced with another Bennet sister, whose name he couldn’t recall. Still, the feel of Elizabeth’s hand in his, her smile, and her light steps matched with his gave him every pleasure.

The set ended far too soon. Although he was loathed to release her hand, he escorted her across the floor and left her with her elder sister.

He danced next with Maria Lucas, who was an accomplished dancer, but thankfully, he need not speak to her. Other than her name, he could recall nothing notable about her.

When he returned to the refreshment table, he found his next partner, Jane Bennet, for the second time that night. Tongues would surely wag at this second pairing, but he couldn’t renege on a promise. Besides, for once, all the whispers would be about Charles, not Darcy.

***

While Charles danced with Miss Elizabeth, he positioned her close to Jane so he could at least be near her and observe her while she danced with Darcy. He couldn’t like his friend dancing twice with his angel, but since it had been at his own insistence, neither could he complain. Hopefully, Jane would understand his intended message.

He was half-tempted to take her into his confidence about his dilemma, but, of course, he would never do so. Who could expect her to understand something so far removed from reality, so universally impossible? He doubted he would comprehend the sorcery himself were he not so hopelessly caught in its grasp.

“Will you come to supper whenever you are free, Mr Darcy?” Miss Elizabeth inquired as the set ended.

Although this invitation sent his spirits soaring at the prospect of dining with Jane, Darcy would undoubtedly temper his response. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in a friendly tone, hoping he would be Charles Bingley by then.

Between sets, he learned from Miss Harrington that Lydia Bennet had been forced to remain at home with a dreadful migraine. The hall had been so filled to capacity that Charles hadn’t noticed her absence, but he expressed his hopes that she would soon be restored to good health.

“Poor Lydia hates being ill almost as much as missing the monthly assembly, but a dark, quiet room will revive her.”

“I’m sorry she had to miss the evening,” he said, then fell into a brown study. He was even sorrier that the evening was nearly at an end. Only two sets remained.

He was beginning to lose all hope of ever returning to his true self. After four days of rain and innumerable attempts to recreate the precise circumstances that caused their dilemma, he was still trapped in the wrong body. The likelihood of finding a solution diminished with each passing day. If they hadn’t found one by now—

Good lord, has it been a fortnight already?

“You seem a million miles away, Mr Darcy,” the lady said.

“Forgive me for not attending, Miss Harrington,” he said, now regretting his entire existence.

The way things stood, there were a million miles between him and the real Charles Bingley.

While conversing with Colonel Forster and Mr Denny, Charles was arrested by Mr Collins’s sudden appearance.

“As you know, I am the rector at the Rosings parish, and it shall be my greatest honour to preside over your nuptials,” he said with an air of pious gravity.

Charles stared in astonishment at the man’s indiscrete announcement, within the officers’ hearing. “My nuptials? I fear you have been misinformed.”

“No, indeed, Lady Catherine has often mentioned an arrangement of longstanding, and that the announcement of your union with Miss de Bourgh will soon be forthcoming.”