Page 7 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
“And when he said that I wasn’t handsome enough to tempt him!” said Elizabeth. “You’re not forgetting that, are you? It seems to me that he is simply used to people falling all over him, but I shan’t. I refuse. I willnot.”
“So, if you were to find him agreeable, that would give him just one more advantage over you?”
“Exactly,” said Elizabeth. “So, I shall make every endeavor not to do so.”
“All right,” said Charlotte with a shrug.
Elizabeth squared her shoulders.
Later, when she was close to Mr. Darcy, he seemed a little unsteady on his feet, and the smell on his breath was strong. She’d had a lot of punch, however, so she supposed she wasn’t really one to talk.
She resolved to concentrate only on dancing, not on anything else, as much because of the punch as anything else.
“Your cousin Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy. “He danced with you twice.”
“You noticed that,” she said. “Well, you’re quite observant, Mr. Darcy. Nothing gets by you.”
“He is the heir to your estate, is he not?” said Mr. Darcy.
“You know of this? I wouldn’t have thought it would rise to your interest.”
“No?” he said.
“No,” she said, glaring at him.
He tripped over his feet as he tried to execute a dance step.
She caught him.
“Apologies,” he said.
“It’s fine.” She was murderous.
They barely got themselves back into the flow of the dancing.
“Let’s not speak of that anymore, I suppose,” he said. “Although… do you like him?”
“Who?” she said.
“Nothing,” he said. “No, it’s your turn. You make some observation. Drown it all out in some trivial, polite conversation, if you please.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I am trivial and polite? In addition to not being handsome, I suppose?”
“What?” he said. “That may be your impression of your character, but what I think is far different, I must say. You seem to willfully misunderstand me, Miss Bennet, don’t you? I find every conversation with you bewilderingly difficult.”
“Oh, do you?” She scoffed. “Well, as complimentary as you are, one would be flummoxed to determine why you might.”
Mr. Darcy nearly tripped again.
She caught him.
He righted himself. “My apologies, madam. I don’t know… I have been a bit too free with the bottle, perhaps.”
They started to dance again.
“It is your turn, truly,” he said. “Say something, Miss Bennet.”
“Is this how you talk? By rule?”
