Page 7 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
He danced with me twice in a row.
It wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t something either.
True, to dance thrice in a row was to practically declare a couple engaged. Twice was the limit, twice meant he liked her, but twice did not mean anything, not truly.
A woman could drive herself mad trying to decipher whatever it was a man was thinking.
“I don’t think you do!” Jane cried. “I don’t think you like him at all!”
“Oh, Jane, he is agreeable and polite and easy to look upon. He laughed when I said funny things and he smiled at me quite a lot and he said a number of very flattering things! Of course I like him. I would be utterly foolish to dislike him.” Elizabeth let go of Jane’s stays. They were loose now.
“Well, I think you find fault with everyone,” said Jane. “You are too severe on Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley both.”
“Do you like Mr. Darcy?”
“Quite a lot, in fact,” said Jane. “I get a sense from him, Lizzy, a sort of undercurrent of his intense goodness.”
“Oh, Jane, you get a sense of everyone’s intense goodness,” muttered Elizabeth.
“I do not. Turn round, and I shall loosen you.”
Elizabeth turned around. “You do so. You think the best of every single person in the world.”
“Well, it’s different with Mr. Darcy.”
“Because of that voice of his,” muttered Elizabeth. “And on account of his being too handsome.”
“Can a person be too handsome?”
“Depend upon it. A person can entirely be too handsome, and Mr. Darcy is too handsome.”
“So, this is your only objection to him?”
“No,” said Elizabeth, feeling peevish, for she could see that her objections to Mr. Darcy made absolutely no sense and yet she could not help but feel unsettled by him, nonetheless.
“Well, what are your other objections?”
“He is too serious. I feel strongly he could never take a joke.”
“He was joking when he said you were only tolerable, though how you discerned that, I can hardly say, I must admit. He seemed very serious.”
“He was being sarcastic,” said Elizabeth. “I called it a joke, but I think he was angry with me. He doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, Lizzy, he doesn’t know you.”
“Well, that is why I don’t like him, you see. Becausehedoes not likeme.”
“He likes you,” said Jane. “I’m sure he does. Why, when he and I were speaking, after you left to dance with Mr. Bingley, he sought you out time and time again. He spoke to me, but looked at you, Lizzy.”
“What?” said Elizabeth.
“I’m only saying if you like Mr. Darcy better than Mr. Bingley—”
“Are you out of your mind?” said Elizabeth. “I despise him.” She turned on her sister, struggling out of her stays.
“All right, then,” said Jane, nodding.
“What?” said Elizabeth.
