Page 18 of Elizabeth and Caroline
She met his gaze.
He was smiling. He was rather devastatingly handsome when he smiled.
She smiled back, like an idiot.
And then the dance began. They danced for several moments, silent moments where she could not find anything to say at all. Her head was entirely empty. Her gaze kept clashing with his, and it affected her badly, so she looked away.
“Well, we are not doing a very good job at conversation, are we?” he said, amused. “It is likely my fault. I tend to follow the lead of others too often, I think.”
“Erm, there is nothing to conversation, sir,” she said, trying to recover herself. “We may simply make remarks about the dance or the size of the room or the number of couples. Just take turns in that way.”
“Well, whatever it is that I ought to have said, you must assume I have said it and said it in the proper way,” he said.
The dance moves meant that they switched sides now. She had a moment wherein she wasn’t facing him, a moment of respite. But no, now, they were looking at each other again.
He spoke again. “I had not realized that was the way of conversation, that one must talk by rule.”
“Well, no, it is not all conversation,” she said. “Only ones in which—” She grimaced, pressing her lips together. What was wrong with her?
“Only awkward ones?” He raised his eyebrows.
She shook her head. “I am ever so sorry, sir. I am out of sorts, and it is truly unlike me.”
“You aren’t used to being admired,” he said in a low and dark voice.
Her lips parted.
“Your sister says,” he said. “She says you are often admired, but that you never notice, that you are too busy watching others to see others watching you.”
Elizabeth was stunned by that, for it was not something that Jane had ever said to her. “Is that what she says?”
He only smiled.
And then it was quiet again, as if she had been struck dumb, and they danced in silence for some time, though she urged herself to think of something to say. They would be dancing for an hour with two dances, after all. She must recover, must find some way to get the information she needed from him.
Finally, she said, “Well, you may have been speaking of me, sir, but I have not the advantage of knowing all about you. All I know is that you are a friend of Mr. Bingley’s and that you have an estate in Derbyshire. Also, that you are related to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“You know my aunt?”
“Not personally, no. I have heard of the connection. No one, you see, has told me if you are used to being admired.”
He laughed again. “Ah, well. There is that sharp tongue I was warned of, I see.” He executed a dance move, thoughtful. “How to answer.”
“Oh, I did not mean that as something you must respond to, sir,” she said, but she supposed she was lying. She wanted to see how he would respond. Was he as arrogant as everyone was making him out to be?
“I think I am admired,” he said. “Always for the wrong things, however. Superficial things, mainly, things that I have no control over.”
“A man like you must control many things,” she said.
“Less than you’d think,” said Mr. Darcy. “I have a role to play, that’s the truth. Expectations to fulfill.”
She eyed him. “And do you? Fulfill expectations?”
“I do my very best,” he said. “I take care of things that are my responsibility, Miss Bennet.” He looked at her in a strange way, and she got the sensation he wanted her to be his responsibility.
She was startled by that, truly. He did not know her. But she supposed it was the way of things with men, maybe with women, too. A person saw another person, saw someone they liked, and then they went to get to know that other person, but they already liked them, so they didn’t need to be convinced to like them. Indeed, they were really looking for things they couldn’t like.
If she wanted to get rid of him, that must be what she did. Make it so he couldn’t like her.
