Page 16 of Darcy's Guarded Heart
“Do you not dance as a rule?” she asked. Again, her tone was flat, giving nothing away.
“I do not know what gave you that impression.”
“You did not dance at the Meryton Assembly,” she replied, and Darcy felt his cheeks burn because he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“You are mistaken; I most certainly dance. We are dancing right now, are we not?”
“Under some duress,” she pointed out.
“I regret if you feel as though you were forced into dancing; I certainly did not feel compelled. I make it a habit not to do things that give me no pleasure,” he said, though this wasn’t true. He regularly did things he did not enjoy. Yet, he didn’t want her to think that he was unhappy dancing with her. He was, of course, but he thought it clear that she disliked him as much as he thought he disliked her at first. However, he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself for having turned her down in front of her mother.
“I see,” she said, and then silence fell once more. They moved, and he couldn’t deny that she was a skilled dancer. In fact, if they had been fond of one another, it might have been delightful to dance with her, but as it was, it was mostly awkward. After a while, she cleared her throat again.
“I believe it is your turn to speak,” she said as he looked down at her.
“My turn?”
“It is customary to converse while dancing. If we do not, there might be idle gossip,” she explained. “You could make a comment, for example, on the food or your journey.”
He was aware, of course, of the customs and what was expected of him, but he simply hadn’t been able to think of anything to say, such was his mortification.
“Mr Denny!” a delighted shout came then, rescuing him from the awkwardness. He looked up and saw Lydia Bennet dashing across the room towards the door, where a number of red coats had just entered.
“Quite exuberant, is she not?” he commented, aware it sounded condescending. “And very fond of the officers.”
“That is my sister. She is fond of everybody. She has the sort of sunny disposition that means she does not look down upon anybody, least of all men who have sworn to defend our country,” she said.
“I did not imply that I did not appreciate their service—”
“I said no such thing!” he defended himself. “I was merely going to comment on her enthusiasm. I am very fond of and grateful to our armed forces. My very own cousin is a colonel in His Majesty’s military,” he stated.
“I see,” she replied. “Well, you ought to be grateful to these men in arms. In fact, you may know some of them—there are the Derbyshire militia.”
His eyebrows shot up then, and he once again looked over his shoulder, and at once, his jaw slowly dropped.
“Perdition,” he exhaled. Indeed, standing just a few steps away from Lydia Bennet, and the officer she was evidently familiar with was none other than George Wickham.
“Do you know Mr Denny?” his partner asked, but he shook his head.
“No. I am familiar with Mr Wickham. Unfortunately. You know of him?”
“Yes,” she said, “He was a later arrival. He has availed himself to our acquaintance.”
His head snapped around, and he felt heat rising up his neck as he had moved his head too quickly. “You know him well? He’s a friend?”
Her expression changed then; a smile faded, and weariness took its place. “He is well known to my family. I would not call him a friend as such. His friend Mr Denny is a great friend of ours.”
As they turned again, Darcy moved slightly to the edge of the dance floor so he could keep a better eye on the situation. His eyes searched for Georgiana, and when he spotted her, he saw that things were coming to a head. For she too had seen Wickham and was now closing the distance between them, a bright smile on her lips.
He had to get off this dance floor, but he couldn’t simply leave Miss Bennet standing there. It would be quite improper for him to do so. Yet he also could not leave his sister alone with Wickham. She had no idea what evil he had rescued her from not two years ago.
“Mr Darcy?” Miss Bennet’s voice drifted to his ear.
“Are you unwell? You have paled.”
“Wickham is an old acquaintance of my family,” he said, “and I would much rather not have him near my sister.” The words came out like a low growl. To her credit, she did not question him but instead observed the scene. Wickham and his sister were now in conversation as though they were two old friends, reunited.
“She does not appear dismayed by his presence,” she said.
