Page 4 of Fitzwilliam Darcy Undone
A world-weary look crossed over Richard’s face. “With Wickham, they almost always are.”
With a slight bow, Richard swiveled and followed Bingley across the assembly hall, leaving Darcy with his tumultuous thoughts.
~~oo0oo~~
Brooding. That was the only word to describe Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. Elizabeth snatched quick glances at the tall man who had decided to prop up the wall and peruse the crowd through hooded eyes. She couldn’t be positive but she felt his gaze upon her. With a slight shrug, she passed off this feeling with determined resolve. Most likely he watched to find fault. She knew very well that she wasn’t handsome enough to tempt him.
She dared look at him again. Why did such an odious man have to be so incredibly handsome? If he hadn’t insulted her, she’d have spent the evening wondering if he’d ask her to dance. It would have been a delightful pastime, what with most young men away to war. Lately, the lists of agreeable partners were slim to none.
Charlotte broke into her musings. “Where are you, Lizzy?”
“What did you say?” She turned her attention to her closest friend and confidant – next to Jane, of course.
“You’ve got that far-away look in your eyes again. I’ve caught you a few times tonight. Would it have anything to do with tall, dark and handsome in the corner?”
Lizzy couldn’t help herself, heat rushed up her neck. She took a sip of her warm lemonade. “No, it would not. I am compiling my reading list.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “You’re not a good liar. He hasn’t been able to look away from you, either. You have an admirer.”
“He wouldn’t be interested in me, I’m only tolerable. Remember?”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “I believe he’s reassessed his first impression. He looks at you like he hasn’t eaten in years and you’re his next meal.”
“I believe you are in need of spectacles.”
“Mark my words. He’ll dance with you before the night is through.”
During their conversation, Miss Bingley and her sister had approached Mr. Darcy who conversed with them, ignoring all others around them. Irrationally, Lizzy felt anger bubble up at the proprietary attitude Miss Bingley adopted toward Mr. Darcy. Given the little touches with her fan and the way she leaned into him it was obvious she wished to be alone with him. To talk with him exclusively and do... other things with him. Elizabeth’s fingers curled into fists and she relished the idea of tearing that ridiculous turban off Miss Bingley’s head.
At that very moment, Mr. Darcy looked directly at her. The banked heat in his eyes left her in no doubt of his desire before a cool mask of civility slid into place. Disconcerted by his unswerving gaze, she blinked.
He knows. How could he know?
Heat suffused her body; her breath became trapped in her throat escaping in small gasps and gulps. He’d claimed her and she’d known it. That one molten look spoke ownership. Heart racing, Lizzy turned and rushed to the ladies retiring room. She had to get these foolish thoughts under control. Upon entering the room, she approached one of the basins with scented rose water and splashed some on her heated cheeks. Bracing a hand on either side of the bowl, she leaned her weight on the table, letting her head hang. She raised her head and stared into the mirror.
“Take a hold of yourself, Elizabeth Rose Bennet. You’ve let Charlotte’s silly ideas take root and you’re behaving in a manner like Lydia in the presence of an officer.” She reprimanded reflection. “He’s just a man.” Groaning, she closed her eyes. Oh, but not just any man.
The door opened and Charlotte entered the room.
“Lizzy? Are you well?”
Her eyes flew open and she quickly dipped her fingers into the bowl of water before lightly dabbing her cheeks.
“The heat of room became a bit much. I came to cool down and freshen up.”
“You rushed off so quickly, I thought you may have taken ill.”
“Dear Charlotte, you are such a considerate friend.” Lizzy smiled and smoothed down the front of her skirt. “Shall we return to the dance? You’ve distracted me long enough.”
“I distracted you? That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” Charlotte quipped and followed Lizzy whose attention immediately cut to the far side of the hall.
Mr. Darcy no longer stood there and a cursory glance about the room showed him trapped in a conversation with Sir William Lucas. As for the rest of the Netherfield party, Mr. Bingley was standing up with Jane for the second time and his sisters pouted along the edges of the dance floor. No one seemed inclined to ask the haughty ladies to dance, not even the gregarious Colonel who was paired up with Mary of all people.
With Mr. Darcy on the far side of the room, she used the time to assess him and his cousin. Taciturn and silent were the chief qualities of the man from Derbyshire, and his cousin seemed to exude a confidence that remained a mystery. Pleasant looking enough, she didn’t fully understand why so many ladies practically swooned whenever they looked upon him. It had to be the uniform. Even Mary’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure.
She shook her head mentally. There she went again. Seeing or not seeing things others didn’t. She had to admit though, the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam did set her body at ease. Even though his grip had been quite familiar when he stopped her from falling headlong into the crowd, she’d felt a sense of safety. It was both unnerving and unexpected.
On the other hand, Mr. Darcy shook her temperament to the core. With only a look, she’d been reduced to a puddle of nerves. She hadn’t felt someone’s thoughts like that in years, and even then, never this focused or precise. At this rate, she’d be in a stiff competition with Lydia for being the silliest girl in all of England. He hadn’t even laid a hand on her, yet she’d know his touch even in the dark. And that scared her to the very marrow of her bones.
