Page 27 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
“You will be asked, Charlotte!” But my encouragement embarrassed me. There were more ladies than gentlemen, and we chatted until the dance without anyone asking her.
Mr. Collins escorted me to the floor, and I wondered if I should hint that he ask Charlotte next. Then we danced, and I realized I should protect Charlotte from him at all costs. My feet were trampled upon and adjacent couples were collided with. I had to duck through the passes, for Mr. Collins was shorter even than me.
At last, Mr. Collins succeeded in knocking my pearled comb from my hair, and we had to scramble among frantic feet to catch it. I set it back in place with great care—so much care that we were too late to join the second dance. I expressed my disappointment profusely.
Rather frayed, I found Charlotte again.
“If only Mr. Wickham had come,” I sighed.
“Are you so entranced with him?” Charlotte said.
“Entranced?” I considered. “I enjoy him. But I do not think I am entranced.” Although I missed having a handsome officer to dance with, I could not summon any profound loss. That was concerning. It would be a pity to lose my moral superiority over Lydia.
“I do not like Wickham,” Charlotte said. “He asked fawning questions about my mother and grandmother’s bindings when he visited. He even admired our tunnelworm, the poor thing.” Their draca must have died soon after that.
“Well, fawning is better than Mr. Darcy.” I folded my arms. “He was most disagreeable when I was caring for Jane.”
“You should not allow your fancy for Wickham to overcome your judgment. Mr. Darcy is ten times his consequence.” I snorted at that, and Charlotte added, “Just consider your choice.”
“It is not achoice. And the only advantage I can imagine for Mr. Darcy is that he is very tall, so he should not send my pearled comb flying.”
“Lizzy…” she said in a warning tone.
“But tall or short, I may safely promise youneverto dance with—”
“Lizzy!” hissed Charlotte desperately.
With a horrible premonition, I turned as Mr. Darcy arrived. I had to adjust my gaze upward, so I had a good view of his silver-and-pearl buttons and the black velvet edging of his jacket, then his high silk collars, before I reached his eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, unsmiling, “if you are not already engaged, would you honor me with the next dance.”
I had been too surprised to curtsy at his arrival, so I curtsied, or perhaps I nodded, and he nodded gravely and left, and it seemed the matter was settled.
Charlotte’s face was a study in suppressed mirth.
“I defy you to laugh at me,” I warned.
Jane arrived breathlessly to ask, with sisterly consternation, if I had agreed to dance with Mr. Darcy. And then Charlotte could not help herself.
At last, wiping her eyes, she finished with, “I dare say you will find him agreeable.”
“Heaven forbid!” I said. “To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate? Do not wish me such an evil.”
To my delight, a gentleman asked Charlotte for the next dance. I gave myself some of the credit because Charlotte looked so charming while mocking me.
The musicians were ready, and Mr. Darcy accompanied me to the dance floor. We joined one of three squares for an extended cotillion. There were many glances from the room. In all his time in our society, Mr. Darcy had danced only twice: once with Miss Bingley, and once with Mrs. Hurst.
I tried to riddle his invitation. For better or worse, he had conversed more with me than anyone else in the neighborhood. Perhaps that merited a single dance of my own.
The music began. He danced well, which did not surprise me. Soon the patterns proceeded by rote.
Equally unsurprising, he was also silent. But that meant I had to debate which would annoy him more, outlasting his silence, or breaking it.
“Do you enjoy the cotillion?” I said at last, as we passed.
“Yes,” he said, at the next pass, expressionless.
We passed twice more, and I began to smile. “It is your turn, Mr. Darcy. Shall I fetch a book of draca illustrations to spark your interest?”
