Page 7 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
That caused great concern. While various explanations were suggested, I turned to watch him, my curiosity piqued.
No marriage gold. While not unheard of, that was very unusual, something I would associate with a social reformer or vagabond, like a poet or politician. But there was no mistaking the stance and dress of Mr. Darcy. He was a gentleman—one who had spent the evening towering behind his friend and projecting forbidding disapproval. Or was it contempt? It seemed worse than boredom. I cocked my head, trying to guess more exactly.
Mr. Darcy turned, and our gazes met. He had dark eyes to match his hair. I looked down, feeling a blush rise for being caught staring so boldly.
Mr. Bingley was introduced to my family. His eyes returned twice to Jane while he traversed our row of sisters. When he danced with Jane next, and then a second time, mother declared him a true gentleman.
As gentlemen of any sort were scarce, I had sat down for those two dances. That placed me close enough to hear Mr. Bingley when he finished his dances and spoke with Mr. Darcy.
“You mustdance, Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said.
“I detest meeting people.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was baritone and haughty. “I cannot suffer the endless banalities on weather and fashion.”
Mr. Bingley was not at all put off. He said cheerfully, “Your sister would encourage you to dance.”
“Georgiana is not here to persuade me.”
“Why not? She was most mysterious about her other commitment.”
“My sister is repairing the damage inflicted by our military foolishness.”
I perked up my ears at that. The war with Napoleon was raging in Spain, but it rarely affected us. How could a sister be involved with the military?
“Then it ismyresponsibility to persuade you,” Mr. Bingley announced. “I have made the most wonderful acquaintance in Miss Jane Bennet. She is a beautiful and charming woman. And look”—Mr. Bingley lowered his voice, which made me listen more closely—“one of her sisters is sitting behind you. She is very pretty, and quite alone. I believe she is a kindred spirit! Let me ask Miss Bennet to introduce you.”
I was watching the dance while listening, but I could tell Mr. Darcy hadturned to see me. The silence stretched. I became awkwardly conscious of my isolated status among the empty chairs, and my comfortably slumped pose. Then Mr. Darcy’s voice pronounced, “She is tolerable, but not enough to tempt me. Return to your new friend and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting your time with me.”
It was impossible not to feel hurt. Fuming and flushed, I stayed in my seat, not wanting to reveal I had overheard. But his entitled presumption gradually seemed ridiculous, and when I finally rose to visit Jane, I was relieved to discover my bruised vanity had healed into vast amusement.
Jane, glowing with a slight smile that only a sister would recognize as delight, described her dances with Mr. Bingley.
“He is just what a young man ought to be,” she concluded, “sensible, good-humored, and lively!”
I studied Mr. Bingley as he spoke with one of his sisters. “He is also handsome, which a man ought to be if he possibly can.”
“I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time.”
“I have thoroughly exceeded you. Let me tell you my own great compliment.” I recounted Mr. Darcy declaring me tolerable but untempting, which became such a spirited recital that my good friend Charlotte Lucas came to ask what was amusing, and there was a second and even more animated retelling.
“That was most unpleasant,” Charlotte said. “Everyone has agreed that Mr. Darcy is a horrid man. And poor Lizzy, to hear yourself called only tolerable. I should have been—”
Charlotte stopped, her eyes widening, and Jane blushed prettily. Biting my lip, I turned to see Mr. Bingley approaching with an eager smile, followed by most of his party, displaying various degrees of enthusiasm.
“Miss Bennet,” he said to Jane, “may I present you to my sisters?” We met his elder sister, Mrs. Hurst, whose husband was absent in search of wine, and the younger Miss Bingley, who had hair as yellow as Jane’s.
I curtsied through this with wicked anticipation because Mr. Darcy was standing with the apprehensive air of a man awaiting a dentist. I was not disappointed, for when Mr. Bingley ran out of sisters to spark conversation, he cast about for other opportunities.
“Darcy, stop lurking back there. Allow me to present my new friends!”
Mr. Darcy stepped forward, although he had retreated so far that, even with long legs, it required several paces. He met each introduction with a slight, silent bow. I found that an amusing affectation.
I had not anticipated that Mr. Bingley would then speak with Jane while his sisters engaged Charlotte, leaving me paired with Mr. Darcy.
We faced each other in silence. Mr. Darcy was very tall, rigid, and expressionless, and apparently engrossed by the wall behind me.
“Do you admire my hat, Mr. Darcy?” I asked.
After a delay, doubtless because I had no hat, he deigned to glance down. “Your party arrived before ours.” His gaze rose again. “I had no opportunity to admire your hat.”
