Page 14 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
Elizabeth was speaking to her friend Charlotte Lucas when the assembly doors opened to admit Mr Bingley, his two sisters, the eldest’s husband, and an unknown entity towering behind him. The familiar shape drew her eyes whilst her heart pounded wildly in her chest. It would not do to be caught ogling him. Yet, her body went rigid at the mere sight of Mr Darcy—though he was more formally attired than at their last encounter. Mr Bingley was handsome with easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine ladies with an air of decided fashion. Mr Hurst only looked the part of a gentleman, but Mr Darcy’s Adonis-like figure soon had all the eyes in the room directed at him.
It was easily discernible that Mr Darcy did not relish the attention, or the admiring looks. Elizabeth could be nothing but relieved by that notion. He was clearly not impressed by the ladies who flocked to his delectable presence and coquettishly fluttered their lashes at him.
Soon the news of his reputed ten thousand a year was in general circulation. Elizabeth had not known he was so very wealthy, and the knowledge that his income exceeded her father’s fivefold was slightly daunting.
Mr Bingley asked Charlotte for the first set, and as they moved away to join the forming lines, Sir William approached the Bennets.
“Mr Bingley is an agreeable gentleman, and I dare say he would do very well for my Charlotte. But his friend cuts an even finer figure. Would you allow me to introduce the very estimable Mr Darcy?” Sir William asked.
Jane swirled towards her, and Elizabeth sent her an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Her eldest sister was aware of her association with Mr Darcy at the masquerade ball, but Elizabeth did not want everybody else to know because that would turn their relationship into a public spectacle.
The last thing Elizabeth wanted was for their reintroduction to be made by the kind but loquacious Sir William. He had a habit of droning on and on about his visit to St James’s, and she would not have that moment marred with insipid conversation. She was a little miffed that Mr Darcy had yet to seek her out. He must know her name, even though he did not know her face. She imagined he had enquired about her in town and had discovered her real name and the direction of her father’s estate—why else would he have come to Meryton? Perhaps he thought it wise to pretend they did not share a prior acquaintance because that would draw the attention of the tattlers and not allow them much freedom in each other’s company. Her neighbours were a curious lot and would eavesdrop at every opportunity. No, it was best to be circumspect and avoid bringing attention to their reunion. She hardly managed to finish the thought when Mr Darcy turned abruptly away from the kind Sir William and bowed to one of Mr Bingley’s sisters.
“I am afraid that you are too late, Sir William. The gentleman has already engaged Miss Bingley for the next set,” Elizabeth announced before Jane pulled her away almost as rudely as Mr Darcy had snubbed an introduction.
“I need your aid,” Jane commanded.
Elizabeth had little choice but to follow. As she was dragged out of the room, she noticed the longing glance Mr Bingley directed at her most beautiful sister. She smiled at him, and he had the decency to blush a little, which spoke well of his modesty.
Jane continued her march straight out of the assembly hall and ambled a little farther down the lane for good measure.
“Lizzy, was that your Mr Darcy?” Jane enquired breathlessly.
“He is notmyMr Darcy,” Elizabeth clarified. She had never had the courage to relate her tender feelings towards the gentleman, only that he had been a pleasant partner.
Jane huffed impatiently. “You know what I mean—the gentleman with whom you danced at the masquerade.”
“That, he is…” Elizabeth admitted with a sigh of contentment.
“Then why did you not greet him before he engaged someone else to dance?”
“Because I do not want every busybody in Meryton to gossip about us before we have had a chance to become better acquainted. I scarcely know anything about him, and he knows even less about me. If I had singled him out from the moment he entered, we would not have a moment of peace. Not to forget what machinations Mama would subject us to. No, believe me, it is better this way. I am convinced that I shall have a chance to speak to him during the course of the evening. But for now, we had best return to the ball because I have it on good authority that Mr Bingley would like to request your next set. So, it would not do to tarry much longer in this abandoned street.”
“He is everything a young man ought to be, is he not?” Jane smiled in the darkness.
“He is very amiable,” Elizabeth allowed whilst leading her sister back into the assembly room. “Pray, do not mention to anyone about my prior acquaintance with Mr Darcy. At least not until we have had the time to reconvene.”
“You have my word,” Jane promised solemnly.
The sight of him dancing with another lady, and one as beautiful and fashionable as Miss Bingley, at that, did sting a little. But he would have been abominably rude if he had not paid the respect a sister of a friend deserved. The thought comforted her, and the unpleasant notion soon passed.
The set ended, and Mr Darcy immediately engaged Mr Bingley’s married sister. He surely wanted to finish his duty sets to reserve the rest of the evening for her pleasure, as he had done at the Argyll Rooms. They had danced two sets and had spoken for more than an hour together, before, between, and after.
When half the evening had passed, Elizabeth’s concern rose by each passing minute. The Meryton ladies’ favourable impression of Mr Darcy was waning. Most had already decided that he was too proud, believed himself to be above his company, and was impossibly difficult to please. Whilst Mr Bingley had made the acquaintance of the principal people in the room, Mr Darcy stalked the outskirts of the party, wearing a most forbidding and disagreeable countenance.
Mary was hiding in the shadows of a column. By the look of her hunched posture, Elizabeth worried that she had suffered a great disappointment. She approached her sister and sat beside her.
“Pray, are you well, Mary?”
“I am quite well, though I wish Sir William had ordered more candles. It is impossible to read in this poor lighting.”
“I dare say that would have defeated your purpose because then it would have been even foggier from the tallow.”
Mary sighed and shut her book with a thump.
“What were you reading?” Elizabeth asked for the sake of a topic for conversation.
“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.”
