Page 15 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“The philosopher and Roman emperor?” she asked in bewilderment. Her sister was fond of Fordyce’s sermons, and she was surprised to learn that Mary was reading something else.
“For it is one of the acts of life, this act by which we die. It is sufficient then in this act to also do well what we have in hand.”
“True, and so should we when no partners are to be had. We shall be satisfied with entertaining ourselves. Would you rather admire the splendid dancing, or do you relish some conversation?”
“I would prefer to read,” was Mary’s pithy reply.
Quite contrary to the philosopher she has just quoted, Elizabeth thought. It was not possible to always be content with what one had, and she surveyed the assembled guests for an obtainable dance partner. Curious, she stared at Mr Bingley’s good-looking and pleasant countenance. He was dancing with Jane, who was glowing under his marked attention. He must have made himself agreeable indeed to produce the delighted blushes that suffused her sister’s cheeks.
The set ended, and Mr Bingley was immediately accosted by Sir William. By his response to the master of ceremonies, who was prone to think too highly of his own importance, she deemed him gentlemanlike. Which was more than she could say about his sisters. With an air of superiority, they raised their noses against the motley assembly but for Jane, whom they whisked away to the refreshment table. The portly husband of the eldest sister was attached to the arm of his wife, but by the glances he sent towards the card room, Elizabeth surmised he wished to be elsewhere.
Sir William should not have interrupted Mr Bingley, or he, instead of his sisters, would certainly have escorted Jane to the punch.
Elizabeth turned to Mary to observe Mr Darcy clandestinely in the periphery of her vision. He kept his head fixed on the floor until he passed Sir William and Mr Bingley and had no choice but to be introduced to Mrs Bennet, Jane, Kitty, and Lydia. He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and departed to resume his strutting round the room. Elizabeth gasped when he turned unexpectedly towards her.
A sudden onslaught of nerves made her acutely embarrassed. “May I borrow your book, Mary?”
“Why? You will not be able to read it.”
“Nevertheless, I would like to see it.”
Mr Darcy was coming in their direction, and she needed something to hide behind until her faculties returned.
Mary complied with a huff, and Elizabeth opened the book to peer over the rim. It was possible to read when you held it this close.Mary needs spectacles, she mused whilst Mr Darcy halted uncomfortably near to where she was seated. Fortunately, he turned towards the dancers. Mr Bingley was speaking to Mrs Bennet whilst staring moon-eyed across the room at Jane.
Mr Darcy shifted his stance, and Elizabeth ducked behind the book. Her gaze fell on a random sentence that emboldened her.Rememberhow long thou hast been putting off these things, and how often thou hast received the opportunity from the gods, and yet dost not use it. Thou must now at last perceive of what universe thou art a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy existence is an efflux, and that a limit of time is fixed for thee, which if thou dost not use for clearing away the clouds from thy mind, it will go, and thou wilt go, and it will never return.
Elizabeth closed the book and handed it back to Mary. Should she dare approach Mr Darcy or continue in the vein she had thus far—admiring from a safe distance what she craved the most. Bravely, she made to rise, when an exuberant Mr Bingley joined his friend, and her courage left her.If only he had brought Jane to introduce us properly,she lamented when their family was mentioned. She strained to hear but took pains to hide her eavesdropping from the gentlemen.
“I must have you dance,” Mr Bingley encouraged his friend.
Mr Darcy thoroughly rejected the idea and even told an untruth—that he detested the exercise unless he was particularly acquainted with his partner. He was acquainted withher; they had danced and spoken at length at the masquerade. He must know her face by now. Like his name and fortune had been bandied about the room, so had the reputed beauty of the Bennet sisters—usually referring to the two eldest in particular.
It was at that moment that Mr Bingley turned Mr Darcy’s attention towards her, suggesting her as a particularly desirable partner, and she held her breath in anticipation. He had been made aware of her presence. She almost giggled but quashed the impulse lest that lead him to believe she was not a fully grown woman.
Mr Darcy’s gaze lingered upon her. She kept her chin high and her eyes on the dancers performing before her.He will soon recognise me and certainly request at least one set.
Elizabeth imagined the different approaches he could make. Like exclaiming his regrets for not immediately recognising the beautiful lady and offering to save her from her tedious position against the wall as he had once saved her from the enraged, trampling horse. Her mind wandered back to that glorious day in Lambton.
She was so occupied by her thoughts that she almost missed Mr Darcy’s reply to his friend’s insistence he should dance. Shame enveloped her like the deluge of a waterfall. In the next instant, rage replaced her embarrassment. Mr Darcy spouted nonsense—a palpable gross absurdity.
Tolerable, indeed!
Elizabeth’s heart constricted most painfully in her chest.How can he be so cruel? Or have I been wretchedly blind? I who pride myself upon my discernment. Elizabeth looked frequently in the mirror, and not once had she believed herself to be so unpalatably ugly as to be rejected upon the merits of her face. The thought had never entered her mind, but Mr Darcy’s slights were by no means at an end; he still had to disparage her further.
“I am in no humour, at the moment, to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men. You…”
Elizabeth thought her humiliation was complete but was at that very moment proved utterly mistaken.
“Are you blind?” Mrs Bennet interrupted, startling the gentlemen. She had sidled up unnoticed and glared aghast at Mr Darcy. “You must be very short-sighted if not.”
“My eyesight is perfectly adequate,” Mr Darcy bristled.
“Heaven forfend! Imagine the audacity!” Mrs Bennet cried. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt after you have been prancing around the room all evening as the perfect peacock, but as your sight is not impaired you must allow me to enquire. Who are you to think yourself so high above the good people of Meryton? You may fancy yourself so very important, but let me tell you, you are nobody of consequence in this neighbourhood!”
Mr Darcy scowled at Mrs Bennet, who was not cowed. Beside her, Mary rose and hastened to her mother’s side. Elizabeth shrank in her seat. Nothing good could come of Mary’s preaching.
“Pride,” observed Mary, who ironically prided herself on the solidity of her own reflections, “is a quite common failing, I believe. Human nature is particularly prone to cherish the feeling of complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary.”
