Page 16 of Attempted Compromises
Confound it,he thought bitterly. He half-expected her to storm back into the room and announce his insult to the entire assembly. It would serve him right, after all, to become the subject of public disdain. He braced himself, half-wishing for a chance to apologize—though how, exactly, he would approach her was another matter. The minutes passed and Miss Elizabeth remained absent. His guilt only grew sharper.
His gaze remained fixed on the door she’d gone through, half-contemplating going after her. But then, to his surprise, Miss Elizabeth returned, her head held high, a bright, almost defiant smile on her face as she moved back into the room. Darcy felt a surge of relief mixed with admiration.
She’s stronger than I expected.
Before he could fully consider his next move, Mrs. Hurst drifted over, her gaze sweeping the room with a languid disinterest before settling on Darcy with a faint, practiced sigh.
“I must say, Mr. Darcy,” she began, feigning a pained smile, “it seems our present company lacks the refinement of Town.”
Darcy inclined his head politely, his patience thinning.
Miss Bingley’s perfume curdled the air beside him before she appeared at his elbow. “Indeed, Louisa,” she said scathingly. She cast a sidelong glance at Darcy, her tone one of carefully cultivated disdain. “There’s no one here I’d wish to dance with outside of our own party.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh. He knew where this was going, and he supposed it would be easier to oblige them than to continue lingering near them, feeling their expectant gazes. Summoning what little patience he had left, he extended a hand to Mrs. Hurst. “Shall we?”
Mrs. Hurst’s mouth curved into a triumphant smile. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, dipping her head as she accepted.
As they moved through the steps, Darcy kept the conversation polite and minimal. Mrs. Hurst, thankfully, made no attemptsto probe further into his thoughts. Instead, she rambled about fashion and London, seemingly oblivious to the curtness of Darcy’s replies.
Each turn of the dance brought Miss Elizabeth back into his view. Thankfully, she had rejoined her friends and seemed cheerfully engaged despite the recent upset. The realization that he’d caused her even a moment of distress continued to gnaw at him, and he could not shake the desire to somehow make amends.
The dance with Mrs. Hurst concluded, and Darcy gave the obligatory bow before stepping back, nearly stepping into Miss Bingley. If he had been any closer, he might have knocked her to the floor. A fleeting look of disappointment crossed her face before being replaced with a simpering smile. She signed meaningfully. Darcy, resigned, extended his hand once more.
“Miss Bingley,” he said, “may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” she simpered, as if she hadn’t anticipated his request at all. “Of course I’ll dance with you!”
With his conscience still prickling, Darcy managed a curt nod, letting Miss Bingley take his arm. Her perfume overwhelmed him again as they made their way to the floor. As the steps of the dance brought them close, she leaned in, speaking with affected sweetness.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I cannot tell you how much I admire your devotion to your family,” she cooed. “To care for both your son and your sister so well… it truly takes a remarkable man.”
Darcy resisted the urge to sigh, knowing all too well where this conversation was headed. “It is simply my duty,” he replied shortly, hoping to dissuade her.
“But one must truly love children to take on such responsibility!” Miss Bingley continued, undeterred. “I absolutely adore children. Why, I feel as though I know dear Matthew myself.”
Darcy’s face hardened as he looked down at her. “His name,” he corrected coolly, “is Andrew.”
“Oh, of course—Andrew,” she amended quickly, a nervous laugh escaping her lips as she stumbled slightly in the dance. “How silly of me.”
The steps of the dance took them apart and further conversation dwindled.
Darcy’s discomfort rose with every step. The collective eyes of the assembly bore into him. Though his polite smile remained fixed, inwardly the agitation festered. Miss Bingley’s attempts to ingratiate herself with him felt more contrived with every word, and he wished fervently for the dance to end.
How can I escape?he thought, his patience thinning.
When the last twirl of the dance ended, Darcy offered her a stiff bow and walked away. Her pretense of modesty was as transparent as her motives.
She returned to her brother’s side, leaving Darcy free at last, if only for a few moments. As the final dance of the evening was announced, he made a decision. Gathering his courage, he crossed the room to where Elizabeth stood, engaged inconversation. His heartbeat quickened as he approached, the sting of his earlier words fresh in his mind. Bowing formally, he extended his hand.
As he approached, he saw her eyebrows lift slightly. He felt a pang of embarrassment, knowing he deserved her derision, but he couldn’t leave the night unfinished without an attempt at reparation.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began, then started again, his tone softened. “Would it… perhaps be tolerable for you to join me for the final dance?” He smiled his most charming smile. “If you can withstand my poor manners, that is.”
Elizabeth’s expression was unreadable, but he detected a flicker of amusement in her eyes. There was a pause as she studied him, her hesitation drawing out every ounce of his regret.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as Mr. Darcy approached, bowing with impeccable formality. For a moment, she was stunned into silence. His tall, imposing figure was difficult to ignore, but it was the earnest look in his eyes that surprised her most.
