Page 15 of Attempted Compromises
She felt a surge of hope for Jane.If the man’s fortune is as grand as they say, then this could be quite an evening.
Mrs. Bennet, always one to seize an opportunity, lost no time in hinting that her daughters were accomplished dancers, and to Elizabeth’s delight, Jane was soon led onto the dance floor with Mr. Bingley. His easy conversation and Jane’s shy replies blended into the lively music.
Elizabeth began to turn back to Charlotte, but the sight of Mrs. Bennet making her way toward Mr. Darcy stopped her short. Her mother’s face was alight with purpose, and Elizabeth felt a faint sense of dread. Mrs. Bennet wasted no time in hinting—far too eagerly—that Mr. Darcy might consider a dance with one of her daughters.
Darcy’s response was unmistakably chilly. He inclined his head as he spoke, and though his words were too quiet to carry, the look of dismissal on his face was evident.
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, her irritation growing as she observed his condescending demeanor throughout the duration of the set. As soon as it finished and Bingley had escorted Jane to Mrs. Bennet, he made his way to his friend. The look on Darcy’s face soured even further, and Elizabeth strained to catch their words.
“Come now, Darcy,” Bingley said with a grin. “It’s a pleasant assembly. Surely you might wish to enjoy yourself and dance with a few of these young ladies?”
Darcy’s expression remained impassive. “Bingley, you know that I am not in the habit of dancing with women of no consequence,” he replied, his tone clipped.
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened as her irritation grew. She turned away when she saw Bingley point in her direction. Darcy’s response was easily heard above the noise. “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me into remarriage.”
A rush of heat flooded Elizabeth’s face, her breath catching at his unexpected rudeness. She looked away, her stomach twisting at the casual, cutting dismissal of her worth.
Of course,she thought bitterly.Of course he would find the assembly and its guests beneath him. How foolish I was to imagine any other reason for his coldness.
She tried to calm herself, turning away from the crowd before anyone saw her distress. Darcy’s expression and tone were clear—he had no interest in polite sociality, least of all with her, and he had left little to misinterpretation. His words stung sharply, but she reminded herself that this was a man who had lost his wife and was raising a child alone. He had every right to be indifferent, even cruel, to protect himself and his son.
Perhaps his late wife had been a great beauty with a good deal of accomplishment,she mused, feeling her earlier curiosity settle into a vague sadness.Perhaps no one can measure up to her memory. He must have loved her very much.
The man, it seemed, had chosen a life of cold solitude rather than face those memories, and she was just another passerby in a room full of strangers.
“Lizzy, are you all right?” Charlotte’s voice brought her back to the present, and she nodded, managing a small smile.
“Oh, yes. I… I think I’ll just step outside for a moment. A bit of fresh air would be nice.”
Charlotte looked concerned but nodded, and Elizabeth slipped through the crowd, heading for the doors that led outside. Slipping onto the terrace where the chill air stung her cheeks and gave her a brief reprieve from the noise and the hurt. There, beneath the stars, a rebellious tear slipped down her cheek, the hurt mingling with disappointment for the man she’d briefly imagined him to be.
She brushed away her tears, squaring her shoulders. She would not let one man’s opinion—a man who was likely miserable—ruin her evening. Though Darcy’s words echoed in her mind, she pushed them away, reminding herself that his disdain had little to do with her, and everything to do with the grief he must carry.
It took several moments for her to compose herself. She smoothed her gown and patted her errant curls into place. When she returned to the assembly, she would hold her head high, determined not to let anything dampen her spirits. She would dance, laugh, and enjoy herself—she would not let Darcy ruin her evening.
Moving inside with a light step, she joined her family and friends, her spirits lifted once more as she pushed aside hermomentary hurt. Darcy might be a man of fortune and status, but his opinion mattered little compared to the genuine warmth and enjoyment she felt among her loved ones.
∞∞∞
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Darcy groaned internally.
What on earth possessed you to say that, you fool?
He’d intended only to avoid yet another dance by deflecting Bingley’s enthusiasm, but the curt, dismissive words had slipped out, and they had been far louder than he had intended.
Trying to ease his discomfort, he cast a subtle glance in the girl’s direction. Elizabeth Bennet—if Bingley’s memory for names can be trusted—was moving away, her expression guarded. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d caught his careless remark. The thought gnawed at him. She’d been so animated just moments before, her lively eyes and easy smile brightening the room. She reminded him, oddly enough, of Georgiana—spirited, kind, and quietly resilient. And here he was, perhaps the reason for her leaving the hall with such urgency.
His stomach twisted as he watched her slip out through a side door, her expression unreadable. She must have heard.
A pang of shame coursed through him. Miss Elizabeth Bennet—she’d only stood there politely, no doubt willing to danceif asked, and he’d cast her off as though she were nothing. Now, she was likely outside in tears, her evening ruined by his carelessness.
He drew a deep breath. The crowded room around him was suddenly more stifling. Miss Bingley’s perfume hung thick in the air, and the noise of the crowd beat a cadence in his brain.
What a fool you are,he thought again, suppressing the urge to excuse himself from the assembly entirely.
Had he wounded her so deeply that she was outside now, sobbing in solitude? The thought made his heart sink. He could picture Georgiana’s delicate frame in Elizabeth’s place, eyes cast down in hurt and confusion. The image unsettled him even further.
Beyond his guilt lay another worry, albeit a bit less significant . What if she chose to share his words? If Miss Elizabeth spread the story of his slight to her friends and family, he and Bingley would be pariahs before the week was out. He could already hear the voices of those around him, murmuring about his wealth and widowhood—soon enough, they’d add his rudeness to the litany of gossip. “What an severe brother. What a terrible father.”
