Page 23 of Ashes and Understanding
But now, here she was.
Darcy felt rooted to the spot, as if the earth itself had shifted beneath him. She was staring at him, too, her dark eyes wide with something unreadable.
Time slowed.
Then, too soon, someone stepped forward, speaking her name—Elizabeth? —and she turned, allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor.
Darcy blinked, as if waking from a trance.
Elizabeth.
He watched her step into place for the set, her white gown swishing around her feet as she danced in time with the music. A single, incredulous thought struck him:she is not married.
She wore the colors of a maiden. No husband stood at her side. Perhaps the child—the child!—had not been hers.
Shock pulsed through him, followed swiftly by something else. Something he refused to name.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to the side of the room, where he could lean against a column and collect himself. His eyes, however, never left her. She danced with effortless grace, her expression alight with amusement as she exchanged words with her partner, then ended the dance with a curtsy.
It was an unfamiliar sight. He had only known her in the midst of tragedy, her face streaked with ash, her hands steady as she directed others through the chaos. And yet, even here, in this world of lighthearted chatter and polite society, she was just as captivating.
“Darcy!”
Suddenly, Bingley appeared at his elbow, causing him to lose sight of her. “Well?” Bingley grinned. “What do you think? A most delightful assembly, is it not?”
Blast!Bingley’s interruption had caused him to lose track of girl. He reluctantly turned his attention to his friend, answered in clipped words so as not to spark a coughing fit. “It is lively.”
Bingley chuckled. “Come now, you must dance. I will not allow you to brood in the corner all evening.”
Darcy stiffened, pressing his lips together to keep from coughing. “I have no intention of dancing.”
“Allow me to have my partner introduce you to her sister. She is quite pretty, you see, and I understand she’s quite the conversationalist as well.” Bingley pointed towards someone to the side of him, and Darcy’s eyes followed his friend’s gesture.
Before he could actually see the figure indicated, however, his control slipped, caused by being forced to speak. The tightnessin his chest surged into something sharper, and the fire in his lungs he had been suppressing for hours was fighting to break free. He clenched his jaw, pressing his lips together, willing the attack to subside.
It was no use.
He had mere seconds before he would embarrass himself completely. Without a word, he turned sharply and strode toward the door, forcing himself to keep his back straight even as his lungs burned.
He strode out into the hallway, barely registering Bingley’s startled call behind him.
He needed air.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth gaped at Mr. Darcy’s retreating figure, her pulse racing.Did he really justcutme?
For weeks after the fire, she had thought of him with gratitude—and perhaps even with admiration. He had been decisive and commanding, stepping in when the soldier had refused to hear her pleas for the injured woman.
And now, when she finally saw him again, he looked at her with contempt?
Had she imagined it? The way his eyes had locked with hers, the way time itself had seemed to slow? Surely, she had not been mistaken in recognizing him. He was definitely the man who hadaided her in Hyde Park, who had spoken on her behalf, who had looked at her then with such… intensity.
And yet, now he had turned away from her as if she were nothing. The look in his eyes tonight had been different.
Disdain, a voice inside her whispered.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and her heart pounded as confusion swirled within her.Did I do something to offend him in London? Perhaps he did not truly approve of my assertiveness?
