Mr. Darcy is a puzzle.
This is the fourth time I've caught him looking at me. I can't imagine why--he's so cold, but then again it could be the company I'm keeping, for Mr. Wickham is currently talking to me. Oh, what a very eager fellow, with such an endless amount of stories. And very humble, much unlike Mr. Darcy. Perhaps this supposed jealousy is the reason for that stony glare Mr. Darcy had kept trained on Wickham when they met at Meryton today, yet surely there cannot be a perfect reason.
"Miss Bennet, are you ill?"
Mr. Wickham is looking at me oddly; maybe he's noticed that I haven't been paying close attention.
"Well, I—"
"Perhaps a refreshment is in order?" He cuts me off, for he is very eager to please.
I smile. "That sounds wonderful."
As he disappears into the crowd, I see Mr. Darcy staring at me. Quite honestly, he should learn to be more polite. Hoping to avoid him, I walk out of the parlor, into the room where all my sisters are dancing. I stop at the doorframe to watch them when someone bumps into me from behind.
"Oh—"
"I'm sorry, I—"
Mr. Darcy is staring at me, standing much too close for comfort. I hurriedly take a step back, and see a faint blush tint his cheeks. He steps back as well.
"Miss Bennet, I'm so sorry – I didn't see you there."
I fix him with a look, but then I decide that I'll be polite.
"It's quite all right. Are you enjoying yourself here?"
"You know I do not find such parties entertaining, and the society here is somewhat… lacking."
I suppress a sigh. He is really much too prideful and if it wasn't for Bingley, he would be much hated, if he isn't already. Even my own mother noticed his cold disposition and immediately removed him from her list of possible bachelors.
Trying to deviate away from this specific subject, I try, "Well, I was just talking to Mr. Wickham."
"Yes, I saw. And?"
"Truthfully, I was beginning to tire of his tales of chivalry."
No, that's not right. I was quite enjoying his company, and his stories of humble beginnings. But something about Mr. Darcy always makes me lose my tongue around him. I frown slightly, trying to figure out how to back out of this mess, and I see Mr. Darcy begin to smile.
X
She frowns slightly, and her thoughts seem to be warring. Quite frankly, I thought she liked Mr. Wickham, so perhaps she lost her tongue. But she's so witty, that seems impossible.
"Mr. Darcy, do you know Mr. Wickham?"
"I know him quite well." Too well.
"Do you respect him?"
No. Of course not. Not after what he did to poor Georgiana, but I can hardly tell Miss Bennet this, and certainly not at a ball.
"Mr. Wickham has had the—"
But I am interrupted, thank God, by Bingley, with Jane Bennet close behind. His face is flushed with excitement, with a genuine smile brightening the air.
"Darcy, wouldn't you love to dance?"
"Bingley, you know quite well that I do not dance." Why does he choose to make a public spectacle of my dislikes?
Then Miss Bennet looks at me, and I suddenly know why I have such a desire to be in her company. Her face shows an eager smile, and her eyes are bright with mischief. She is, simply, beautiful.
I take a deep breath. "Miss Bennet, care to dance?"
