Awakenings
Chapter 1
Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far fromsuspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; - to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.
He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were assembled.
Not long after performing a few songs at the Lucas' gathering, Elizabeth, finding herself in need of air, moved toward the door near which Sir William and Mr. Darcy stood conversing. Upon seeing her, Sir William called out, "My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? - Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. - You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.''
And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William, "Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. - I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.''
Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her hand. Elizabeth was initially determined to refuse, until she spied Mr. Archibald Coleridge being presented to Mr. Bingley. Mr. Coleridge, "Archie," as she had once known him, had been among her favourite playmates as a child. She had heard he had recently returned from his grand tour, and hoped to learn how he now fared and hear his many fascinating stories. She frowned, knowing that if she refused Mr. Darcy, she would have no opportunity to dance with Mr. Coleridge that evening.
"I thank you, sir," she said resignedly, presenting her hand to Mr. Darcy. She took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. - I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.''
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
In a most unusual of circumstances, Elizabeth found herself unable to respond. For though on first acquaintance she had allowed Mr. Darcy to be handsome, her disgust at his pride had quickly removed any such feeling. Yet now, as he smiled, she was struck by the warmth of his eyes, the charm of his dimples, and the beauty of his well-formed mouth.
"So you do not talk by rule then, while you are dancing?''
Mr. Darcy's voice startled her from her reverie, and reminded her how disagreeable a man he was. She found her wit and replied, "Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet— …"
Once more, she could not speak, for Mr. Darcy was smiling again, observing her with penetrating dark eyes and a face, she now admitted, that was the most handsome she had ever seen.
"And yet?" Mr. Darcy prompted.
Elizabeth blushed. Oh, this would not do, to be rendered dumb-struck by the smile of an unpleasant man, no matter how beautiful! "Perhaps I was wrong," she said quickly, "and talking while dancing is not required." If she ended the conversation she had been so foolish to begin, she might regain control of herself.
Mr. Darcy seemed content to be silent, yet he did not cease staring nor smiling each time they passed. With each glance of his eyes as they crossed, and each touch of his hand as they came together, her discomposure increased. She felt light-headed, short of breath, her heart rapidly beating.
She tried to will herself to turn away, to look at anyone but him, but soon found that everyone else in the room had ceased to exist. Only Mr. Darcy remained. Mr. Darcy, whose dark lashes framed eyes so rich and deep. Mr. Darcy, whose smile seemed to reach the deepest parts of herself. Mr. Darcy, whose touch sent shivers through her hand, up her arm, and to her heart. Mr. Darcy, whose look made her belly quiver with excitement.
Every part of her felt warm now. She felt a dampness between her legs that she knew did not result from the heat of the room. So different were these feelings from any she had ever experienced, she wondered for a moment whether he was a sorcerer who had placed a spell upon her. Yet if so, she was now his captive, having no desire to end the enchantment.
"I am Mr. Darcy's, to do as he will." These unspeakable words in her head felt as natural as air. How had it happened that such a notion did not shock her? She glanced at him, blushing furiously, for surely he knew her wanton thoughts! She gave him a gentle smile, yearning to assure herself that he felt as she felt.
And then, too soon, it was over. Mr. Coleridge came to request the next dance with her, but she begged off, claiming a headache and the need for air. The cool breeze outdoors did nothing to calm her. Instead, when she closed her eyes, she saw only him, and allowed herself to feel it all with a deep sigh, a moan, and a throbbing bliss.