Chapter 2 - Readings and Misreadings

True to his word, Darcy called with Bingley at the earliest respectable hour the morning after Jane and Elizabeth's return home. Was it his fancy, or did her face light up at seeing him? But no, he told himself sternly, she was eager to resume their progress through Emma.

The gentlemen were shown into the drawing room, where Bingley immediately took up his post by Jane. Darcy sat down beside Elizabeth and asked her quietly if she had kept her promise to him.

She twinkled at him. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Darcy, but you do not know what it has cost me. I had to make Jane lock up the book in order to avoid peeking ahead, and I almost broke down this morning and begged for the key. Jane is so tender-hearted she would have given it to me at once, and then I would have broken my word. So you see, Mr. Darcy, that was no inconsequential promise you extracted. You could have been the ruin of my honour as a gentlewoman."

Darcy felt his cheeks warm and a tingle of excitement go through his body. Was it him, or did her words have a double meaning? He looked at her doubtfully, but her eyes met his without any trace of consciousness. No, for all the fearlessness of her intellect and her womanly form, she was an innocent, and as a gentleman, he must treat her as such. He had already misjudged her intentions once.

He responded sedately, asking if she wished to continue with the book immediately. Elizabeth was all smiles, and the two resumed where they had left off. The gentlemen passed a large part of the morning pleasantly with the Miss Bennets, staying well past the usual fifteen minutes to half an hour allotted for a call.

The next day, Darcy and Bingley were passing through the village on the way to Longbourn when they spied Elizabeth and her sisters talking with three men, one in uniform, another a clergyman, and the third with his back to them.

Immediately dismounting, the two gentlemen led their horses over to the ladies. Darcy was too busy admiring the roses in Elizabeth's cheeks to look closely at the men. He was only a few feet away when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the man dressed in civilian clothes. Wickham!

Darcy turned pale with rage, his hands involuntarily balling into fists, causing his horse to stir restively at the pressure on the reins. He calmed his horse at the same time he struggled for control of himself. What was Wickham doing here? His mind raced.

Wickham, whose face had flushed on seeing Darcy, recovered first. "Darcy. What a pleasant surprise. I did not expect to see you here," he said nervously.

"George," Darcy said through clenched teeth. "Nor I you. What brings you to Meryton?"

"I am considering a commision in the regiment on the recommendation of my friend here. This is Lieutenant Denny. Denny, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire."

Darcy gave Denny a terse nod. "You have known Mr. Wickham long?"

"No, sir, we have just formed an acquaintance in Town," said Denny respectfully, impressed by the cut of Darcy's coat and the quality of his horse.

"It seems you are quite unknown in these parts, George," said Darcy meaningfully. "How fortunate for you that I am here to apprise these good people of your reputation and vouch for your true character."

"Ah … yes, fortunate indeed. If you will excuse me, the time grows short. Denny, shall we go?" Wickham shot his friend a glance. "Ladies, Mr. Collins, I bid you adieu. It was indeed a pleasure."

Wickham hurried Denny away, glancing back once to see Darcy speaking to the luscious brunette Wickham had been eyeing, his hand on her arm. Resentment flared within him. Why did Darcy always get everything? Ah well, he was not yet fully committed. He could still make his fortune elsewhere.

The ladies remembered that they had not introduced their cousin. They did so now, and the group witnessed with amazement Mr. Collins's rapture on learning that Darcy was the nephew of his noble patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh. Darcy bore it calmly, but led Elizabeth ahead of the rest of the party at his first opportunity.

"It seems you have been acquainted with Mr. Wickham for some duration?" said Elizabeth, whose eyes had missed none of the tension between the men.

"He was my father's godson and the son of his steward. We grew up together at Pemberley."

"Indeed!" said Elizabeth curiously. "And - have you maintained a close relationship?"

Darcy turned and scrutinised Elizabeth, wondering how much to tell her. For years, he had adopted a policy of saying nothing, leaving Wickham to his own devices whatever they might be, so long as it did not involve him or his family. But somehow he was not content to let the man run amok in Meryton, where Elizabeth lived.

Finally, he said, "No, we have not. Mr. Wickham and I have been estranged for many years. I cannot approve of his manner of living and I wish that if he chooses to settle here, you and your family will keep your distance from him. I cannot provide you with any particulars, as they are not fit for a young lady's ears, but suffice it to say that Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel of the worst kind."

Elizabeth's mouth was a round O. She shut it and murmured, "Of course. Thank you for the warning. I shall make sure to apprise my family and acquaintance of your information."

They chatted about books the rest of the way. Elizabeth was pleased to learn that Darcy and Bingley had intended to call on them all along. They would soon be finished Emma at this rate.


"… And it is odd, is it not, that two men who shared a childhood can barely stand to speak to each other now? I do not think we will see Mr. Wickham again."

"Mmm," said Jane, in her nightgown and brushing her hair. She was jolted out of her reverie when a pillow hit her on the side of the head, causing her to drop her brush with a clatter. "Lizzy!"

"Dearest, you are not attending to me at all," said Elizabeth from Jane's bed, where she had been lying on her belly, her chin propped contemplatively in her hands. She was now on her knees, a second pillow at the ready. "All I have had from you for the last ten minutes is 'mmm,' 'oh, yes' and 'interesting.' Has Mr. Bingley already stolen away my sister Jane?"

"I am sorry, Lizzy," said Jane contritely. "I will attend to you now. What were you saying?"

"What were you saying!" she mocked Jane. "Nothing to interest you, apparently. Perhaps we should talk of Mr. Bingley. How he looks in his fine blue coat and buff breeches. How sweet his smile when he bids you good day. How strong his hand feels holding yours … "

"Stop it, Lizzy! I am not that bad!"

"Oh no? I suppose you did not notice that you said 'Yes, Charles' when Papa called your name at supper?"

Jane blushed and Elizabeth laughed, then moaned dramatically to the pillow she was still holding, "Oh, Charles! Darling …"

Jane fired the pillow Elizabeth had thrown at her back to Elizabeth, who dodged it by bouncing off the bed. She picked up her own pillow and flung it at Jane, starting an all-out pillow fight.

In the midst of this scene, Mrs. Bennet entered the room. "Girls, girls!"

Jane immediately sat back down in front of her mirror and picked up her brush again, trying to look sedate but smiling and pink. Elizabeth, still laughing, sat back down on Jane's bed holding both pillows, which she had won in the fight.

"Yes, Mama?" she said.

"Lizzy, you sly thing. I understand from Mr. Collins that Mr. Darcy walked with you through Meryton. And that was before he sat talking to you all afternoon!"

"Mr. Darcy?" said Elizabeth in surprise. "Oh! No, Mama, you must not think – "

"I do not know how you managed it!" Mrs. Bennet continued as if Elizabeth had not said a word. "He is so handsome, so rich, so tall! Bingley is nothing to him, Jane. It will be the talk of the town! Oh! I must call on Mrs. Philips immediately on the morrow. Two daughters soon to be married!"

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed in mortification at the idea that her mother was trumpeting it about the neighbourhood that she was casting her eyes to Darcy, especially after the Bennet family had ridiculed him so energetically for daring to slight her at the Meryton assembly.

"Restrain yourself, Mama. You read far too much into it. Mr. Darcy and I are friends, only friends. It is only natural, considering Mr. Bingley's interest in Jane. He said that he is used to reading with his sister. It is very likely that he misses having a reading companion at hand, and I am a convenient surrogate."

"He does seem to enjoy your company, Lizzy," Jane ventured slyly, glad to turn the tables on Elizabeth for a few moments.

"And I his, but consider, Jane. He did call me just tolerable. Surely, Mama, that is not the language of love. We are only friends," Elizabeth smiled.

At this, Mrs. Bennet grew sober. "Aye, that is true, Lizzy, a gentleman is never interested in a woman he does not find handsome, and Mr. Darcy would have his pick of the beauties of the land. Ah! It is too bad you are not as beautiful as Jane. What wealth and jewels you might have had if only you had been better-looking."

"My looks are not quite so impoverished as all that, I trust, Mama," said Elizabeth, amused but also a little piqued that her mother should agree with her so quickly.

"Oh! You are very good in your way, Lizzy, but nothing to what Mr. Darcy requires. He is so very handsome and rich!"

"Then it is a good thing I have no interest in Mr. Darcy in that way."

"Oh! Well," said Mrs. Bennet, as if Elizabeth had not spoken. "Perhaps you could catch Mr. Darcy in a situation where he is honour-bound to marry you."

Jane and Elizabeth both gasped at this.

"Mama, let me be clear, I would never resort to such tricks and stratagems to induce an honourable gentleman to marry me against his will. How can you even think of such a thing!"

"Oh Lizzy, don't be so missish! How do you think your father and me – "

Jane and Elizabeth gasped again, and Jane clapped her hand over her ears as her sister began speaking very quickly and loudly to drown out their mother.


The next time Darcy and Bingley called, Mrs. Bennet contrived to leave them alone with Jane and Elizabeth by taking Mr. Collins and her younger daughters to call on the Lucases. Mr. Bennet, she knew, was wrapped up in a translation project and would not stir from his library.

Elizabeth, embarrassed by her mother's scheme and fearful that Darcy might suspect she had a part in it, greeted Darcy with much of her old reserve.

Darcy, for his part, was quite pleased to see Mrs. Bennet depart. He had already decided that he had serious designs on the second Miss Bennet and looked forward to the day's reading with excited anticipation. If his interpretation was correct, they were reaching the resolution quickly, and it would likely involve a declaration and possibly a proposal to the heroine. It was his turn to read, and he envisioned gazing into Elizabeth's eyes, conveying his own meaning to her as Mr. Knightley conveyed his to Emma. What would Elizabeth's reaction be?

When the moment came, Darcy was disappointed, for Elizabeth would not meet his eyes. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed determinedly on her needlework, her posture stiff and awkward. What did it mean? Was she indifferent, and did not wish to encourage him? Or was she so innocent that she was embarrassed?

As usual, after they had both finished their allotted reading, they fell to discussing story developments.

"Were you surprised that Mr. Knightley proved to be Emma's ultimate choice?" asked Darcy.

"I cannot say I knew it from the beginning. But I believe about halfway through I could sense it coming," Elizabeth said as she continued on with her needlework.

"Halfway through?" he asked. "When was that? I do not believe I had an inkling until after the Box Hill scene."

"The dance at the Crown. When he rescued Harriet and then danced with Emma, I knew he was destined to be the hero."

"You cannot infer so much from a man dancing two dances," said Darcy incredulously.

"You misunderstand the importance of a dance, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth mischievously. She laid her needlework laid aside.

"Then I wish that you would enlighten me as to its significance."

"A man's willingness to dance is an indication of his eligibility. Everybody knows that," said Elizabeth in a lofty tone.

"How can that be so?" said Darcy in protest. "A man stands in a long row with other men, follows a repetitive, predefined pattern ordered by someone else, and attempts to converse with his partner on a limited variety of subjects while constantly being subject to interruption. There is no originality or wit required for that. It does not even require any feat of physical exertion."

"Men always think some type of physical exertion is required. That is exactly what the author capitalised on, when she had Frank Churchill rescue Harriet from the gypsies. It was a superficial act of heroism, which blinded Emma to the true heroism of a man willing to endure this 'repetitive, predefined pattern' as you term it, out of esteem for his lady, and a desire to be with her."

"I accept that a man's request to dance may be seen as proof of his regard," said Darcy, smiling slightly. "But how do you explain Mr. Knightley's request to dance with Harriet as proof of his regard for Emma?"

"That is simple. The fact that he is willing to dance with a woman close to Emma, a woman in whom he would otherwise never show any interest, shows the distance which he is prepared to go for love and the depth of his commitment to Emma."

"And you comprehended all of this when you read of Mr. Knightley's dance at the Crown?" Darcy said skeptically.

"Oh! Yes."

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said pleasantly, one corner of his mouth lifting, "There is nothing easier than claiming to foretell the future in hindsight."

She laughed at that. "But I am not! Truly, I am not, sir. I did think it at the time."

He continued to shake his head at her, causing Elizabeth to laugh.

"Such doubt, sir! It does not become you. It is impolitic too, for it provokes me to retaliate and point out that your conduct at the Meryton assembly was the very antithesis of Mr. Knightley's. It sent the clear signal that you were not amenable to the persuasion of the fairer sex."

"Perhaps that is the intended effect," Darcy said with a somber look.

Elizabeth's curiosity was piqued. However, she answered in a light-hearted tone. "Ah! In that case, I congratulate you on your skill in being so repulsive. But should a lady ever happen to catch your eye, I would suggest that you had much better dance."

Darcy smiled at that. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I will take that under advisement."

Elizabeth was about to ask why Darcy would purposely intend to repel people when they were interrupted by a loud bustle at the door that indicated Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters were home.

Lydia flounced into the drawing room followed by Kitty and Mrs. Bennet. Mary entered last, looking cross.

"Lord! You are just where we left you. Have you done nothing but read, Lizzy? How dreadfully dull!"

Elizabeth ignored Lydia. "Did you have a good visit at the Lucases, Mama?"

"It was exceptionally dull!" Lydia replied. "I would much rather have gone to Aunt Philips's. We heard on the way home that all of the officers stopped in. Too bad that Wickham was so bad! He was fearful handsome. How fine he would have looked in regimentals."

Elizabeth, seeing Darcy's face register disgust, said quickly, "Where is Mr. Collins, Mama? Did he not come back with you?"

"No, he was invited to stay for supper at the Lucases. I am sure that Charlotte Lucas is setting her cap for him. Well! She is welcome to him. I am sure my daughters do not need that usurper of estates." Mrs. Bennet looked with satisfaction at Bingley and Darcy, to Elizabeth's great embarrassment.

"Mary would take him," said Lydia. "She would be glad to. But even Mr. Collins does not want Mary; she is so very plain and dull!"

"I have no wish to draw attention to myself," sniffed Mary. "A proper female comports herself with sobriety. Female decorum is never bold."

"Oh lord," said Lydia as Kitty tittered. "Mr. Darcy, are you and Mr. Bingley staying for supper?"

"We have not been invited, Miss Lydia, and it is quite late. We do not wish to impose," said Darcy formally.

"Yes, I am sure Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley must be going," said Elizabeth, eager to separate the gentlemen from her embarrassing mother and younger sisters. Jane rose, followed by Bingley. At the door, he stopped.

"Oh, I almost forgot. My sisters and I wish to invite you to a ball at Netherfield. On the 26th of November. The invitations are going out tomorrow, but I wished to give you yours in person. The officers are invited," he smiled at Lydia and Kitty. "You will come, won't you?" Bingley addressed the last to Jane.

The ladies' response was all that he could have desired and the party broke up with smiles.

On the way home, Bingley waxed excited about the prospect of the ball, and the chance to dance with many beautiful women, but especially Miss Bennet.

"So, Darcy, do you intend to dance at my ball? Or do you intend to skulk in the corners as usual?"

"Certainly I will dance, Bingley," he replied. "I understand that nothing pleases a woman better than to see a man dance."


After the completion of Emma, Darcy suggested to Elizabeth that they move on to Shakespeare. Elizabeth agreed and, after much discussion of the merits of the Bard's various plays, King Lear was settled on as a fine example of pathos and tragic humanity.

After Emma, Elizabeth found King Lear to be somewhat heavy going. She loved King Lear, but it was a sober, serious work, more appropriate for a gloomy night in the theatre than drawing room discourse. She wondered why Darcy would push for a work so devoid of comedy and romance? Perhaps his interest in spending time with her was purely intellectual?

It did not help that a prolonged bout of rainy weather kept Lydia and Kitty from walking to Meryton every day. Since, unlike Darcy and Bingley, they had no carriage at their disposal, this meant they were required to stay in. Deprived of their favourite activity of flirting with officers, they were able to do nothing useful. Instead, they were a constant nuisance, pestering for a part in Elizabeth's readings with Darcy, then doing it poorly with much interjection and disruptive commentary.

Even worse, Elizabeth suspected that Lydia had developed a partiality for Darcy, and where Lydia led, Kitty followed. They kept up a sustained teasing of the gentleman that not only humiliated and infuriated Elizabeth, but seemed to drive Darcy back behind an impenetrable wall of reserve. Quality conversation was impossible.

After a number of frustrating days trapped inside, the weather finally turned on the morning of the ball. It was ecstasy to at last be able to go outside and Elizabeth took the first opportunity.

As she jumped puddles and climbed stiles, her thoughts wandered back to Darcy. What did he think of her? He did not sigh and gaze soulfully into her eyes the way Bingley did with Jane. Instead, he met her teasing banter with sly badinage of his own, but only when they were comparatively alone. If any of her family with the possible exception of Jane was present, he became distant and formal.

Teasing out this puzzle so occupied Elizabeth's thoughts that she scarcely noticed the surrounding countryside until she realized she had headed in the direction of Netherfield. She could see the Hall in the distance. Perhaps she would run into Darcy out for a walk or a ride?

"You are being silly, Elizabeth!" she scolded aloud, then laughed at herself. How ironic that a man she had disliked only scant weeks ago was now turning her into a moony girl.

She eyed the log fence that delineated the farmer's field. On a sudden whim, she climbed the stile to the top of the fence and, glancing furtively around to ensure there was nobody to see her indulging herself in an old childish pastime, balanced herself and ran lightly across the top of the fence. What fun! Elizabeth took four more fences in the same way until she was suddenly startled by the sound of a dog barking and lost her balance. She jumped down.

"Ambrosius!" Elizabeth exclaimed as a large hound burst out of the brush and bounded up to her. "Sit!"

It was the dog she had played with during her stay at Netherfield Hall. Darcy's dog. She turned quickly to see if his owner was in the environs and felt her heart bound at the sight of him approaching her on horseback. Then she blushed as she thought of him seeing her run across fences like a child. He must think her a hoyden.

Darcy dismounted and walked his horse over to her. "Miss Bennet. Enjoying the fine weather, I see," his eyes crinkling with mirth.

She smiled roguishly back. "Yes, although I must warn you there is a strange meteorological phenomenon that occurs on fine days in Hertfordshire around this time of year."

"Indeed? And what is that?"

"The sun can play tricks with your eyes and distort reality to an extreme degree. For example, sometimes it makes people in the distance appear as if they were doing things that they were … definitely not doing."

He chuckled as he tied his horse to a post, loosely enough that the animal could graze. "Miss Bennet, I do not know what you mean. I saw nothing other than a young lady walking decorously in the lane."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she smiled appreciatively.

"And … " Darcy said as he mounted the stile, "I will not tell if you do not tell."

Elizabeth watched in delighted amazement as Darcy balanced himself on the post, then ran across the top of the fence to the next post, Ambrosius barking in encouragement. She ran down the way laughing as he successfully achieved four fences.

"Well done, Mr. Darcy," she said as he jumped down and swept his hat off in a bow. He tucked it under his arm and raked his gloved hands through his hair. "Although, I do not think you were quite as light on your feet as I."

"My boots are heavier," he said in explanation. "It makes it harder to feel the contour of the log with your feet."

"Tut, tut," she teased. "A good carpenter does not blame his tools. I think you must admit defeat."

He lifted his eyebrows in amusement. "I had not realised it was a contest or I would have tried harder."

"And, of course, Ambrosius startled me," Elizabeth continued. "Or I certainly would have exceeded five fences."

"Rematch?"

"You first."

This time Darcy did eight fences, but again Elizabeth bested him, completing nine.

"It is these Hertfordshire fences," he complained as he untied his horse. "They are not built quite right. If we had been in Derbyshire – "

Elizabeth exploded in laughter. "I would best you in Derbyshire or Timbuktu, Mr. Darcy!"

"Then I challenge you to a rematch in Derbyshire or Timbuktu, Miss Bennet."

Her heart beat faster. "If we ever happen to be in those places at the same, I would be happy to accept. Although I do not think that is likely."

Darcy hesitated in his reply and, to fill the silence, Elizabeth informed him that she was due to return to Longbourn for breakfast and began walking in that direction. He fell into step beside her.

They chatted pleasantly of various topics. Before he left her at the gate to Longbourn, he informed her that he and Bingley had an engagement to go shooting in the morning and then Bingley would be too busy with preparations for the ball to be able to make their now daily call at Longbourn. Elizabeth's disappointment was sharp as she realized how much she had come to look forward to Darcy's visits. Oh well! She would see him at the ball. She was about to bid Darcy good-bye and turn away, but he stopped her with a touch on the arm.

"One more thing, Miss Bennet," Darcy said.

"Yes?"

"May I claim your hand for the first at the Bingleys' ball?"

Her heart leapt. "I would be delighted."

He smiled at her. "Thank you. Until tonight, then."

She watched as he mounted his horse, tipped his hat to her and rode away.


The ballroom at Netherfield was a sight to send almost any young heart soaring. Fresh garlands hung round the room and candles lit even the furthest corner with a warm glow. By the time the Bennets arrived – late as usual, owing to Mrs. Bennet's disorganized fluttering and twittering – it was already a mass of excited, chattering people. Elizabeth was relieved to see Charlotte. They had much catching up to do.

From her mother's and Lydia's gossiping reports, she was not surprised to hear that her friend was engaged for the first dance and the supper dance with Mr. Collins. However, she was surprised that Charlotte should be so complacent about it.

"Not everybody can be so lucky as you, Lizzy, to attract the attention of the great Mr. Darcy," said Charlotte.

"Oh no, Charlotte, you sound just like my mother. Mr. Darcy and I are only friends. He is a good friend to Mr. Bingley. They are inseparable, it seems."

"Are you sure that is all it is? He pays you a great compliment in singling you out for a dance. We have hardly ever seen him dance. If it were Mr. Bingley, who loves to dance, it might mean nothing, but not Mr. Darcy, who is so very particular and discriminating."

"It is merely a reflection of his reserve where he does not know his partner, Charlotte. You see how he danced with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at the Meryton Assembly." She paused. Here would be a good chance to counteract her mother's humiliating rumours that the second Miss Bennet was setting her sights on Mr. Darcy. "I beg you not to read something in it that is simply not there."

"Defending Mr. Darcy? That is a change from your attitude at the Meryton Assembly," Charlotte smiled slyly. "You must be good friends now."

Before Elizabeth could respond with a smart retort, Charlotte cleared her throat meaningfully. Elizabeth looked up to see that Darcy had approached, looking tall and handsome in a beautifully fitted tailcoat, green silk waistcoat and silk breeches. The ensemble accentuated the elegance of his form and Elizabeth thought he could not have looked finer if he had stepped off a Paris fashion plate. She could not quite contain her blush of excitement at seeing him.

"Miss Lucas, you look very well tonight," he bowed very correctly. "Miss Elizabeth, I believe you have promised me a dance."

Elizabeth smiled and put her gloved hand in his outstretched one and allowed herself to be led to the line of dancers. Owing to Darcy's standing, they held the place of honour at the top of the set, right beside Jane and Bingley, and Elizabeth felt the compliment that she and Jane should open the ball with two such handsome men. Somewhere in the large room her mother must be nearly prostrate with ecstasy.

"Mr. Darcy, allow me to congratulate you on your fine dancing," said Elizabeth archly as they moved gracefully through the set. "Had I known you were so accomplished I would certainly have agreed to stand up with you before now."

"Your loss, Miss Elizabeth," he smiled. "But I am glad you finally recognize my worth."

"Well, you know, no man can be esteemed accomplished only because he has a thorough knowledge of managing an estate, of shooting, riding and hunting; a certain something in his air and manner of walking, the tone of his voice, his address and expressions. No, to all of this he must yet add something more substantial in the improvement of himself by extensive dancing."

Darcy let out a short bark of laughter at Elizabeth's twisting of Caroline Bingley's words spoken just over a week ago. His mirth drew amazed looks from their neighbours who were unused to seeing him other than taciturn.

He smiled at her and lowered his voice. "I will endeavor to satisfy your high notions of accomplishment, Miss Elizabeth. Is there anything else you would prescribe for my general improvement?"

Satisfied that she had carried her point that he should follow up their first dance with another, Elizabeth left off any further teasing. "I think you will do very well for now, Mr. Darcy."

"I am glad to hear it."

They smiled at each other. For the remainder of the dance, they chatted in desultory fashion about the size of the room, the number of couple, the dances chosen, etc. Elizabeth was satisfied just to look. He was so very handsome, towering above the crowd. Their progress drew every eye in the room, it seemed. And there was no need for conversation; did not the look in his eyes say enough? His eyes held hers throughout the dance, turned away from her with reluctance when the pattern required them to part, and sought her out again as soon as they began to come back together.

After the dance ended, they stood for a moment, her hand in his, and Elizabeth thought that now he must ask her for a second dance, surely. Then the assembled company would know that she was not chasing him, or, if she was, it arose from mutual interest. And more to the point, she would know it. Darcy turned to her and opened his lips, but before he could speak they were interrupted by Sir William Lucas, who approached with Charlotte.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir," he addressed Darcy. "Such very superior dancing is not often seen! It is evident that you belong to the first circles. I hope we will be treated to a further showing of your skill. You have deprived our assembly too long of your performance."

Darcy gave Elizabeth one last glance and a smile, then dropped her hand and turned to Sir William and Charlotte.

"Thank you, Sir William," Darcy said politely. "And if your daughter is not otherwise engaged, I would be pleased to dance the next with her, if she would favour me with her hand."

"Oh! Sir! You do us too much honour!" Sir William exclaimed, his friendly, florid face blossoming into with smiles. "Indeed, you are all condescension! My daughter will certainly be delighted to dance with you, eh, Charlotte?" Charlotte nodded her ready acceptance, blushing and smiling. "I trust she will acquit you as honourably in the eyes of our assembly as the fair Miss Elizabeth."

"What an amiable man Mr. Darcy is! Such condescension!" Sir William Lucas said to Elizabeth as they watched Darcy leading Charlotte to the set. "I recall we once thought he might be too proud for present company, but that seems to be all past, eh, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth, her eyes glued to Darcy dancing with her closest friend, knew not how she replied, but evidently it was to Sir William's satisfaction for he launched into another litany of praise for her own dancing. Perhaps feeling some need to make amends for detaching Darcy from her, he also made haste to hail a passing officer and introduce him to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth danced with a number of officers next, then Bingley. She endeavoured to be good company, but she felt that she was not her usual lively self, as some of her attention was constantly claimed by what Darcy was doing. She noticed that he was always surrounded by young ladies and eager parents. Apparently she was not the only woman who was charmed by a Mr. Darcy who was prepared to dance. At least his partners were only Miss Bingley and Elizabeth's own sisters. Except – who was the pretty brunette he was now leading to the set?

"That is Miss Russell," Bingley informed her when she managed to slip an unobtrusive inquiry into conversation. "Her father is Sir Theodore Russell, a baronet from Essex. He is a longtime acquaintance of Darcy's family."

Elizabeth wondered what fortune she had, but decided it was too bold to ask.

The ball was half over and she had yet to speak to Darcy again. She was now dancing with Lieutenant Denny while Darcy was dancing higher in the set with a young blond woman. She also saw that the blonde woman was gazing quite soulfully into his eyes and had just said something that had drawn what looked like a half-smile from him.

Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Denny and smiled brilliantly. She teased him about Lydia's stories of the officers' hijinks and he responded with great animation and regaled her with more hilarious if slightly risqué tales, which set her laughing heartily.

At the end of the dance, Denny seemed reluctant to leave her side. He said, "Miss Elizabeth, if you would like to know about Mr. Chamberlayne's further trials at your sisters' hands, I would be pleased to tell you, but only if you dance the next with me."

The next was the supper dance. Elizabeth peered surreptitiously to where she had last seen Darcy, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Thank you, Mr. Denny. I am sure I will not be able to sleep tonight if you do not satisfy my curiosity about Mr. Chamberlayne."

She asked to sit down for a few minutes before the next dance began and Denny left to fetch her a glass of lemonade and a plate of ice. She moved to find a seat when she heard a familiar voice behind her call her name.

"Mr. Darcy," she turned with a bright smile, determined to hide her hurt.

He bowed. "Miss Bennet. I see you have been exercising yourself admirably. If you are not otherwise engaged, would you dance the next with me? It is the supper dance."

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I am otherwise engaged."

His posture stiffened perceptibly. "May I ask with whom?"

"With Mr. Denny."

"With Mr. Denny? But you have just danced with him."

"He asked for a second dance, which I was pleased to grant him." Elizabeth stressed the word "he" slightly.

"May I take you in for supper afterward, then?"

"I believe that privilege usually lies with the person with whom one has danced the supper dance, Mr. Darcy." She spoke with regret. She would have much preferred to sit with Mr. Darcy, but she would not snub Mr. Denny, who had done nothing to deserve it.

"You seem to enjoy the company of Mr. Denny."

"Yes, I find him quite agreeable." At Darcy's silence, she added, "I see you have found your own share of agreeable partners, Mr. Darcy."

He ignored her second comment and said, "It seems you and your sisters are rather fond of officers, Miss Elizabeth."

"I see no reason not to be when they are gentlemanlike men. They do service for King and country and should enjoy the support of the populace."

"Oh yes. Protecting Hertfordshire from the French," Darcy said scornfully, a shade of hauteur spreading over his features.

Elizabeth felt her colour rising. She opened her lips, but bit back her retort when Denny approached her smiling, his hands full.

"Miss Elizabeth! What a crush! But I have found seats in the other room and Sanderson is holding them for us. It is in a forgotten corner so we can enjoy some privacy. Will you come?" He stopped short when he noticed Darcy standing there and said jovially, "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I need to steal away your conversational partner. She has pledged her hand to me for the supper dance, and we have only a few minutes before it starts."

"Of course." Darcy bowed coldly and left them.

Elizabeth watched him go with mixed emotions, then turned her attentions to Denny, determined not to make him suffer for her pique at Darcy. After the next dance, Denny escorted her into supper and they were seated in the middle of a sea of officers.

Elizabeth noticed that Darcy had danced the supper dance with Miss Russell and was now seated with her for supper. Her enquiries had yielded the information that Miss Russell had a fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds.

She turned a warm smile to Denny and the rest of the officers and teased them about whether they had learnt their fine dancing in each other's arms. This triggered an uproarious response, and Elizabeth found herself besieged with demands that she allow them an opportunity to demonstrate their abilities with her. She had little trouble disposing of the remainder of her dances.

It was near the end of the night when she looked up and saw Darcy gazing at her from a few feet away. She had danced with several more officers by then, and Darcy, she noticed, had stood up with Kitty, Lydia, Mrs. Hurst, Maria Lucas and, for some unaccountable reason, Lydia again. Elizabeth was beginning to regret her hastiness in disposing of all of her dances so quickly. Perhaps Chamberlayne, with whom she was engaged to dance the final set, would agree to split it with Darcy. Elizabeth was just about to give Darcy an inviting smile when it faded on her lips. Miss Russell had come up and given Darcy's arm an intimate squeeze, smiling up into his face and receiving a smile in return. Elizabeth turned away.

After the last dance, Elizabeth's head was aching and she was glad to go home. In the carriage, her mother's ecstasy at Jane's triumph in dancing four dances with Bingley and sitting with him at supper seemed unbearable. Lydia and Kitty's giddy chatter did not help either.

"Goodness, how Mr. Darcy danced, did he not, Mama!" said Lydia. "And how very fine he looked! He could not have looked handsomer if he was an officer in regimentals. Every woman's eye was on him tonight. Did you see his tight breeches? Lord, I could not stop staring!"

"Lydia!" said Jane, shocked. "Do not talk about such things."

"Why shouldn't I talk about it, if everyone is thinking it?"

"We do not care what you are thinking, Lydia, but some things are not to be mentioned in polite company. Surely even you can recognise that," said Elizabeth, more nasty than was usual for her.

Lydia was not cowed. "La! I don't know who you are to lecture me, Lizzy. I notice you took a good long look at Mr. Darcy's breeches yourself."

"Lydia!" said Jane again, seeing that Elizabeth was struck speechless.

"Fine, then. Mama, did you see that I danced twice with Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, I did. I am not surprised! You looked very well tonight, and I should not be at all surprised if Mr. Darcy should fall in love with you! It may be that he would like a good-humoured wife best. How very obliging he is, to dance with all of my daughters, and you twice! Why that was as good as Miss Russell, and of course she needed twenty-five thousand pounds to tempt him, and I heard that he had a prior acquaintance with her father."

"Yes indeed! I believe Lizzy misjudged him at the Meryton assembly. She said he was proud and disagreeable and did not like dancing, but I think it likely that he did not want to dance with her and therefore had to sit out the rest of the dances out of politeness. After all, Lizzy, he only danced with you once."

"Thank you for pointing that out, Lydia, I had not noticed," said Elizabeth coldly.

"Lizzy, I hope you see now where you err with Mr. Darcy," her mother lectured. "Reading indeed! No wonder you only had one dance with him tonight! And it is all very well to succeed with the officers, but do not forget that none of them have a penny to their name. When I was a girl, we had the sense to focus on the men of fortune first, if any were available. Work before play, you know!"

Elizabeth shut her eyes in exasperation at this advice and turned her face to the window. When they arrived at home, she was first out of the carriage, and stalked into the house.

"Goodness, what's wrong with her?" said Lydia. "I believe she is jealous of me. But I don't see how I can help it if Mr. Darcy likes me best."

"I don't know how you can say that," said Kitty. "Mr. Darcy asked me to dance as much as you. The only reason you got a second dance from him was because you pestered him and would not leave off until he agreed. And by then all of Lizzy's dances were gone."

Lydia and Kitty fell to bickering as the rest of the party entered the house.


The day after the Netherfield ball, Bingley received a note that summoned him to Town. This would be a good chance to make arrangements with his solicitor over his plans to ask for his darling Jane's hand, he thought. He also thought his sisters might like to have a quick visit to Town. In this he was correct, for the Hursts were tired of Hertfordshire, and Miss Bingley had all but given up her hopes of Darcy. Now he just had to find Darcy to see if he wished to come along.

He found Darcy in the billiards room, looking glum.

"What is wrong, Darcy? Too much wine last night? Mr. Vyse can fix you up something for that."

"No, I hardly drank. I was too busy dancing."

"Yes, I noticed that. It was a great pleasure to see you join the human race. Has this revised your earlier opinion on dancing?"

"No. It has confirmed everything I have ever thought. It was detestable standing up with all of those women, listening to their inane, vulgar chatter all evening. Once you start with one, they all come with their dreadful hints. And just when you find someone you do wish to dance with, you have to yield her to someone else. Bingley, I do not think there was any need to invite so many officers to the ball."

"I had to, Darcy, Caroline insisted that there needed to be enough men for all of the ladies. And I had not expected you to dance so enthusiastically. Besides, I did not notice that they monopolized the attention of the ladies. I was able to dance four dances with Jane. Four dances with my angel!"

"Yes, and that was a serious breach of propriety, as you well know. You gave every woman in the room without a partner license to excoriate you as ungentlemanlike. And since when did Miss Bennet give you leave to refer to her as Jane?"

"I could give you the particulars, Darcy, but then I would be breaching my honour as a gentleman, since a gentleman would never relate the details of a tender encounter." Bingley looked both smug and dreamy at once.

Bingley's preening annoyed Darcy exceedingly. Who was Bingley to lecture him on how to behave with a woman? On the other hand, at least Bingley appeared to be getting somewhere, Darcy thought sourly.

Bingley explained about his trip to London and asked Darcy if he wished to come.

"I do not think so. I have nothing pressing in Town and Georgiana is with Lady Fitzwilliam in Northamptonshire," he said, referring to his sister and his aunt, who had a family seat in that county. "Do you mind if I stay without you?"

"Not at all, especially if you do not mind if I make use of your townhouse."

"Certainly not. I will write you a note for my butler." He went over to the writing desk to compose a brief epistle. When it was dry, he handed it to Bingley.

"Thank you," Bingley said. "Sure you will not change your mind? We could take in a play, perhaps. I believe there is a Shakespeare running."

"I have seen it," said Darcy. "Besides, Miss Elizabeth and I are almost finished King Lear, and she hates to have her reading interrupted."

"Suit yourself. Deuce if I can figure out why you find that play enjoyable, however."

"King Lear?" said Darcy in surprise. "It is one of the Bard's finest. And it has a strong female character with a close relationship to her father. I thought Miss Elizabeth would be interested. What is wrong with King Lear?"

"Nothing is wrong with it. I saw it in the theatre and was so moved I spent half the week moping around thinking about treachery and death and futility. That is the problem, it is just so depressing. Nobody falls in love and everybody you like dies, do they not? That is a sure mood-killer. I would not be as serious and literary as you for a kingdom, Darcy. If I had to pick a play to read with a pretty girl, I would certainly not pick King Lear. No, I would pick something romantic. And short."