His partner was charming. Mr Darcy was delighted, if a little discomposed, by the last half hour. Never had he enjoyed a ball so much – never had he danced a second set with the same woman for the pure pleasure of it. They had talked, of much and of nothing, somehow skirting the personal while encompassing the profound.
"Sir," the lady whispered, jolting him from his reverie. "I don't know the steps." She looked somehow both pained and amused; Mr Darcy was thrilled. Never had he met someone quite so pleased by the ridiculous, quite so pleasing during the ridiculous.
"And," She continued, contemplative, "I begin to doubt you are wise." Mr Darcy, who had abandoned the notion that he was wise the very moment they had met (for a wise gentleman would not let his heart – and his hopes – soar in such a trifling acquaintance), remained silent.
"You want to know why, don't you?" She teased, "I can tell by the severe look on your face, and the tight aloofness of your bearing."
He sighed, and, feeling very brave, admitted, "I am not much accustomed to flirting- that is, to talking with handsome- with young women, new to my acquaintance. To-" He gestured around, "-dancing so much, and conversing while doing so." He was rewarded with a radiant smile. Emboldened, he added, "I have not the charms of so many of my friends. Would that I were as agreeable as my cousin."
The young lady looked almost as though she were about to say something kind, but changed her mind. Instead, gaily, "And what do you lack that your cousin has? Certainly not height, nor presence," She continued to muse out loud, "and, if I am not stupid, not money, either."
He looked as though to speak, but had not yet had time to formulate a witty retort. She continued, more gentle and encouraging now, "You have a kindness to you, if a little masked by shyness. I suspect that you are held back more by dislike for the exertion than by any lack that you claim."
"But my cousin," he countered, "is a man of the world. I am not."
"He is older than you?"
"Better travelled. He is a colonel."
She raised an eyebrow and brought a hand to her chin. They had somehow slipped out of the set, as the conversation – or was it the conversation partner? - became more demanding of their attention. "I would like to see physical evidence of this."
With her lovely eyes, and the challenging cock of her head, she intoxicated him. Of course, he did not know it. It was the rational thing to do, surely, to affirm his partner's intelligence; the bold – the flirtatious – thing to do, to comply with her mock-challenges. Almost without noticing the transition, they found themselves in the library. The ball had long ago lost all appeal for them; if, indeed, it ever held any.
The atlas provided at least a quarter of an hour's dispute; and the globe allowed the lady to showcase her penchant for the ridiculous, stretching the discussion to almost half an hour. Finally, as though waking up from a pleasant dream, Mr Darcy recalled himself.
"We should return, to the ball." He wished he were better at reading people. Was it disappointment writ in her face?
Mr Darcy, however, had no opportunity to reflect. He – or she – who could tell? – had shut the door on the way in. A thoughtless action, endearing almost: to have been so lost in the pleasant company as to have forgot oneself. And no serious problem – except that it had since jammed shut, and defied every effort to open it.
Thanks for all the kind reviews so far! Let me know what you think - what more do you want to hear about them? Are the chapters too short? Too unrealistic?!