Darcy rarely left the house between his encounter with Wickham and the Netherfield Ball. He did not wish to go to Meryton in case he should come across him again, nor did he want to go with Bingley and his sisters to Longbourn to invite the Bennets to the ball, for he did not know what Wickham had told Elizabeth or how much she believed his lies.
No hint of Wickham's plans had reached any of the Netherfield party. Darcy was dressed in black for the ball, but was still debating whether he would attend. He decided that if Wickham did come, he would remain upstairs, but if Wickham did not, then he would join in.
He stood in the room above the entrance and watched as guests arrived. He saw many carriages, gentlemen and ladies, but the officers he saw no sign.
Finally the red-coats arrived, laughing and joking amongst themselves. In twos and threes they entered Netherfield house and Darcy scanned each face quickly.
He did not find Wickham.
Darcy thankfully turned away from the window, but then turned back as another carriage pulled up.
Mr. Bennet stepped out of the carriage, followed by his entire family. He looked closer, searching for one face in particular.
He found Miss Elizabeth just as she looked up towards him.
Darcy averted his gaze. When he looked back, she had disappeared.
Well, maybe he would join in.
He left the room and went downstairs.
Darcy stood at the back of the room, near a group of officers. He searched the group, fearful he might have missed Wickham, but his attention was diverted when he saw Bingley enter the room, with Jane on his left and Elizabeth on his right. He watched as one of the officers approached the trio and speak to Elizabeth.
Suddenly the officer and Elizabeth looked directly at him. He knew they were talking about him, and most likely Wickham as well. Perhaps the officer was informing Elizabeth of Wickham's absence.
Darcy moved away from his position. From a safer and less obvious place he looked at Elizabeth.
She was breathtakingly lovely in her simple ivory gown. There were small flowers in her dark hair, and around her neck was a cross. Darcy wondered how he could have ever thought Elizabeth 'just tolerable'.
How long had he been calling her Elizabeth? Not Miss Bennet, not Miss Elizabeth but just Elizabeth. He said her name under his breath, reveling in how pleasant it sounded.
Elizabeth walked over to her friend, Miss Lucas. She smiled and laughed, but it soon disappeared when a man came up to her as the music for the dancing began.
Darcy recognised her cousin, the clergyman. His name escaped him, but he remembered that the man was to choose one of the Miss Bennets for his wife.
He looked as Elizabeth. She did not seem pleased to have her cousin for her dancing partner. Nor could he blame her - the man seemed to have two left feet, and often moved in the wrong direction.
Darcy kept moving around the room in order to keep Elizabeth in his sights. He tried hard not to laugh at her bumbling partner.
When the dance ended (Darcy could not help but notice she looked relieved when she and her partner separated), he thought about asking her to dance. She had declined him twice. Maybe this time she would accept him.
Not only that, it would make Miss Bingley absolutely furious.
But still his shyness prevented him from asking her. In the end, one of the officers claimed her for the next dance.
He contented himself with watching her, and with each minute that passed, he found himself even more determined to dance with her.
Darcy had his chance when Elizabeth left to speak with Miss Lucas.
For some reason, Elizabeth was quite upset about something. As he drew closer, she spun away and was so caught up in her speech to Miss Lucas, she did not see him and in the end her friend called her attention to him.
He bowed, and then he spoke.
"If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me, Miss Bennet?"
He waited patiently for his answer, hoping it would not be another refusal.
"Why . . . I . . . had not . . . " She paused, as if finding her tongue. "I thank you, yes."
He bowed and walked away, delighted but also wondering what he had let himself in for.
The music began; a familiar dance in G minor. The dancers took their places; Bingley and Jane among them. Darcy and Elizabeth stood at the end.
Darcy wondered why his neighbour was staring at them with a look of utter amazement. He ignored it, but looked into his partner's face. She did not smile.
The last phrase began; Elizabeth curtsied and Darcy bowed. Their hands reached out as they stepped towards the other.
When his hand grasped hers, Darcy felt something akin to a shock run up his arm. The feeling was quite pleasant, and whenever his hand touched hers, he felt it again.
For the first part of the dance, neither spoke. Darcy was trying to think of something to say when the lady solved his problem for him.
"I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy," said she. "A very little will suffice."
The dance commanded that he move away from her, preventing him from replying.
"You should say something about the dance, perhaps. I might remark on the number of couples," she continued when they met up again.
"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?" he asked.
"Sometimes it is best. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
They separated again.
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?" he asked when they came back together.
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. Again, they moved away and then back towards each other. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
They were silent for a while. Darcy though, wanted an answer to the question that had plagued him for days; what was Elizabeth's opinion of Wickham?
"Do you often walk into Meryton?" he began.
"Yes quite often."
That answers nothing.
She added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word. Inside, he was saddened and angered that she had made an acquaintance of his enemy.
At length Darcy, in an attempt to warn her of Wickham's true character without giving too much away, said in a constrained manner, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends - whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
His heart sank - it seemed that Wickham had told her his usual story, of Darcy depriving him of the living the late Mr. Darcy had promised him. And what was worse, she believed him.
Darcy made no answer, and was desirous of changing the subject. They had reached the point in the dance where they stood still, and in this brief moment, Sir William Lucas spoke to them.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: but let me not interrupt you, Sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."
He took Elizabeth's hand and led her away, with Sir William's exclamations of 'Capital, capital!' echoing behind them.
His body automatically moved with the music, but he chanced a glance towards Bingley and his partner.
Though he saw them for one second, the image was burned into his mind. Bingley was looking at Jane with a look of adoration . . . and love.
Darcy realised that in his preoccupation with Elizabeth, he had missed his friend's growing affection for Jane. This time it seemed that Bingley's love for the girl, before but a passing phase, had become more serious than he had expected.
He brought his mind back to the dance and Elizabeth.
"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves."
What on earth could she mean?
"We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine," she continued.
Remembering her days at Netherfield, and how she spent most of the time reading, he asked, "What think you of books?" He smiled at her.
"Books - Oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."
"No - I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied absently. Darcy noticed her thoughts had wandered far from the subject and her mood was more serious.
"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
Am I blinded by prejudice? he questioned himself. No, of course not!
They separated again, but as always, the dance brought them back together.
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first," said Elizabeth.
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
The dance drew to a close, and the reverence came with a tierce dipicardi.
The dancers began to disperse; Darcy took Elizabeth's hand and reluctantly lead her away.
"I can readily believe that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either," he said.
His comment implied that Wickham's account of him was not to be believed. Darcy hoped that Elizabeth would find out more about him before drawing any conclusions about his character.
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity," she replied.
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.
Darcy bowed to her. He left her dissatisfied and uncomfortable. He wanted to think ill of her for believing Wickham. But in Darcy's heart there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
But for the present, he had to determine what to do about Bingley and Jane.