"Oh, I do dearly love a dance." Aunt Matlock gushed from her seat that night, after having been recently set upon it by a cold, polite Mr. Culham. Darcy muttered his perfunctory agreement while he kept his eye on Elizabeth.
He ought to be embarrassed. Honorable men did not go about kissing their cousins' future wives. But Darcy liked to comfort himself that honorable men also did not leave their fiancées unattended while eyeing the maids. He had thought better of Richard, and thought better of himself.
But, for now, he delegated himself to observing Elizabeth from the shadows, making sure that none of her dance partners caused her any discomfort. At least, for now, she danced with Richard.
"Are you not going to dance?" Aunt Matlock asked Darcy as she fanned herself. "You are rather young to be sitting out yet, my dear."
Darcy grimaced. "There are hardly enough partners for all of us."
"That is true." The Countess of Matlock sighed. "If only Lady Henrietta hadn't made such a ridiculous stipulation, we could have invited more girls from the village. Miss Merivale hardly needs to be set upon to dance every single dance."
"I suppose not."
Darcy resumed his observation of Elizabeth. She appeared mostly content with Richard, even laughing with him at one point between their hushed whispers. Did Darcy owe it to Elizabeth to point out Richard's recent neglect and wandering eye? Was it even his place to do so?
Darcy nearly scoffed at the realization that he, who had been so keen to guard his cousin against Elizabeth's schemes, was now just as keen to protect her from Richard's.
"Miss Merivale, please."
Darcy roused from his thoughts just in time to see Richard handing his betrothed to Mr. Culham for the next dance. Darcy frowned, his jaw set firmly after having seen how uneasy Elizabeth had seemed about pursuing Mr. Culham this morning. He did not know if Elizabeth had been reassured or agitated by what she had discovered about the uncommunicative farmer, but she most certainly appeared distressed now.
Did Richard not see her pain? It was clear in the way her brow furrowed and altogether apparent in the way she changed her hands so tentatively from Richard's to Mr. Culham's. Darcy groaned. It simply could not be borne.
Ignoring whatever awkwardness he still felt from their earlier shared kiss, Darcy rose and strode across the room.
"Mr. Culham, I beg your pardon. I believe Miss Merivale has promised me this dance," Darcy said in a firm tone once he reached the corner the three of the others had occupied. He extended a hand to Elizabeth, who looked up at him with a shimmer of gratefulness in her enchanting eyes.
"This is not a ball, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Culham spat. "One does not go about reserving ladies for dances."
"Perhaps not," Darcy replied, already securing Elizabeth's hand in his. The slight touch was enough to make him wish to pull her into his arms in a determined embrace, but he ensured every appearance of civility. "But there is always room for exception."
Without waiting for the sneering farmer's reply, he whisked Elizabeth off to the other half of the open floor and frowned at the hired village musician until he played. The dance the foolish villager chose was an older country dance. It was a silly one, in Darcy's opinion, what with its endless circling of each other arm-in-arm. But, tonight, he rather relished the choice.
Behind him, Richard began the dance with his mother, and Darcy pulled his attention back to the woman on his arm.
"I hope I did not impose," he whispered to Elizabeth after their first turn, "at least, not overly much."
She smiled subtly, a rare look on her usual expressive face. "If anything, I must thank you once more, Mr. Darcy, for saving me yet again. I promise I never grew up expecting the constant assistance of men, but I do seem to be falling into the habit of being a damsel in distress of late."
He smiled back despite himself. She did had the uncanny ability to put him at ease. "It is my pleasure, I assure you."
"You have never struck me as the sort of man to be driven by pleasure." The glimmer of anxiety she had displayed earlier had now turned into her usual teasing wit, and Darcy felt a great satisfaction in having wrought about the change in her. "If anything, you strike me as a man of duty."
"I do not deny that I hold duty in the highest esteem. A man without honor is not worthy of being called a gentleman."
"No, he would not be." She agreed as they traded places. Her face slipped into a slightly pensive look. "But honor is as much a matter of character as it is a matter of following a prescribed set of behavior. Fulfilling one's societal duties may not entirely be consistent with acting in an honorable way."
"Pray, illuminate me."
She smiled briefly. "A person who takes certain actions out of honor, whether to serve his country or his family or his friends, may at times be perceived as unconventional or even improper if one were to judge by the strictest of society's expectations. But the sacrifice entailed may present the person as the most honorable one yet once all is said is done."
The music dwindled to an end, and they slowed their steps until they faced each other.
"You are rather cryptic tonight, Miss Elizabeth." His eyes latched onto her bottomless ones, unable to look away. "I fear that I do not quite know what it is you wish to say."
She sighed, looking almost slightly sad. "Perhaps, one day soon, it may all come to light."
"Can we not come to an understanding now - or at least, at a nearer point in the future?"
For a brief moment, she looked almost as if she would cry. She heaved a deep breath before subtly wiping her cheek. Then she said loudly. "I fear I am feeling rather overheated. Lady Matlock, may I have use of your terrace, if you be ever so kind?"
"Of course," said Aunt Matlock.
And Darcy offered to escort Elizabeth out before anyone else could.
He guided her across the terrace, until she stood by the bannisters that overlooked the West Garden. Her eyes followed the familiar paths in the grass she had worn out during her recent vigils. Memories of Darcy, of his company and his kindness, now interweaved with her memories. It was a bittersweet sensation.
"Miss Elizabeth." The man in question placed himself beside her, his warm presence a balm in the otherwise cool evening air. Elizabeth had not actually felt that overheated before her exit, after all. She looked towards him, surprised by the depth of concern in his eyes. His words followed in a low, gentle, almost somber tone. "If I have played any part whatsoever in contributing to the discomfort you seem to be experiencing tonight, I offer you my most sincere apologies. In my attempt to act the part of a gentleman, I have instead resulted in acting no better than a rake. I beg your forgiveness and pray that you would overlook my poor judgment, and be so gracious as to allow our friendship to continue."
Elizabeth sniffed, wishing keenly that she could be permitted to share with Darcy exactly who she was and how she felt. How agonizing it was to find a man she admired so keenly, and who tugged at her heart so fiercely, and yet not be able to share even her real name with him!
"Do not fret, please." She placed a hand on his arm. He pressed his other hand over it before she had realized the casual intimacy of her gesture. "What troubles me has little to do with you. And, pray, do not call yourself a rake when we have shared little more than an innocent moment - one which I was a willing participant of."
"You exonerate me?"
"I cannot in good conscience do otherwise."
"Elizabeth." He leaned closer as she felt herself step forward. The irresistible draw she was beginning to feel towards him was as inconvenient as it was intoxicating. "I do not pretend to understand why you and Richard barely speak except in private conferences. I do not know why you act guarded around the other gentlemen while speaking so freely with me. But if there is anything - any situation that I can be of assistance to you - please, I beg you, allow me to be of service to you in whatever way I can be."
This time, she could not help shedding a tear or two. She wiped them away quickly with her free hand. "I appreciate, truly, all that you offer."
"And yet you do not accept?"
"I - " Elizabeth sniffed. Every nerve in her body longed to close the distance between them, to let the feel of his embrace wash away all her other concerns - of finding the culprit, of disentangling herself from a false engagement, of providing enough for Mama and for Mary and Kitty and Lydia. Instead, she closed her eyes. "What I need help in - may not be the things that one might think."
"Then tell me." His nose brushed the tip of hers. "Tell me what ails you. Is it Richard? Is it the engagement? Is there any way I - "
He took a deep, audible breath before pulling away by a good few inches. The night air was a poor substitute for his touch. Elizabeth sniffed before opening her eyes.
"Without your leave, Elizabeth, I cannot possibly - "
"I know." She clutched their joint hands against her chest. The weight of her extraordinary circumstances had never felt so oppressive before. "And yet I - I cannot - "
Darcy sighed, as did she. Together, they stood where they were, like lovers and yet not. How cruel this mission was growing to be! She almost wished she had caught Mr. Culham trading weaponry red-handed this morning. As things stood, she would still have to await news from Richard's superiors for information regarding the farmer this morning, and the entire ordeal might prove to be little more than a misunderstanding.
"If you cannot give me reason, Elizabeth," Darcy whispered, his words swirling like tendrils between them, "then I cannot act."
"I know." She sobbed.
"Unless you do not wish for me to act?"
Elizabeth blinked, wishing dearly that she could answer otherwise. Darcy's insistence to act with honor endeared him to her as much as it kept him away from her - and she did not know to curse or to love him for it. She knew it was the latter, yet the part of her that wished to hold him now most certainly leaned towards the former.
"It is not a matter of what I wish," was all she could say.
He waited another moment before stepping back and letting go. He bowed deeply, his eyes askance. "I understand. God bless you, Miss Elizabeth."
She turned away before she had to watch him retreat.
A/N: After kissing prematurely, they have earned themselves some angst. Serves them right, if you ask me!