Truth about Mr. Darcy

ballroom. Though he had been learning to mix more agreeably in the somewhat smaller drawing rooms of Hertfordshire Society, he still found it difficult to move easily among larger crowds. Darcy had never felt completely at ease in a ballroom, and as such, he reverted, however unconsciously, back into his more reserved and haughty self, taking up a station in the farthest recesses of the room, where he hoped he might garner the least amount of notice.

When Darcy saw Elizabeth finally enter on Bingley’s arm, he froze. Wearing a low-cut gown of creamy silk that seemed to cling to her inviting curves in a most flattering manner, Elizabeth was breathtaking. Her hair was arranged in a far more elaborate style than she usually wore, and intertwined throughout the mass of dark curls piled high upon her head, there were silk roses that had obviously been fashioned with great care to complement her gown.

Darcy felt he would be content simply to gaze upon her all night, but as Bingley approached and presented her to him, he somehow managed to shake off his stupor and step forward to receive her, applying a gentle pressure to her gloved hand as he raised it to his lips.

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, with a small, enigmatic smile.

“Miss Bennet,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze from the vision of loveliness she presented, “you look absolutely stunning this evening.”

Elizabeth felt a familiar pull deep within as she returned his admiring gaze with equal feeling. “Thank you. You look very handsome, as well.” She spoke the words softly, her throat suddenly dry.

Bingley, grinning with satisfaction, left Elizabeth staring at his friend while he escorted Jane to the middle of the room to open the ball.

The first half of the evening, save for Elizabeth’s obligatory dance with an incompetent and overzealous Mr. Collins, afforded the couples much pleasure.

Bingley, who was far more captivated by Jane than he was by his role as host, threw caution to the wind by dancing as many dances with his angel as the space of one evening would allow, while trying not to cause overt offense to any of the other young ladies in attendance.

Darcy, who was not normally inclined to dance, found immense pleasure in the act so long as Elizabeth was his partner. He found himself soliciting her hand repeatedly just to be close to her until, after their third dance partnered together, which had caused many a curious eye to turn upon them, Elizabeth finally laughed and teasingly chided him for his total disregard for ballroom propriety.

He reluctantly danced the next set with Jane while Elizabeth partnered with an attractive officer who clearly admired her. Darcy found himself watching them with increasing displeasure until his jealous glare was met by Elizabeth, whose sparkling eyes gave him such a look of chastisement that he actually blushed. Jane, apparently far from offended by Darcy’s preoccupation with her most beloved sister, smiled gently at his contrition and engaged him in conversation. To the relief of all, Wickham was reported to have been sent to London on business for Colonel Forster and, therefore, was not in attendance.

When supper was announced, Darcy steered Elizabeth past a perspiring and genuflecting Mr. Collins, taking care to settle her between Jane and himself, and at some distance from the rest of her family. The two sisters were flushed from the exertion of having danced every dance, but the exercise only succeeded in brightening their eyes and adding a healthy glow to their complexions, which the gentlemen greatly admired.

During the first course, the buzz of constant conversation filled the room, but to Elizabeth’s mortification, she was able to distinguish her mother’s shrill voice as she spoke loudly to one of their neighbors of Mr. Collins. “Ah, yes! He is a most agreeable young man! He first admired Jane, you know, but Bingley was there before him. He has since taken quite a fancy to Lizzy, though, and has been excessively attentive to her, paying her every courtesy.” She then leaned closer to her companion and said smugly, “We are expecting him to make her an offer of marriage any day now! Of course, Mr. Collins does not have five thousand a year like Bingley, but I must say his income shall do well enough for Lizzy, for you know she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor such a favorite among the officers as my dearest Lydia!”

Catching the entirety of this conversation and having just taken a mouthful of wine, Darcy nearly choked himself. He recovered quickly, however, and wasted no time turning his gaze severely upon Mrs. Bennet.

Bingley, as well, could not help but stare, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock.

Jane sat stiffly at his side, conversing with Charlotte Lucas while struggling to maintain her serene composure.

Elizabeth was beyond mortified. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to escape. Darcy’s reaction to her mother’s ill-bred comments had not been lost on her. With a sudden stab of alarm, she wondered how enthusiastic he would be to continue their courtship after bearing witness to such a display of vulgarity. At the thought of the possibility of Darcy withdrawing his suit after the enjoyable fortnight they had shared, Elizabeth felt a sudden, insurmountable pang of regret. She felt her eyes suddenly grow moist, and while his attention was still fixed firmly upon her mother, she silently slipped away.

Shivering on the balcony just off the ballroom, Elizabeth stood alone as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She chided herself for not having thought to bring her wrap, when she heard the soft click of the French doors. She looked up in surprise to see Darcy striding purposefully toward her, holding the very article she had been wanting just moments before. As he draped it across her shoulders, she noticed how his hands seemed to linger over the act. Surely he must be thinking this will be the last time he will touch me so, she thought with no small degree of bitterness and a heavy heart, for how could he ever willingly seek my society after such an outrageous display? She murmured her thanks and quickly turned away to blink back a fresh set of tears that threatened to fall. How would she be able to bear it when he finally withdrew his affection? For it was now becoming frighteningly clear to her that her heart was no longer untouched.

“Miss Bennet, will you not look at me?” he asked, his voice soft and full of concern. To Elizabeth, his tenderness only served to make their imminent parting all the more painful, and she walked several paces from him to stand by the railing, struggling for the ability to project some small semblance of composure.

Darcy was confused by her withdrawal, and it was not long before a sinking sensation began to invade his body. He forced his suddenly leaden legs to move in her direction so he could stand behind her. When he spoke, his voice betrayed his anxiety. “Miss Bennet—Elizabeth—have I done something tonight to cause you offense?”

Elizabeth gave a soft, rueful laugh and answered him. “No, Mr. Darcy. Not at all. You have been a perfect gentleman and a delightful companion all evening. As a matter of fact, I have very much enjoyed your company, sir, though I cannot help but wonder whether you might still find my society quite so acceptable?”

He was surprised. “Of course. Why ever would you think otherwise?”

She took a deep breath and said with some bitterness, “I am certain it has not escaped your notice, sir, that my mother is not the most tactful, nor the most discreet conversationalist.”

A small smile of comprehension turned up the corners of Darcy’s mouth. “Ah. No. I must agree with you that she is most decidedly not. Nor, may I add, is she the most observant.” He paused to press himself closer, and she felt his warm breath upon her neck and shivered. “I was actually rather offended by one comment she made in particular.”

“Only one, sir?” she asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed by his proximity.

His voice was soft and caressing. “Yes, only one. Can you not guess, Elizabeth, which remark might have caused me such offense as to prevent my acknowledging any others?” Elizabeth shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, and Darcy continued: “It was when your mother voiced her opinion that you are not half so handsome as your sister Jane. In this she is gravely in error, because anyone with eyes can clearly see, my loveliest Elizabeth, you are ten times more beautiful than any of your sisters. As a matter of fact, I have long since considered you to be the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”

He placed his hands upon her shoulders and turned her around so she faced him. He was startled to see her tears and the look of absolute surprise upon her face. Gently, he raised his thumb to dry her cheek. Is it possible she doubts my steadfastness, my utter devotion to her? he wondered with incredulity. Darcy searched her eyes and soon found his answer. Quietly, he said, “I have been in agony for many weeks over the strength of my feelings for you, Elizabeth—feelings that run so deep I can honestly say I have never before experienced anything even remotely similar for any other woman. You have seen me at my very worst, yet in spite