Chapter 6 If Mr. Darcy Dared

It was now time for him and Elizabeth to take their promenade down the line and he held his partner’s hand proudly to the applause of the other couples in the dance. He cocked his head to one side to say closer in her ear that he understood what a burden one’s family could be.

“And yet if we have a responsibility to such a burden, it would be prudent for one to not conceal such a responsibility, would you not agree?” Elizabeth challenged Mr. Darcy as they waited half of the dance sequence to get themselves back into the line at the end. Until the music stopped, the reel would work the couples up to the top once more.

“If the obligation to one’s cousin is unpalatable, I believe one must find a way to lessen the weight,” Mr. Darcy answered.

Almost forgetting they were in a very public ballroom, Elizabeth’s ire began to get the best of her. Was Mr. Darcy stating that he intended to jilt his cousin? They came together once more, she prodded further.

“My cousin, Mr. Collins, does not agree with you. His patroness is your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. He was quite clear in his opinion on the matter.” Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy’s face closely as she took a turn with John Lucas to move up the line and felt rewarded when the man’s face contorted into a scowl before resuming a mask of indifference.

Feeling vindicated, Elizabeth held herself in a taller posture the rest of the dance and she finally allowed herself to enjoy the constant touching of Mr. Darcy’s person. After all, she reasoned, revealing that she knew his secret, this would very likely be the end of his pursuit.

As the music began to slow, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth found themselves in the middle of the dance line as the final strains signaled the end. To her surprise, Mr. Darcy grasped her hand as he bowed low in a much more intimate farewell than any other couple in the line save Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane. When he rose, Elizabeth had been so shocked she had forgotten to curtsy herself and Fitzwilliam stared into her eyes.

“I wish we were able to speak more, but I’m afraid now is not the time.”

Nearly tripping over his own two feet, Mr. Collins bumped into Mr. Darcy with great apologies. “I beg your pardon, we have yet to meet. Mr. Collins, at your service, Parson to the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Kent. I believe you are her nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stared incredulously at Mr. Collins. When the squat parson finished his low bow, he spied that Mr. Darcy still held his cousin’s hands. Mr. Collins reached out to snatch Elizabeth’s grasp from Mr. Darcy. “I could not have you for the first, but come, come, Cousin Elizabeth. It is my intention for this to not be our only dance of the evening.” Mr. Collins gave Elizabeth a smarmy smile and directed his affronted relation away from Mr. Darcy.

Watching Elizabeth escorted away, Mr. Darcy shook his head and took a half-step away from the dance floor before Miss Bingley found his arm.

“My, my, Mr. Darcy, I believe you were just dismissed by a man of the cloth,” Caroline commented as the couples began to line up.

Ignoring Caroline’s comment, Mr. Darcy suddenly noticed the music was about to start and he had dumbly delivered Elizabeth into the hands of her cousin. She had just warned him that oaf was attempting to secure her hand in marriage!

“Miss Bingley, may I have the pleasure?” Fitzwilliam asked breathlessly as he did not wait for her affirmative response before marching them into the line of couples and rather crassly pushing their way to stand next to Elizabeth and Mr. Collins.

As the music began, Elizabeth endured the next few minutes of humiliation as it would appear Mr. Collins’ work for the church did not include practicing dance steps. More than once, Mr. Collins’ miscalculation caused Elizabeth’s hair to brush Mr. Darcy and her head involuntarily jerked in his direction with each touch. The result each time ended in a monstrous pain as then Mr. Collins tread upon her slippers.

Though he hated society, Mr. Darcy stood up as an excellent dancer. He effortlessly guided Miss Bingley in the prescribed motions while keeping a keen eye on the grubby hands of that parson. In Mr. Darcy’s opinion, Mr. Collins touched too low on Elizabeth’s waist far too often for his liking.

The two couples were separated by the inevitable march on the outside the lines for this dance to take their place at the end.

Miss Bingley tried to capture Mr. Darcy’s attention. “I was surprised you danced the first set with Miss Eliza. Pray, when am I to wish you joy? I believe your future mother-in-law will have many suggestions for the redecoration of Pemberley when she comes to visit.”

A thundering headache waged in Fitzwilliam’s mind so he had paid hardly any attention to Miss Bingley’s words before giving her a courtesy nod. He craned his neck to see the end of the line as a small scuffle had broken out where Elizabeth and Mr. Collins had taken their place.

Miss Bingley’s eyes bulged as without so much as saying a word, Mr. Darcy abandoned her and stalked forward with a tenacity that interrupted the movement of the couples around him. So abrupt was his change in direction, they soundlessly afforded him room to walk down the middle of the lines to his target.

“I told you to mind your hands!” Elizabeth thrust her cousin’s hands away from her person as he took a step towards her and pressed his chest into her shoulder as she turned away.

Across the ballroom, the scuffle attracted the notice of two old friends.

“I believe your Lizzy is in trouble,” Sir William pointed out as Mr. Bennet hummed with amusement. He pouring his cup afresh with brandy before turning to follow Sir William Lucas’ line of sight.

Mr. Bennet frowned taking his first sip. He could not hear the argument, but recognized his daughter’s expressions of anger anywhere. Groaning, Mr. Bennet nonchalantly began to make his way through the throng of people before the spectacle became too great for him to reach them. Each time he was blocked, he took a healthy swig of his brandy and bumbled his way through muttering apologies and using his glass a menacing threat of spillage if someone did not move.