Chapter 29

Darcy's mouth went dry as Mr and Mrs Bennet stepped forward to greet him. He returned their compliments and greeted Elizabeth's sisters, leaving her for last. He bowed at the waist as she curtsied to him.

"How good of you to come," he said. It was much the same as he said to all his guests, but to Elizabeth, he meant every word with a meaning that he hoped he could convey through his eyes.

"I am honoured," she said.

They stood in silence for several seconds, a shared moment that must have seemed long to the other guests standing nearby. But he could not seem to speak or to take his eyes off her.

Dressed in a flowing white gown, she seemed almost to glow. Her dark curls were piled elegantly atop her head, with tiny seed beads woven throughout. A small plume of white feathers was tucked into a simple silver comb. But it was her eyes that captured him. What was it about her dark brown eyes that so bewitched him?

"Well, I suppose I should join my family in the salon," she said with an embarrassed smile.

"I will come and find you when I have dispensed with my duties here," he said hurriedly as she started to walk away.

Elizabeth turned to him and smiled. "Do," she replied softly.

An hour passed before he could keep his promise and begin searching for her. It was necessary to make haste, for the dancing would soon begin, and he had no intention of opening the ball with anyone but Elizabeth. There was no other woman he would rather stand up with, although Miss Bingley had hinted hard for the invitation. Darcy had no intention of either raising her hopes or obliging her. Bingley could ask her if he wished, although Darcy assumed he would ask Miss Jane Bennet.

Darcy walked through the halls and dining room, parlour and drawing room before he found Elizabeth. She was standing in a relatively deserted part of the house, a long hallway occupied only by herself and the portraits of the late owner's family. She turned as he came into the corridor, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the hundreds of candles that had been lit for the festivities.

Darcy walked over to her, trying to still his beating heart long enough to speak with her without a shaking voice. "There you are."

She smiled and turned her attention back to the portrait of a young woman that she had been studying. "Here I am," she said. Was it his imagination, or did she sound somewhat breathless?

How he wished he could take her hand as he stepped up beside her.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am," she said. "And you?"

"I am now," he said.

He knew she understood his meaning, for her cheeks instantly flamed a bright pink. It only made her look more beautiful. He took a deep breath. "Would you do me the honour of the opening the first dance with me, Miss Bennet?"

Her face brightened with a vibrant smile. "You are going to open the dancing? I thought it would be a punishment to stand up with most women."

Darcy inwardly cringed at the memory of his ungentlemanly behaviour. "Yes, well, I should never have said that." He looked at her, his eyes drinking in every bit of her. "Besides, you are not most women, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

She sucked in a breath, then turned her attention to the painting, seeming to avoid his eyes. Her chest heaved with each breath. When she did not respond to his request, Darcy took up all his courage and pressed on. "I would be truly delighted if you would dance with me," he whispered. He moved closer, almost touching her hand with his. It was as though some strange electricity was passing between them, until the air was alive with it. "Please."

She looked up at him then, finally meeting his eyes. Darcy felt his heart skip a beat as a small smile appeared on her face. "Very well, then. Yes, I would be delighted."

Darcy offered her his hand then, and she placed her delicate gloved hand in his. Tucking it into the crook of his arm, he led her back to the grand salon. They were the subject of many curious glances, and even a few whispered comments. He did not mind. The few whispers he overheard seemed kind, and if things went as planned, he would be glad to shout the night's events from the rooftops.

It was time. Darcy led Elizabeth out to the dance floor. With a nod to the musicians he had hired for the event, he signalled they ought to begin.

Never before had it occurred to Darcy that a formal dance ought to have more opportunity for conversation. Each time the steps separated him from Elizabeth, he counted the moments until he might rejoin her. It was fortunate, perhaps, that each separation offered him the chance to think of his other duties and glance about the room. Georgiana was dancing with Mr Lucas. The two were smiling and chatting like old friends. Bingley had indeed led out Miss Jane Bennet, and the two seemed all but lost in each other's eyes.

Darcy could understand the feeling. Each step he took with Elizabeth seemed at once effortless and delightful, as though the music was so much a part of them that no thought was necessary. He felt he could have danced with her forever.

"You are a wonderful dancer, Miss Bennet."

She blushed. "Thank you. As are you. For someone who dislikes dancing, you are very proficient."

"I never said I disliked dancing."

She laughed. "From the word "punishment" I only assumed. Forgive me," she teased.

Darcy pressed his hand closer into the small of her back and they started a promenade down the line of dancers. She looked up at him, her heartbeat throbbing in her slender throat. His own heart seemed to match hers. "As I said before, you are not most women."

The first dance seemed to disappear in an instant. They were both breathless by the time it ended, but he was not ready to give her up or let any other gentleman dance with her. As they walked off to the side, he pressed her hand and asked her for the next dance before anyone else had the chance to secure his place on her dance card.

∞∞∞

Elizabeth drew in a quick breath. To dance once with a lady meant nothing more than politeness. To ask for a second dance, especially one right after the other, was no subtle declaration of interest. She searched his eyes. "You are sure? Are there not other guests who would be glad of your attention?" she whispered. Elizabeth looked around the room at the score of young ladies who would have fallen over themselves at the chance to dance with the handsome Mr Darcy.

"I have never been more sure of anything, Miss Bennet."

She hesitated for only a moment before she answered, "Yes, I will."

The second dance was of a slower tempo. There was a great deal of weaving and turning about with other couples, but Mr Darcy never seemed to look away from her. Each time Elizabeth dared to look up, she met his eyes.

"This is a wonderful party, Mr Darcy. I do not believe Meryton has ever seen its equal."

"You must repeat the compliment to Georgiana when next you happen to speak. I cannot take the credit, for it was nearly all her doing. I think it has helped her to forget some of the recent heartache she has been through."

Elizabeth nodded. It was a delicate way of describing the situation with Mr Wickham. "Have you heard from the garrison commander of what is to be done about a certain gentleman?" she asked.

Mr Darcy tensed ever so slightly, and for a moment she was sorry she had brought Mr Wickham to mind. However, he relaxed as he placed a hand on her waist and they turned; her gloved hand resting against his cheek. He leaned close to her, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he not somewhat nearer than was strictly required for discretion?

"He has utterly disappeared, along with Mrs Younge. I believe they have sought refuge abroad, where no one knows them."

Elizabeth nodded, resolving to put the pair of miscreants out of her mind for good. The future was bright indeed, especially with Mr Darcy in it. She could not imagine how dull Meryton would be when he and Miss Darcy returned to Derbyshire.

They said little through the second dance, yet Elizabeth did not feel their conversation to be lacking. The glances they exchanged seemed to say everything. When the second dance ended, Elizabeth expected him to take her to where her mother and father were standing, along with Kitty and Mary. Lydia was off dancing with a soldier in a bright red uniform, having the time of her life. And Jane, where was Jane?

Elizabeth spotted her with Mr Bingley, talking with a few of their friends from the neighbourhood. Instead of taking her over to her parents, Mr Darcy led her over to where his sister had been visiting with a few of her new friends from Meryton. Miss Darcy greeted her warmly and kissed her cheek. "Miss Bennet, how ravishing you look this evening!" she praised. She leaned closer, taking on a conspiratorial air. "It is no wonder my brother cannot take his eyes off you."

Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat with excitement and not a little embarrassment. "He has been most attentive this evening," she replied, and quickly changed the subject, praising Georgiana for the success of the ball. It would be better not to think too much of Mr Darcy, not to expect or even hope too much. Now that their second dance set was complete, he would leave her to go about his hosting duties, and perhaps give his attentions to another young lady. The thought made her heart constrict. She had so enjoyed his company that she could not imagine him dancing with anyone else. Jealousy reared its head, but she quickly tried to push it down. Surely it could never work between them. Too much had happened. But then, why was he being so attentive to her, if he was not interested in kindling more than a friendship with her?

Mr Darcy, who had been exchanging pleasantries with some of the other guests, soon leaned toward her and placed a hand under her elbow. "Shall we get some punch from the refreshment tables?" he suggested.

"Yes, that would be lovely." After quenching their thirst, they were on their way back to Miss Darcy's small circle of friends when suddenly, Mr Darcy stopped and grabbed her hand. The next song was about to start.

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the honour of one more dance?"

Time seemed to stop. Did he know what he was saying? Surely he did. She glanced around at those surrounding them. "A third dance?" She could barely get the words out for how fast her heart raced. A third dance would be — irrevocable. A man as careful as Mr Darcy would never ask for a third dance unless he meant to propose.

Mr Darcy never looked away from her face. "Yes, Miss Bennet. A third dance."

There was only one answer in her heart. "I should like that, Mr Darcy. I would like that very much." Without another word, she placed her hand in his, and amidst whispers from all the old women standing about, allowed him to lead her to the dance floor again.

Elizabeth kept her gaze locked onto his as a lively waltz started. The gentle touch of his hand on her waist seemed startlingly intimate, though it was only the same waltzing posture assumed by all the couples around them. The music seemed to carry them, each movement as flawless as though they had rehearsed it.

How strange, Elizabeth thought. We are dancing with as much feeling as though it were the last time. But this will not be an ending. It is only the beginning.

She grew breathless in his arms, but she had no wish to stop. At last, the song ended. Mr Darcy smiled at her gently. He looked toward the open balcony doors.

"Come with me," he said softly, speaking almost into Elizabeth's ear. She went weak at the knees at his closeness, his warm breath moving the tendrils of her hair. "Will you take the air with me on the balcony?"

"Are you overwarm?" Elizabeth asked him quietly.

"Not more than I should think normal at a ball such as this," Mr Darcy replied. "I should like to have some place where we might speak with a little more privacy." He cleared his throat, then looked at her again, his gaze heavy with meaning. "There is something I should very much like to ask you."