Chapter Five

T heir second ball began well. The Carutherses' ballroom was not so grand as the Ashford's had been, but it was still lovely. One point in its favour was that Mr. Darcy was not in attendance.

"No, he sent his regrets," Mr. Caruthers was saying to Lord Carlisle, and for some reason, the earl frowned.

Elizabeth, however, was delighted. Perhaps the unpleasant man from Derbyshire had realised he was not fit for civilised company and had made a hasty retreat back to the country.

It was not long before Jane was asked to dance, and shortly after, Mr. Loughty gallantly requested the pleasure of Elizabeth's hand for the same set.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, tossing a lock of blond hair out of his eyes as they awaited their turn at the bottom of the line, "I hope you are feeling better."

"Better, sir?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "I was not aware I had been feeling unwell."

"You are bearing up admirably, then," Mr. Loughty replied gallantly .

Elizabeth was wary of men who thought themselves charming. "I always strive to be admirable, Mr. Loughty. Thank you for the compliment."

"You will not inquire as to my meaning?" he inquired with a sly glance.

She knew his meaning. "I should not have the slightest idea what to ask."

It was their turn; he held out his hand, and she took it. It was soft and damp, even through his gloves. They danced in a circle, then clasped hands to skip lightly down the line and then back to their original places. Elizabeth had to remind herself not to wipe her hands on her skirt.

"I speak, of course, about your disagreement with Mr. Darcy," Mr. Loughty continued. "He never spends the entire season in town, but it was a decided thing that he would this year. Then at the first ball of the season, he leaves after an hour, once having had words about you with his cousin. And he is not here this evening."

"Mr. Loughty," Elizabeth said with a sigh, "I attempted a bit of pleasant conversation to cheer Mr. Darcy, for the man does not seem as fond of dancing as you are yourself. He did not like it, I presume, and told his cousin so. But I am not so fragile a flower that I expect every man to appreciate my clearly excellent qualities."

The man's smile was all superiority, but Elizabeth refrained from displaying her vexation. He glanced down at her chest before lifting his gaze in what Elizabeth supposed was meant to be a romantic sort of gesture. "I assure you that I am aware of your many excellent qualities."

If she could have left the man standing on the dance floor by himself, she would gladly have done it, but the evening was only beginning, and she had no wish to suffer the consequences of another scene. Mr. Loughty was, as his sister said, a flirt. Disingenuous, perhaps, and a little vulgar, but not dangerous.

"Now," she said, hoping to take charge of their conversation, "you must tell me more about your sister."

"My sister?" he asked, his pretence at charm broken by this unexpected application.

"Indeed. I had no opportunity to speak with her when we were introduced. Does she like music?"

When the dance was over and Mr. Loughty had escorted her back to Lady Carlisle, he bowed and held out his hand to Amelia, petitioning her for the next. Amelia agreed, and off they went.

Elizabeth glanced about the room. Jane came to stand with her for a moment.

"I am to dance the next with Mr. Bingley," she whispered. "He asked for two dances again, but I have no second dance available, and even if I did, it is too soon, is it not?"

"It is," Elizabeth assured her.

A moment later Mr. Bingley arrived for their dance and guided Jane away. Elizabeth glanced about. Miss Loughty was sitting with several other girls who did not appear to have danced this evening. One of the men to whom they had been introduced—a Mr. White—started to walk in her direction, and she did not wish to dance this set.

"Lady Carlisle?" she asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"I see Miss Loughty sitting and should like to greet her. We were introduced at Lady Ashford's ball."

"And you were just dancing with her brother." Lady Carlisle nodded. "Very well."

If the countess had any notion what Elizabeth really thought of Miss Loughty's brother, she might have insisted Elizabeth remain and accept Mr. White's hand for the next set. But Elizabeth did not mind missing a dance or two if she was able to make a friend. Surely Miss Loughty would be a better conversationalist than her brother who was little more than a peacock. Perhaps he was simply too young—but Mr. Bingley was about the same age, and his behaviour with Jane had been everything gentlemanly, though he was a little too eager to monopolize her time. Fortunately, Jane had already promised all her dances to others, for she liked Mr. Bingley and would have found it difficult to refuse.

As Elizabeth walked to the corner of the room where Miss Loughty sat, she saw Mr. Bingley and Jane lining up with other couples on the dance floor. The earl was speaking with a group of friends, but he had his eye on Jane as well. It was comforting to know that Jane was so well looked after, and Elizabeth allowed her pleasure to show as she greeted Miss Loughty.

"I see that you have been dancing with my brother," the woman said, glancing warily at Elizabeth.

"Yes, I am afraid so."

Miss Loughty smiled and shook her head. "So, you do not fancy him?"

"Forgive me, Miss Loughty," Elizabeth replied, wanting to pull a blanket over her head. "I should not have said—"

"Do not apologise to me, Miss Elizabeth," Miss Loughty said with a breathy laugh. "I of all women know what James is like." She patted the chair next to her, and Elizabeth took it. "He used to be quite sweet, honestly."

That was not what Elizabeth had seen, but she was willing to make allowances for the man's sister. Was it not her prerogative to make excuses for him? "To tell the truth, Miss Loughty, he was only interested in gossip, and that interests me not at all. I would have liked to have more time to speak with you at the Ashford's ball, but Lady Carlisle preferred to introduce me to every man in the building from eighteen to eighty-four."

Miss Loughty's laugh was a touch stronger this time. "You are fortunate to have such a sponsor. My brother accompanies me to balls but introduces me to no one at all. It is my third season, you see, and not one man has displayed a bit of interest."

"Nor will one if you are always seated in the corner."

Her new friend shook her head sadly. "I have not the looks that men prefer for their dance partner."

Elizabeth took a good look at her. She was thin and wan, but perhaps it was the disappointment that ailed her more than anything.

They spoke for a time about what diversions town offered during the season, the shops, the theatre, the menagerie. Miss Loughty did not care for the last. "I should rather travel to where those animals live in the wild and view them there."

This was not something Elizabeth had considered, never having been to the menagerie, but she found herself inclined to agree.

"Miss Elizabeth," came a voice from behind her, "may I have this dance?"

It was Mr. Bingley. She glanced at Miss Loughty. "I will return, for I should like to know you better."

Miss Loughty gazed at Elizabeth's hand on Mr. Bingley's arm and said, resignedly, "I shall be here, Miss Elizabeth."

"Are you enjoying the ball, Miss Elizabeth?" he inquired, his tone all friendliness. He really was an affable young man.

"I am," she answered simply as the dance began.

They completed the figures and stood awaiting their turn when he spoke again. "I arrived too late to ask your sister for her first—another man had that pleasure—but she is radiant."

Elizabeth smiled. It was her lot, she supposed, to dance with the men who would rather be dancing with Jane. "My sister is beautiful inside and out, Mr. Bingley."

"I was able to secure her second set, though, as you saw. "

"I did."

"Has she always been as sweet and angelic as she is today?" His head was turned away, and Elizabeth could see that he was observing Jane with another partner.

This was rather more than enough. Mr. Bingley hardly knew her, and a gentleman ought to be paying mind to his current partner. Elizabeth wondered if he was made anxious by the number of men showing Jane attention. Too bad for Mr. Bingley if he had competition.

"Mr. Bingley," she said quietly.

He turned back to her and flushed. "I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth."

"I am not offended," she said, and it was true. Amused, rather. "But you must see that a woman prefers to have the attention of the man who has asked her to dance."

"Of course," he said.

"Now," she said, "what do you think of the cold weather? Shall we have a late spring, do you think?"

They passed the rest of their set amiably enough. She even had the man laughing over some nonsense about losing her way in Carlisle House her first day there. Fortunately, she had bumbled her way to the drawing room where the family was gathering for dinner, and she had been able to pretend she had never been lost at all.

"Mr. Bingley," she said suddenly, as the music trailed away, and he offered his arm.

"Yes?"

"I am about to say something a bit forward, I am afraid. If you would rather not hear it, you need only say."

Mr. Bingley was startled but shook his head. "I cannot imagine you would say anything untoward, Miss Elizabeth. Please continue. "

"Thank you." Elizabeth took a breath to steady herself. "Please understand that I have no expectations as regards you and my sister. I only offer some friendly advice."

"Please do."

"Jane is a very proper woman, and you have tonight been . . . effusive, let us say."

The man's cheeks flushed for the second time.

"If you show her too much attention before she knows you well, it will make her uncomfortable. That is all."

Mr. Bingley did not appear pleased by this, but eventually he nodded. "Very well."

"And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"How do you intend to make amends to me for your inattention earlier?" Elizabeth asked teasingly.

"Oh dear," Mr. Bingley said, relief on his features as he realised the serious portion of their conversation was over. "Are you to punish me?"

"Not at all. I would like you to ask Miss Loughty to dance."

"Miss Loughty?"

"The young lady I was sitting with."

It was clear that Mr. Bingley did not recall her. "Ah. Well, if you would like it, I am at your service."

Elizabeth nodded. "Please do not ask her immediately upon our return. Mingle for a time before you allow others to see you approaching her to ask."

"Why?"

Mr. Bingley truly did seem bemused by her scheme.

"I have two reasons. First, because I do not want her to think I told you to ask her. Second, a lady sitting in the corner at a ball may as well be invisible. If she has a dance with a young, handsome, and eligible man, others may realise she is here and ask her as well. And if not, at least she has had the pleasure of not sitting out every set."

Mr. Bingley turned an assessing gaze upon her. It was the most thoughtful he had been with her, and it offered Elizabeth hope that he was more than a besotted fool with little substance. "Your sister sings your praises, you know."

Jane was the best person of Elizabeth's acquaintance. "I do."

"I can see now that she was not exaggerating."

They had reached Miss Loughty then, and Mr. Bingley bowed. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Elizabeth."

"You are welcome, sir. Miss Loughty, may I introduce you to my friend Mr. Bingley?"

Drops of rain trickled haphazardly down the glass as Elizabeth watched the press of humanity outside the carriage. It reminded her of the Carutherses' ball, and then the surprised pleasure on Miss Loughty's countenance when Mr. Bingley had left them to speak to a friend, then returned with two glasses of punch and invited her to the floor for the next set. She had been asked to dance by two other men after that.

Elizabeth was still surprised by how long it took to travel anywhere in London. With so many people on the pavement and the streets clogged with horses, carts, and coaches, it took at least twice as long to ride than it would to walk the same distance in the country. Unfortunately, the rougher neighbourhoods rubbed right up against more respectable addresses here in town—a lady was not safe walking alone. Even in the parks, one required a male escort to discourage unwanted advances. It was wearisome.

"You have been very patient, Lizzy," Amelia said cheerfully. "I know you have wanted to visit Hatchard's since you first arrived."

"I have not been patient," Elizabeth said with a self-conscious laugh, "but today I am to be rewarded, nonetheless. Not a proper lesson for me, I am afraid." She turned to face Amelia. "However, it is the perfect outing for a rainy afternoon."

"I am so sorry Jane was unable to join us," Amelia said.

Jane had caught a little cold but was well enough to insist that Elizabeth not delay her trip to the bookshop on her account.

Amelia smiled. "Well, we shall find her a little something to cheer her."

Elizabeth smiled at her friend. Amelia was a genuinely kind person. "Jane would enjoy that."

When they arrived at the shop, she could scarcely wait for the steps to be placed and an umbrella raised before she descended from the coach and hurried inside. Amelia was just behind her, and Laramie, one of the footmen who often accompanied them on their outings, trudged into the shop with them. Laramie was in his late thirties, a former sailor who had certainly not been offered his position for his unusual height or elegant bearing. He was built like a carronade and spoke with a faint burr. Elizabeth was very fond of him.

He nodded at her and Amelia, which meant they were to wait for him at the front of the shop until he said otherwise. Elizabeth had said she was impatient, and she meant it. The books were so close . The clerk watched them with a vague sort of curiosity as Elizabeth attempted to read the titles on the long shelves of books nearest her from where she stood.

Papa had allowed Elizabeth and Jane to read most of his books, and he had been willing to answer Elizabeth's questions and engage her in conversation, his one concession to improving her education. Elizabeth's time in her father's book room was a memory she cherished, for they had felt closer when they read together.

Laramie finally returned to take up his post near the door. That was their signal that it was safe to proceed.

Elizabeth was happy not to be the niece of an earl, for the simplest sort of activity seemed to require a great deal of advance planning. She could not imagine anyone lying in wait for two young women among the shelves of books, but then, the world was a strange, unpredictable place, and as Lord and Lady Carlisle's guest, she was certainly not going to protest their arrangements. Moreover, she was certainly not going to waste any of her time at Hatchard's concerning herself with it. Instead, she plunged into the shop with abandon, Amelia giggling as she followed.

They had spent three-quarters of an hour perusing each shelf before Elizabeth checked her watch to see their time was nearly gone. She reluctantly gathered three books—a slim volume of poetry for Jane and two books for herself, one novel and one history—and made her way to the front of the shop. Amelia had remained in the section with the new novels, but Elizabeth would collect her after she had completed her purchase.

"I am happy to add this to the account for Carlisle House," the man said, glancing suspiciously at her coin purse.

"Oh, not for such a small purchase as this," Elizabeth said loftily, though no purchase in London was a small one for her, and books were especially dear. She simply did not want to risk the earl satisfying her debt. Jane accepted whatever the Carlisles wished to do with her usual grace, but Elizabeth was concerned the earl and countess would eventually tire of paying for them, and she did not wish to be thought a burden. It might be silly, but she relished the freedom of a few coins to spend just as she pleased .

"Very good, miss," he said.

"Mr. Abernathy," a small voice asked from Elizabeth's right. The boy bowed. "I have come for my books."

"Ah, Mr. Morris," the clerk said with a hint of a smile. "Wait a moment while I help this young lady, and then I shall be happy to assist. It was six books and came to one pound six."

"One pound six?" The boy's face paled. "But I thought they were only to be sixteen shillings."

Mr. Abernathy frowned. "Will you pardon me for a moment, miss?"

"Of course," Elizabeth assured him.

When the pair walked to another corner in the shop, Elizabeth took a few steps in their direction. She knew it was unladylike to eavesdrop, but the boy seemed so distressed over not being able to purchase his books that she longed to help if she could.

"We are already providing the books to you for what they cost us," Mr. Abernathy was saying gently. "I cannot lower the price, or the shop would lose money."

"No, sir, of course," Mr. Morris said stoutly. He lifted his little chin, and Elizabeth's heart lurched in her chest. He could not be more than ten or eleven, and his clothes were mended many times over at the elbows and knees. Yet he was saving for books.

"Let us see which books you can afford to purchase now. The mathematics book is the most expensive, perhaps you might leave that one and the primer here? I will hold them aside for you until you can pay, but in the meantime, one of the other boys might be willing to share."

"I am already meant to share with my brother, sir."

He was trying to raise himself and his family in the world, just as she and Jane were. He needed the books to do so.

"However," the boy said, pulling himself up as tall as he could, "that is not your concern. I am very grateful to you for agreeing to sell me the books at your own cost and will purchase what I am able."

Elizabeth stepped silently back to the desk and counted out her coins. She had brought a bit for Gunter's, where they had planned to visit next. If she put back one of her own books and did not order anything for tea, she would have enough. When Mr. Abernathy stepped back behind the desk with a warm apology for the interruption, she picked up the novel she had been waiting months to read. "I have decided I do not wish to purchase this one after all," she said. She slid her payment across the surface, a guinea and five shillings, and watched as Mr. Abernathy's brow creased. He glanced up at her, and she looked askance at the boy, then back at the clerk.

One side of his mouth curled up. "Very good, madam." He wrapped up the books. "Will your man take them?"

Laramie nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Abernathy. I will find Amelia," Elizabeth said cheerfully. It felt wonderful to do something meaningful with her money, a gift to herself even more than the boy.

"Mr. Morris, I must ask your forgiveness," Mr. Abernathy said as she stepped away and he pretended to peruse the books he had set to the side for the boy. "I seem to have miscalculated the cost. You were quite right. The books were only sixteen shillings."

"Truly, sir?" little Mr. Morris asked. He sounded overjoyed, and Elizabeth blinked hard against the tears that threatened. She said a little prayer for his health and success, and then lifted her head just in time to smash her face into something hard and unyielding.

She stumbled back, stunned, and two strong arms reached out to steady her. Her hand flew up to her nose, the pain sharp but already fading.

"My apologies, madam. "

Elizabeth knew that voice. She released a huff and allowed her hand to drop as she stepped back. "Mr. Darcy," she said.