Chapter Seven

October 15, 1811

Meryton Assembly

Darcy

"Really, Charles, it is absolutely cruel of you to subject us to a country assembly so soon after our arrival," Miss Bingley groused as the carriage drew closer to the small market town.

"I suggested you remain at Netherfield Park if you were too tired," Bingley reminded his sister.

"But Louisa and Hurst were going," protested Miss Bingley, purposely ignoring Darcy's presence amongst their company. "I would be alone!"

"You chose to come," Bingley said patiently. "Either stop complaining or I shall send you back to Netherfield in the carriage."

Miss Bingley huffed and crossed her arms, falling into silence. Darcy smirked, thankful that the dim light of the carriage hid his expression. He had arrived at his friend's leased estate just after the noon hour, only to discover that Bingley had accepted an invitation to a local assembly on his behalf. He ought to be annoyed, but the lack of society these last months had caused him to do the unimaginable: he wished to go out.

"I, for one, am looking forward to meeting my new neighbors," Bingley said cheerfully. "There are several gentlemen in the area who I think you will find agreeable."

Miss Bingley sniffed disdainfully but said nothing.

Her deliberate dawdling caused their arrival to be delayed. Darcy detested arriving late to events, as it usually meant all eyes were on them as they entered the room.

He was determined to enjoy the evening, little though he cared for dancing. He was proficient but did not like the activity when forced to pair with simpering ladies who agreed with everything he said. And, of the few ladies he enjoyed dancing with, all had fallen victim to his ‘curse.'

Their arrival was not as uncomfortable as Darcy had feared it would be. The eyes of everyone in the room turned toward their party, and there was a great deal of whispering as the master of ceremonies cut his way through the crowd. But most of the attention was on Mr. Bingley and his relatives, so he could relax somewhat.

The master of ceremonies, Sir William Lucas, was a good-natured, middle-aged man. Darcy recalled him from his brief visit to Netherfield Park earlier that day and returned his greeting cordially. Sir William introduced his daughter, Miss Charlotte Lucas, to the party, and Darcy bowed in acknowledgment when presented to her. Feeling the pressing stares leveled in his direction, he felt a cold sweat prickle on his neck, nerves assaulting him. Despite his resolve to rise above the rumors and gossip and to take pleasure in an evening out, he still worried about what these people had heard and whether they would tar him with the same brush as those in Town had done. How dreadful that he could travel to a place where he was relatively unknown and still have to fear for his reputation. Worse yet, he knew everyone expected him to ask the ladies in the room to dance out of politeness, but he suddenly felt unwilling to place yet another lady on the chopping block. He scolded himself and resolved to do whatever pleased him throughout the evening.

Bingley requested the first set from Miss Lucas before Sir William rushed the entire party off to be introduced around the room. Darcy realized guiltily that he was grateful for being ushered away so quickly, leaving him unable to ask the lady for a set himself. Darcy followed his friend, and as Sir William performed the introductions, his eyes lit upon a handsome young woman.

Sir William introduced her as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn. She was petite and well-formed, with chocolate brown curls and dark eyes that twinkled merrily in the candlelight. Her gown was a rich green, a color that young ladies rarely wore, but suited her admirably. The lady's entire being radiated good cheer and happiness, and he swallowed hard as he took in her countenance.

Darcy found himself tongue-tied and felt unequal to asking her to dance—especially for the first set. The sudden fear that singling her out would cause her harm overwhelmed him and smothered his earlier resolve, so he bowed crisply and turned away, walking to the edge of the ballroom. He reproached himself for not asking Miss Lucas for a set compounded by the same dread that any attention he granted either lady would cause her abject destruction.

He did not dare. He could not doom her to a terrible fate.

Darcy stood up instead with Mrs. Hurst, feeling that she was the perfect choice for a dance partner. The lady was safe to dance with, for she was married to another and thus not subject to the curse. He completed a set with her in silence before returning to his place by the wall.

Darcy did not stir from his position for two more sets. Bingley was much occupied with his dance partners, having stood up first with Miss Lucas and then with a beautiful blond woman. Darcy thought her fashionably pretty, but he preferred the darker looks of Miss Elizabeth. After that set, his friend paired with the same blond lady before he found Darcy standing by the wall.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance. There are several pretty ladies with whom you might partner."

" Your partner is lovely," Darcy observed. He now recalled her as the eldest of the Bennets, sister to the beguiling Elizabeth. Jane, he thought her name was. Tall, blond, and willowy, the lady epitomized the classical feminine beauty.

"She is an angel!" Bingley cried. "I have never met a lovelier creature. But look there, just behind you. That is one of her sisters, who is very pretty, and, I dare say, very agreeable."

Darcy turned and noted Miss Elizabeth sitting in a chair nearby, close enough that he was certain she could hear the conversation. His throat tightened again with anxiety, and he swallowed hard. Oh, that he could request her hand for a set!

"You know I cannot," Darcy said sadly. "Should I single any lady out, I mark her for destruction." His words conveyed his innermost fears; long though he had protested the rumors of a curse, he could not deny the worry that any female recipient of his attentions would meet a bitter end.

"Balderdash!" Bingley snapped. "You have not believed in the curse until just this moment. What changed?"

"A pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman," Darcy confessed. "She is everything lovely, and I fear that by giving her any attention, she will go the way of the others."

Bingley laughed. "So, you have let fear supersede your good sense. I never thought I would see the day! Darcy, there is a solution, you know."

"Pray, do tell me," he replied sarcastically.

His friend grasped his shoulder and shook it lightly. "It is quite simple: you must dance every dance! If you do not show open preference to any lady, then you need not worry that anything bad will happen. If it is as I suspect, and there is some other party at play here spreading rumors and ruining your life on purpose, then beat them at their own game."

Darcy felt astounded at his friend's brilliance. He had once described his ordeal as a conspiracy to his aunt and uncle. Whoever was spreading the rumors about him had thus far only targeted ladies to whom Darcy had granted particular attention.Bingley's reasoning was sound, and resolve settled on Darcy as he grinned broadly. "That is ingenious," he declared. "I had not considered such a thing. I shall do it! Miss Elizabeth has tempted me all night, and I would find it intolerable not to stand up with her."

Bingley smiled encouragingly and took his arm. He steered Darcy toward the seated lady before he could change his mind.

"Miss Elizabeth, I believe Sir William introduced you to my friend, Mr. Darcy. He wishes to request a dance."

She eyed him curiously, reinforcing Darcy's belief that she probably heard his entire conversation with Bingley. Her mouth quirked up in a mischievous smile and she met his gaze with challenge.

"Miss Elizabeth, might you have a set free that I may claim?" Darcy asked politely, feeling a blush steal across his cheeks.

"I do," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you care to sit with me while we await the next set?"

Darcy choked on his tongue, unsure how to respond. If he sat with her, was that not giving her particular attention? He glanced at Bingley in a panic as Miss Elizabeth continued speaking.

"We might join Mrs. Long," she said, gesturing to an older lady who sat by herself a few chairs down. "She is chaperoning her nieces and is often lonely at these events."

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief and accepted. Elizabeth stood, and he followed her to Mrs. Long's side.

"Mrs. Long, how do you do this evening?" Elizabeth asked attentively.

"Oh, not well at all," Mrs. Long sniffed. "The light is bright tonight. Sir William always uses too many candles."

Darcy struggled to control a grimace; he was never at ease when speaking to strangers, but he reminded himself that this ruse would help protect Miss Elizabeth while also allowing him to speak with her.

"I am sorry to hear that," Elizabeth said kindly. "Have you met Mr. Darcy? He is a guest of our new neighbor, Mr. Bingley."

"I have not had the pleasure," Mrs. Long said, turning toward him and appraising his person.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, may I present Mrs. Nora Long to you?" Elizabeth asked sweetly. "Mrs. Long, this is Mr. Darcy. I have heard it said he is from Derbyshire." She gestured to a seat next to the older lady, and Mr. Darcy took it. His lovely companion sat beside him.

"Oh, such a handsome county," Mrs. Long said cheerfully. "I lived there for several years when I was a child. Papa then inherited from his uncle, you see, and we moved to Stevenage when I was twelve." Her eyes still squinted from the light of the candle, but instead of a grimace, she now wore a smile.

"How very delightful," Mr. Darcy said. A topic on which I can converse. Good. "Did you ever visit the peaks while you lived there?"

"Oh, yes, many times," Mrs. Long said. "My father was fond of rocks and mountains, and we often picnicked there."

"I can see them from my estate," Darcy replied. "They form the border of my land to one side, and I ride there often."

He spent an unexpectedly pleasant time in conversation with Mrs. Long. Elizabeth listened more than she spoke, but Darcy could not repine her company. When the next set was called, he stood, genuinely thanking Mrs. Long for the delightful conversation, and offering his arm to Elizabeth.

"I believe this is our promised set," he said politely. A thrill stole through him at the prospect of another pleasurable half an hour in her company.

Elizabeth took his arm, and they moved to the center of the floor with the gathering couples. The orchestra struck a few notes before the music began in earnest. The song was not as fast paced as the one before it, and the slower dance allowed Mr. Darcy time to converse with his partner.

Since he was so eager to speak to her, it stood to reason that his tongue and wits would fail him, and Darcy floundered for a conversation topic. "I am grateful for the kind reception you have given my friend here," he said lamely, cursing himself for such a stupid beginning.

"Netherfield Park has sat vacant for a long time," Elizabeth disclosed. "Having a tenant is a boon for the community, and we hope Mr. Bingley will restore the estate to prosperity. Will you be staying with your friend for long?"

"Yes," Darcy replied. "I have no fixed engagements for some months and have spent far too long in Town. I prefer the quiet of the country to that of London, and I plan to enjoy myself fully while in Hertfordshire."

"Not all your party appears to be pleased with your friend's choice in shires," Elizabeth remarked, nodding her head in Miss Bingley's direction.

Darcy turned and noted the displeased expression on the lady's face. Miss Bingley danced with a local man and seemed none too happy about it. Though the gentleman seemed eager to speak with her, she kept her lips pressed tightly closed, only nodding occasionally. The feathers on her turban dipped and swayed as she moved, causing Mr. Darcy to smile. When she saw him staring, she frowned and turned away sharply.

"She does not like me," Darcy confessed, chuckling softly.

"That is obvious," Elizabeth replied. Darcy could hear the laughter in her voice mixed with something more; it hinted at curiosity.

"It will make things slightly more uncomfortable as Bingley's guest, but she will not scare me off," he said firmly. "Tell me, are there many prospects one can reach during a morning ride?"

"I am no horsewoman, so I cannot answer you. But there is a fine walk I take almost daily to a small rise we call Oakham Mount. I could point it out to you sometime."

"That would be agreeable," Darcy replied. "You do not ride out of choice, then? Or is it due to circumstance?"

When he saw Elizabeth's eyes narrow, Darcy realized she could interpret his words as rude. Not all gentleman's daughters had access to a mount. He did hope he had not offended her.

"Walking is my preference," she said at last. "I can travel to most places I need to go by the power of my own two feet, and so that is what I choose to do. Though there is a mount that I could ride, the animals on our estate serve multiple purposes; we often need the carriage horses in the fields."

Darcy nodded. "Such is the way of many."

They spoke of pleasant things, their conversation lively as their set progressed. Darcy treaded carefully with his words, worried he might inadvertently offend her. After the set's conclusion, Elizabeth obliged him by presenting one of Mrs. Long's nieces as a new dance partner. She shot him a knowing look as he glanced at her in question, and Darcy now understood for certain that she had overheard his conversation with Bingley.

The evening passed pleasantly. With each dance, his courage rose and soon he was requesting introductions on his own. In years past, Darcy had eschewed dancing this much at one event, as he found the activity unbearable unless he knew his partner particularly well. The more he danced, the easier it became to converse on banal subjects, and he realized there were several ladies that he would not mind partnering with again. More than once, he saw Elizabeth's pleased glances as he watched her across the assembly room.

Darcy was decided by the time the assembly concluded. He wanted to become better acquainted with the enigmatic Elizabeth Bennet and resolved to do so without overtly singling her out. If Bingley was right, and someone was monitoring his movements and using that to their advantage, subterfuge was essential.

Miss Bingley ruined the carriage ride back to Netherfield with her sharp remarks about every denizen of the area. She disparaged them as plain, uncouth, and countryfied, criticizing their lack of refinement, poise, and grace.

"The only real beauty I saw was Miss Jane Bennet," she sniffed. "No one could deny her features are out of the common way. Though I have seen more handsome ladies in town, Miss Bennet stands as a cut above the rest in this backwater."

"Quite so, my dear," Mrs. Hurst agreed. She was the only one to respond, however. The other occupants of the carriage wisely ignored Miss Bingley's vitriolic babble and were relieved when they finally arrived at Netherfield Park, able to retire and freed from her presence.

The ladies retired directly, and Mr. Hurst opted to accompany his wife. Darcy and Bingley decided to meet in the library for a brandy before seeking their chambers.

"Well, that was a lovely evening," Bingley remarked as he poured Darcy a glass of port. "So many pretty girls, and some of them uncommonly so! Miss Bennet is perfection!"

"She is a handsome lady," Darcy agreed. He cleared his throat and broached the subject that had been at the back of his mind all evening.

"Do you really think someone has set out to ruin my life deliberately?" Darcy asked his friend. "I had considered the rumors a result of an active imagination that took on a life of its own." He took another drink from his glass and put his elbows on his knees.

"I once thought so, too," Bingley said reasonably. "If you recall, I had my doubts until that soiree in Surrey. It is only… the rumors refuse to die. I have seen some scandalous behavior by peers of the realm fade from gossip in weeks if the personae non gratae departs society. It has not been thus with you. Every time the talk dies down, something or someone brings it back up. Gossips have added to, expounded upon, and embellished the stories… it baffles me." His friend swirled the liquid in his glass and leaned back in his chair, staring into the fire.

Bingley's reasoning once again rang true. His aunt and uncle, his cousin, and even Darcy himself had done what all those in their circle did when rumors abounded: they ignored them and left London. Yet, even with Darcy's absence from society, the stories still swirled, spreading from parlor to parlor and from the highest-ranked households to the lowest.

"I suppose we must now consider who would wish me harm," Darcy concluded. He placed his empty glass on the side table and sat back, putting his feet up on the footstool before him.

"Have you many enemies?" Bingley asked. He emptied his glass and put it with Darcy's. "I did not think it was possible for such an honorable man to earn such avid contempt."

"There is only one," Darcy replied. "At least, it was once so. Now, I know not." The face of his nemesis appeared in his thoughts, and he scowled.

"Who is he?" Bingley asked eagerly.

"George Wickham," Darcy replied. "And I know without a doubt that he is capable of this and much more."