Page 9 of Caroline Bingley's Grand Plan

"Your sister is very beautiful," she said at last as Mr Bingley escorted Jane towards the line of dancing couples.

The sincerity of the remark took Elizabeth by surprise. "She is."

"And very good-natured, I suppose," Miss Bingley went on with a sigh, as if Jane's goodness might be a personal inconvenience to her.

"Almost excessively so."

Miss Bingley's mouth moved as though she were suppressing a smile. "My brother never stood a chance."

Before Elizabeth could decide whether this was an insult or not, Miss Bingley's gaze shifted past her shoulder once more. That peculiar half-smile returned, and Elizabeth turned to discover its cause.

One of the other members of the Netherfield party, a Mr Darcy, stood some distance away beside a column. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair left long enough to curl at his collar and strong features that might have been handsome had the look upon his face not been so forbidding. Everything about him suggested wealth and importance, and Elizabeth suspected that he, like Miss Bingley, thought himself well above his company. She had not had a formal introduction to this gentleman, who seemed disinclined to make any connections amongst the assembled families and townspeople of Meryton. Despite this, he stared at her so intently that her face began to heat. Then, after a moment, he turned away sharply, his manner and expression seemingly designed to discourage anyone approaching him. Indeed, she saw Sir William Lucas ambling towards him before getting a better look at his manner and changing his course.

Elizabeth glanced back at Miss Bingley and found her openly amused. "Will you walk with me, Miss Eliza?" she asked with acid sweetness.

Miss Bingley made no attempt at conversation as they walked, steering Elizabeth firmly around the edge of the ballroom, seemingly with a purpose in mind, although Elizabeth had no idea what it could possibly be. The taller woman’s fingers pinched into her flesh and the embellishments at her sleevescratched at Elizabeth’s skin. When they reached the part of the room where Mr Darcy stood grimacing at the company, Mr Bingley bounded past them, apparently without seeing either woman at all.

Mr Bingley came upon his friend with all the energy Mr Darcy lacked, flushed from dancing and plainly unwilling to allow him to remain idle while he was enjoying himself so thoroughly. "Come, Darcy," he said, catching him by the arm. "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

Mr Darcy shook him off firmly. "I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom. Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, and there are several of them uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome woman in the room," Mr Darcy bit out, taking a step back from his ebullient friend.

Mr Bingley looked across at Jane with an expression of such delight that Elizabeth could not help but smile. He ignored Mr Darcy’s tone and went on happily. "She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld, but there is one of her sisters nearby who is very pretty and, I dare say, very agreeable. Let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"The dark-haired one in green?" Mr Darcy asked in a gentler tone before he seemed to catch himself. He cleared his throat and drew himself up, as though recovering his composure. "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me."

Only then did he look behind him and discover Elizabeth standing close enough to have heard every word. Humiliation rushed through her so quickly that for a moment she could scarcely breathe. She was painfully aware of the people around them, of the glances already passing from one face to another and of the colour burning across her cheeks. But despite the horrible tightness in her chest, she stood a little straighter. Her courage had always risen at any attempt to intimidate or belittle her.

Mr Bingley had now caught sight of her too, his mouth opening and closing in horror. She suspected the amiable man was attempting to find some way to smooth over the situation. But this was a moment for truths not platitudes. This arrogant, rude man deserved to be taken down a peg or two. She freed her arm from Miss Bingley's and marched towards him. "You need not trouble yourself, Mr Darcy. I assure you that I feel no temptation to dance with a gentleman who considers ordinary civility beneath him."

Mr Darcy had gone very pale, almost grey, and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. When heat last found his voice, his words were breathless and low. "I did not realise you were within hearing," Mr Darcy managed weakly after a few seconds of excruciating quiet.

"No," Elizabeth said. "I had gathered as much. I suppose it is easier to be insulting when one believes the object of their bile safely out of earshot."

"You are right. It was an inexcusable remark, and I beg your pardon." His voice was so low now that she had to lean towards him to catch the words.

Some of the heat went out of Elizabeth. This tall, proud man had lowered his eyes to the floor and shifted his weight like a little boy summoned to his father's study. He looked thoroughly ashamed, and so unexpectedly defeated that the rest of her anger began to lose its force.

Elizabeth inclined her head coolly. "Then I shall leave you to reflect upon it."

She turned back to Miss Bingley, whose eyebrows had risen almost to her hairline and, combined with the violent orange of her gown, gave her the appearance of a startled ginger cat. Elizabeth could have sworn she heard Miss Bingley mutter, "Stupid, stupid man." Then she recovered herself, gave Elizabeth one long, critical glance and swept away towards her sister and Mr Hurst without another word.

The pair were craning their necks from the other side of the room, plainly aware that something had occurred but too far away to have heard what had passed. Miss Bingley reached them with her usual haughty composure restored, while Elizabeth turned towards Jane. She wanted nothing more than to run across the room, but forced herself to keep her pace measured beneath the assessing looks of her neighbours.

Only when she was close to Jane did Elizabeth allow herself to hurry the final few steps. Jane's smile faded as soon as she saw her face, but before Elizabeth could explain, Mrs Bennet bore down upon them with Kitty and Lydia behind her. "Lizzy, what have you done?" she demanded in a fierce whisper that carried almost as well as her usual voice. "Everyone is looking, and I saw you speaking to Mr Darcy in the most extraordinary manner. You have not offended him, I hope, when Jane has been doing so well with Mr Bingley."

"Mr Darcy insulted me within hearing of half the room," Elizabeth said, desperately trying to draw her mother to a quieter part of the room where they would not be overheard. "I simply answered him, Mama." When her mother demanded to know what had been said, Elizabeth repeated the remark, drawing giggles from Kitty and Lydia and a worried look from Jane. Mrs Bennet, however, seemed far more troubled by Elizabeth's reply than by the insult itself. She declaredthat a gentleman with ten thousand a year might be forgiven one foolish opinion and asked why Elizabeth must choose this evening to quarrel with Mr Bingley's closest friend.

"I did not quarrel with him. And it is all resolved now, he apologised." Jane tightened her hold upon Elizabeth's hand, but before either of them could say more, Elizabeth saw Mr Bingley across the room speaking rapidly to Mr Darcy, his usual easy manner replaced by visible agitation. Mr Darcy listened with his head bowed, answering only once before Mr Bingley glanced towards Jane and started across the room to claim her for their second dance of the evening. Elizabeth urged her sister to go, unwilling to let the affair spoil her pleasure, and Mrs Bennet's attention turned at once to Jane and Mr Bingley.

Elizabeth took a seat beside her middle sister Mary, who looked at her with open curiosity but mercifully said nothing. Across the room, Mr Darcy was still watching her. His earlier hauteur had vanished, and he now looked so thoroughly miserable that she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Miss Bingley had resumed her place beside her sister with all her usual grandeur, but she glanced back once, looking from Mr Darcy to Elizabeth with a small, satisfied smile.

Chapter Six

Darcy, October 1811, Road to Netherfield, Hertfordshire