Page 93 of Her Whole Heart
“Are you free for the next?”
Jane smiled. “I am.”
Mr. Bingley offered his arm, and Jane took it. Lady Carlisle nodded in satisfaction as she watched them make their way back to the centre of the ballroom. Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy and was about to speak when Amelia anticipated her.
“A reconciliation at a ball! How romantic!”
Elizabeth jumped a bit. She had not seen Amelia just behind her. The girl moved like a cat.
Mr. Darcy shook his head as Lady Carlisle scolded her niece for eavesdropping, but Amelia was not in the least contrite. She took the lecture in stride and made her way back to their friends, nearly bursting with the news. It could hardly be a surprise to Cordelia or Diana now, Elizabeth thought with a shake of her head. Everyone could see Jane walking to the dance floor on Mr. Bingley’s arm.
“Someday you shall have to tell me how Mr. Bingley decided to make these changes,” Elizabeth said once they had been left temporarily alone.
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “No, I do not think I ever shall.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The supper dance was done. Darcy had never enjoyed a ball more than tonight, when everyone about them was whispering about his attentions to Miss Elizabeth. He wasproudto have her on his arm, to lead her into supper. The evening had been a great success. She had noticed his waistcoat had been chosen to complement her gown and she had worn the roses he had sent in her dark hair. As he pulled out her chair, Darcy marvelled at the way her eyes—greener this evening than he recalled—sparkled with happiness.
Their courtship—he could use that word now that Miss Elizabeth had said it aloud—it had unfolded so naturally, each encounter bringing them closer together and strengthening the bond he felt and hoped she shared. He could speak to her of very personal matters, no longer bound by the constraints of society or his own retiring nature, and she would listen without thinking less of him for it. She had felt safe doing the same—and it was no small thing, being able to offer that to her. Miss Elizabeth had a way of drawing out the best in him, and he truly cherished each moment they spent in one another’s presence.
Darcy excused himself to fill their plates, his heart light and his steps buoyant. He spent a few minutes jostling for position, but managed to select some of the foods he was certain Miss Elizabeth would enjoy. He could not help but imagine a future filled with countless evenings like this one where they would share one another’s company.
“Heard she set the fire herself,” one man sniggered. “And the fools paid her for pretending to save their daughters.”
His spine straightened. “I suppose you had that from Lady Penelope,” he said without looking directly at the man. “The more fool you, for she is merely jealous.”
The reply was mocking. “Of you?”
Darcy shook his head. “Of Miss Elizabeth. Lady Henrietta was Lady Penelope’s particular friend, and yet she left her behind. Only Miss Elizabeth was brave enough to go back. My cousin owes Miss Elizabeth her life.”
That silenced the man into something Darcy hoped was reflection.
He would need to find Lord Carlisle and relay the gossip that Lady Penelope was circulating, for he had no doubt of its source. Fortunately, the earl was already engaging in a conversation with Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet, unusual because he typically only spoke with the ladies when his wife was with him. Darcy set down their plates but before he could ask to speak to Lord Carlisle privately, the man patted him on the shoulder.
“I must say, Miss Elizabeth, it is a delight to see you and Mr. Darcy together,” he said good-naturedly. “I never imagined my insistence that Mr. Darcy befriend you would lead to such a perfect match, though I do admit to thinking you well suited!”
Lady Carlisle appeared almost magically at her husband’s side and pulled him away with ease and swiftness. No one about them seemed to know that anything was amiss.
Except Lady Penelope, who had stood to speak with the Carlisles, and whose smirk was fuel to the fire.
Darcy’s blood chilled to ice as he watched Miss Elizabeth’s countenance transform. Her smile shrank, her complexion paled, the light in her eyes dimmed to nothing. She swallowed, blinked, and turned her face up to his.
Betrayal. That was what he saw, and it was as though someone had pierced him through the heart.
No one had ever told her. Good God,heought to have told her. They might have laughed about it if he had. But now . . . Now, she was not laughing. He had said nothing, and the revelation had embarrassed her, broken the trust that was so essential to her.
Time seemed to stand still as Elizabeth excused herself, stood slowly, bent to say something to Miss Bennet who was sitting beside her, and calmly moved to absent herself from the room. She was not calm, of course, but she was handling herself with all the dignity Darcy had come to expect from her.
“Miss Elizabeth, I must speak with you,” he said quietly.
“Later, if you please,” she said, and Darcy could only watch helplessly as she departed.
He sank into his chair, haunted by the image of Miss Elizabeth’s pained expression—though it had lasted only a moment, it was an image that he knew would be forever etched in his memory. He had not meant to hurt her, had not even thought about the earl’s ridiculous edict since that day in the street when she had pulled Georgiana out of harm’s way. And now he had ruined it all through his neglect.
He glanced at Miss Bennet and Bingley, who were looking at him, perplexed. Although his transgression was worse than Bingley’s had been, he would take his friend as his model and resolve to make whatever explanations or changes were necessary to ease Miss Elizabeth’s fears and showher that his love for her was true. It did not matter how their story had begun—it was real now.
Miss Bennet placed her napkin on the table. “I should go speak with her.”
