Page 43 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“Certainly not!” the fop scoffed. “It is quite the opposite. Rinse away the grime and the germs will surely follow.”
“Indeed, it must be so,” Elizabeth replied. “You will not find me guilty of such extreme ill-breeding as to differ in opinion from the esteemed Mr Brummell.”
They separated and assumed new partners. Elizabeth came face to face with none other than Mr Darcy and bolstered her courage to fight the tremulousness that threatened to overcome her. The stubborn infatuation still rendered her as possessed by an affectionate heart, even though the subject of her admiration had trifled most cruelly with her feelings and had taken unfair advantage of her youth and lack of experience. First love was a stubborn affliction indeed.
“Lady Elizabeth!” he exclaimed in his usual beauteous tone whilst all colour drained from his face.
“Mr Darcy,” she greeted in a high-pitched voice she hardly recognised. But she had sworn to treat him as an indifferent acquaintance. As a direct consequence of this promise, she offered him a small smile as she would every gentleman she encountered.
The gesture clearly startled Mr Darcy, and he stumbled. “I beg your pardon. I am not usually this clumsy, but your ethereal presence would make any man trip over his own feet. Whilstyoudance truly gracefully—so feminine and ladylike,” Mr Darcy uttered to her surprise. It was not like him to pay her compliments. Could he be mocking her? She must have frowned or something equally disbelieving because he closed his mouth so abruptly that his teeth clattered.
Fortunately, their rendezvous was short. She was handed back to her partner and that was that. A sigh of relief escaped her. It was not so bad to meet Mr Darcy as indifferent acquaintances; at least he was more civil.
The dance ended, and Mr Brummell escorted her back to her relations who were surrounded by eager gentlemen waiting to be introduced. Elizabeth smiled wryly to her partner. She was not too vain as to recognise why she was suddenly the belle of the ball.
“Thank you, Mr Brummell. It has been a pleasure and an honour.”
The gentleman left for the card room with Uncle Henry, and another young man approached whom her grandmother introduced as Viscount Crawford. Elizabeth thought she recognised the name but could not place it.
“Was that Mr Darcy I just saw you dancing with?” the viscount queried.
“Briefly, yes, but my partner was Mr Brummell,” she boasted.
“A very fine gentleman.”
Elizabeth nodded and supposed he was speaking about the lauded friend of the Prince Regent, who was frequently mentioned in the newspapers as the arbiter of gentlemen’s fashion.
“I cannot hold a candle to Darcy’s noble face and impressive stature, but I still have the nerve to request a set.” The viscount offered her his arm, Elizabeth accepted, and they moved to the line.
“You admire Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth probed, baffled at this turn. She was still not absolutely certain that the viscount had not misspoken and meant Mr Brummell.
“Admire! You may depend upon it. He has not his equal in all of Europe. I speak of him altogether, as to his beauty, his manners, and his talents. Mr Darcy, owing to his extreme reserve and excessive shyness, has never desired to be known or to be favoured but by his own particular friends. Yet, I know few so capable or so distinguished. His voice is remarkably fine, and his language is always persuasive and eloquent. He would have made an excellent politician if his vanity had bent in that direction. Mr Darcy, of course, would deny it vehemently and refute any claims of excellence of speech.”
“How can he be shy?” Elizabeth doubted.
“Your question should be why it becomes him so well. I dare say any other man would be awkward, but Mr Darcy is at his most graceful when he is utterly embarrassed. I have known him since he was a boy, and the ladies have been running mad for him since he was fifteen years old!”
The viscount laughed and looked as if he remembered some funny anecdote.
“Mr Darcy did not dare to look any lady full in the face until well after he had come of age. It was the loss of his estimable father that forced him into society, and not so seldom his friends had to ply him with brandy to encourage him to dance.” Lord Crawford smiled, and so ended his praise of Mr Darcy.
“Dare I accuse you of not being entirely in earnest and suggest that you might be prone to exaggeration.” Elizabeth had a hard time believing a word the viscount said.
“Look at the breadth of his shoulders before you join the hue-and-cry against me,” the viscount said, grinning.
Elizabeth laughed merrily, and the badinage continued with the pleasant viscount until their set ended.
When the ball was over, Elizabeth had been engaged for every set and spent a pleasant supper with Lord Winterbourne. She had not seen a trace of Mr Darcy and supposed he must have left for another engagement.
“What a splendid evening,” Grandmother gushed in the carriage on their way home. “You were in high demand this evening, Eilís. I am all anticipation for when the Season begins in earnest.”
“I owe it all to Mr Brummell for singling me out,” Elizabeth demurred.
“Nonsense!” Uncle Henry growled as their conveyance rolled to a halt in front of Limerick House. “You won them over on your own merit. Who would object to such beauty and wit combined?”
#
Elizabeth awoke as the noon sun reached her face. In her exhausted state, she had forgotten to close the curtains. Too tired for company, she ordered a tray to her room and anticipated a few pleasurable hours reading in the window seat. But her mind was too unsettled. The words floated round the page in a disorderly fashion as her thoughts kept returning to a certain gentleman. There was no reason to lament what could not be, but she could cherish the memories, particularly the feelings Mr Darcy had aroused in her when they had flirted at the masquerade ball and the exquisite view from the top of a tree… A thrill had flowed through her veins, lighting every nerve in her body. The idea worked quite well to separate her childhood hero and the unmasked dance partner from the Mr Darcy who had entered the Meryton assembly. She almost convinced herself that they were not the same man. The evening’s success had assured her that Mr Darcy’s cruel rejection did not reflect upon her attractions but rather the gentleman’s disposition to disapprove of everyone beneath him in consequence. He had spent half an hour in Mrs Long’s company without speaking as much as a word to her. Mrs Bennet had been convinced it was because Mrs Long did not own a carriage. The irony of the fact that Elizabeth and her family now outranked him made her giggle. She was not made for misery and welcomed the improvements to her spirits most heartily.
