Page 51 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“Is she well?” Elizabeth enquired.
“Yes, very well. Though I cannot condone her new occupation.”
“And what has Emma engrossed at the moment?”
“Matchmaking.” Mr Knightley frowned. “I am certain Miss Taylor does not appreciate her efforts. Nothing good can come of it. It is best to refrain from meddling in people’s personal lives.” He was staring over her right shoulder and seemed distant. “Yet, I must ask you why Mr Darcy is scowling at me.”
Elizabeth laughed, fighting the impulse to turn and see for herself. “I can assure you that it is not you he has directed his critical eyes towards but me.”
“Why would he scowl at you?” Mr Knightley asked in bewilderment.
“He is listing my faults,” Elizabeth quipped. Mr Knightley’s frown deepened, which hastened her to add, “It is a habit of his, and if I am not impertinent, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”
Mr Knightley shook his head and smiled crookedly. “I must disabuse you of such a notion. As a gentleman myself who knows something about other gentlemen’s dispositions, Mr Darcy is definitely scowling at me, and he is not looking at you to find fault. Quite the contrary.”
Elizabeth was shocked silent and could only stare at Mr Knightley, who obviously knew no more about Mr Darcy than he did about the man in the moon.
“Me thinks Emma’s new endeavour might be contagious, but we shall not argue about that on this fine evening. Will you give her my regards when next you see her?” Elizabeth requested, curtseyed, and left to find her family.
People were moving towards the dining room, and she was fruitlessly searching for her relations in the throng when someone obstructed her path. It was quite an annoying time to be short in stature; for a moment, she wished she had donned Queen Elizabeth’s shoes.
“Lady Elizabeth,” the gentleman who had stepped in front of her said, bowing deeply and offering her his arm.
Elizabeth was reluctant to take it because she was not certain whether they had been introduced. It was difficult to distinguish his unremarkable appearance in the sea of new acquaintances, and her grandmother firmly objected to accepting introductions that had not been approved by her family.
“Mr Elliswick, at your service.” He bowed again. “We were introduced by the Duke of Argyll,” he asserted, but Elizabeth did not know said duke by anything more than his name. The only Elliswick she had heard of was Meryton’s seamstress, and she doubted the woman had an acquaintance who was a guest at Lady Jersey’s Christmas ball.
Mr Elliswick took her silence for acceptance and laced his arm with hers.
“Excuse me!” she cried, but Mr Elliswick led her forcefully towards the balcony door.
“Release me this instant, or I shall scream,” she warned.
Mr Elliswick smirked and pulled her farther from the safety of the ballroom. “You may scream as much as you like. I am sure even the marquess will agree to our marriage if we are discovered loitering alone on the balcony.”
“He will not,” Elizabeth protested. “And I most certainly shall never entertain such a ridiculous threat. What do you want from me?”
The oaf did not even answer, and Elizabeth’s valiant resistance brought them to an abrupt halt.
“Campbell! Release the lady at once!” Mr Darcy’s rich baritone voice commanded.
Elizabeth had never been more delighted to see his forbidding countenance than at that very moment. She glanced at Mr Elliswick, or Campbell, or whatever his real name was, utterly relieved he had not succeeded in pulling her out onto the balcony. He glared back at her with such hatred that she became scared enough to admit to it.
Mr Darcy was by her side in the next instant and repeated his command. Faced with a furious Mr Darcy who towered two or three inches above him, the man finally released Elizabeth, who rubbed her arm where his fingers had dug into her flesh.
“Return to your family, Lady Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy ordered curtly.
Did he believe she was about to follow the rake willingly out onto the darkened balcony? “I shall once I have informed you that I did not move this way—” Because she could not allow him to think ill of her? She was being silly, he already did.
“Lady Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy whispered and looked up.
Elizabeth followed his gaze and saw the twig of mistletoe hanging directly above her head. Unfortunately, the Campbell reprobate had also discovered the dratted verdure and picked a berry. Before she had the wherewithal to step away, he leant in. Her quick response saved her from a kiss on the lips. She wrenched her head to the side and the sloppy kiss landed on her cheek.
Elizabeth lowered her head to avoid a repeat performance and huffed as she rummaged in vain through her reticule, when a handkerchief was handed to her.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy.” She accepted the silk cloth and wiped her cheek whilst she turned her back decidedly to the whippersnapper Campbell.
Mr Darcy offered her his arm. Glancing up at him, she saw his eyes twinkled in the candlelight.
