Darcy had arrived at the ball with Bingley, but his horse had picked up a stone in its shoe on the ride over and Darcy had been forced to give the grooms directions on caring for the beast before entering the hall.
Though Bingley had offered to wait for him, Darcy could see the eagerness upon his friend’s face and had encouraged the man to go inside without him. As such, Darcy had entered some minutes after his friend and now found himself alone, scanning the crowd for any acquaintance.
Well, one specific acquaintance.
Hearing the whispered gossip around him, he was certain that his friend had located Miss Bennet and was beginning an enjoyable evening in her presence. He felt an annoyance rising toward his horse—if not for the animal, he too would be embarking upon a pleasant evening. Or so he hoped, for the last time he and Elizabeth had spoken, she had made it clear that her feelings toward him had not changed.
But they still managed to enjoy one another’s company, or so he liked to think at least. He forced himself to shake off his annoyance—only a truly petty man would keep such anger towards an animal. Instead, he kept scanning the crowd.
And that’s when he saw her.
She stood away from the crowd, against the wall, her eyes moving through the people as if she too were looking for someone. Could she be seeking him out as well? he thought before he could stop himself.
No, he immediately scolded his hopeful brain, of course she was not looking for him. Even if she did wish to see him, she had no idea he was in Hertfordshire. He mustn't give way to silly fantasies: if she was looking for someone, it was not him.
A sudden fear gripped him. What if she was waiting for someone? It was too much to hope that no one else would pay call to Elizabeth Bennet. Did he not know, better than anyone, the allure and draw she possessed? He was surely not the first to be drawn to her and, despite Darcy's greatest hopes, it was unlikely he would be the last.
Looking at her, he would not blame any man for his attentions. She was beautiful: she wore a pale-yellow dress and long white gloves. Her adornments were few and simple: a pair of earrings, a necklace and spring flowers in her hair. But the effect was breathtaking. No other woman in the finest jewels the world had to offer could have been more attractive than Elizabeth on this night.
As he admired her from afar, Darcy realised that her eyes had locked into his. Even if he had wanted to drop his gaze, he could not for he knew the power her eyes had over him. Though he was still too far to see them clearly, he could see her eyes in his mind. He could drown in those pools of brown with gold flecks, and if he did, he would be a happy man indeed.
Her look had shaken loose his fear: she would not hold his gaze for so long if it were another she sought. Swallowing down a rush of nervousness, he carefully made his way through the crowd towards her.
Neither of them dropped their gaze nor broke off their looks. It was a far more treacherous endeavour for him, weaving through people and trying to avoid stepping on toes, but he gladly undertook the challenge. He wanted to look into her eyes for as long as she allowed, and he would not be the one to throw away this moment.
Miraculously, he did not walk into anyone as he made his way to Elizabeth. It was as if everyone could see the determination on his face and they cleared a path in front of him.
Before he knew it, he stood in front of her. For a moment, he could not do or say anything. For so many weeks, he had longed for this moment and now that it was here, he wanted to savour it. The way she looked, the scent of the flowers in her hair, the light sheen of perspiration on her forehead—he memorised all of it, firmly locking it into his mind and memory before venturing into physical action and speech.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly, bowing low from his waist.
“Mr. Darcy,” she curtsied in return. Darcy tried to interpret her tone: was she pleased to see him? But her words were yet too few to know her thoughts behind them.
“I had no idea you were in Hertfordshire once more,” Elizabeth continued. “I suppose you have come to join Mr. Bingley for the shooting?”
Darcy considered his words carefully before answering. Should he answer frankly and truthfully? Or should he pretend she was not his sole reason for coming into the country.
“Yes, the shooting,” Darcy said, deciding to soften the passion of his actions. At present, he was still uncertain as to Elizabeth’s feelings—to know of the efforts Darcy had gone through to see her tonight might well push her further away. She provided a reasonable excuse for his presence, so he took hold of it. “Though I just arrived today and have not yet had the opportunity to bag any birds.”
“Today?” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “And your first night in the country is to be taken up at a public ball? I would have thought you would avoid such things as this! I seem to remember the last public ball you attended in our fair town was not up to your exacting standards.”
The amusement in her voice and twinkle of mischief in her eye told Darcy that her observation was meant in jest, not malice, but she still struck upon a point of shame for him. His behaviour all those months ago had been abominable and he did not wish to be reminded. However, he decided he would match her good humour as best he could.
“You compare me to a former self that was woefully uninformed of the charms such events have to offer,” Darcy said with a smile. “Your town and your balls have grown on me.”
Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to blush.
“Your sister, Miss Lydia, is she well?” Darcy changed the subject, not wanting to make Elizabeth uncomfortable. “When you were forced to leave London on such short notice, I feared the worst.”
“She is much better,” Elizabeth said. “When Jane and I first arrived home…” A shadow passed over Elizabeth’s face as she remembered her sister’s sickest days. “Well, we were right to hurry home. But now she is well enough to be deeply and truly cross at having to miss tonight’s ball.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Darcy replied. “That your sister is well, not that she is cross.”
Elizabeth laughed aloud at this and he joined her nervously. He had not intended to make a jest.
“And Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked, merriment still dancing across her countenance. “I trust she too is well?”
“Indeed,” Darcy said. And although he much enjoyed conversing with Elizabeth, this small talk was disheartening. Thus far, their conversation might have occurred between any two people. It lacked the depth that Darcy had come to appreciate and long for in his conversations with Elizabeth.
“She too is cross, for she wanted to come into Hertfordshire as well,” he continued. “Apparently, between Charles and I, we have described the country in such beautiful detail that others long to follow us here.”
“Well,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I cannot blame her, for this country truly is marvellous. However, I am sure you and Mr. Bingley have quite overexaggerated the beauty to be seen here. For I have heard that your home in Derbyshire is truly a sight to behold. I should like to see it one day.”
Darcy smiled, thinking about his home. She was quite correct; the Peak District was spectacular and he missed his home dearly. He had to forcefully keep himself from inviting Elizabeth to visit at that moment—for that would have been far from proper.
However, it seemed as if Elizabeth were missing the key pieces in Hertfordshire that were not present in any other place in the world: the Bennet sisters. For Jane had quite the hold over his friend, and Elizabeth a hold over him. It was this affection that Georgiana had heard from both men. And this affection she wished to see, but he could not come right out and say such things.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said suddenly. He had heard the music end for the current set, and had a desire to dance. “Would you care to dance with me?”
“Yes,” she replied simply. “I would love to.”
With a thrill of excitement, he held out his hand to lead her to the dance floor. Lightly, she placed her smaller hand in his and together they walked into the next room and joined the long line of dancers. The light touch between them sent chills racing through Darcy’s body. Whatever doubt he might have had of his feelings were chased away by those chills.
No one had ever had such an impact upon him and he doubted anyone else ever would.