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“Not
all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could
ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory
description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in various ways--with barefaced
questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the
skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand
intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable.
Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully
handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the
next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond
of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of
Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained.”
Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3
For my part, the beauty of Jane
Austen Fan Fiction (JAFF) is its license to reimagine Miss Austen’s stories in
infinitely diverse yet intriguing ways, whether it be a change in the story
settings, the manner in which the various characters meet and become acquainted
with one another, and even who says what to whom. My favorite Jane Austen book,
by far, is Pride and Prejudice. My
favorite characters: Darcy and Elizabeth (in that order).
In my latest novel, Impertinent Strangers, I borrowed some
of the words from the previously cited quote in crafting a delightful dance
scene between our dear couple. Although the setting is the Meryton assembly, by
this point in the story Darcy and Elizabeth know each other very well, having
first met in Kent.
I hope you will enjoy reading the
following excerpt just as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Chapter 23 Excerpt (Reprinted with Author’s Permission. All Rights Reserved.)
It was quickly decided that between
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, the latter bore the most amiable countenance. Mr.
Darcy, however, drew the greater share of the attention of the room by his
fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report, which was in
general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten
thousand a year.
Elizabeth was rather dismayed. What
a woefully insufficient measure of such a man as Mr. Darcy, when she knew him
to be worthy of admiration for reasons having nothing at all to do with any of
those things.
Seeing the manner in which the
younger Bingley sister attached herself to Mr. Darcy meant nothing to her. That young woman might as well be his cousin
Anne de Bourgh, Elizabeth considered as she sat out the dance watching the
two of them move through the crowd. He barely even looked at his dance partner,
who, on the other hand, could not tear her thirsty eyes away from him.
This was the first time that
Elizabeth had ever had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Darcy dance. His air on the
dance floor was everything a gentleman’s air ought to be. With what grace did
he move, his noble lineage on full display.
Purposely tearing her own eyes away
from him, she commenced scanning the dance floor in admiration of the other
couples. Elizabeth espied her dearest sister Jane dancing with Mr. Bingley. What a pleasing prospect, she thought.
If ever there existed a gentleman who was perfect for her sister, it was
Charles Bingley. True enough, she had only been in company with the gentleman
that one time when he called at Longbourn with Mr. Darcy. In Elizabeth’s
estimation, Mr. Bingley was almost identical in temperament as well as
understanding to Jane. What better recipe
for love?
She reflected on her own love life
or rather lack thereof. She supposed it could have been merely a coincidence
that one of Mr. Darcy’s closest friends—the one whom he had spoken of when they
were together in Kent, she rather surmised—happened to let the estate
neighboring her father’s, and that Mr. Darcy was in Hertfordshire solely for
the purposes of serving his friend in his new role as master of such a large
property. Anything was possible.
But
what if Mr. Darcy’s being here is no coincidence at all? She knew enough about him to know
of his wont to manage things for his own convenience. I refuse to squander another moment on conjecture. I shall see how he
behaves, and then I will know what to think.
Upon the completion of the dances
with Miss Bingley, Darcy approached Elizabeth to claim her hand. She took her
place opposite him on the assembly floor, all the while doing her best to avoid
her neighbors’ looks of amazement that he had singled her out from among the
crowd of eligible young ladies in want of dance partners.
As this was the first time she had
ever danced with him, she did not intend to waste a single moment in polite
silence. “You are aware, sir, that you have created quite a stir by inviting
the sister of a fallen woman to stand opposite you,” she said when the dance
allowed.
“I feel most fortunate to be dancing
with the handsomest woman in the room.” They were then separated by the dance—a
welcome reprieve for Elizabeth for she had not expected him to be so bold.
When they were reunited, he said,
“It is a pleasure I wish to indulge in this evening as much as decorum will
allow.”
Elizabeth colored. She almost missed
a step. After a slight pause, she said, “Your first dance partner was very
lovely.”
He smiled in confirmation. He said
nothing.
“Is she a close acquaintance?”
Darcy gave her a look, and once
again they were parted. Elizabeth really needed this reprieve. What must he think of my impertinence?
“You amaze me, Miss Elizabeth,” he
said when they were united once more.
“Sir?”
“I have long appreciated the
liveliness of your mind; however, I am surprised by this particular side of
you. Do you talk by rule while you are dancing?”
“Sometimes. I believe one must speak
a little, for it would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together.
However, if you would prefer silence then I shall do my best to hold my
tongue.”
“By all means, feel free to speak to
your heart’s content. I would by no means wish to suspend any pleasure of
yours.”
Elizabeth made no answer, and they
were again silent till they had gone down the dance. It being her turn to say
something, she remarked on her enjoyment of balls and assemblies, and she asked
him which of the two he preferred.
“I hope you will not be disappointed
to learn that I would rather avoid both. Dancing is one particular pastime I am
wont to eschew whenever I can help it.”
“But you dance so well,” she
exclaimed with energy. “That is to say you are a very accomplished dancer.”
“Accomplished, you say? I do not
know that I have ever been described as such—at least not on the dance floor.”
Tiny chill bumps spread over her
body at the way he looked at her when speaking those words. Their time at the
temple immediately sprang to mind, for it was then that she had seen that same
look in his eyes. If she were to live to be a hundred years old, she would
never forget that look. Nor would she forget the way her body stirred in its
wake.
They were separated once more, and
Elizabeth reminded herself to breathe. By the time they reunited, Mr. Darcy’s
expression had undergone a decided change.
“Are you happy to be here, Mr.
Darcy?”
“I am. Why do you ask such a thing?”
“Your countenance is quite stern.”
Indeed, he seemed very much the aloof, taciturn gentleman she had first
believed him to be.
“I can only imagine what your
thoughts portend. You are probably asking yourself how it is that you find
yourself at such an assembly as this,” she said.
“You mistake me, Miss Elizabeth. I
assure you that my mind is very agreeably engaged, despite my stern—as you so
described it—countenance.” Subtly biting his lip, he added, “How might it be
otherwise when I am dancing with you?”
Elizabeth arched her brow a little
at this. Her spirits rising to playfulness, she said, “Oh! But you told me you
do not like dancing.”
“I trust you will forgive me for
saying that, for I believe I spoke too hastily. I am now given to understand
that I simply never had the right dance partner; that is to say until now.”
Elizabeth had seen such varying
aspects in Mr. Darcy’s character since first laying eyes on him in Kent. At
times, she was wont to admit that the gentleman puzzled her exceedingly. One
thing was certain, she liked him very much and especially when he flattered her
ego so well as he did that evening. Their teasing banter did not abate for the
rest of the dance and Elizabeth could hardly wait for their next set.
No sooner was the dance over
than Miss Bingley raced across the room and laced her arm through Mr. Darcy’s.
Not wishing for an introduction to Elizabeth, the overly zealous young lady
said, “Come, Mr. Darcy, I am desperately in need of refreshment, and I require
your assistance to navigate through this throng of merrymakers.”
He gave Elizabeth an apologetic
look. “Until our next dance, Miss Elizabeth.”
When Miss Bingley felt she and the
gentleman were safe, she said, “Mr. Darcy, if I did not know you so well as I
do, I would suppose you were quite taken with your dance partner. I have never
known you to be so at ease with a perfect stranger.”
“I posit you do not know me so well
as you think, Miss Bingley.”
“Not know you, sir? Surely you mean
to tease me. You are my brother’s best friend. I have long considered the two
of us as very good—dare I say intimate—friends as well.” Here she paused and
batted her eyelashes at him. “I cannot tell you how pleased I was when my
brother informed me that you had the ideal country estate in mind for him, and
how you would spend time helping him navigate the ins and outs of its
management. What an excellent time we shall have, even if Charles is determined
to associate with the likes of these people. No doubt, he will extend an
invitation to each and every one of them to dine at Netherfield in their turn,
and, if I know him at all, he will want to have a ball.”
Darcy said nothing in response to these
conjectures.
“I can guess the subject of your
reverie, sir. You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many
evenings in such society. Indeed, you and I are of the same mind, as we often
are. The insipidity, the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of these
people! What I wouldn’t give to hear your strictures on them!”
Amid Darcy’s continued silence, Miss
Bingley cried, “Mr. Darcy?”
“Pardon,” he said, tearing his eyes
away from his former dance partner who by now was sitting with her sisters.
“I do not believe you have heard a
word I have said.”
He shrugged a little. “It would
appear that I am guilty as charged.”
“What on Earth has you so
distracted?”
“I have been meditating on the very
great pleasure that a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can
bestow.”
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her
eyes on Darcy’s face. “Pray which lady among us has the credit of inspiring
such reflections?”
“My former dance partner and the
only woman of my acquaintance whom I ever wish to dance with again. Miss
Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” Miss
Bingley repeated. “I am all astonishment. Surely you could not have known her
very long. When, in so fleeting an acquaintance as the two of yours, did she
become such a favorite? And when, pray tell, am I to wish you joy?”
That was exactly the sort of
question that Darcy had expected Bingley’s younger sister to ask, but he would
not gratify her wishes with a response. Besides,
the young lady will have her answer soon enough.
Such being the case, Darcy said
nothing. Instead he went on listening to her with perfect indifference while
she chose to entertain herself in this manner. As his composure convinced her
that all was safe, her wit flowed long. Darcy only had one thing on his mind;
that being his next set with Elizabeth.
~*~
Through the course of the evening,
Jane and Elizabeth stole away from the others in their party and went outside
for a breath of fresh air. Elizabeth could not recall the last time she had
seen her sister so happy—so animated. The two young ladies joined hands and
gave in to a bout of laughter.
“Dearest Jane, I think Mr. Bingley
likes you very much.”
“Oh, Lizzy, do you really think so?”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Indeed, as does
everyone else at the assembly, I am certain. Pray what do you think of him? Do
you like him?”
As if not wishing to be too eager in
her praise of the young man, Jane replied whimsically, “What is there not to
like? He is sensible and good-humored. He is lively, and I never saw such happy
manners. Mr. Bingley is just what a young man ought to be.”
“That is to say nothing of his
handsome looks, which a gentleman also ought to possess so far as it can be
arranged. So, there. You have my permission to like him.”
“Lizzy, be serious. A handsome face
means nothing at all if there are carefully concealed flaws in one’s
character—a lesson that we have learned most painfully.”
With the Wickhams so far away and
seldom thought about as a consequence, Elizabeth pleaded, “Pray let us not
speak of such misfortunes at such a time as this.”
“Very well. Too much happiness
abounds this evening. Your Mr. Darcy is an excellent dance partner.”
“Jane, he is not my Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, not
unaware that she had put forth the same defense to her friend Charlotte months
ago.
“Is he not?” Jane asked, her brow
slightly arched. “You need not answer me, for if he is not now your Mr. Darcy, he will be very soon—that is to say unless
there is no truth at all in the notion that to be fond of dancing is a certain
step towards falling in love.”
Elizabeth smiled in silent
acquiescence. Indeed, she had long believed in such an idea as well, which must
certainly have explained her disappointment in hearing Mr. Darcy express his
displeasure in the endeavor earlier that evening. Then again, he owed his
distaste to not having danced with the right partner until now. Did she dare
allow herself to hope that perhaps he was in her power?
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