An End to Estrangement - A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Part 10

How strange it was to be in this position again. Not dancing - he had danced hundreds of dances such as this, at assemblies not dissimilar to this particular one, for, despite his best efforts to avoid them, he seemed forever to find himself in company that would not countenance his avoiding them. But this was the first time he had danced with Elizabeth Bennet in...how many years? He frowned, striving to recall whether it had been three or four years. She did not seem as upset by the recollection as he, for her features remained unmoved. A little pinched, perhaps, but then again, that might just be the passage of time. She was not quite as young as she had been, of course. And neither am I. Darcy felt as if he had lived several decades in the intervening years since the summer of their friendship. He snorted. Friendship. Could it even be called that? There had been an evening, a meeting or two beyond that, and then - nothing. Until now.

"How are you finding Netherfield Park, Mr Darcy?"

He was so surprised to hear Elizabeth's voice that he almost entirely missed her question, turning towards her blankly and struggling to summon an answer before the steps of the dance forced them to part.

"It is pleasant enough," he managed, at last, clarifying his comments when next they were close enough to permit a word or two of conversation. "That is, Bingley seems eminently satisfied with it."

"But you are not?"

The question was innocent enough, but there was a spark in those dark eyes that taunted him. Yes, it was a taunt, and Darcy found himself almost compelled to answer.

"I have stayed in many houses. I have much to compare it to."

Elizabeth nodded, the ghost of a smile on her features and Darcy yearned to know what answer he ought to have given, for he felt a strange inkling that it ought not to have been this one.

"I come to support my friend," he said, at last, wondering if she could discern the coldness of his tone just as well as he could. "He wished to take the place for a year and, being less accustomed to life in the countryside, asked me if I would take a look at it. It will suit him well, I dare say." He glanced over his shoulder to where Bingley was still dancing, beaming at his partner, the impossibly pretty blonde Miss Bennet. He was apparently already quite some way to falling completely in love with her. Darcy felt a stab of pain and turned away.

Elizabeth was silent beside him, her feet keeping time with the music, but there was something different in her movements. They lacked the grace of the Elizabeth from his memory, the sheer joy of dancing. Could she really have changed so very much in only a few years? No, surely it was not the dancing she so disliked, but that she was forced to dance with him.

"I assure you -" He paused, swallowing the impulse to call her by her Christian name, which had risen so naturally to his lips and surprised him by how easy it still felt, even after all this time apart. Why had he not been able to forget her? Why was fate so determined that he would not, bringing them together again, even now, although they seemed almost unrecognisable from the people they had once been. Drawing in a breath, he tried again.

"I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, had I known that the estate that so fascinated my friend was in such close proximity to your family's home, I would not have been so eager to join him."

It had been a matter-of-fact statement, an explanation of sorts, intended to justify, not to harm, yet a shadow flashed quickly across Elizabeth's face that might have been pain. Darcy frowned, but the look was gone almost as soon as he had noticed it, and he could not be sure it had ever been there at all.

"I am sure you shall find reason enough to escape Hertfordshire again before long, then, Mr Darcy. As you see, Mr Bingley seems quite capable of managing his affairs without your assistance. And I am quite sure nobody wishes to distract you from your duty."

There had been an imperiousness about her delivery, almost as if she intended him to take some additional meaning from her words, but whatever truth had lain beneath them was lost on Darcy. His frown grew deeper and he fixed his eyes on her as if that might better help him to understand.

"My duty?"

She could not mean, Georgiana, surely? How could news of that business have reached as far as this?

"You need not worry, Mr Darcy." Elizabeth smiled, a tight, bitter expression that was barely even comparable to the smile she had once worn when they danced like this, when their eyes met and they spoke in whispers too quiet for any of their neighbours to overhear. "I am quite conscious of the trajectory of your life in comparison to mine. I have no desire to distract you from it."

He opened his mouth to contradict her, to demand some clarification. This was uttered too calmly and in too measured a tone to be merely an off-the-cuff remark. It was rehearsed, surely, but could these words be Elizabeth's? The voice was hers, but the delivery was flat, somehow, in a way that seemed alien even to this version of the Elizabeth he had once known, and known well. At least, he thought he had.

"What do you mean?"

She did not reply, though, and he was saved the trouble of enquiring again, for the music reached its conclusion and the dancers parted ways.

"Good evening, Mr Darcy. Or, perhaps, goodbye. At least this time we may say as much to one another in person."

There was no mistaking her bitterness this time, and Darcy knew she referred to their previous parting, that he had left her by letter and not explained in person. Surely she had read the whole of his note, though? She had seen his reasons? And anyway, at least he had sent word of his intention. He had received no reply, no confirmation that the feelings he had hinted at were in any way returned. He stood stricken a moment and when he recovered himself enough to formulate a reply she had disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

"Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth," he muttered to the place where she had been standing only moments before. He turned, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye that he correctly deduced as Caroline Bingley angling towards him, no doubt eager to claim a second dance. He chose that moment to turn on his heel and stalk away, escaping the dancing for the security of the shadows, where he might watch and think and curse Providence, for bringing Elizabeth Bennet back into his life to disturb his present as thoroughly as she had upset his past.