Defending Elizabeth

Chapter 6

"Lizzy, have you ever seen such a ball?" Charlotte Lucas asked her friend.

"Indeed, it is quite grand," Elizabeth replied. She craned her neck, trying to locate Mr. Wickham. She did not see him; unfortunately, she locked eyes with the unpleasant Mr. Darcy instead.

"Oh, no, Charlotte," she whispered. "He is making his way towards us."

Elizabeth already had her fill of men in whom she had not the slightest interest. Mr. Collins made quite an event of partnering with her for the first two dances of the evening. Though his handsome physical features at first suggested perfection, his dexterity—in addition to his personality—was far lacking this mark. Her feet were quite sore from his many missteps. She was relieved when she danced the maximum number of dances with Mr. Collins that was proper; to invite her to dance again would practically be a proposal of marriage. She hoped even Mr. Collins was not so foolish.

Elizabeth set thoughts of Mr. Collins aside. It was clear Mr. Darcy was aiming towards Charlotte and her, and she would need all her wits about her if she was to manage a conversation with him.

"Good evening, ladies," Mr. Darcy said with a bow.

Elizabeth and Charlotte curtsied in response.

"I wonder, Miss Elizabeth, if I might have the honor of the next dance."

Elizabeth's head felt thick. Why would Mr. Darcy want to dance with someone as 'barely tolerable' as she? She stared at him blankly for a moment, willing some witty response to occur to her--something to let him know she was not in the slightest interested in a dance with him. Unfortunately, no such response came to mind. She answered in the only way she could, without causing a social furor: "You may."

She cast a glance over her shoulder at Charlotte as Mr. Darcy led her to the dance floor. Charlotte gave her a small smile and raised her eyebrows, and then Elizabeth was in the midst of the dance with the horrid Mr. Darcy.

She realized remaining silent would only intensify an otherwise awkward situation, and her best chance of escaping unscathed was to make light conversation. Whether Mr. Darcy would hold up his end of the conversation, she had not the slightest idea.

"How do you find Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?" she asked as they met in the middle of the dance floor. Each continued in the opposite direction before reversing the steps, so she had to wait a moment for his response.

"It is noisy in a much different way than in town. There are fewer voices, but those that there are seem to ring much more stridently in the country than they do in the city."

"Ah, so you find us strident? Is that another way of saying coarse?"

"Certainly I would never use the word coarse. It is true the country seems to be a bit behind the city in fashions and entertainments, but I do not intend that as a criticism."

"Do you not? It seems you found fault with much of what you have seen so far, and what is finding fault but criticism?"

"Is this the impression you have formed of me?" he asked, frowning.

"Sir, you have given me little reason for any other impression," Elizabeth said, returning his frown.

The two continued the dance, both of them angry at the other for reasons they could not put words to. It was therefore a relief to them to hear the dance ending.

"I apologize for having detained you in such a distasteful pastime," Darcy said, with a stiff bow.

"I never said it was distasteful! It seems clear you have no intention but to provoke me! I am embarrassed, sir, that I allowed myself to be tricked into dancing with you!"