Mr Darcy the Dance and Desire Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  More P&P Variations

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Mr. Darcy, the Dance, and Desire

  a Pride and Prejudice variation

  Valerie Lennox

  MR. DARCY, THE DANCE, AND DESIRE

  © copyright 2019 by Valerie Lennox

  http://vjchambers.com

  Punk Rawk Books

  More P&P Variations

  by Valerie Lennox

  Pledged to Mr. Darcy

  Mr. Darcy’s Courtesan

  Escape with Mr. Darcy

  The Dread Mr. Darcy

  The Scandalous Mr. Darcy

  The Unraveling of Mr. Darcy

  Fall in love with Mr. Darcy all over again

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Elizabeth Bennet did not consider the sum total of her future tied up in securing a husband. However, neither did she have any objections to the idea of becoming some man’s wife. She told herself that if she did meet a man at the Meryton assembly, one that would please her mother with his agreeable fortune, and if she did feel a certain tug towards him, that she would allow herself to be tugged.

  She was certain that if she felt the sort of tug towards a man that indicated she was falling for him, she would know it. She was sure that such a sensation must be token of destiny and, as such, would be overwhelming and unmistakable for what it was.

  But Elizabeth Bennet was incredibly wrong.

  She did meet a man at the Meryton assembly, and she did feel a tug towards him. Rather more than a tug. Indeed, an overwhelming avalanche of attraction, because he was a fine-looking man with a bright smile and dimpled cheeks. His blue eyes twinkled when he winked at her, and there was an air of mischief to him when he complimented her. Truly, there was scarcely a word out of his mouth that was not a compliment. He was silver-tongued and fair. Elizabeth Bennet was smitten with him.

  He was not the man she would marry.

  He was a villain and liar who cared not a jot for anyone but himself.

  His name was Mr. George Wickham, and he had charmed Elizabeth quite nearly out of her head.

  “A waltz?” said Elizabeth, standing in the corner on the edge of the space where others were dancing, clutching close a cup of punch. “Why, no, of course I have never danced one. They are quite scandalous.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Wickham. “I did not mean to imply that a lovely lady such as yourself would have ever engaged in something so… wicked.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  Elizabeth felt a little shivery, even though she was not the least bit cold. Indeed, she was overwarm, having danced a quick reel just recently with Mr. Wickham. It had been their second dance of the evening, and decorum dictated that there be no more. Elizabeth was sorry for it, but she was happy that Mr. Wickham had retired here to the sidelines to speak with her rather than moving on to dance with someone else. She was rather sure that meant something about his feelings for her.

  “No, you must forgive me,” said Mr. Wickham. “If I did make cast such aspersions on your character, then I shall have to prostrate myself before you and beg forgiveness. I will beg for nothing but one last look at your bright eyes, for your eyes are so bright, Miss Bennet, that I am sure one look would sustain me through long years of exile for my transgressions.”

  Elizabeth could not help but smile. “You are far too flattering, sir. It would be quite wrong that your punishment be banishment for such a trifle. I should never want such a thing.”

  “No? Then I have not offended?” He seized her gloved hand and kissed it.

  She laughed, her face getting hot, as she pulled her hand back. Why, he was one for taking liberties, wasn’t he? “No, I am not offended.”

  “Ah, I am quite relieved,” said Wickham. “Losing your good opinion would wound me greatly, and I might never recover.”

  “Surely you exaggerate,” said Elizabeth. “Why, if a woman such as myself could really fell men by simply withholding a good opinion, then I am sure most of my dance partners would have learned their steps better.”

  “Oh, do not be so sure, Miss Bennet. How many of these feckless dancers have you seen on other occasions? Perhaps you have that power and you are not aware. There could be scores of men lying on their deathbeds because you were not forgiving of their missteps.”

  “I am afraid not,” said Elizabeth. “For I have seen them all again, many times. And what is more, none of their dancing has improved one bit.”

  Wickham chuckled. “A pity, then. I think the entire world ought to be ruled by your notions, for you strike me as fair. Both to look upon, and in your justly given opinions.”

  “Why, sir, you have known me but three quarters of an hour at most. You would give me the world after that short an acquaintance?”

  “Most certainly. If it were mine to give, I should give you the sky and the sun as well. Nothing else would match your beauty.”

  “Now, stop. You cannot be at all serious. You are saying such things to have a laugh at my expense.”

  “Not in the least,” said Wickham. “One thing you must know about me, Miss Bennet, is that I am honorable to a fault. I never lie.”

  “Never, sir?”

  “Never.” He took a judicious drink of his own punch.

  “This simply cannot be. Why, not even to spare someone’s feelings? Would you tell your sick, sniffling sister that her nose did not look frightfully red when, in fact, it did?”

  “That’s easy to know. I haven’t got a sister, so that sort of situation would never come up.”

  Elizabeth guffawed. “Oh, that is not what I meant, and you well know it.”

  “I should very much like to dance with you again,” said Mr. Wickham. “It is a pity that society has such strictures about such silly things, don’t you think?”

  “I do,” she said, and now her heart was picking up speed. Mr. Wickham had come into her life seemingly out of nowhere and had turned it upside down. She wanted nothing but to spend every moment with him, and he seemed to want the same. It was foolish, of course, but it was romantic, rather like Juliet who met her Romeo at a large gathering and agreed to marry him later that same night. Elizabeth had never quite understood that before, but now it all seemed perfectly rational.

  Wickham had come as a guest of Mr. Bingley, who had lately occupied Netherfield. The entire town was abuzz with the news of Mr. Bingley arriving, and his coming to the assembly here tonight had been much anticipated.

  There had been talk that he would be coming along with twelve ladies and seven gentlemen, which had seemed a tragedy—so many ladies, after all. But then the story had changed, and it was said he was only bringing along six, his five sisters and a cousin.

  All of this had been false, however. When Mr. B
ingley arrived, he had only his two sisters, one of whom was married, and his friend Mr. Wickham, who was said to be a respectable gentleman. He had not inherited his fortune, but rather gotten it through business, at least that was what Elizabeth had heard.

  But this did not bother her. Elizabeth was no snob. She didn’t have any right to be, not with her own family connections. Her own uncle was in trade.

  Everyone in the assembly had been impressed by Mr. Wickham from the start, and he had danced freely with all of the ladies. But it was only Elizabeth he had singled out for a second dance, and Elizabeth could not help but believe this was a sign of his affection.

  “Unfortunately,” said Mr. Wickham, “we cannot dance again, so I shall have to bid you adieu for now.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, feeling much more disappointed than was warranted. Of course it only made sense that Wickham would take his leave of her. How long had he stood with her, talking, after all? Gentlemen were scarce, and there were many ladies without a partner for a dance. To avoid all that simply for Elizabeth’s company, well, Wickham simply could not do such a thing.

  “I do hope we shall speak again soon,” said Wickham, smiling at her, showing off his dimpled cheeks.

  “Yes, so do I,” said Elizabeth, forcing herself to smile back.

  “Fervently,” said Wickham, giving her a wink.

  And then he was off into the throng of the gathered people. Elizabeth watched him approach her sister Jane, who had just finished dancing with Mr. Bingley.

  Jane and Wickham went out onto the dance floor.

  Elizabeth felt it like a stone in her stomach. Wickham had already danced with Jane. Now, Elizabeth was not the only one he had danced with twice.

  It meant nothing, of course, not truly, and Jane was a sweetness personified, and Elizabeth could begrudge her nothing. Still, she wished that it had all gone differently, and she could not convince herself to cease.

  * * *

  The day after a ball, it was absolutely necessary that there be a meeting between the Miss Bennets and the Miss Lucases, so that the girls could examine every detail of the events of the former evening, reliving them all, dissecting them, and determining what each thing meant.

  There were five Miss Bennets. Elizabeth was the second daughter. Her older sister Jane was the eldest. They had three younger sisters—Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

  There were two Miss Lucases. Charlotte, the eldest, was a close friend of Elizabeth’s. She had a younger sister named Maria.

  The seven girls gathered at Longbourn the morning after the Meryton assembly, along with their mothers, and they spoke at length.

  “You began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. “You were Mr. Bingley’s first choice.”

  “Yes, but he seemed to like his second better,” said Charlotte, giving a knowing look to Jane, who blushed.

  “Oh! You mean Jane, I suppose,” said Mrs. Bennet, practically bursting with delight, “because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her.”

  “Ah, but Mr. Wickham also danced with her twice,” said Lydia.

  “Mr. Wickham danced with a remarkable number of ladies twice,” said Mary dourly.

  “Not me,” pouted Lydia.

  “I think men who look like Mr. Wickham should likely be steered clear of,” said Mary. “That way lies temptation.”

  “Oh, Mary, don’t be ridiculous,” said Lydia, laughing. “What temptation? Are we not meant to be finding husbands?” She turned to her mother. “Is that not what we are commanded to do in the bible?”

  “To be sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, nodding sagely. “I believe there is something in the letter from Paul to the Corinthians about it, stating marriage is the holiest of pursuits.”

  Elizabeth was not at all certain that was what that passage in Corinthians actually said, but she supposed that her mother might be forgiven for interpreting it thus.

  “There, you see?” said Lydia to Mary, lifting her chin in triumph. “Balls and listening to sermons are really quite the same in the eyes of the Lord.”

  “Oh, that is preposterous,” said Mary. “Why, you should get on your knees and offer yourself in supplication and prayer for saying—”

  “Oh, let us go back to talking about the ball, please,” Lydia groaned, rolling her eyes. She turned to Jane. “Which do you like better, Jane? Wickham or Bingley?” She giggled.

  Jane tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, blushing again. “Oh, what a silly question, Lydia. As if I might have a choice between them.”

  “You were quite the prettiest girl at the entire assembly, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, nodding at her daughter.

  “I have to say I agree,” said Lady Lucas, smiling at Jane. “Everyone knows you are the beauty of Hertfordshire.”

  Even Jane’s ears were pink. “Please stop saying such things. I think Charlotte is very pretty as well, and Mr. Bingley did dance with her first.”

  “Oh, I don’t think Mr. Bingley is interested in me,” said Charlotte.

  “You are the daughter of a knight,” said her mother. “Mr. Bingley may indeed respect your pedigree, my dear.”

  “But who do you like better, Jane?” said Lydia.

  “Yes who do you like better?” said Kitty. “I think Mr. Wickham is quite handsome. Much more handsome than Mr. Bingley.”

  “Oh, more handsome by half,” agreed Lydia, and the two burst into girlish giggles.

  “There is more to a man than his looks,” said Mary.

  “Mr. Wickham is a very kind man,” spoke up Elizabeth.

  “Ah, yes,” said Charlotte, turning to her friend. “Wickham danced with you twice as well.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth, who had been somewhat shattered when Mr. Wickham returned to dance a second dance with not only Jane, but two other ladies as well. She knew it did not mean that Mr. Wickham did not have affections for her. He had promised her the whole world, the sky, and the sun. That was not something a man simply said for no reason.

  “Well, what do you think?” said Lydia. “Lizzy, who should Jane marry? Bingley or Wickham?”

  “Lydia!” Jane glared at her sister. “I am not likely to marry either of them.”

  “Oh, I think you should string them both along,” sighed Lydia. “I can’t imagine how romantic it would be to have two suitors at once!”

  “That is frightful,” said Mary, shaking her head. “A wretched thing for a woman to do.”

  “I shall string no one along,” said Jane. “Please, do let’s stop talking of me and talk of someone else. I cannot bear having everyone’s eyes on me.”

  “Take pity on poor, fragile Jane,” said Lydia, laughing. “La, if only I were as pretty as Jane, I should have so much more fun than she does. I don’t understand God sometimes. Why would he bestow a face like Jane’s on a girl with her temperament? It’s a waste, I say. A wretched waste.”

  * * *

  In the coming weeks, Elizabeth saw no more of Mr. Wickham, even though the ladies of Netherfield called on the ladies of the Longbourn, and the visit was returned.

  Even when the Bennets visited Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, however, neither Mr. Bingley nor Mr. Wickham were anywhere to be found, which Elizabeth found to be quite a disappointment.

  She was not sure what she had hoped for, but Mr. Wickham had said that he wished to see her again, so she was anxious for something to pass between them.

  Finally, she was gratified to learn that Mr. Wickham would be a guest at a dinner at Sir William Lucas’s. Of course, however, she could not approach him, but while she was having a conversation with Colonel Forster, who was also a guest that evening, Mr. Wickham approached Elizabeth, the colonel, and Charlotte, who was also nearby.

  He simply stood there, gazing at her and smiling with those dimples.

  Elizabeth became flustered and lost any thread of what she had been saying. She trailed off, and then Colonel Forster used this opportunity to politely take
his leave.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat and said, rather loudly, “Charlotte, what do you suppose Mr. Wickham means by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”

  Charlotte looked at Mr. Wickham, waiting for him to respond.

  However, he did not, only smiling wider.

  “That,” said Charlotte, “is a question only Mr. Wickham can answer.”

  “Indeed,” said Elizabeth. “Well, then, Mr. Wickham, tell me. Did you think that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

  “Oh, with great energy,” said Mr. Wickham, who seemed delighted by this exchange. “I have never seen the like, I must say. Were I Colonel Forster, I should throw you ten balls at least. Why I would throw you ten balls a day if it would make you smile the way you are smiling now. The beauty of your smile rivals the beauty of the sunrise.”

  “I see that in the ensuing time since we have spoken, you have lost none of your eloquence, sir. You are quite fond of waxing rhapsodic when it comes to my beauty.”

  “I beg to differ. You are such a beauty that my words to describe it are but paltry, meager things. I could never hope to approach truly capturing your radiance.”

  “My radiance! Do you hear him, Charlotte?” But Elizabeth was pleased. Hearing him speak thus made her soul soar. She had never been singled out for such attention from a man, especially not one as attractive as Mr. Wickham.

  Mr. Wickham bowed slightly to Charlotte. “Miss Lucas. You are looking lovely tonight as well.”

  “Your Mr. Wickham has quite the complimentary tongue in his head,” said Charlotte.

  “My Mr. Wickham?” said Elizabeth. “He does not belong to me.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, I am your servant,” said Mr. Wickham.

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Elizabeth, I am going to open the instrument soon. You know what follows.”

  “Oh, no, Charlotte, no one wants to hear me sing,” said Elizabeth.

  “I can’t imagine anything would be as sweet a sound as your voice,” said Wickham.

  “You have obviously not heard me sing,” said Elizabeth.