Free Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 by Jennifer Lang Page A

uncertain of her acceptance. The thought pleased her. It seemed that Mr Darcy was losing some of his arrogance, in the face of her determined dislike.
    But she dropped him a curtsey and accepted his hand.
    He looked relieved, and all eyes followed them as they went out on to the floor.
    Luckily, it was such a crush that, once the dance had begun, they were largely unobserved, for there was no room for anyone to become the object of too much attention.
    To begin with they said nothing, then Mr Darcy made some commonplace comment and Elizabeth made some formal reply. But then she could contain herself no longer and said, ‘Mr Wickham is not here, I see.’
    There was a pause as the dance separated them for a moment, then Mr Darcy said, ‘No.’
    ‘He sent his apologies, I understand?’
    Mr Darcy looked unsure of himself again but then said, ‘He did.’
    ‘He fell from his horse, I believe.’
    ‘So it would appear.’
    Elizabeth turned bright eyes towards him and said challengingly, ‘I wonder why that should be?’
    Mr Darcy coloured slightly and said, ‘Accidents happen.’
    ‘But this was not an accident, was it?’ she said, her anger and her passion breaking out. ‘There is no use in dissembling, Mr Darcy, I saw you today, down by the bridge, wrestling with each other.’
    He looked shocked and mumbled some kind of apology. Then, colouring even further he said, ‘This means that you know all.’
    ‘No, Mr Darcy, I do not know all. I could not hear your conversation, but I heard enough to know that you were arguing over me and that Mr Wickham was meant to tell me something tonight.’
    Her eyes were sparkling with righteous anger and Mr Darcy had never seen her look more beautiful.
    ‘This is very awkward,’ he said.
    ‘Awkward or not, I demand to know what you were talking about,’ she said. ‘What is it that I must know?’
    At this inopportune moment the music stopped and the dance came to an end. Mr Darcy was forced to bow and Elizabeth was forced to curtsey and he escorted her to the side of the room.
    ‘I demand to know,’ she said, her whole body quivering with indignation.
    Again, he thought he had never seen anyone more lovely.
    ‘I cannot tell you. It is for Mr Wickham to say.’
    ‘But you do know what it is?’ she demanded.
    ‘Yes, I do.’
    ‘Then you must tell me,’ she said. ‘As a gentleman, you must.’
    She could see that her words had hit home. As a gentleman . And Mr Darcy prided himself on being a gentleman.
    ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But will you not come into the ante-room? I think you will need to sit down.’
    He indicated an open door leading off into another, smaller room. There were a few guests there, taking a rest from the noise of the ballroom, and she nodded her head, all the while wondering what it could be.
    She took his proffered arm and felt an unwelcome spark of electricity shoot through her at the contact. Her eyes were drawn to his and she knew he had felt it, too. Of all the provoking men, why did he have to be the one to have this effect on her? She was angry with him, and angry with herself, but it could not be helped.
    He led her into a corner of the room, where she sat on a sofa and pretended to look through a book of engravings.
    He sat down next to her.
    ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘What is so terrible that I needed to be sitting down to hear it?’
    ‘Only this,’ he said. ‘That Mr Wickham is married.’
    ‘Married?’ she exclaimed. And then was grateful that Mr Darcy had led her to an obscure corner, so that her exclamation had not been overheard.
    ‘Yes,’ said Mr Darcy.
    ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, unable to take it in.
    Mr Wickham was married? So all the time he had been paying court to her he had been playing with her and amusing himself at her expense! She felt hurt and angry, and with her feelings in turmoil she blurted out, ‘Then I am glad you bested him this afternoon.’
    She saw expressions of vindication and hope and