The opening strains of La Belle Assemblée March halted Darcy in his tracks. He was relieved of his rescue duty by Colonel Fitzwilliam who offered Miss Elizabeth his arm and claimed her for the first set. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Anne de Bourgh took their places in line, as did Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet, as well as Ellis Fleming and Georgiana Darcy. As the dance began, Anne was again amused by her usually stodgy cousin’s infatuation with the lady in yellow. His eyes hardly strayed from Elizabeth Bennet’s position in the formation, and he nearly took a wrong turn.
“Fitzwilliam, you will have to do better than that absurd display. Tell me, have you secured Miss Elizabeth for the final set?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yes, I have, as well as for the supper set. Why?” The movements of the dance separated them, and he had to wait for her answer.
Moments later, Anne said, “You do realize the finale will be a waltz, do you not?”
“What? A waltz! Oh, God!” Darcy’s face was positively panic-stricken.
“Cousin, I know you learned the steps. We were instructed together last year, along with Fitz and Georgie.”
“Well, yes. However, I have certainly not practiced since then.” Again they moved apart, and Darcy became annoyed with the separation.
As soon as they were reunited, his cousin sought clarification. “You have never waltzed with a woman, except that one time with me?”
“Of course not, Anne! The shocking waltz is hardly accepted by our society. When or why would I have done so? What on earth were our aunt and uncle thinking by including such an indecent activity? Confound it! Why did my parents not inform me we would be performing that confounding dance?”
“Then, you do not approve of such physical contact, my prim, proper, prudish, and priggish cousin? Do you not wish to hold your Miss Elizabeth Bennet in an embrace, one hand upon her waist, and glide across the floor with her?”
Darcy groaned, “Oh, God, yes!”
“Then I suggest you find yourself a partner and practice before making a spectacle of yourself on the dance floor.”
“Will you help me, Anne? Please … dearest, loveliest, favourite female cousin, Annie.” Darcy gave her his irresistible, smouldering look, which usually worked uncommonly well on members of the opposite sex. In spite of that, his cousin was unaffected and unmoved.
“When? My entire dance card is full, and I even had to turn down numerous requests. So many men, so little time.”
“It must be the lure of Rosings Park. What gentleman in his right mind would want to stand up with such a shrew?”
Miss Anne de Bourgh pinched his arm as she circled; and she reminded Darcy that since he was currently engaged in the activity, he must be quite out of his senses, which, she added, was no surprise to her. When their set ended, he escorted his cousin from the floor and asked if she required refreshment.
“Wine not? Please take your place in the punch-line, Fitzwilliam. But be punch-ual, and do not keep me waiting. I do have a bevy of handsome suitors waiting for the pleasure of my company, you know.” As he walked away, she added, “And find out whether or not the punch contains any alcohol. I will want proof!”
Darcy shook his head, grinned at his cousin’s teasing, and dutifully headed for the punchbowl. He found himself next to Viscount Chalcroft, the ignoble cad who had been leering at Elizabeth. The bloke’s pun-gent cologne and crude remarks made Darcy want to punch the cad in the face; but he thought of the impeccably proper and gentlemanly behaviour of his boxing instructor who said, ‘If a pugilist wants to get married, he will have to worry about the ring’. Thinking of a ring made him think of proposing to Elizabeth; thinking of Elizabeth made him think of the waltz; thinking of the waltz made him panic. He frantically sought Georgiana in the crush of people standing around waiting for the second set, and he finally caught sight of her pale blonde hair and lilac gown. He hurried back to Anne de Bourgh, thrust a cup of punch at her, executed a poor excuse for a bow, and strode over to his sister and her suitor.
“Excuse me, Fleming. May I have a private word with you, Georgie?” The siblings moved away to a corner; and Georgiana was amused when her brother urgently said, “I desperately need a refreshment course, Georgie. Will you assist me?”
“Brother, why on earth do you need my help to obtain a drink? Simply ask a servant.”
“No, no! I need a quick refresher course in the art of dance, specifically the blasted waltz. For some unfathomable reason I completely forget how the bloody hellish thing is done.”
“Fitzwilliam, why are your knickers in such a knot? Calm down, and watch your language. I am sure Elizabeth would be more than happy to comply with such a request for assistance.”
“I cannot ask her. She is the reason my knickers … never mind! Will you please give me a hasty review? I am sure my recollection of the waltz will come back quickly. I absolutely must re-learn the proper steps before the last set, for I have asked Elizabeth to stand up with me. Therefore, it is imperative I neither be humiliated nor humiliate her.”
“Ah, yes, my perfectionist brother cannot possibly be seen as lacking in any manner. I am truly sorry, Fitzwilliam; but my dance card is entirely full. The second set is about to begin, and I have promised it to Lieutenant Christian Westfall. Now there is someone who truly needs some dance instruction. You shall be fine, brother. That said, my feet might not fare so well. Please do not worry yourself so.”
Abandoned and forlorn, Darcy sighed and stood alone after Westfall claimed his sister. He sourly wondered how he had gotten himself into such a pickle and just how he was going to extricate himself from the dill-emma.
“Mother, how could you fail to inform me we would be ending our ball with the scandalous waltz? Our family shall be ridiculed for such decadence. Why, even Lord Byron, of all people, is opposed to a dance in which couples actually embrace.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, stop being such an old-fashioned prig. It is all the rage on the continent and will undoubtedly soon make its way to London as well. My brother and Lady Rebecca like to be trendsetters, plus I have a sneaky suspicion your aunt also wants to defy the patronesses of Almack’s. Our guests tonight, for the most part, are forward-thinking people who will not be offended. In fact, I imagine some of them will actually take great pleasure in causing a sensation. Why do you so strongly object, my dear? I would think, as a young person, you would want to boldly embrace, if you will pardon the pun, a daring new vogue … and a certain lady.”
“Well, I am certainly surprised my uncle even agreed to this. The Earl of Matlock should have been more defy-aunt. Perhaps it would be wise to simply cancel the risqué number before it is too late and replace it with something more socially acceptable. Ah, Father, there you are. What is your opinion of the scandal we shall surely cause tonight?”
“George, our son seems to believe we are all going to the inferno in a hand-basket tonight because we have included the waltz on our agenda.”
The senior Darcy was in an ebullient mood, having bent his elbow with his highborn brother-in-law earlier. “I understand your concern, Fitzwilliam, my boy. All the same, I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you, that a ball of this kind, given by the Earl of Matlock and us, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency. Bloody hell, we are certainly not going to Netherfield (hiccup), excuse me, I mean the Netherworld in any sort of basket, son. The waltz is not wicker (hiccup), excuse me, I mean wicked enough to send us to perdition’s pit. In fact, I am so far from objecting to dancing myself that I shall take this opportunity to solicit my wovely life (hiccup), excuse me, I mean lovely wife for the scandalous waltz.”