The grand assembly hall of Meryton buzzed with laughter and lively conversations. Chandeliers held the warm glow of the evening, illuminating the room where elegantly dressed couples waltzed and twirled in perfect harmony. Among them, you, Y/N Bingley, elegantly adorned in a frock of soft rosy pink, felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension growing within you.
Your brother, Mr. Bingley, had recently taken residence at Netherfield, and you had joined him in the hopes of finding new acquaintances in the neighborhood. The evening, however, had not gone as expected. While Bingley’s spirits were high, yours were restless. Your thoughts kept straying to a certain gentleman, who stood a short distance away, his tall figure and composed demeanor making him stand out amidst the crowd.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Reserved and serious, his presence was not easily ignored. Though your families had known one another for some time, your acquaintance with him had always been guarded. You had observed him at many such gatherings—quiet, yet commanding attention. It was not his wealth or status that intrigued you, though both were undeniable, but the complexity behind his cool exterior.
Darcy was as indifferent as ever as he scanned the room with an air of disinterest, though you caught a fleeting glance towards your brother's corner, where Bingley was engaged in joyous conversation with Jane Bennet.
A dance was forming on the floor, and couples began to take their places. Your brother, ever lighthearted, approached with a smile. “Come, Y/N,” he said cheerfully, extending his arm, “we must not stand idly by while others enjoy the evening.”
You smiled, grateful for his warmth, and accepted his offer. The dance was lively, yet your eyes were drawn to Mr. Darcy, who stood observing the assembly with his usual air of pride. His expression was unreadable, and though he glanced occasionally in your direction, he made no move to join the dance.
As the dance concluded, you separated from Bingley, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. The night air beckoned, and you stepped out onto the balcony, the stars overhead providing a welcome sense of calm. The noise of the assembly faded behind you as you breathed deeply, trying to make sense of the tumult of emotions that had stirred within you.
“Miss Bingley.” a low voice startled you, and you turned to find Mr. Darcy standing beside you, his expression serious but not unkind..
“Mr. Darcy,” you replied, composing yourself and offering a polite nod. “I had not expected to find you out here.”
He approached with measured steps, stopping at a respectful distance. “I find the air here more agreeable than the noise inside,” he said, his tone calm. His eyes, however, seemed to hold something more, piercing through the evening mist.
“As do I,” you agreed quietly, turning your gaze back to the stars. “The night is peaceful.”
Ambiguous silence enveloped the moment before Darcy spoke again, his voice low. “It seems we both seek refuge from the distractions of society.”
For a brief moment, raw honesty washed over his expression, rendering him less formidable and more human. Darcy was known for his reserve, for keeping his emotions closely guarded, yet here, in the quiet of the night, there was a vulnerability in his words that you had never heard before.
“I find such gatherings overwhelming at times,” you admitted, your voice soft. “Especially when one is uncertain of where they stand.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly, as though your words had struck a chord. “Uncertainty,” he said slowly, “is not uncommon, especially when one is faced with matters of consequence.”
Your heart raced at the implications of his words, but propriety held you back from pressing further. Instead, you allowed a moment of silence to settle between you, the cool night air filling the space with an unspoken tension.
“Miss Bingley,” Darcy began again, a breathless and anxious air unfamiliar to his reserved character forming upon his words, “I have always valued honesty in my dealings, though it is not always easy to express. There are—feelings—that I have long kept to myself, but I believe it is time I make them known.”
You turned to him fully, surprised by the tentative tone. His face, usually so composed, now showed a trace of uncertainty, as though he were struggling to find the right words.
“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and care for you,” he continued, his voice steady but quieter now. “More than I perhaps should have allowed myself to.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Could it be? After all this time, after all the quiet observations and careful exchanges, was he truly confessing what you had longed to hear?
“I have been cautious,” he said, his gaze steady but softened with something deeper, “because I understand the importance of duty and decorum. But it is not duty that draws me to you. It is something more—something I can no longer ignore.”
Your pulse quickened, yet you kept your composure, aware of the delicate balance you now faced. “Mr. Darcy,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “you speak of feelings… but surely you must know how difficult such matters can be in our world.”
“I am well aware,” he replied quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. “But some feelings cannot be denied, no matter the constraints of society.”
His words were like a spark in the night, and suddenly, the distance between you felt smaller than it had ever been. There, under the stars, in the quiet stillness of the balcony, the proprieties of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the truth that had finally been spoken.
“I understand,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but in that moment, nothing more needed to be said.
Darcy’s gaze softened further, and for a brief, precious moment, his hand brushed against yours—a fleeting touch, but one that spoke volumes. It was a touch full of promise, of unspoken words, and of a future that, while uncertain, now seemed filled with possibility.
As the sounds of the assembly drifted back into focus, you both knew that the moment was over. But the understanding that had passed between you, the shared vulnerability, would not be forgotten.
Mr. Darcy stepped back, his expression once again composed, but the warmth in his eyes remained.
"Would you do the honor of dancing the next with me, Miss. Bingley?"
You nodded, unable to orchestrate any words coherent enough for the moment. The two of you stepped back into the assembly, and while the music flowed throughout the hall, it was only you and Mr. Darcy that existed in that moment.
As Darcy approached to claim your hand, the outside world melted away, the soft swish of the skirts and the rhythm of the violin became your own heartbeat. In that embrace, you felt the fortress surrounding Darcy begin to crumble, revealing shadows of vulnerability interned beneath layers of pride—pride which you dared to approach.
And there, amid the swirling gowns and resonating laughter of the assembly, a new dawn began, marked by delicate glances and unspoken promises, where two hearts—once strangers—now found courage in their shared uncertainty. In the midst of societal expectations and unyielding proprieties, love began its quiet dance, unseen yet ever-present, waiting to unfold its intricacies in time.
There was no turning back; for in that moment, you knew that this was only the beginning of you and Mr. Darcy—a love undisclosed, yet unmistakably destined to flourish.
Do a loony-goony dance 'Cross the kitchen floor, Put something silly in the world That ain't been there before.
(Shel Silverstein)
WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Barnaby
https://wp.me/p35x4V-2t3 #Regency #vocabulary #Dancing
I’m no dancer.
I’m not “a full body dry heave set to music,” a la Elaine Benes, but I’ll certainly never be accused of having grace or style. I enjoy music and I move to it, but in the privacy of my own home (or in public when necessary to embarrass family members wishing me to “for heaven’s sake, stop.”)
Elaine Benes, as portrayed by Julia Louis-Dreyfus, in “The Little Kicks” episode of…
On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined, with other of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth disposed to part from him in his humour, that on his making some inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three weeks at Rosings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former.
