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not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
    Mr Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined. Nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.
    “You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you, and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”
    “Mr Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
    “He is, indeed, but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?”
    Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley.
    “I can guess the subject of your reverie,” she said.
    Mr Darcy doubted it to be so. If Miss Bingley were to guess at the manner of his thoughts she would be quite scandalised. “I should imagine not,” said he.
    “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society, and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”
    “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
    Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
    Mr Darcy replied with great intrepidity. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
    “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray, when am I to wish you joy?”
    “That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid. It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”
    “Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you.”
    He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner, and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long. While she talked, he allowed himself free rein to admire Miss Bennet, who was in conversation with Miss Charlotte Lucas. Elizabeth’s eyes were indeed fine. Intelligent and full of warmth, they sat in perfect harmony with the rest of her pretty face. How on earth had he once thought her merely tolerable? She was beautiful beyond compare. Her cheekbones were high and elegant, and her lips a rosy pink that were mouth-wateringly fleshy. He imagined kissing them passionately while his hands did things to her body he was sure she had never dreamed possible. He desperately wanted to see those eyes hooded with desire and hear her call out his name while she took her pleasure.
     
     

Chapter Seven

Mr Bennet’s property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation, and their mother’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.
    She had a sister married to a Mr Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
    The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton, a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who