Oh, dear Lord! Does Sir William really think my overture was meant for him? Yes, he is heading in this direction, leaving the ladies behind. For a split second I consider turning tail and escaping.

“Ah! Mr. Darcy! A moment, sir.”

I am again accosted, nay, ambushed by Sir William Lucas and diverted away from both Elizabeth and escape. Our pompous host is signaling for me to follow, and my heartstrings are painfully yanked away from Elizabeth. I glance in her direction, but she is already being escorted by another beslubbering, hedge-born miscreant. Are these swag-bellied, motley-minded beasts crawling out of the woodwork tonight?

Did I mention I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young men who dare ask Elizabeth to stand up with them? Why is she not being slighted tonight, of all nights? I understand her fondness for dancing, but does she not realize such activity is a certain step towards falling in love? For God’s sake, Elizabeth! No more partners, except me! Oh, that the fie-fickle fiends had all sprained their hell-hated ankles in the first place! My lively hopes of winning her heart are not being entertained as planned. If only I had played my cards right…

“Mr. Darcy, I have just recollected your aversion to a certain amusement. With Miss Linville’s exception, none of our local beauties has been asked to stand up with you this evening. Your objection to dancing has not changed during the past year, I assume. So, may I encourage you to visit our card room? There are a number of tables set up for the enjoyment of gentlemen such as yourself who do not wish to participate in the dance… albeit the others are mostly the older, infirm, or married gents. Nevertheless, I am sure they will welcome you and your money. We do not play high here, and you shall only risk a few coin tonight.”

I am not a savage. I must not wring Sir William’s neck. I am supposed to be putting my best foot forward. I must not put my best foot up Sir William’s … never mind. I thank him for his kind consideration but decline the offer. What is a rousing game of cards compared to having the privilege of watching Elizabeth dance with a prancing profusion of pribbling, pox-marked pignuts?