the openness of their brother when greeting the Bennets. Elizabeth noted with both amusement and joy that Mr. Bingley’s shy gaze lingered a few seconds longer on Jane than anyone else. Jane appeared completely unaware of the attention, at least to those who were not so intimately acquainted with her moods as her dear sister. Elizabeth detected instantly the slight flush that threatened the composure of Jane’s face, as well as the quick lift of her chest as she inhaled, holding her breath several seconds too long.
This small exchange was soon lost on Elizabeth as her attentions turned to Mr. Bingley’s friend. Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. Elizabeth was less impressed with his fortune and the rich cut of his jacket, though both tended to invoke an instant respect, and the general desire to like such a person. What she found striking were his blue eyes — deep and soulful, fixed with a kind of studious attention and profound knowledge seen only in the most worthy of men. As they were introduced and his attention fell upon her, she felt a stirring of interest inside her chest. Her heart beat quickened; her breath caught. He did not speak, merely nodded, the slight gesture showing neither pleasure nor disdain.
Afterwards, when they were away from him, she imagined him to glance in her direction, finding her foremost among her sisters, even before the widely acknowledged beauty of Jane. So preoccupied, she barely heard Jane comment on the politeness in which Mr. Bingley and his sisters spoke, and she almost missed the carefully calculated shrewdness of her mother in suggesting they stand in full view of the eligible gentlemen. She nodded, apparently answering both to satisfaction, though she would be hard pressed to repeat herself upon later contemplation.
Mr. Darcy turned, the movement giving way to the gracefulness of his limbs and trimness of his body. Unlike some men, he did not need padding to add the appearance of health beneath his clothes. The stiff material moved in such a way to suggest that the bulge of muscles were completely natural. Elizabeth was no fool. She had read things in books not meant for the eyes of young women, at least not till after they were married; but those passages, once so mysterious in their descriptions of attraction and the exploration of love suddenly felt very clear and extremely clever. Her heart beat quickened once more and warmth spread throughout her stomach. She forced her eyes to move, scanning the room before finding their way once more to the object of her interest. Mr. Darcy’s back was to her, and now that she did not have the distraction of his eyes, she found the breadth of his shoulders, squarely set, and the unmistakably mesmerizing shift of his hips beneath his jacket. A tingling warmth erupted beneath her flesh, rising in a blush across her cheeks.
When Mr. Bingley spoke, Mr. Darcy turned and his lips curled ever so slightly into a smile. The expression broke into the seriousness of his face. She imagined him to be a great many things in those first moments — a graceful dancer, an intelligent mind, a wild spirit, an amiable companion, a handsome and considerate man searching for the woman who might turn not only his head but his heart. As the heat continued to spread throughout her limbs, she silently willed him to look at her, to come across the room and ask her to dance, to touch her hand so that she may assure herself that he was real, to hold her a little too close during a waltz so the other women would know not to bother trying to turn his head — though some still found such close dancing improper. Had she allowed it, her mind would have taken the daydreams further — to a private walk, a lingering look, a hand upon her cheek tilting her lips to his, and to a
This small exchange was soon lost on Elizabeth as her attentions turned to Mr. Bingley’s friend. Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. Elizabeth was less impressed with his fortune and the rich cut of his jacket, though both tended to invoke an instant respect, and the general desire to like such a person. What she found striking were his blue eyes — deep and soulful, fixed with a kind of studious attention and profound knowledge seen only in the most worthy of men. As they were introduced and his attention fell upon her, she felt a stirring of interest inside her chest. Her heart beat quickened; her breath caught. He did not speak, merely nodded, the slight gesture showing neither pleasure nor disdain.
Afterwards, when they were away from him, she imagined him to glance in her direction, finding her foremost among her sisters, even before the widely acknowledged beauty of Jane. So preoccupied, she barely heard Jane comment on the politeness in which Mr. Bingley and his sisters spoke, and she almost missed the carefully calculated shrewdness of her mother in suggesting they stand in full view of the eligible gentlemen. She nodded, apparently answering both to satisfaction, though she would be hard pressed to repeat herself upon later contemplation.
Mr. Darcy turned, the movement giving way to the gracefulness of his limbs and trimness of his body. Unlike some men, he did not need padding to add the appearance of health beneath his clothes. The stiff material moved in such a way to suggest that the bulge of muscles were completely natural. Elizabeth was no fool. She had read things in books not meant for the eyes of young women, at least not till after they were married; but those passages, once so mysterious in their descriptions of attraction and the exploration of love suddenly felt very clear and extremely clever. Her heart beat quickened once more and warmth spread throughout her stomach. She forced her eyes to move, scanning the room before finding their way once more to the object of her interest. Mr. Darcy’s back was to her, and now that she did not have the distraction of his eyes, she found the breadth of his shoulders, squarely set, and the unmistakably mesmerizing shift of his hips beneath his jacket. A tingling warmth erupted beneath her flesh, rising in a blush across her cheeks.
When Mr. Bingley spoke, Mr. Darcy turned and his lips curled ever so slightly into a smile. The expression broke into the seriousness of his face. She imagined him to be a great many things in those first moments — a graceful dancer, an intelligent mind, a wild spirit, an amiable companion, a handsome and considerate man searching for the woman who might turn not only his head but his heart. As the heat continued to spread throughout her limbs, she silently willed him to look at her, to come across the room and ask her to dance, to touch her hand so that she may assure herself that he was real, to hold her a little too close during a waltz so the other women would know not to bother trying to turn his head — though some still found such close dancing improper. Had she allowed it, her mind would have taken the daydreams further — to a private walk, a lingering look, a hand upon her cheek tilting her lips to his, and to a