Read Online A Private Performance by Helen Halstead - Free Book Online

addressed himself to an Apollo (both in brocade waistcoats).
    â€œSo this is the lady whose name is on everyone’s lips, Whittaker?” His sneer was a wonderful source of amusement to the younger man, who said:
    â€œI rather like the look of her, Sir Graham.”
    â€œPretty enough, I daresay, but hardly a beauty.”
    â€œSaw you that look she gave him? She will be laughing at us all tomorrow.”
    â€œWeeping, more like, when she has learnt that Darcy’s money ain’t enough to buy her friends in this company.”
    Whittaker shrugged elegantly.
    â€œLord, if that ain’t Foxwell!” cried the baronet. “He has aged in looks by twice the number of years since I last saw him.”
    â€œWe have not all had the benefit of the American climate,” said Whittaker, with a laugh not quite pleasing to the other man.
    â€œWe meet again, Mr. Foxwell. Good evening to you, sir,” drawled Sir Graham.
    â€œYou are returned to England, Sir Graham.” Foxwell’s coldness caused a lift of an elegant eyebrow from Whittaker and a lowering of that of the baronet. Almost snarling, he said: “Of all men, Darcy is the last I would have expected to be such a fool, Foxwell. Hmm?”
    â€œI am vastly pleased with him, Sir Graham. Mr. Darcy has provided me with possibly the only avenue to meet a very charming lady.”
    â€œCome now, Foxwell. You know him as well as any. Did you anticipate such a caper from Darcy, of all men?”
    â€œYou lacerate me, dear sir,” interrupted Whittaker, with a yawn. “Have you no poetry in your soul?”
    Sir Graham snorted. “The Italians manage these things better. The arrangement of marrying is often best left to one’s relations.” He allowed a pause, more uncomfortable for Foxwell than he could have known, before continuing: “I hear a whisper that one of Darcy’s relations is somewhat public in her displeasure.”
    Foxwell winced. ‘At this moment, Reginald has probably arrived home,’ he thought. ‘Even now, he may be in conference with our father.’
    Whittaker cut in on his thoughts. “You have met Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Foxwell? Won’t you be so kind as to introduce me?” Foxwell bowed and even Sir Graham gave an agreeing shrug.
    The three men crossed the upper end of the room towards the small group to whom Darcy was introducing Elizabeth. She turned with pleasure to greet Mr. Foxwell, who then gestured behind him.
    â€œMrs. Darcy, may I present Sir Graham Eston?” he said, but Eston had walked past them. Elizabeth’s colour heightened slightly.
    Foxwell added hastily, “This is Mr. Whittaker. Whittaker, Mrs. Darcy.”
    She turned a charming smile upon her new acquaintance. Sir Graham Eston seemed forgotten with the flow of Foxwell’s humour, as irrepressible as at their first meeting. Even Whittaker’s foppishness was totally forgiven. Her wit sparkled, and as she laughed the gems in her hair sparkled with the bobbing of her curls. All the while she felt Darcy’s presence as keenly as if they were touching. The baronet’s rudeness she could laugh off for herself, but not for her Darcy. Had she looked at him, she would have seen he was white with anger.
    The orchestra’s change of melody signalled the beginning of the dance. She glanced up and Darcy bowed and put his hand out to her, just as Mr. Whittaker bowed and requested the same honour.
    â€œThank you, sir, but I am already engaged for this dance.”
    â€œThen, madam, will you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?”
    â€œWith pleasure.”
    Elizabeth stood opposite Darcy in the set. As he straightened from his bow, he caught the flash of a question in her eyes before she smiled. As they circled each other, he said:
    â€œYou have encountered a man whom I despise. He is beneath your notice and thus lacks the capability to offend with his insults.”
    â€œOf