When Charlotte Became Romantic: A Pride and Prejudice Variation by Victoria Kincaid

Author:Victoria Kincaid [Kincaid, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meadowbrook Press
Published: 2019-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Why could I not devise an excuse? Charlotte berated herself. Any slight indisposition or fatigue would have prevented me from dancing. With Mr. Collins in Kent, no other man would request her as a partner, so a refusal would not have forestalled future opportunities. Charlotte’s fingers worried a ribbon on her dress as she observed James dancing with Elizabeth. They suited each other, although he had appeared even more comfortable with Miss King. The part of Charlotte that had been jealous was thrilled that she would now have James’s attention focused on her—even if only for the length of a dance.

Jealousy is ridiculous. I am engaged. My heart belongs to Mr. Collins. Very well, if not my heart, at least my hand.

However, when James was near, Charlotte found it difficult to keep her thoughts focused on Mr. Collins. James was particularly good company with lively conversation—while her betrothed’s conversation was best described as…plenteous, and his character was…very…correct. If one did not desire clever conversation with interesting, well-informed people, he was perfectly unobjectionable.

Her eyes followed James around the dance floor, noting every toss of his head or bend of his leg. Such grace and economy of movement. He was commanding without being domineering. She had never wanted to watch Mr. Collins do anything, and yet it was impossible to pull her gaze from James.

Before long, James approached her with his hand extended. Oh, the music had ceased; she would join him for the next set.

The weak fluttering in Charlotte’s stomach grew more frantic. Her insides churned. Heavens! She wanted this so badly, and it would lead to nothing good. How could she simultaneously desire something so fiercely and hate the very idea?

“Miss Lucas?” James prompted. Once he had called her Charlotte.

Oh. She still had not taken his hand.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he led her to the dance floor. She appreciated the sentiment, but panic had taken hold. In her concern over James, she had not considered that she was at best an indifferent dancer. She had danced with him in Bath and believed it had been a tolerable experience, but those memories were undoubtedly colored by her feelings for him. Now it was entirely different; her mind frantically spun in circles as she tried to recall the movements of the dance.

She would never remember to move in the correct direction or keep the steps in the right order. No doubt she would bump into the other dancers and embarrass James. Why had she agreed to this?

They took their positions. Charlotte stared at her feet and wondered if James would notice the moistness in her palms. Someone whispered her name; she raised her head to find James observing her from half-closed eyes. “Watch me, not your feet,” he said softly enough that nobody around them would hear.

She gave him a slight nod, but it would make no difference. She was ever a hopeless dancer. Still, she would make the attempt. As the violins struck up the first notes, she focused on James’s face: his soft brown eyes, his encouraging smile.

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