by Rowland Jann
No sooner did the thought occur to Darcy, however, than he rejected it. Unless Bingley asked his opinion, it would be officious of Darcy, and since he could not suspect the Bennets of attempting to entrap his friend for material benefits, it truly was none of his concern. Bingley well understood the situation, and he was his own man, capable of making his own decisions.
It happened that there was an assembly the same week that Mr. Darcy had first descended from his room to sit with the Bennet family. Elizabeth, who had been much occupied, first with Mr. Darcy’s care, then with her thoughts of the man himself, had almost forgotten that there was to be a gathering. She might have preferred to avoid the amusement, but she knew that her mother would never allow it, so she resigned herself to attending.
“There is an assembly tomorrow?” asked Mr. Darcy, when he had overheard Lydia speaking of the matter. Kitty and Lydia both were anticipating the event with keen interest, but then again, they were never so happy as they were when they were dancing.
“Indeed, there is,” said Elizabeth. “My sisters, as you can see, enjoy dancing above any other amusement.”
“I can see that very well, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy smiled at her. “Can I assume that you are also eager for the dancing to begin?”
“I will not claim that I like nothing better,” replied Elizabeth. “But I do enjoy a dance, especially with a worthy partner.”
No soon had she spoken than Elizabeth turned away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. How had she come to lose control of her tongue in this manner in front of this man? She had never experienced anything like it before!
“One’s partner is often the key to an enjoyable dance,” replied Mr. Darcy with grave agreement. If he had noticed her sudden embarrassment, he was gentleman enough to ignore it. “It will then come as no surprise to you, I think, to know that dancing is not a favorite activity of mine. I have often noticed that many young ladies have an ulterior motivate in a dance, and if even the slightest hint of favor is displayed, they begin to expect more.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Is that what happens when you dance with Miss Bingley?” asked she, though in a low tone.
“You have no idea how close to the truth you are, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, shaking his head.
Amused, Elizabeth gestured vaguely. “Then perhaps, in this instance, it is fortunate that you are unwell and cannot attend. That way you may claim a reasonable excuse to avoid participating. I have no doubt my father will use the rather tepid excuse of keeping you company to avoid attending himself.”
A laugh was Mr. Darcy’s answer. “I dare say you are correct about your father. But contrary to your other assertion, I believe I might have preferred to attend this assembly. I might have enjoyed my partners here much better than those I have found in London.”
Only iron control prevented Elizabeth from gasping at his words. Could he truly have meant what she thought he meant? The way he looked at her with that steady, serious gaze, which she had found came to him naturally, suggested that he knew exactly what he was saying and how she was taking it. Suddenly, Elizabeth wished to dance with this man very much, indeed.
“Then it is truly unfortunate,” said Elizabeth, feigning composure. “But I believe there will be other opportunities in the future. You only need to be patient.”
“Though it is difficult, I will follow your excellent advice, Miss Elizabeth.”
Thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s words pursued Elizabeth to the assembly hall the next evening, and she wondered if Mr. Darcy was a skilled dancer. Though she had not seen him dance, had not seen him as anything other than a sickly man, unsteady on his feet due to his prolonged illness, she was quite certain that he could be nothing less than graceful on the dance floor. And that conviction made the fact that she could not dance with him that evening even less bearable. Would that the next opportunity would come soon!
Since her father had used the excuse of Mr. Darcy’s company to avoid the assembly, as expected, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley had offered to escort the Bennet ladies to the assembly in his place. Mrs. Bennet had accepted with alacrity, and that evening, the gentlemen had arrived in advance of their departure. They had all made their way in two carriages to the assembly hall in the center of Meryton.
The assembly was a typical gathering of the neighborhood, filled with laughter, good friends, and people Elizabeth had known all her life. Of special consideration was the fact that Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth’s close friend from her earliest childhood, was in attendance, and not having met with Charlotte since before Mr. Darcy’s arrival, Elizabeth was anticipating the reunion.
They stepped into the assembly rooms, and Elizabeth immediately perceived that her neighbors were surprised that the newcomers to the neighborhood had arrived in the Bennets’ company. Mr. Bingley’s arrival had, of course, been much discussed, but of the colonel there appeared to have been little word. Sir William arrived to welcome the newcomers, and soon Mr. Bingley was led away by the congenial man to meet some of the other ladies present. Elizabeth had all the satisfaction, however, of knowing that he had already secured Jane’s first dance of the evening.
“Is this Sir William always this eager to play the host?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with a wry grin.
“Sir William lives to be civil, Colonel,” replied Elizabeth, winking at him outrageously.
The colonel laughed. “Then I suppose that I must oblige him too. Before I go, however, I would like to inquire if I might have the honor of your first set, Miss Elizabeth.”
For a moment, Elizabeth wished that it was his cousin who was asking her to dance. But Elizabeth, remembering the words which had passed between them, resolved to be patient and content. She had no doubt that the colonel would be an agreeable partner, indeed.
“Of course you may, sir,” replied she.
“Until the first dance, then,” said the colonel, and he turned to follow Mr. Bingley and Sir William.
Elizabeth stood and watched them for several moments, noting with amusement Mr. Bingley’s eagerness to be introduced to his new neighbors. She also noted that his eyes sought out Jane’s countenance frequently, even while he was being introduced to the local ladies. For Colonel Fitzwilliam’s part, he often looked at Elizabeth, but his glances, rather than being filled with admiration, instead were filled with amusement, and seemed to be designed to induce her to laugh. It appeared like he found Sir William to be vastly amusing.
Soon Elizabeth found Charlotte, however, and her attention was taken from the gentlemen and focused on her friend.
“I understand you have had an interesting time at Longbourn, Lizzy,” said Charlotte, with just that hint of a tease which Elizabeth found so delightful in her friend.
“Indeed, we have,” replied Elizabeth. “In fact, I am rather surprised you have not visited, if nothing else than to discover what all the fuss was about.”
Charlotte laughed. “I have had enough of the gossip through your younger sisters to Maria. I have not needed to investigate myself.”
Elizabeth joined her friend in laughter. “I can well imagine it, though there has not truly been enough excitement for their tastes. After all, Mr. Darcy does not wear a red coat, and you know that lack renders him dull in their minds.”
“Mr. Darcy, is it?” replied Charlotte. “I understand that he has a large estate in Derbyshire and a fortune to be envied.”
“I know not how you have come by that information,” replied Elizabeth, frowning. “Though my father has speculated and Mr. Bingley mentioned it in confidence, the subject has not been much discussed at Longbourn, and Mr. Darcy has not volunteered the information. Nor should he, really—the man deserves his privacy.”
“I would not have thought that you would ask him about such matters. The source of these rumors is unknown to me, but I understand they are not far off the mark.”
Shaking her head and feeling more than a little annoyed, Elizabeth only said: “It was clear
from his clothes and his mount that he is a man of consequence, but other than that, I can tell you nothing.”
Though the look which Charlotte fixed upon her suggested that her friend had guessed something about Elizabeth’s pique, she was discrete enough not to pursue the matter any further. Rather, she turned it to the subject of those gentlemen present.
“Mr. Bingley, of course, is known to my father, and the details of the gossip concerning him are much firmer than that about your guest. Of the third man, however, there is little, as he was not present when any of the estate owners of the neighborhood visited Mr. Bingley, at least to my knowledge.”
“He is Colonel Fitzwilliam, second son of the Earl of Matlock,” replied Elizabeth. “He is also cousin to Mr. Darcy.”
That piece of news impressed Charlotte. “Who would ever have thought we would host such an illustrious personage in humble Meryton?”
“Who, indeed?” echoed Elizabeth. Her eyes wandered about the room and she noted that the colonel was presently being introduced to several of the ladies, who were doubtless appropriately impressed by his status as a colonel. She wondered how they would act if they knew he was also the son of an earl!
“And have you begun the campaign to ensure the good colonel falls in love with you?”
Elizabeth turned back to her friend, directing a mock glare at her. She could tell from Charlotte’s tone that she was doing nothing more than teasing, but Elizabeth certainly did not wish for her to make such overt statements where anyone could overhear.
“I have done no such thing, as you well know.”
An exaggerated sigh was Charlotte’s response. “Yes, I know. Your desire to find love and affection with your partner in life.”
“Do you not wish the same?” asked Elizabeth.
“Perhaps. But I am more practical than you. I ask only for a good home and a man who can support me. If affection were offered in the bargain, I would not refuse it, but at my age, I must focus on that which is important.”
It was an old argument between them, and Elizabeth decided it was not worth pursuing. Charlotte, displaying an entirely distressing level of perception, said: “Perhaps the colonel is not your target? Are you instead more interested in the invalid who is currently residing in your home?”
Though she attempted not to, Elizabeth felt the heat creeping up her cheeks. She glared at Charlotte to hide her embarrassment.
“Of course not, Charlotte. The man is ill—I can hardly have any designs on him in such a state.”
It was clear that Charlotte did not quite believe her, but at least she did not pursue the subject.
At length, however, the strains of the first sets began, and the colonel arrived to claim Elizabeth’s hand. Charlotte directed an amused glance at Elizabeth when the man arrived, but Elizabeth ignored her, her nose raised in lofty—and overstated—unconcern.
The evening continued in a manner much like any other assembly Elizabeth had ever attended. Gentlemen were scarce, which meant that even the most determined ladies were obliged to sit out from time to time. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley did their duties and stood up for almost every dance, and for their civility they became popular rather quickly. But Elizabeth could not help but repine the absence of another gentleman, one who would have cut a swath through the assembled ladies, leaving sighs and broken hearts in his wake, unless Elizabeth missed her guess.
Though she had not noted their entrance, sometime after the first sets, Miss Bingley and the Hursts had arrived, and the ladies appeared like they were not at all unhappy at the dearth of gentlemen available to ask them to dance. They did their duty when they were asked, but though Elizabeth could not be certain of Mrs. Hurst’s feelings, Miss Bingley displayed her annoyed contempt for the company with every move she made.
“Lizzy!” cried Lydia not long after the Bingley sisters had arrived. Lydia had been obliged to sit out that dance, and she hurried to where Elizabeth stood along the side of the room speaking with Charlotte and watching the dancers as they moved through the steps.
“Have you ever seen such a joke?” Lydia leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone—or at least a tone she believed to be hushed, but which likely could have been heard from one end of the room to the other had the music and the sounds of the dance not overwhelmed it. “I dare say that Miss Bingley will catch her nose on the rafters if she holds it any higher in the air.”
Elizabeth could not help but laugh at Lydia’s observation, for it was very similar to one that she had made to Charlotte only moments before. She attempted, however, a stern admonishment.
“Lower your voice, Lydia. Perhaps Miss Bingley is simply not at her best among people with whom she does not share an intimate acquaintance.”
“Oh, faugh! She is proud and disagreeable—I know you agree with me!”
“Though I would not encourage such talk,” said Charlotte, “in this instance, I believe I must side with your sister. Unless there is some other reason for Miss Bingley’s ill humor, I believe she is not enjoying the company at all.”
“She would enjoy it much better if Mr. Darcy were present,” said Lydia.
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head. “On that score, I must confess that Lydia is entirely correct.”
“She always acts as if there is some foul stench at Longbourn whenever she visits. For myself, I wish she would stay away, though Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley are amiable.”
“Again, I cannot disagree,” replied Elizabeth. Though she knew she should caution Lydia against saying such things—or at least urge her to be more circumspect—in this instance she could not. If Miss Bingley would not act in such a superior manner, she would not be the target of such comments.
Still later that evening, Elizabeth found herself by the side of the dance floor, but this time she was sitting out by choice. Finding the atmosphere in the room had grown a little close, she had retreated to a nearby balcony for some fresh air and had thereby frustrated any gentlemen who might have thought to ask her for a dance.
Not far from her, Miss Bingley stood, also watching the dancers, though her expression was only civil and nothing more. As the night had worn on, Elizabeth had noticed that the woman’s attitude had earned her no admirers, and the entreaties for her to dance had become fewer, until she had sat out the last few dances; none of the men appeared willing to brave her scorn. Elizabeth thought the woman likely assumed they were not sophisticated enough to ask her—the most elegant woman in the room—to dance. The unfortunate truth was that few could tolerate her airs.
Elizabeth had been privy to a conversation between her mother and some of the other matrons, and though she would not wish to repeat what she heard, it was not complimentary to the new woman in their midst.
“What can you tell us of Miss Bingley, Mrs. Bennet?” asked Mrs. Goulding.
“Much more than I would wish, I assure you,” said Mrs. Bennet with a disdainful sniff.
“She appears to consider us all beneath her notice,” observed Lady Lucas.
“And she the daughter of a tradesman.”
“Your own origins are not the highest, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mrs. Long.
“I am well aware of that,” was Mrs. Bennet’s testy reply. “But I do not lord my supposed superiority over all and sundry. And I am now the wife of a gentleman. Miss Bingley may have twenty thousand pounds, but her position in society is due to nothing more than Mr. Darcy’s friendship, I am absolutely certain.”
It was a perceptive observation, in Elizabeth’s opinion, and one she would not have expected from her mother.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Now there is an agreeable man, and Mr. Bingley is very amiable too.”
“Tell us of this Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Goulding. “I would not have expected a man of such high connections to be anything less than proud himself.”
“And yet he is not,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “He has been ill, as you know, but he is kind and tha
nkful for even the littlest of exertions on his behalf. And of course,” Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, speaking softly enough that Elizabeth had to strain to hear her, “he is the most handsome man any of us have ever seen!”
“What a fine thing,” said Lady Lucas, a glance at her eldest daughter betraying her wish that it had been the Lucases who had found Mr. Darcy.
“He seems to have a liking for my Lizzy,” continued Mrs. Bennet in the same soft tone.
Mrs. Long gasped. “Surely you are not suggesting he wishes to propose!”
Elizabeth almost groaned, but again, her mother’s answer surprised her. “It is much too early to suggest such a thing. It is clear he enjoys her company, so I have some hope on that front. Now, as for Mr. Bingley . . . Well, let us simply say that I am certain he will come to the point in no time at all!”
“His sister will not appreciate his pursuit of your daughter,” said Lady Lucas.
“I am certain I care nothing for his sister. Mr. Bingley is his own man, and he may do as he pleases.”
The ladies continued to speak in this fashion, alternately praising the men for their manners and criticizing Miss Bingley for her obvious pride. Miss Bingley was making a name for herself in Meryton, though it was certainly not for the correct reasons.
Elizabeth was certain the woman would not have concerned herself for the opinions of the local ladies, even if she had been aware of it. What puzzled her was Mrs. Hurst. Though Elizabeth had met the woman but once, she had struck Elizabeth as a pale imitation of her sister. But unless Elizabeth missed her guess, Mrs. Hurst was not only cognizant of the wide berth most of Meryton society was giving her sister, but annoyed with Miss Bingley for her behavior.
It was late that evening when Elizabeth was once again the recipient of Miss Bingley’s vitriol. She had ceased paying any attention to the woman and as such, found herself surprised to be standing near her. Elizabeth had just been escorted to the side of the dance floor by one of the local men when she felt a presence by her side. Turning slightly, she noted Miss Bingley looking out over the room. Elizabeth was certain, however, that Miss Bingley’s attention was largely on Elizabeth herself.