by Rowland Jann
Two of her sisters were disposed of for the first dance, and Elizabeth was happy for them, but she wondered if Mr. Darcy had any intention of asking her for those selfsame dances. A glance in his direction revealed nothing—he was quite adept at masking his feelings when necessary. And Lady Catherine was watching them, suspicion alive in her eyes.
“I am sorry you will not be attending,” said Mr. Bingley, turning back to Lady Catherine. “But I understand.”
“You are misinformed, Mr. Bingley,” replied Lady Catherine shortly. “Anne and I will, of course, attend.”
“But Aunt—”
“Be silent, Fitzwilliam,” said she. Her words were clipped and irritated.
Colonel Fitzwilliam subsided, and the company fell into general conversation. Elizabeth noted that Lady Catherine continued to look at them, suspicion seeming to flow off her in waves. Mr. Darcy, however, ignored the lady, content to speak with Mr. Bennet with seeming unconcern.
If Elizabeth had not been watching, she might have missed the exchange, but after a time, she noticed Mr. Darcy looking at his cousin. His eyes darted to Lady Catherine, prompting Colonel Fitzwilliam to grin and turn his attention to Lady Catherine. Within a few moments, an innocuous comment concerning Longbourn’s gardens had pulled Lady Catherine into the conversation, and she was pontificating on the lack of topiaries, while informing them all that Rosings had some of the finest in the country.
“For shame, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth when the man turned to her. “Not only is your cousin manipulating your aunt, but the rest of my family is forced to listen to her sermonize.”
“I do not apologize for it,” replied Mr. Darcy with a quick grin. “I have far too important a question to ask you to wait for my aunt to find something to criticize without assistance.”
Elizabeth’s heart missed a beat, and then suddenly it was beating painfully in her chest. She chastised herself for a silly girl—he could not mean to ask her that question, surely.
“I am afraid that I do not have a partner for the first at Bingley’s ball,” said he, “and I wondered if I might persuade you to take pity on me and agree to partner with me for those sets.”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh. She managed it, though it seemed like a near thing. And fortunate too, as Mr. Darcy’s confidence might have been damaged had she laughed at his request to dance.
“I believe I would be quite happy to dance with you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he. There was in his voice a deep well of emotion that reached out to Elizabeth, touched her in ways that she could not quite understand and left her feeling serene and breathless all at once.
“I am curious about one thing, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, more from a desire to avoid any others seeing her in such a state. “Your cousin appeared to be concerned about the prospect of your cousin, Miss de Bourgh, attending the ball.”
Mr. Darcy sighed. “That is because to the best of my knowledge, my cousin has never attended a ball.”
“Never attended a ball?” Elizabeth frowned. “But surely there must be balls, or at least assemblies, in the area close to where your aunt makes her home.”
“Such amusements abound in Kent, much the same as any other county. But Anne has not ever partaken in one of them. So far as I am aware, she has never learned how to dance.”
Elizabeth did not quite know what to say. Dancing was an integral facet of the society in which they lived—balls, assemblies, and impromptu dances at soirees were common, and they served the purpose of not only socializing with dear friends, but were an important part of the courting ritual. For a young lady of Miss de Bourgh’s station to be ignorant of the forms was shocking.
“She has been told that she will marry me almost all of her life,” said Mr. Darcy by way of explanation. “As such, Lady Catherine has never thought she needed to obtain all the usual accomplishments which young ladies achieve. And her health, of course, has been used as a crutch all these years, preventing her from becoming all that she can be.”
“Is she so very ill, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, her compassion for the young woman leading her to look at her, where she sat listlessly on the sofa, apparently not even paying any attention to what was happening around her.
“I must own to a lack of knowledge concerning my cousin’s health,” replied Mr. Darcy, drawing Elizabeth’s eyes back to him. “My aunt keeps tight control of Anne and her doings, and none of us have ever been able to discover the truth of the matter.”
“Is there no other recourse?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “When my Uncle de Bourgh passed on, he left in his will a peculiar set of instructions. Though Anne is his heir, Lady Catherine remains in control of the estate until she either passes or relinquishes it to Anne.” Mr. Darcy paused, uncomfortable, or so Elizabeth thought, before he sighed and continued. “I am young enough that I did not know my uncle to any great extent. He was a match for Lady Catherine in temperament, though his arrogance was a much less overt form. My elder relations have said for years that he did not think much of his daughter, being born so small and timid, so much different from her robust parents. They believe that was the reason for the terms of his will.”
There was nothing Elizabeth could say to that, so she allowed the subject to drop. It was strange, but Lady Catherine left the room for a short period—she almost never left Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy in a room together. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy continued to speak softly between themselves, until their tête-à-tête was inevitably brought to a halt by her return.
Sometime later Mr. Collins arrived to the collective indifference of everyone in the company. The man took the slight with admirable tolerance—if he even noticed it—and he took a seat close by to where Elizabeth was speaking with Mary. It was only a few more moments before he began to speak.
“I am quite honored to be included in the invitation to your ball, Mr. Bingley,” said he, nodding his head in Mr. Bingley’s direction. “The opportunity to spend an evening engaged in such an amusement does not come often for a clergyman. As such, I can only say that I am certain yours shall be an elegant affair, and I am highly anticipating it, I assure you.”
With a bright smile for the parson, Mr. Bingley refrained from pointing out that it was at Lady Catherine’s request that he was included. “Then you shall have a new experience, Mr. Collins. Balls are great fun, and to those of us who like to dance, nothing can compare to a ball.”
Then Mr. Bingley turned and bestowed a sly smile on Mr. Darcy. “Of course, there are always those who do not appreciate the activity, eh, Darcy? For them, dancing is more of a trial, than a pleasure.”
“I enjoy dancing well enough, Bingley,” replied Mr. Darcy, “when I am particularly acquainted with my partner and she is interesting enough to make our conversation tolerable.”
“Then you will get along fine, Darcy,” interjected Lady Catherine. “After all, you have been acquainted with Anne for your entire life.”
Since there was no way to respond to such a statement without provoking an argument, Mr. Darcy only inclined his head. Elizabeth suspected that he had no intention of asking his cousin to dance—her mother would consider it tantamount to a declaration, and he would not wish to embarrass her when she did not know the steps.
“As I was saying,” said Mr. Collins, seeming cross that the conversation had taken such a tangent, “I am happy to attend. My purpose for coming here today is to solicit my partner for the first two dances. I know my cousin is anticipating my request with impatience, for it is obvious to all that we are meant for each other and shall be united before long, in purpose and in matrimony.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet in a warning tone.
“Of course, Cousin,” said Mr. Collins with a low bow. “You have the right of it in not wishing us to dash to the altar. Even so, I am certain how it will be.”
Then Mr. Collins turned and approached Eliz
abeth, holding his hand out, intending to capture hers. The fact that Elizabeth snatched it back from his grasp did not seem to discourage him in the slightest; he only smiled at her, an oily sort of expression, and regarded her with certainty written upon his very countenance.
“My dearest Miss Elizabeth. Will you do me the honor of dancing the first with me at Mr. Bingley’s ball?”
It was incongruous that at that very moment, when Elizabeth stared at the true face of the ridiculous, that she should be so aware of the sentiments of those around her. On the one hand, Lady Catherine looked upon her with a sort of contemptuous satisfaction, while Miss Bingley regarded her with glee. Elizabeth was certain both would consider it only her just desserts to be bound to such a ridiculous man for the rest of her life.
On the other side, Mr. Darcy watched Mr. Collins, as if trying to determine whether having him drawn and quartered was a sufficient punishment, while Mr. Bennet appeared to be weighing the relative benefits of throwing his cousin from the house and offending the next master of the estate. Colonel Fitzwilliam was watching with a glee, which seemed more like mirth than the darkness of his aunt’s amusement, while Mrs. Bennet watched with consternation. The younger girls were giggling, Mary watching Mr. Collins with disgust and Jane, with dismay, though Mr. Bingley was whispering in her ear, and she seemed to be regaining her equilibrium as he spoke.
For a long moment, Elizabeth regarded her cousin, wondering if he was so stupid as to think he would actually have his own way, despite Elizabeth’s refusal to even consider him as a potential suitor and her father’s own warnings on the matter. It was obvious that Lady Catherine was at the bottom of the man’s behavior and his current request, but what the lady thought to gain was beyond her. It was not as if being denied the first dance at the ball would be likely to blunt Mr. Darcy’s interest in her—or hers in him.
Mr. Collins had begun sweating while he waited for her response, and Elizabeth found herself enjoying his discomfort. But one could not wait forever, no matter how amusing she found it. So she looked him in the eye and shook her head.
“You have my apologies, Mr. Collins, but I cannot accept your offer.”
Dismay crossed the man’s countenance and he opened his mouth to respond. Then he seemed to think of something, and an unctuous smile came over his face.
“Then you will be forced to sit out the entire night, since you have refused to dance the first. That will not be a burden upon me, for in that case, I may simply choose not to dance, myself, and instead keep you company throughout the evening. That way, we can continue our courting undisturbed.”
“Your thinking is laced with fallacy, Mr. Collins,” replied Elizabeth. “I would be forced to sit out if I did not already have a partner for the first dance. In fact, I do—thus, I will be at leisure to dance the entire night, if I so choose.”
“But the invitation has just arrived,” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “Unless your family has hosted visitors, one of whom has solicited your hand, you cannot already be engaged for that dance. It seems to me that you have told me an untruth, for it is an impossibility. Thus, I will not rescind my request.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, by this time angry at his stupidity, “if I have lied to you about being engaged for the first dance, it would soon be exposed as such. But if I have told an untruth, what does that tell you about my feelings for dancing with you?”
“Come now, Miss Elizabeth. Do not be absurd.”
“I am not being absurd. My first two dances have already been claimed.”
“By whom?”
“It is none of your concern, sir. I will ask you to cease to importune me on the subject.”
“Now—”
“That is enough, Mr. Collins,” interrupted Mr. Bennet. “If Elizabeth says she is engaged, then she is. You may cease to importune her.
“Furthermore, I have warned you about my feelings concerning your presence here at Longbourn, and you have ignored me repeatedly. Elizabeth does not wish to dance with you, and I am inclined to agree with her. You may attempt to find dance partners in other houses in the district, for I am no longer inclined to endure your ridiculous behavior. There will be no dancing with any of my daughters for you.”
“But Mr. Bennet!” cried Mr. Collins.
“No, sir. I have spoken. If you do not wish to be ejected from the estate, I suggest you cease to speak.”
A sullen Mr. Collins subsided and dropped into a chair, all full of reproachful glares and put upon sighs. He was, however, not quiet for long, as a sudden thought seemed to come to him. He glanced around, taking in the ladies present, noting the one lady with whom he had not just been forbidden to dance. A sort of slyness seemed to come over him, and he abruptly rose to his feet, and approached her.
“Miss Bingley,” said he, “I am certain you have not yet been solicited for your first dance at your brother’s ball. Thus, I take this opportunity to ask for your hand for those dances.”
The explosion of mirth which greeted Mr. Collins’s request was at least a little muted, but there appeared to be few in the room who did not find the look of sudden consternation which came over the lady’s face hilarious.
“But . . . I . . .” stammered Miss Bingley, attempting to find some way to put the man off. “I am the hostess,” was her final, rather lame reply.
“There is no requirement that the hostess refrain from dancing the first,” replied Mr. Collins. “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to become better acquainted. I am certain we will find there is much we have in common.”
Elizabeth held her handkerchief to her mouth, desperately attempting to rein in her laughter, and by her side, Mr. Darcy was in similar straits. Kitty had stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth in a desperate struggle to stifle her giggles, and Lydia was biting on her knuckles in the same manner. Miss Bingley, however, was not amused, though Elizabeth noted that from a certain perspective they were akin to one another. They both maintained a stubborn belief in their own superiority and without any reason to feel that way.
“You might as well let him have it,” said Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth noted that there was a thinly concealed note of hilarity in his voice as well. “I cannot have my hostess for the evening unable to dance. Unless you would prefer to allow Louisa to host the ball.”
Miss Bingley shot a look at her brother hotter than the glare of the sun, but she turned back to Mr. Collins to do her duty. “Very well.”
The parson acted as if she had just declared her undying love for him, and he sat down and began to pepper her with his continuous conversation, which she, of course, ignored. Within a few moments, Miss Bingley seemed to remember a pressing engagement, and she stood and dragged her brother from the room. Mr. Collins sat watching her, all smugness at the coup he had managed to engineer. Elizabeth wished him the best of luck, though Lady Catherine was all contempt for his defection.
But through the mirth the situation provoked, another worry was growing in Elizabeth’s mind. Lady Catherine had listened to the entire exchange, and her countenance had grown darker as it had proceeded. Mr. Collins might be as dull as the day was long, but Lady Catherine obviously suspected that Mr. Darcy had managed to find a way to ask Elizabeth to dance those sets, and she was quite obviously not amused by it.
Or perhaps she thought that Elizabeth had, indeed, spun the story out of thin air to avoid having to dance with Mr. Collins, or ensnare Mr. Darcy, or even both. All Elizabeth knew was that a confrontation appeared to be in the offing. And it would happen sooner rather than later.
Chapter XIII
Though Elizabeth had known that an argument with Lady Catherine was inevitable, she had no true idea of how quickly it would arise. She supposed, in retrospect, that she should have expected the lady to have her say as soon as possible, but at the time she had been more concerned with avoiding the woman than trying to guess when she would make her move.
As Mr. Darcy was still recovering, he still retir
ed to his room in the afternoons to rest. Elizabeth was overjoyed with the prospect of his improving health as, though he would of a necessity leave her father’s house, she would be able to finally discover the truth of all these exquisite feelings he had engendered in her. He would be able to behave in an openly admiring manner, whereas at present he was forced to circumspection due to his recovery and the fact that they were living under the same roof.
Either way, Mr. Darcy excused himself to retire to his room that afternoon, and as Mr. Bingley and Jane were walking the grounds somewhere and the younger girls were all absorbed in their own concerns, Elizabeth decided that a walk would not only do her some good, it would also keep her out of Lady Catherine’s company. The grand lady was of decided opinions, and one of those she had shared frequently with the company was that too much sunlight was not beneficial for a young gentlewoman, never mind that it was late autumn, and when the sun shone at all, it was a sickly, pale sort of light.
Thus believing that she would not be disturbed by the lady, Elizabeth departed as soon as she could politely leave. The grounds of Longbourn were in much the same state as the rest of the countryside. Elizabeth had always felt like autumn and the approaching winter were the saddest times of the year, for the land seemed to be dying, withering away from the cold temperatures and lack of sunlight. Though many poets had focused on the stark beauty which winter offered, Elizabeth had always preferred the reawakening which spring would always bring and the warmth of summer when all vibrated with life and health.
The circuit around the park’s furthest reaches took her only about half an hour, as it was not large, and Elizabeth halted in several places, contemplating the bare branches of the trees, reaching up toward the heavens or a flock of birds flying overhead, hurrying toward the south, late for their rendezvous with their winter retreats. She was beginning to feel chilled as she made her way back toward the house, as though there was little wind, the air was quite cool.