by Jann Rowland
“If you say so, Lizzy,” replied Thomas.
“I do. Now, off with you, for I must dress.”
When Thomas scampered from the room, Elizabeth watched him with fondness, before turning a raised eyebrow on her maid. Lucy grinned and said:
“I have three younger brothers myself, Miss Elizabeth. They are all the same.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It is difficult for me to keep up with one—I should not like to have three!”
“And are sisters much different?”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth said: “I believe you have caught me there, Lucy. Sometimes Lydia has been as difficult as any brother could be.”
Lucy smiled and helped Elizabeth into her ballgown, making a final few touches to her appearance before Elizabeth dismissed her maid for the night, assuring her that she would not require her services when she returned home. The mirror in her vanity provided Elizabeth one last look at her gown, and she found herself pleased, for the ivory gown clung to her slender form, accentuated by the bits of soft green ribbon Lucy had woven into her hair. Elbow-length gloves of the same hue as her gown covered her hands and arms, and Lucy had painted her cheeks with just the slightest hint of rouge. Though Elizabeth knew Jane would outshine every other lady in the room, she was pleased with her appearance.
In the manor’s entryway, the ladies gathered to don their pelisses and ready themselves. No departure could be complete without Lady Margaret inspecting her daughters’ appearances, adjusting the way a dress hung here or smoothing an unruly curl there. No daughter received as much attention as Elizabeth, and it was all for her untamable hair, which had long been the bane of her existence.
“It appears Lucy has done wonders with your mane, Lizzy, though I suspect it will be a fright by the end of the evening.”
“Do not allow Lucy to hear you say that, Mama,” replied Elizabeth, “for she would feel offense at your lack of faith in her abilities. I believe she considers her efforts this night to be a masterpiece.”
Lady Margaret patted her daughter’s cheek with amused affection. “The effect of her efforts is stupendous, my dear. You shall be the talk of the room, for you will draw every eye to you. If you play your cards right, an eligible young man might even take a fancy to you.”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “But I believe I am in no rush to follow in Jane’s footsteps.”
“Nor should you be. But when you find a young man without whom you cannot live, you must act to secure him. Do not let love slip from your grasp, should it present itself.”
The effect of this comment on Elizabeth was not as Lady Margaret had intended. Giving her a smile and her hand a pat, Lady Margaret moved to another of Elizabeth’s sisters to examine her, leaving Elizabeth with her thoughts. No doubt Lady Margaret had thought to suggest Elizabeth could find a man to love, not knowing she already had. The longing for Mr. Darcy, for the acknowledgment and acceptance of both their families, filled Elizabeth, and she wondered if those who mattered most would ever allow their love.
“Ah, what visions of loveliness we see before us, Brother,” a voice interrupted them. Uncle Gardiner had entered the room with their father and was gazing at them all with appreciation.
“Yes, it would seem to be so,” replied their father. “I declare I have some of the loveliest daughters in the kingdom.” Lord Arundel grinned and approached his wife, giving her cheek a kiss. “And you are as lovely as any of them my dear, for I believe you could pass as one of their sisters.”
“Flatterer,” said Lady Margaret, though she was not displeased with her husband’s words.
“Perhaps,” replied Lord Arundel with a wink. “But I think I shall be as envied as Bingley or Collins tonight, for I shall have the fairest lady of them all gracing my arm.”
“Speaking of the aforementioned gentlemen,” said Uncle Gardiner with a nod at Mr. Collins, who had entered with them and was regarding their interaction with great affection, “I believe that Bingley has Jane’s first and Collins Mary’s. Thus, I shall ask Elizabeth for your hand for the first sets.”
“Of course I will dance with you,” said Elizabeth, by this time accustomed to the ache of her situation with Mr. Darcy.
“Thank you, my lady,” said Uncle Gardiner, bowing to kiss her hand. When he straightened again, he turned to Lydia and Kitty and winked. “I hope you do not hold my request to Elizabeth against me, my dears. It would make me happy if I could dance with all my fair nieces tonight.”
“Of course not, Uncle,” said Kitty. “Lizzy has precedence, after all—it is only right she should dance the first with you.”
“Then shall we depart?”
To the general agreement of all, they gathered their wraps and reticules and followed the elder members of their party out into the moonlit night. Two carriages awaited them, Lord Arundel’s largest carriage along with Uncle Gardiner’s—it was his custom to travel to events with his relations. The arrangements were quickly made, the eldest three siblings and Mr. Collins to travel with Mr. Gardiner while the youngest two with the baron and baroness, and once the doors closed behind them they departed.
The journey was an easy distance, past the town of Lambton and to the north a little way, and the party was in good spirits as they traveled, with much laughter and jesting passing between them. Even Mary and Mr. Collins, who were of a more serious disposition than the others were quick to join in. The moonlight, which Elizabeth had noticed upon exiting the house, was bright, allowing the drivers to guide the carriage through the labyrinth of fine Derbyshire roads with little difficulty. Soon, the house at Lucas Manor rose before them, signaling the end of their journey.
When the carriage stopped in front of the entrance after a brief wait for the carriages before them, Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Collins stepped down, turned and assisted Jane and Mary, and Elizabeth in turn. They waited by the side for the Bennet carriage, and when they were all present, they turned to enter the house.
Lucas Manor was a grand old estate, large and imposing, with the finest ballroom in the district, though Elizabeth had heard that Pemberley’s formal ballroom rivaled it in grandeur. The family, consisting of the earl and his only child, stood near the entrance greeting their guests. In this, Elizabeth was grateful the family was so small, for the line moved with swiftness, unlike it would have if one of the larger families had been hosting the event.
The baron greeted the earl and shared a few words with him, after which his family made their way down the line. Friends that they were, Lady Charlotte greeted both Jane and Elizabeth with some enthusiasm, congratulating Jane on her recent engagement, while welcoming Elizabeth in the manner of an old friend.
“Elizabeth,” said the woman, “I hope you find the entertainment to your taste tonight.”
Confused at the mysterious way in which her friend had spoken, Elizabeth was slow in replying. “You know I enjoy a ball, Charlotte.”
“Yes, I am certain you do,” said she. “Let this be a night you find special enjoyment. Who knows? Perhaps you will even find a man who can be to you what Mr. Bingley is to Jane.”
It was so like what Lady Margaret had said before they departed that Elizabeth had no recourse but to laugh. “What should I make of this sudden desire to pair me with an eligible man?” asked Elizabeth. “Before we left, my mother also suggested I might find my future husband here.”
Lady Charlotte grinned. “Your mother is wise, Elizabeth. I have no doubt tonight will be a memorable might for you. Enjoy yourself, my friend, for I believe it will be a magical time.”
With a nod, Elizabeth moved away, mindful of the line of those waiting to greet their hosts for the evening. Accepting her uncle’s arm, Elizabeth allowed him to lead her into the ballroom, where tasteful and artful arrangements coupled with the thoughtful placing of candles to minimize the dripping of wax on the revelers gave the impression of romance. In the center of the dance floor, Elizabeth noted the earl had commissioned a large representation of his crest in the customary
chalk, elaborate designs flowing out from it to cover the whole floor. It was a work of art, though it was destined to be destroyed by many thousands of footsteps treading upon it that night. It was a wonderful display and so considerate of the earl, for his guests would not need to chalk their slippers against the smooth slickness of the floor.
The Bennets met their other relations there that evening, for not only were Mr. Edward and Mrs. Madeline Gardiner in attendance but Aunt Madeline’s family—the Plumbers—were also present, alongside many more. When the greetings were offered and accepted, Aunt Madeline made her way to Elizabeth and greeted her with a soft embrace, then grasping Elizabeth’s shoulders at arms’ length.
“How have you been, Lizzy?”
“Very well, Aunt. It has been some time since we have come into Lambton. How are the children?”
“Oh, they are well and trying my nerves,” replied Aunt Madeline with good humor. Then her manner turned serious. “Have there been any . . . developments of late, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth knew to what her aunt referred, and she colored, thinking there had been a great many developments. But she had already informed her aunt of too much of her doings—she would not say more in a crowded ballroom.
“Nothing of substance, Aunt.”
When Aunt Madeline watched her, skepticism clear in her gaze, Elizabeth was quick to assert: “All is well, Aunt. Truly there is nothing the matter.”
Before her aunt could respond, a sudden cessation of all talk in the room, though it lasted for only an instant, alerted Elizabeth to the arrival of the Darcy party. It had always been thus, for the neighborhood held its collective breath for the second of the warring parties to arrive.
Aunt Madeline looked at her with some concern, but Elizabeth would not allow herself to show how affected she knew she would be at the sight of Mr. Darcy. To prove her aunt there was nothing to worry herself over, Elizabeth gave her a smile. Then she turned to see the newcomers and looked into the eyes of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
At Pemberley, the Darcy party had partaken in a similar ritual of preparation for the evening’s entertainment. Darcy had always thought it was easier for men than women, for after a bath, his valet would help him dress, and once his man had pulled a comb through his hair, he was ready to depart.
On that evening, anticipation had prompted him to prepare early, the result of which was his pacing in the entryway while he waited for the rest of the family to prepare themselves. Though Darcy knew his wish of dancing the supper set with Elizabeth was nothing more than fantasy, the ability to see her after being denied the past few days was a palpable longing in his heart. The trick would be to avoid making a scene by staring at her all night.
“It seems your brother is eager to depart,” came the voice of his cousin. The note in his voice informed Darcy that Fitzwilliam was in a teasing mood, but then, when was he not? “Given how much he has always detested such activities, one might ask why he is so impatient to depart tonight.”
“It must be Anne,” said Alexander with a smirk. “Perhaps he is wavering and will fulfill Lady Catherine’s fondest wish tonight.”
Fitzwilliam laughed, Alexander joining in the mirth. Darcy did not waste the effort to glare at them, for he knew it would only induce their behavior to worsen. Even that decision did not prevent his cousin from continuing to speak.
“By your behavior, I might almost think you have a lady you wish to see, Darcy. Do you care to share the identity of the wondrous creature who fills your thoughts?”
“You are being ridiculous,” snapped Darcy, sidestepping the subject. “If we must attend, I should like to get it over with. I doubt I will dance much tonight.”
“Then you are missing a grand time,” said Alexander. “There are some ladies of uncommon beauty who will be in attendance; one of them must be acceptable to your discriminating tastes.
“The Bennet sisters, for example.” Darcy turned a confused eye on his brother, wondering if Alexander knew something of his meetings with Miss Elizabeth. “They are pretty enough to tempt any man. Perhaps I shall ask one of them to dance tonight.”
Fitzwilliam snorted. “If you did so, it might provoke a war. Now, if your brother did so . . . .”
“It would be better if you left your impudence at home, Alexander,” said Darcy, ignoring his cousin. Inside he released the tension his companions’ teasing had provoked, for it seemed like nothing more than their typical brand of carelessness. “I do not think the baron would appreciate a Darcy asking one of his daughters to dance.”
“Could he speak against it?” demanded Alexander. “We all know the consequences for a young lady if she refuses a request to dance. And it is only a dance.”
“I do not disagree,” replied Darcy. “But I believe it would be best to avoid entertaining such foolish notions.”
“If it is foolish, then I do not wish to be rational,” snapped Alexander. “I care nothing for our stupid dispute, for there is little sense in it.”
Alexander turned away and refused to speak again, leaving Fitzwilliam and Darcy looking at each other, wondering what he was about. In the end, Darcy decided there was little to concern himself. As far as he was aware, Alexander had not had contact with any Bennet sister other than the two outside the bookshop, and would not be acquainted with them, which would render any efforts to dance with them impossible. Fitzwilliam seemed to agree with Darcy, for he shrugged in response to Darcy’s questioning look.
It was a few moments before the rest of the party joined them. Georgiana, who was still not out and did not attend every neighborhood function, was eager for her first ball, while Anne appeared willing to partake in the evening herself. Both were beautiful in their well-fitted ballgowns, Georgiana in a more girlish style, while Anne gave the impression of a sophisticated and wealthy young woman, which she was. Had Darcy not thought of her as a sister all these years, he might have been interested, for she was not only intelligent but attractive too.
Lady Catherine was watching Darcy, wondering if there would be anyone in attendance who should concern her, while Darcy’s father appeared to be girding himself for an unpleasant task. Understanding his father’s feelings—for it had been forever thus since the passing of Darcy’s mother—he shot his father a sympathetic smile. Lady Anne had been a wonderful woman, and Darcy missed her almost as much as his father did.
In part to remove his thoughts from such a morbid subject, Darcy turned to Anne. “As my father will dance the first with my sister and Fitzwilliam will impose upon his intended, I should like to ask for your hand for the first sets if you will oblige me.”
With a giggle, Anne accepted, though Fitzwilliam protested Darcy’s mocking words. As he might have expected, Lady Catherine’s look became positively gloating. It was certain she was anticipating a wedding due to his application for a single dance. Anne saw this and shook her head at her mother.
“It is only a dance,” said she which set Lady Catherine to scowling. “Besides, it seems to me it is nothing more than Darcy’s usual attempt to give no young lady precedence by asking for her first sets. By asking me, he does not raise a young lady’s hopes, and can still dance the first.”
“You say that as if Darcy ever wished to dance at all, let alone the first,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Do not tease Darcy, Anthony,” scolded Anne. “I understand his desire to avoid being the prize stallion at a horse market. In a similar way, I understand the feeling very well.”
“It may be best if you held your tongue, Catherine,” said Robert Darcy, and Darcy noted that his aunt’s mouth snapped shut. “I suspect it would be best if we departed. Let us go now, for we shall be late if we do not.”
The company agreed and after a final check of their attire, they were soon off. The Darcy’s main carriage, followed by another family carriage, both gleamed in the light of a few torches along Pemberley’s drive. They made their way to the conveyances to embark, and as they were doing so, Darcy found himself beside Anne.
Though her admonishment tempted Darcy to respond, he contented himself with grinning. The gentlemen handed the ladies into the carriages—the Darcy family settled into one, while Fitzwilliam and the de Bourgh’s used the other—and then they set off. There was not much conversation as they traveled, as each contemplated the night ahead. Considering the scene which had just occurred prior to their departure, Darcy knew he should feel some remorse for raising Lady Catherine’s hopes, but he found he could not. The lady still clung to the hope they would marry, no matter how many times they denied it; and yet she persisted. It was all her own doing.
The distance was not great and soon the Darcy carriage pulled into the torchlit courtyard of the Lucas estate, where they disembarked. The company entered the house where they met the earl and his daughter, and Darcy was grateful to see there were few ahead of them in line and almost no one behind. It seemed they were one of the last families to arrive.
Darcy greeted the earl and his daughter, but his heart was not in it, for he knew every step, every moment brought him closer to once again being in Miss Elizabeth’s presence. Though he knew he could not dance with her, could not approach her or speak with her or bask in the brilliance of her presence, being nearby would be enough. Gazing on perfection was sufficient. It must be.
In the distance, the light of the ballroom beckoned, and Darcy strode forward like one of Odysseus’s sailors, drawn by the song of a siren. The décor of the ballroom he did not notice and the few greetings he offered to friends were little more than perfunctory obligations. The ballroom was already full to the brim of those of the neighborhood, scattered about in small groups, conversation a low buzz akin to an insect flitting about near one’s ear. Darcy cared not for any of them; he cared only for the one woman he could not acknowledge.