by Linda Phelps
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, having occasion to ride to Meryton, were delighted to encounter a party consisting of Jane Bennet, her sisters, and a stranger dressed as a clergyman. They had grouped themselves with some of the officers and were having a lively conversation into which Bingley joined. Mr. Darcy preferred the role of observer, and nodded politely to the women.
“This is splendid,” said Bingley as he greeted Jane Bennet. “Darcy and I were only now riding to Longbourn to inquire after your health, but such inquiries are unnecessary. I see that you are very well. Does she not look well, Darcy?”
Darcy smiled his agreement. He was entirely aware that Elizabeth Bennet was of the group, and in his determination to appear unaffected by her presence, he nodded briefly to her and moved his eyes onward.
However, even his considerable poise was broken at the sight of a gentleman with whom he had not expected to meet in such a place as Meryton.
Wickham!
Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. Without him knowing it did so, his gloved hand reached for his riding crop. It took all of his self-control to prevent him smashing the whip across Wickham’s face.
Then, aware that Elizabeth Bennet was glancing from him to Wickham, astonished as she witnessed this unexpected interaction, he recalled himself. Wickham, smiling as if unaffected by this meeting, touched his hand to his hat in acknowledgement of past association. With an effort, Darcy returned the greeting. He refused to display perturbation with Elizabeth looking on. Luckily, Bingley made his farewell and touched his horse into motion. Darcy followed willingly, wishing to be elsewhere until his fury cooled.
“What has undone you, Darcy?” asked Bingley. “You are never in a state, but now—”
Darcy swallowed. “That,” said he, “was the man of whom I have told you, the son of my father’s steward.”
“Wickham?” said Bingley, turning in the saddle to get a last glimpse of the man of whom he had heard much. “That is he?”
“Indeed it is. What can he be doing here in Hertfordshire? I had hoped that I would never see him again.”
“Perhaps he joins the militia,” said Bingley.
“Aye, that would be like him,” said Darcy with bitterness, “although I would be astounded to learn he has the money to buy himself a commission.”
Bingley nodded sympathetically. “Perhaps he has friends who help him.”
“They will soon regret that,” said Darcy. He had communicated his anger to his horse, which pranced and fought the bit. “I will race you to that road marker,” said he, and before Bingley had time to ready himself, Darcy had spurred his horse to a gallop. By the time Bingley caught his friend, the horse was exhausted and Darcy himself had spent his mood.
Together they walked their horses back to Netherfield. Bingley, although curious, kindly did not mention Wickham again.
Caroline Bingley was very conscious of Mr. Darcy’s dispositions. That evening she took her brother aside. “Has something happened? Did you have an unpleasant time when you called on Jane Bennet?”
“No, to be sure, we met Miss Bennet as we arrived in Meryton. She seemed to be quite well.”
“And were her sisters with her?” asked Caroline?”
“Several of them were. They are all such pleasing girls, do you not think so? They were talking with some of the officers.”
“I’m certain they were,” said Caroline. “I believe it is their habit. But was Elizabeth Bennet of the party?”
“Yes, to be sure.”
“And did she say or do something to distress Mr. Darcy? He is not himself tonight.”
Bingley lowered his voice. “Not she, but Wickham has appeared in Meryton. He was speaking with the Bennet sisters as we rode up. You know of Wickham, do you not?
Caroline, relieved, said, “Only that he has used poor Mr. Darcy very badly. What an unfortunate circumstance that he has arrived at our doorstep. I feel very much for Mr. Darcy.”
“And well you might,” said Bingley. “We surmise that Wickham may have joined the militia. If so, I must invite him to the ball along with the rest of the officers, but let us hope he will have the good taste not to attend.”
Miss Darcy’s Journal (Maidenstone)
Brother writes that after all I am not to go to the Bingleys for their ball. I am to stay with Mrs. Cassidy until after Christmas. This is a great disappointment, not solely because I will miss the ball but because there will now be such a long time until I see Brother again.
He says he does not like the idea of my traveling so far at this time of year, but is it perhaps a sign that he does not yet trust me?
I have learned from my mistake with W. Never again will I be deceived by such a person.
Despite her predictions that she would be worn to nothing in her labours for the success of the ball, Caroline Bingley turned most matters over to the very capable hands of the housekeeper and butler. Then she turned her thoughts to more pressing matters.
Miss Bingley’s Journal (Netherfield)
We have named the day and sent out the invitations to the wretched ball that Charles insists on presenting. I have nothing against balls as such, but to spend this effort and money on our neighbours in Hertfordshire seems almost a crime. I have pleaded for invitations to be dispatched to our friends in London, but Charles feels unready for so many house guests. I remind him that he had no problem lodging Jane Bennet and her sister. Then he claims, “I am in the country now, and I mean to make a good country farmer.” He means that he forgets his town life when he is in the country, as he will forget his country life when we return to town.
Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to send a letter to Margaret, inviting her and Mr. Granger to attend, and another to the Longstreets. Once they are in the house, Charles will be charmed to see them and forget that he ever wanted it otherwise.
In the case of the Longstreets, all will see that I am completely indifferent to their presence, that indeed I welcome it.
Charles is too easily satisfied. Consider his present infatuation with Jane Bennet! I had thought that it was certain that Georgiana was to come to us for the ball and serve as a distraction from Miss Bennet, but now Darcy believes that this is not a convenient time for her to leave her tutors. That is a pity. If my brother and his sister are ever to make a match, they must be in company with each other.
I pondered the wisdom of inviting Catherine Nelson, but while she might serve Charles as a diversion from Jane, it is also possible that she would serve Darcy as a diversion from me Thus I cannot risk inviting any unattached woman, so there will be no one to rescue my brother from the curse of the Bennet!
We are not to go to town before the ball. It is fortunate that I have a famous gown which I have kept back for the occasion. Anne Constable—Longstreet now—it does not pain me to say it-- with her new wealth will certainly be dressed in a manner she did not display before she married. I must be sure to outdo her. Darcy has not seen me wear this gown before. I wager he will be impressed and very like infatuated when he observes me in rose silk. The colour will emphasize my fine eyes. That I do not doubt.
Now that I consider it, I think it is fortunate that we will have so few friends from town on this occasion. Particularly we need no unmarried women. (Why did I ever think of Catherine Nelson?) I have seen Darcy in conversation with Miss E. and also Miss W. He seemed pleased to be in their company, although that may have been further evidence of his unvarying amiability. Each of them flirts with him, paying him compliments, smiling up at him. They are quite bold. Each hopes to attach herself so closely to him that she may become Mrs. Darcy. It will be well if we do not remind him of their existence. He is, of course, too much a studier of character to succumb to their rather threadbare attempts to seem alluring. I doubt not that I would appear more poised and handsome than either, but men cannot always be trusted to make the best choices for themselves.
Perhaps I am too discreet on this matter. Perhaps Darcy is not aware of my appreciation of him.
He needs a hint as to the nature of my feelings. If Darcy has not made an overture, no matter how small, by the time the ball has ended, I shall tell Charles to speak to him
Darcy’s Journal (Netherfield)
I cannot risk a meeting between Wickham and Georgiana. I have told her it is not a good time for her to travel. She will be disappointed, perhaps, but I act in her best interest.
I can scarcely understand that Wickham has seen fit to enter this neighbourhood. It is impossible that he did not know that I am here. Were he any sort of a man he would understand his obligation to avoid me, but when was he any sort of man? The people of Meryton will learn soon enough what he is. He will set up accounts in all the shops, stable his horse in luxury, have a tailor create his regimentals—in short, he will steal the very bread from the mouths of the town’s honest tradesman.
I understand that Bingley must invite him to the ball, but let us hope that W. will not attend. He seems not to feel shame, so anything might happen. If he attends, I will spend the evening in my room reading and sleeping. I cannot trust that I can control my riding crop should I see him in this house.
Miss Bingley’s Journal (Netherfield)
As I expected, Charles was delighted at the arrival of the Longstreets and the Grangers. The men are pleased to be in the country this time of year, and the women act pleased to see the elegance of our country home.
Greeting George Longstreet was not in the least difficult. As he has moved on in his affections, so have I. It is good to have such a long dreaded moment behind me, and satisfying to know I carried myself perfectly.
However, the Longstreets took it upon themselves to bring the younger brother! William Longstreet is underfoot, just as he was in London. I am fond of him, but have at present too many responsibilities to listen to his tales and scandasl. He has lost none of his character. “How wise of you to repair to this country house,” said he. “Your friends will have moved on to a new topic of conversation by the time you return. In fact they may already have done so.”
I could not resist. “What is this topic?” said I. But he claimed he could not break a confidence. He hinted that Lady Charlotte Winslow is the current talk of the town. He promises to tell me the story when I dance with him. He has resumed his compliments on my appearance and my liveliness already. I believe I have missed hearing that sort of praise, silly as it is. If only Mr. Darcy was as easy with me as Mr. Longstreet is, I should be entirely happy. However, his lighthearted aspect is frequently depressed by his need to deal with the responsibilities of a great gentleman.
At times I regret that William is a second son. With him I do not have to plan every sentence as I do with Mr. Darcy. I do not concern myself with saying what will catch his interest; if I say it he will be interested. However, I have no intention of settling for such, even if he is a Longstreet. As Darcy’s wife I will be envied by all.
However, I will be pleased to dance with William again. I do not feel the need to perform every step in a state of perfection when I am with him. William is quite an able dancer. Still, I will pass the time I am opposite him with anticipation of my turn with dear Darcy.
Caroline Bingley’s oversight of the preparations for the ball did not cease until the first carriage was heard at the door of Netherfield. Immediately prior to its arrival she had checked a last time upon the rooms prepared for the entertainment of their guests. She left the supervision of refreshments in the capable hands of the housekeeper and the butler, but was unable to keep her hands from straightening a chair at the edge of the dance floor and running her white finger along the back of a bench in search of errant dust.
“Some of our neighbours are here, Caroline,” called Bingley, and the three arranged themselves in a line to receive them. In a moment, Sir William Lucas and his wife and daughters entered to be bowed to and urged on their way to the ball room. For the next half of an hour, they shook hands with a steady procession of the best local families. Caroline felt the muscles of her cheeks begin to ache from smiling. Fortunately Bingley provided the welcoming warmth to each guest that made her own actions merely subsidiary. She need only look handsome.
The Bennets descended on the Bingleys, Mrs. Bennet at the fore. “How delightful to see you,” she said, as she bowed. “I do not believe I have seen Netherfield looking so well since the Sir John and his sisters were alive. I expect we shall have a charming—”
The sisters passed her on to Bingley in order to greet Jane Bennet and her sisters. A few seconds passed while Bingley women and Bennet women examined each other’s gowns before they too were sent to the ball room. Then came the seldom seen Mr. Bennet and a tall young man he introduced as his cousin. Mr. Bennet was also dispatched in the direction of the ballroom, but the tall young man was disposed to converse, indifferent or unaware of those who still waiting to do their duty to the host and hostesses.
“I cannot express my gratitude at being welcomed to this fine house,” he said. “Since I am unknown to you, you do me great hon-our by allowing me entry to this place, one I had not expected when I came to Longbourn. I can scarcely convey to you my pleasure at being allowed to participate in this gathering. Although I am but recently ordained, I have spent considerable time with some of the finest people in the realm, and am therefore well acquainted with the size of rooms and furniture preferred by the truly elegant. I see before me—”
“Thank you, sir,” said Louisa. “Any friend of Mr. Bennet will always find a welcome at Netherfield,” and with determination she passed him on to her sister. Caroline passed him on to her brother who, not adroit at ridding himself of uninspiring strangers, smiled through the repetition of the speech the man had addressed to the sisters.
“And I myself have been so fortunate as to have received the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of whom you have doubtless heard—”
“I am sorry to interrupt,” said Caroline to her brother, “but the officers have arrived and must be greeted.” Bingley took the hint and handed his guest off to a footman who took his hat and escorted him to the room in which the musicians were playing softly in preparation for their ardours to come.
Moments later the youngest Bennet daughter interrupted the welcoming conversation by placing herself between Caroline and one of the officers. “Why, where is Mr. Wickham?” she demanded. “I intend to dance with him. When is he expected?”
Mr. Denny’s response was not pleasing to Lydia Bennet. “Not coming?” cried the girl. “Lizzy and I counted on seeing him. She will be almost as disappointed as I am. “The officer comforted her with his own offer to be her partner. He placed her hand on his arm and led her off to the dance floor.
“How pleased I am that Darcy was not near enough to hear that,” whispered Caroline behind her fan. “These Bennets are incomprehensible.”
“Not entirely,” said Louisa. She tilted her head toward Jane Bennet who sat demurely in a spot where Bingley could find her when his duties to his guests were done. “Is that not a picture of decorous anticipation?”
In a few minutes Bingley signaled to the orchestra to play the introduction to the first two dances. Couples quickly formed. The line was headed by Bingley and Jane Bennet, followed by Louisa and Mr. Hurst and Caroline and Mr. Darcy. The orchestra leader raised his baton and the ball began.
When Caroline had regained the bottom she found her eyes drawn to the spectacle of Elizabeth Bennet in partnership with the guest who had spoken so immoderately in the welcoming line. She turned to Mr. Darcy and murmured, “Poor Eliza Bennet. I have had few chances to watch her dance, and now I see why she so often lacks partners. She has little knowledge of the correct steps. I wonder Jane Bennet did not teach her. What an appalling spectacle she makes of herself.”
Darcy answered quietly, “I do not think she is entirely at fault. Her partner seems to be the one ignorant of the proper movements. See, she flushes with the exertion of keeping him from crashing into the other dancers.”
At once Caroline realized the truth o
f Darcy’s words. When she looked at him, his gaze was intent on the figure of Elizabeth Bennet, who, it must be acknowledged, looked very well with a flush on her cheeks. “But come, Mr. Darcy, it is our turn again. Let us show the company how fine an experienced partnership can dance the figures.”
He willingly took Caroline’s gloved hand in his. They were a graceful pair, and many watched as they proceeded to the top of the room. Still, his eyes continued to follow the movements of Elizabeth Bennet as she protected her tall partner from outright disaster.
During the interval, the Bingley sisters exchanged opinions on the merits of their female guests, characterizing their choices of clothes and hair styles and their abilities to dance with grace. Even their dear friends, Anne Constable and Margaret Granger were not safe from their judgments. Happy in her own superiority to the normal run of woman, Caroline was rather annoyed when William Longstreet bowed before her, reminding her of her commitment to him.
What an ill match he seemed after her turn with Darcy. However there was nothing to be done but to take the floor with him. At least there was no large party of London friends to gossip about this decline in the quality of her dance partners.
William, as Caroline knew, was a capable dancer. In fact they had practiced these arts together from a time long before they were eligible to attend balls. What was not expected was his unusual air of detachment and his silence. On other occasions he had admired her so loudly that others were drawn to watch them. “For the sake of goodness, Mr. Longstreet, have you nothing to say?”
Obediently he began to speak. “The weather tonight has been exceptionally pleasant, do you not think? It would have been a hard ride for many of these people if the moon was not so bright.
“Yes,” said Caroline. “That is why we chose this very night.”
“Just such ideas as that are what I expect from my knowledge of your wisdom and compassion for others. I give you full credit for the furnishings in this room. I believe you planned the flowers and chose the music and have selected a fine supper for us. You see, I know and appreciate your abilities. And the dryness of the evening is all to the good,” said he. Caroline stifled a yawn. “I see I do not please you as Darcy has. Perhaps if I had his fortune you would find me more congenial.”