by Anne Morris
And then there was Mr. Darcy. Here was another man—a gentleman of known worth—who seemed quite taken with her friend, and yet Eliza seemed to not only not notice, but to openly dislike the man. Charlotte could not understand Elizabeth that she was so comfortable in society, and yet incapable of seeing the men around her who admired her. Charlotte watched the pair, and thought his admiration was obvious enough, though it was subtle. However, if it was not obvious to her friend, and Elizabeth chose not to react to it, it would be nice to have another confirmed spinster in the neighborhood to grow old with.
• • •
Elizabeth and Darcy stood waiting for their part in the dance without speaking. Elizabeth wondered if such was to be the measure of it for the entire half hour, but then she decided it might be a greater punishment for this silent, meditative man to be made to speak. After there had been a silence of some minutes, she addressed him, "it is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." He smiled, and assured her that he would say whatever she wished him to say. "It is, after all, only polite and practical to have some conversation while one dances," she said.
"Do you always talk while dancing?" his eyebrows knit together then.
"Would it not look odd, Mr. Darcy, to be on the dance floor—dancing—which one would assume you choose to do because it is a pleasure," she snuck a glance at him as she recalled his remarks about her at the Meryton Assembly and how little he had danced, "so might I also assume you chose a partner that would please you?" She smiled at him, a smile she could not help from perhaps being something of a grin. She schooled it into a more serious one. "Perhaps the dancing is the most important part and you mean to concentrate on that? Or perhaps, you do not wish to talk as you must focus on your steps because you are, in fact, a poor dancer." She attempted to keep her face impassive and moved in the set as required, but watched his face as her barb registered.
"I am well versed in dancing," he replied his face coloring a little as he understood her meaning.
"Then you should be able to both dance and speak at the same time, Mr. Darcy. I shall now turn the conversation over to you to find an appropriate subject."
"What about books?" he asked.
"Books? I am sure we never read the same ones or not with the same outlook," she answered.
"I am sorry you think so," he replied, "But if that is the case there can be no want of subjects. We could compare opinions."
"No, I cannot talk of books in a ballroom," she replied.
"The present always occupies you in such cases, and in such an assemblage," said he, "with your family and friends and their situations before you."
She arched an eyebrow. "I had not considered it but must concur; you are correct. I am always concerned about my family, but excessively so when they are gathered before me." She looked at him. "Do you worry less about her if your sister is away from you, out of sight?"
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Perhaps, though Georgiana has a way of ensuring that she is always a consideration whenever we are together. It is, perhaps, pleasant to have time for reflection and solitude—and to read a book or two when we are apart." He smiled then, and Elizabeth wondered if she had never seen him smile before, as it transformed him into an excessively handsome man. She felt as if she had never noticed before.
"It is interesting that we appear to have a similarity in the turn of our minds," she said. "We are both unsocial and reserved with our words, not as engaged in society as most—unless, of course, we can say something that will amaze the entire room."
"I cannot believe that is indicative of your own character," he said, "but how near it is to mine I cannot say. You think it is a faithful portrait, undoubtedly." His cheeks betrayed him again—that was twice she had managed to bring color to them, and discomfort to his bearing.
"I am willing to admit to my faults, Mr. Darcy," she smiled. It was not something he could reply to, and she knew it, and wondered again what subject they would tackle next. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room, but he stopped with a bow to speak to Mr. Darcy about his dancing and his partner.
"I must compliment you, dear sir. Such superior dancing is not often seen. Allow me to say, however, that your enchanting partner does not disgrace you, and I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza," and he glanced at Jane and Bingley, "shall take place. What congratulations will flow in!"
Mr. Darcy looked over at Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together, and Elizabeth wondered what he was thinking as he eyed his friend, given Sir William's statements. It could not be new intelligence that Bingley admired her sister given his obvious attentions to Jane when they had been staying together at Netherfield Hall. Perhaps Mr. Darcy had not considered that Bingley's attentions had given rise to the expectation of their marriage?
"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of," said Mr. Darcy, recovering himself after Sir William moved on.
"Our faults," she replied, "but I believe we once discussed this of an evening a week or two ago. We shall need to search, yet again, for a new topic." They both looked at each other. She had no other point with which to berate Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth still could not account for his having asked her to dance, though she had not watched him earlier in the evening to ascertain with whom he had danced, and whether she was in some distinguished category of ladies. Charlotte said he had not danced at all. Elizabeth still thought too little of him to feel honored to belong to some select club. He seemed little inclined to find another topic, though he did look thoughtful. He did not introduce a subject soon enough to her liking, so she took matters into her own hands.
"Did you not once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave? Should your resentment be raised it is relentless and you are never to be placated once you have been so moved?"
"I am," said he with a firm voice.
"And you ensure you never let yourself be blinded by prejudice?" she asked. "That you have no bias that might prevent you from judging a situation fairly?"
"I hope not," he answered.
"In such a situation it is incumbent that you must judge properly at the first," she said, "if there is to be no second chance."
"May I ask why all of these questions?"
"Merely to the further illustration of your character," Elizabeth answered, "I am still trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?" he asked.
She shook her head, "I do not understand you. You are a conundrum, and puzzle me exceedingly."
"Interesting," he answered with a rather grave tone.
"I have often wondered why you chose to come to our little county for I cannot perceive that you take any pleasure in it. Perhaps I need to consider those conversations we had when I stayed in this house, and attribute to you the motivation of being a very good friend to Mr. Bingley, that you would suffer through such events that obviously bring you no joy. You are a puzzle, as I said."
"You may think of me however you choose, Miss Bennet," was his cold reply. She said no more, and they went down the dance to the end. He bowed over her hand, released it, and had let it go when he suddenly called her back. His face was still cold and formidable looking, and she wondered if he had some counter-argument to speak.
"Was Sir William Lucas married before he married Lady Lucas; is she his second wife?" Elizabeth could only openly stare at Mr. Darcy at such a question. It was no secret that Sir William had been married before, though it was not often spoken of. His first wife, Mrs. Lucas—it was before he had been knighted—had died giving birth to Charlotte and a twin sister; the sister having died at birth.
"I do not understand," she said in a low tone, "why would you ask such a question?" It only helped to fuel her dislike of the man that he would gossip about the neighbors in suc
h detail.
"I was simply curious why the eldest Miss Lucas is so different in appearance from her other siblings, and it occurred to me that might explain it," he said, "and your being a close friend you would know the circumstances."
They stood staring at one another, he and his impassive face, and she fuming with indignation; he seemed intent on not going away until he had his answer.
"Yes," and with no other explanation about the Lucas' situation, she turned and walked away to calm herself.
8
—
The Netherfield Ball
Mr. Bennet did not often leave his books for the social events which his wife and daughters attended. He watched them with curious eyes and thought they had, perhaps, turned out better than he had considered three or four years ago, now that the full fruits of Miss Simnel's labors were to be felt. He watched his flaxen-haired beauty Jane with Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bennet was not altogether assured how much Jane liked the young gentleman, but it was a far better match for her than he had ever considered for any of his daughters, except for his oldest, Lizzy. He had once hoped for great things for his eldest, though she had not the stunning face of Jane, or the dark beauty of Catherine; she had character, intelligence, and a joie de vivre that attracted people to her even if she did not seem to understand the power she wielded, her charisma.
But she had not attracted either of the two oldest Goulding sons—either would have been great matches. First Martin, and then Richard had married; he had thought she would at least accept Richard. Years back, he had even considered marrying Elizabeth off to Sir John Mandeville's grandson—now that would have been a coup! A baronet! There had been rumors that the grandfather and grandson had reconciled, but the grandson had died before he could even begin to think through that possibility. It was no wonder that Sir William Lucas had no desire to purchase commissions for his brood of sons, to send them to war if only to have them die.
Mr. Bennet regarded his other daughters. Lydia and Catherine initially had been loud and highly visible this evening, exclaiming with strident voices in a group of other young ladies near the officers. Catherine now seemed to have quieted as he could not find her in the crowd of people, but Lydia—who had attempted to temper her behavior at the beginning of the evening—had given way to her naturally high spirits, and he seemed to notice her more and more about the room. Her exclamations and movements were quite pronounced, almost as if she had imbibed too much wine, though Mr. Bennet did not suspect such was the case. He simply felt she had high animal spirits and that no amount of instruction from Miss Simnel could keep them down, once released.
Lydia had the attentions of a soldier and one of the Lucas sons, and was wild-eyed and all smiles for the attention. Mr. Bennet always thought the Lucas sons would be poor—too many of them and not enough money to go around—but perhaps they might do for Lydia or Catherine as the last and youngest daughters of the family.
He turned to find his middle child who was not dancing, but seemed to have convinced her hostess to allow her to perform on the pianoforte. Mr. Bennet wondered if Mary knew how inappropriate it was to request such a thing—to display one's talents at a ball rather than to simply enjoy the dancing and the food and the company—but there ever was with her that need to prove herself, to display her accomplishments even if in doing so she was also displaying her social ills. Could anything be done to help Mary at this late point in her life? Could you make up for the deficiencies of character and neglect in education if the child was nineteen?
• • •
Mrs. Bennet could think only of Jane. None of her other children held any of her attention that entire evening, and she followed her second oldest child with eager eyes through the entire first half of the ball. Her only distraction was to stop to speak to another mother of an unmarried daughter, and to discuss what a fine thing it would be to have Jane so well married to such a charming young man—so rich—and living but three miles from them. She had much to say in a self-congratulatory way. That his two sisters were so fond of Jane and must desire the connection, and that this marriage would be beneficial for her younger daughters as Jane's newly elevated consequence would mean the other girls would be sure to meet better, more promising men, made her beam at the prospects.
"To be able to have Jane look after them and not be obliged to go out in company," was a point that actually made Mrs. Long stifle a snort as if Mrs. Bennet would ever choose to retire from company but still, every matron in that room heard from Mrs. Bennet that evening about her impending joy.
• • •
Elizabeth avoided the dance floor then and the gaze of any gentlemen, and sought out her sister Jane. She reflected, as she looked for her sister, on her dance and the conversation with Mr. Darcy, and the variety of topics they had covered. There was nothing conventional about their interactions. And the query about the Lucas family was so odd! She had never had anyone ask her about the Lucas family's circumstances before, ever. She and Charlotte had spoken of it a number of times, how Charlotte wished she had known her twin sister. Charlotte had felt, once or twice, a longing for this sister she had never known, but whose loss she still felt more, than for the mother who had given her birth.
Charlotte loved her stepmother, Lady Lucas, profoundly and never had anything to say against her. Lady Lucas had married Sir William, welcomed Charlotte into her bosom, and given Charlotte everything she required. Lady Lucas was a loving mother and caretaker to Charlotte and was truly her mother in every sense. How odd that Mr. Darcy had asked about Charlotte's circumstances, and Elizabeth wondered what had sparked the question in his mind.
Elizabeth found Jane sitting by herself; Mr. Bingley had apparently left her to fetch refreshments.
"He has taken every dance," declared Jane. "Oh, Lizzy. I am so happy!" Jane had tentative, but hopeful wishes for Mr. Bingley's regard and of their future. Elizabeth said what she could about how well-matched she thought they were, keeping to herself her concerns that his sisters did not wish for the connection and had done nothing to promote it. She wondered to herself if they might do anything to prevent it, but Elizabeth stated her unequivocal belief and confidence in Mr. Bingley's attachment to Jane. She wished all of her sisters happy in marriage, and with such a partner, Jane was sure to be happy.
When Mr. Bingley returned with their drinks, Elizabeth quietly withdrew, intending to discover where Charlotte had got to. But she found herself looking into the handsome eyes and beautiful, almost angelic face, of Mr. Wickham. He gave her a perfectly correct bow then asked her to dance. Elizabeth readily agreed, and looked to see if her two doubting youngest sisters spied her then on the arm of such a prize. The last set before supper was just forming, and she smiled and wondered if he intended to also, per tradition, escort her into the supper room as well after their sets.
They spoke on general topics as they began the dance, but as they were waiting their turn he asked her, in a hesitating manner, how long Mr. Darcy had been in residence in Hertfordshire. Her curiosity was sparked by his question, and she could not but presume some sort of prior acquaintance.
"About a month," replied Elizabeth, "he is a gentleman of large property from Derbyshire."
"Yes," replied Wickham, "his estate is noble and expansive." They moved then. "You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you information about him than myself." He gave her a little bow though the dance did not require it. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise and wondered at the connection between the two men. "You may well look surprised, Miss Bennet, what has a militia lieutenant to do with such an illustrious gentleman with a clear ten thousand per annum?" He smiled, and his entire face lit up. Elizabeth thought she had never seen such warmth and animation on a man's face, it was quite inviting. "Are you well acquaintance with Mr. Darcy?" He asked.
"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth. "I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him a proud and disagreeable man." Her dance partner looked at the
other couples in their set so as to see whether her words had been overheard.
"I have no right to give my opinion as to his character," said Mr. Wickham. "I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge." They danced together until they found themselves a little apart from the other couples. He caught her eyes with a particular look. "Perhaps your opinion of him would be astonishing to most hereabouts?"
"I say what I think," she replied, "and he is not well liked here."
"I cannot pretend to be sorry," he answered, letting out a small breath before he walked away from her because of the dance. Elizabeth waited eagerly for him to make his way around the outside couples and to return. He had a large, almost playful, smile on his face as he approached her. "The world is often blinded by his fortune and consequence."
"I have found him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be a temperamental man," she replied then curtsied as the closing bars of the dance played.
"I wonder," said he as he bowed to her, and held out his arm—apparently he did mean to take her into supper—"if he is likely to be in the country much longer? I often know him to go to London for the winter."
They moved slowly towards the supper room, and he spoke on more general topics as they moved with others to find a seat at the tables. Mr. Wickham maneuvered them that they might continue their conversation largely undisturbed. The selections on the tables before them afforded them an assortment of all the best that Mrs. Nicholls and her staff could produce, and having settled themselves with their plates piled before them, her companion looked at her again with that same warm and inviting smile on his lips.