The 26th of November, a Pride and Prejudice Comedy of Farcical Proportions

by Elizabeth Adams

  She returned to the ballroom shortly before the first set ended to see Mr. Collins dancing with her sister Mary. Mary actually looked pleased to be dancing with him. Elizabeth didn’t know if it was because Mary was happy to be dancing the first set at all, or if she particularly liked dancing with Mr. Collins. Either way, Elizabeth was glad it was someone other than herself having her toes tread on.

  She danced with Captain Carter and flirted shamelessly, then repeated the process with another officer directly after him. She was enjoying herself immensely and when Mr. Darcy sought her out for the fourth set, as he always did, she smiled brightly and told him she would be delighted to dance with him. He seemed surprised by her eager agreement but hid it with a correct bow before leaving her to await the set with Charlotte.

  “I think he admires you, Eliza,” said Charlotte.

  “You may be right, though I cannot be sure,” replied Elizabeth.

  Charlotte was clearly shocked that her young friend would agree so easily. “You are the only woman he has asked to dance outside his party,” said Charlotte in support of her assertion.

  “That is true,” said Elizabeth thoughtfully. “Tell me, Charlotte, you have brothers. How does a woman know a man admires her? Truly admires her,” she amended, “and not just to look at while dancing?”

  Charlotte was surprised, but living up to her reputation for practicality, she quickly became thoughtful and said, “I do not know from personal experience, but what I have gleaned from observation is that a man who admires a woman is more respectful than one who merely looks upon her for his own pleasure. He would be solicitous of her, and care for her comfort, and treat her with respect.”

  Elizabeth was quickly turning a bright shade of pink. Mr. Darcy had done all those things for her, at one ball or other. “Would he confide in her, trust her with intimate details of his life?” she asked.

  “Yes, I think he would. It seems fitting, don’t you think?”

  Elizabeth nodded but said no more. Could it be? Did Mr. Darcy admire her? Truly admire her? What was she to do with such information? She could hardly act on it.

  But she could confirm it.

  Mr. Darcy collected her for their dance and she decided she must know the truth. She smiled, she flirted mildly, and when his responses were not quite what she desired, she teased him. She kept this up until she had prompted three of his barely there smiles and congratulated herself for her effort.

  “You should smile more often, Mr. Darcy. You are so handsome when you are not glowering, and even more so when you smile.”

  He flushed at the praise and she would have felt embarrassed at her boldness had she not known it would all be forgot by morning.

  “I do not glower, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, but she fancied his heart wasn’t in it.

  “Do you not? Then please, sir, forgive my misapprehension.” She passed very near him in the figure and danced a small circle around him, keeping her eyes on his as he tracked her movements around him, looking over his shoulder to keep her in view. “It must have been my mistake.” Her smirking lips and dancing eyes were at odds with her words, and she thought that if he had not been glowering before, he certainly was now.

  He said nothing for a few minutes, and she kept her eyes on him, in some fashion or other throughout the next several movements.

  “Mr. Darcy, what would you call the expression you are wearing now?” she asked archly.

  His lip twitched and he said, “I do not believe I have an expression at the moment, Miss Elizabeth. I believe my features to be neutral.”

  “Ah, I think I have discovered the point of our disagreement.”

  He raised his brows.

  “What you consider to be a neutral expression, I consider to be glowering.” She smiled in satisfaction. “There, that was easily settled.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then said, “As I have already told you, Miss Elizabeth, I do not glower.”

  “Of course not, sir. You only look intently,” she teased.

  His surprise was evident and she tripped away to turn about with the ladies, glad the dance had moved them apart. When she returned to him, he had another curious half-smile on his face and she grinned at him, feeling in charity with his feelings for a change. The dance ended shortly after and she took the opportunity to squeeze his hand when he bowed over hers. He looked at her in question and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She was met with a look of pleasure, followed swiftly by what appeared to be alarm.

  He left her with her sister and was not seen again for the remainder of the evening.

  Chapter 12

  In Which There Are Many Quarrels

  Elizabeth was decided: Mr. Darcy admired her, at least somewhat. How much he admired her she could not say. What he planned to do about his admiration was even less clear. She had thought her behavior the evening before would encourage him or bring him some relief, but it had seemed to have the opposite effect.

  After much thought and analysis, she came to the conclusion that one of two things had happened. One, she had been mistaken and Mr. Darcy did not admire her, and was therefore disturbed by what he perceived to be her unwelcome admiration. She thought this unlikely—after all, Miss Bingley showered him with unwelcome admiration daily and he did not seem to mind it—but she could not dismiss it as a possibility.

  The second option was that Mr. Darcy did admire her, but he had no intention of acting on his feelings. Thus he would be distressed when the object of his affection appeared to reciprocate his admiration, making the eventual leaving of her all the more difficult. She thought this scenario far more likely given what she knew of his character. Mr. Darcy was a dutiful man and from an illustrious family. He would not marry hastily or unwisely.

  She also recalled her thoughts when the ball repetition began: that Mr. Darcy asked her to dance to give himself one last memory of her. She had dismissed it as absurd and too romantic a notion for such a staid gentleman, but after spending numerous evenings in his company, it no longer seemed out of the realm of possibility. She also recalled how he had said goodbye to her as if he thought to never see her again. If he was remaining at Netherfield, why would he behave so? She concluded he intended to leave Hertfordshire soon and not come back, and that it was possible she had more than a little to do with his hasty retreat.

  Elizabeth knew she was a vain creature; she was not wholly unaware of her own nature. She could admit to herself that the idea of Mr. Darcy feeling such a strong regard for her that he felt the need to flee the county was a bit extreme—if rather flattering to herself. It was more than a little preposterous. But she could not quiet the whisper in her heart that told her he was leaving because of her.

  ~

  Elizabeth had no more answers by the time they arrived at Netherfield. She felt all the honor of having inspired tender feelings in such a man, but she also felt the insult of him not wishing to act upon them. She understood he was above her in position and fortune, but she was a gentleman’s daughter, from a respectable family. She was not a scullery maid! The match would be a trifle unequal and there would be some talk, but it would not be overwhelming if everyone saw how well they got on and the affection between them.

  She would have been surprised at her own turn of mind if she had not already grudgingly admitted to herself that she had some manner of tender feelings for Mr. Darcy as well. He had been a comforting friend throughout this trial, and her dance with him was often the best part of this never-ending day. Alas, she knew she was in exceptional circumstances and were it any other day, or days, as it were, she would likely feel differently. She did not take her feelings very seriously. When time returned to its usual customs, so would she.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Lydia’s shrieks as she pulled Kitty into the ballroom where she had just spotted Mr. Denny. Elizabeth sighed, wishing she had dosed her sister with laudanum before they came. It was always the same, and yet she never stopped being embarrassed by it. Sh
e would have thought she would be immune to her family’s behavior by now.

  Her mother was loudly exclaiming to Lady Lucas about the ball being in Jane’s honor, and Elizabeth lost her patience. She marched up to her mother and said she needed her urgently, then practically dragged her into the ladies’ cloak room which was mercifully empty.

  “Lizzy, what has come over you? We are missing the ball!”

  “Mama, you must curb your tongue.”

  “What?” Mrs. Bennet cried.

  “You are loud and vulgar and speaking of things which should not be said in public. You are embarrassing Jane and me and making uncomfortable everyone of sense who hears you,” Elizabeth stated matter-of-factly.

  Mrs. Bennet spluttered. “How dare you speak to your mother so! I am perfectly behaved! Who are you to tell me how to conduct myself?”

  “I am a gentleman’s daughter,” said Elizabeth in hard tones.

  Mrs. Bennet gaped. Her eyes bulged. Her hands fluttered uselessly.

  Elizabeth took mercy on her and gentled her voice, saying, “Mama, I do not wish to injure you, but surely you are well enough acquainted with Jane’s disposition to realize that such talk only embarrasses her. If she is blushing for her family all night, how will she spare attention for Mr. Bingley?”

  Mrs. Bennet had begun to protest that she was not at all embarrassing when Elizabeth’s last statement intruded on her indignation.

  “Things are done differently in London, and the Bingleys and their friends are accustomed to more refined and quiet society. You must temper your voice, Mama. And you mustn’t brag about things that have not happened. You may offend Mr. Bingley and it could hinder him paying his addresses to Jane.”

  Mrs. Bennet huffed and rolled her eyes, but she did so want Mr. Bingley for a son-in-law.

  “Your impertinence will do you no favors, Miss Lizzy,” scolded Mrs. Bennet. She sighed. “Very well. I will modulate my voice. Not because it is correct,” she added hurriedly, “but for Jane.”

  Elizabeth impulsively kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mama.”

  They rejoined the others and Elizabeth looked worriedly to where Lydia stood in a circle of red coats, flirting shamelessly and leaning forward to better expose her bosom, framed and displayed in a shockingly low gown. Had it been that low at Longbourn? She looked to her mother, but that good lady had already gone off to speak to Mrs. Goulding without a glance at her youngest child’s antics. She knew it was too much to ask for her mother to behave herself and control Lydia.

  Knowing she had nothing to lose, and possibly much mortification from which to save herself, she approached Lydia and excused them from the soldiers, taking her sister by the arm and leading her to the other side of the house.

  “Lizzy, where are we going?” asked Lydia loudly.

  Elizabeth only pulled her faster until they reached the library.

  “Lydia, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Lydia looked at her expectantly.

  “I want you to behave perfectly tonight, with the utmost decorum, and not run about wildly, or drink too much punch, or laugh too loudly. And do not flirt with every officer present.”

  Lydia looked at her with wide eyes, then burst into laughter. “Lord, Lizzy! What a good joke! Why did you really bring me here? Is there some sort of surprise?”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Mr. Bingley and his friends are accustomed to a different style of behavior in their circles. Jane cares for Mr. Bingley very much and we don’t want to spoil her chances.”

  “Mr. Bingley is so in love with Jane he wouldn’t care if she were the apothecary’s daughter,” said Lydia flippantly. “Everybody knows that.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “Mr. Bingley is not the only one affected by his decision or indeed influencing his choice. Surely you do not think Miss Bingley is as enamored with Jane?”

  “I do not think Miss Bingley is enamored of anyone,” Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment, “well, perhaps herself.”

  Elizabeth stifled a laugh.

  “But I don’t see how my behavior affects Jane’s chances. I am only having fun! I am doing nothing wrong,” declared Lydia.

  “Lydia, you are making a fool of yourself, only you are too young to realize it. The officers spend every second moment looking down your gown, and even if they did harbor tender feelings for you, none of them makes enough money to support you. You would not like to live without a maid or a cook or your own carriage, would you? You are wasting your time on them, and possibly damaging your reputation in the process.”

  “I am doing no such thing!” cried Lydia. “It is only a little fun, Lizzy. Really, you ought not be so serious all the time.”

  “Let me make it clear to you, Lydia,” said Elizabeth impatiently. “You look like a common trollop with your gown pulled so low you are practically spilling out of it.”

  Lydia gasped in offense but Elizabeth continued.

  “The officers have no desire to wed you, though they likely wish to bed you and your behavior gives them reason to believe they will be successful. I would not be surprised to hear they are wagering on who will be the first to succeed!”

  Lydia’s eyes were as wide as her mouth now.

  “Mr. Bingley is a respectable man with an independent fortune. If Jane is so lucky as to receive his addresses, he will be in a position to introduce his new sisters to his friends and take them to Town for a season. Do you think he will wish to introduce a loud, crass, drunk little girl in a London drawing room? Do you think your high spirits and lack of decorum will endear you to men of rank and wealth? Wake up, little sister. You have no dowry to speak of, no connections, and nothing but your youth to recommend you. Do not make it harder for yourself than it already is.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, somewhat surprised at her own vehemence.

  She finally looked at Lydia and saw her sister was so shocked she had not closed her mouth and was staring ahead of her blankly.

  “I hardly think I am as bad as all that,” said Lydia quietly. Her defense was all manufactured bravado and Elizabeth nearly relented and soothed her, but she thought it would be better for all to press her advantage.

  “You are vain, ignorant, and idle,” Elizabeth said in a softer voice.

  Lydia looked away and bit her lip.

  “But you do not have to be. You are not stupid, Lydia. You could make something of yourself if you wished to.” Elizabeth pressed her arm and Lydia turned away sulkily, staring out the dark window. Elizabeth sighed and said, “I will leave you now. Please think on what I have said.”

  Lydia nodded but refused to look at her and Elizabeth thought it likely she was crying and did not want anyone to see her. Elizabeth knew she had been harsh, but she also believed it had been necessary. If Lydia was not checked firmly and soon, she would be completely ungovernable before her sixteenth year, and who knew what trouble she would get into. Elizabeth left the library and closed the door quietly behind her.

  The ball had gone on in their absence. Mr. Collins had not been able to locate Elizabeth for the first set and so had asked Miss Lucas to stand up with him. Charlotte seemed happy enough to be asked and Elizabeth could only shake her head at her practical friend’s behavior.

  Elizabeth danced the second set with Captain Carter and just before it ended, she saw Lydia steal back into the ballroom quietly, her gown tugged up a little higher. Elizabeth caught her sister’s eye and smiled. Lydia turned her head away in offense and Elizabeth had to laugh. Lydia was angry at her, but she had listened. Elizabeth knew it could be so much worse.

  Lydia was subdued—for her— the remainder of the evening, though she did dance nearly every set and appeared to enjoy herself immensely. Mrs. Bennet was mostly appropriate in her volume, and the few times she began to crow about her daughter’s fortune too loudly, Elizabeth shot her a look and Mrs. Bennet quieted, albeit unhappily.

  Mr. Darcy claimed her for the fourth as he always did, and she wondered if she should use her newfound
talent for bluntness on him.

  Deciding it could not hurt, and truly wishing to know the answer, she asked, “Are you intending to remain much longer in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?”

  He was silent for a few minutes, and the dance moved them apart and back together again before he spoke. “My plans are not yet fixed, Miss Elizabeth. I do not believe I will remain much longer in the country.”

  She watched his solemn expression and replied, “I suppose that would not be wise, would it?” Her voice was softer than she intended, and he looked surprised for a moment.

  “No, it would not,” he finally said in a low tone.

  She gave him a sad smile, and when the dance ended, he bowed low over her hand and she squeezed his tightly. They shared a look of mutual understanding and he walked away, his back straight and stiff and his mien unyielding.

  Elizabeth sighed and found her way to the terrace. She was not truly surprised. She had known for some time he wouldn’t stay in the area long past the ball. She expected nothing from him, and he owed nothing to her. But… he had become a friend of sorts and she would be sad to see him go.

  She returned to the ballroom and accepted a request for the next dance. She went through the motions with little thought or enjoyment and was easily led to the dining room for supper. Jane requested she sit with her and Bingley and Elizabeth sat mechanically, realizing belatedly that she should have paid more attention to her chair’s placement. She was seated right next to Caroline Bingley, and that lady did not look pleased by it. Elizabeth chose to ignore her upset and conversed with Jane until she heard Miss Bingley calling across the table to her brother.

  “Where is Mr. Darcy, Charles? I haven’t seen him in some time.”

  “I think he went to bed, Caroline. Said something about a headache,” Bingley replied blithely. He went back to talking to Jane and Caroline huffed.

  “Did he say anything else? Leave any message?” asked Caroline, clearly put out. “Perhaps he needs something.”

  Bingley was absorbed in his conversation with Jane and not paying his sister, or anyone, any attention.