Chapter Sixty-Six
A very elegant invitation arrived at Darcy House:
Mrs. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet are requested to attend a Ball at Landon House, on Friday, 23 of September, at 9 o’clock P.M.
Landon House? Elizabeth was puzzled; she did not recall meeting anyone by that name. It was Mary who remembered, “Oh! Miss Landon was the young lady who played the pianoforte with me at that rout party!”
“You must have impressed her, as evidently her parents have invited us to a dance at their house,” Elizabeth observed.
Mary sighed. “And I suppose we have to go?”
“I will ask the Countess.”
Upon being assured that Miss Landon was ‘all the crack,’ and that the Matlocks would be in attendance as well, Elizabeth immediately sent an acceptance.
“Mary, you do know how to dance, do you not?”
“I do, of course. How could you not know that? Did we not take lessons together?”
“We did, but I – well, I never –“
“You never saw me dance at an assembly; is that what you are trying not to say? But no one ever asked me, you know.”
“Oh, Mary,” Elizabeth sighed, sorry to have raised the topic.
“It is of no importance,” Mary said, loftily. “I have a good deal more to think about than dancing.”
“I am certain that you do, Mary, but you might very well be asked to dance at Landon House.”
Mary merely sniffed.
***
On the twenty-third of September, both Elizabeth and Mary were in their best looks. Elizabeth caught Mary smiling at her reflection, and chuckled with secret satisfaction. London had been very good for her sister; if only the circumstances that had forced Elizabeth to be here herself had not been so – no, there was no point in thinking of it. It was bad enough that she woke up every night, no matter how tired she was, in tears. But surely she would be herself again soon. Very soon.
Landon House was crowded, and it was some time before they were able to move past the receiving line and into the ballroom. Most of the guests were strangers, which caused Elizabeth a little uneasiness; it was with great relief that she was able to spot the Matlocks in the crowd and make her way to them, with Mary glued to her side.
“Aunt Eleanor, you met my sister, Miss Bennet, at my wedding.”
“Good evening, Miss Bennet; I trust you are enjoying Town?”
Mary considered her reply carefully; it required Elizabeth stepping on her foot to recall her to her manners. “Oh! Oh, yes, very much, your ladyship.”
Then a familiar voice said, “Mrs. Darcy! How very good to see you again!”
Turning quickly, Elizabeth spied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Colonel! I did not know you were here!”
“Yes, I have leave from my duties, and as my father is occupied, it fell to me to escort Mother here.” Seeing his mother’s scowl, he added, quickly, “Which, of course, I am happy to do. And this is your sister?”
“Yes; Mary, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam; he is my husband’s cousin. Colonel, this is my sister, Miss Bennet.” She spoke calmly, but could not help the small tremor in her voice as she said the word husband.
The Colonel eyed Elizabeth, sympathy in his face, and Elizabeth was certain he knew everything that had befallen her at Pemberley. He asked her to dance, and she was happy to accept. The dance separated them frequently, but he was able to ascertain that she was well enough, all things taken into account, and that no, Darcy had not come looking for her in Town.
“And why would he do so, given that he wishes he had married Anne?” she asked, bitterly.
He shook his head before being forced to go up the line of dancers; when he returned, he said, “You cannot believe that; it is in every way impossible.”
She looked away; the dance ended and he returned her to her sister. He then turned to Mary. “Miss Bennet, may I have the honour?” And he extended his arm.
“Me?” Mary asked in astonishment.
“You and only you,” he replied, firmly.
“Go on, Mary,” Elizabeth said, trying not to smile too broadly.
The two went off together and it was soon clear that they were having a spirited conversation.
The Countess observed her son with Mary, and said, “Hmmm.”
Elizabeth turned to her, brow raised.
The Countess shrugged and said, “She seems a sensible, down-to-earth sort of girl. That is what Richard needs. Too many airs and graces, and he begins longing for the battlefield.”
“It is just a dance, Aunt Eleanor.” Elizabeth tried to restrain her smile, but failed.
“You are laughing?”
“I am sorry; I truly cannot help it. One dance and you have them married; one might think you took lessons from my own mother!”
“Oh, no, my dear,” the Countess said, kindly. “ She would have taken lessons from me . Look, there is Mr. Brummell.”
A rather haughty-looking gentleman approached, bowing to the Countess and then looking quizzically at Elizabeth. The Countess introduced Elizabeth to Mr. Brummell, saying that Mr. Darcy had sent his new wife to Town to amuse herself.
“He is a fool, then, to let her out of his sight!” Mr. Brummell replied to the Countess, while smiling easily at Elizabeth. “There is all manner of mischief one might get into here in London.” He then asked Elizabeth to dance, and spent the entire set making her laugh with his dry comments regarding the cut of the various gentlemen’s coats in the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mary speaking with the Colonel, as well as with Miss Landon.
The ball went on quite late, and both Elizabeth and Mary were yawning as their carriage wended its way back to Darcy House.
“There, was that not an entertaining evening, Mary?” Elizabeth enquired.
“It was; Miss Landon plans to visit us here at Darcy House so that we may practice duets together.”
“I am glad you have made a friend!” Elizabeth replied.
Then Mary added something, mumbling something softly.
“I am sorry, Mary; what did you say?”
Mary cleared her throat. “He asked to call on me.”
“He? He who?”
“The Colonel.”
“Did he, indeed? Well, that is excellent news!”
“But what will I say to him?”
“He is a human being, despite the misfortune of having been born male. Just speak to him as you would anyone.”
“Will you be there, Lizzy?”
“Of course I will, Mary.”