Chapter 4
THE ASSEMBLY ROOM IN Meryton teemed with people when the Netherfield party arrived.
Heat shimmered from the candles set in iron brackets along the walls, their stubs burned low and the wax pooling on the blackened stone ledges beneath.
The musicians tuned with open indifference in a corner that should have been a stage but was instead a dais borrowed from a parish hall, the musicians themselves more instrument than personality.
A hundred pairs of shoes had worn the floorboards dull beneath the proprietor’s evening polish.
Sweat and perfume, tallow and starch, drifted in the air.
Caroline paused at the threshold, gathering up her skirt with the air of someone whose wardrobe had seen grander rooms. She drew herself up by an inch and surveyed the crowd like an art critic resigned to a provincial exhibition but determined to find one merit worth mentioning.
The crowd pressed in on every side. Local gentry mixed with the town’s tradesmen and their wives, most in borrowed silk, many flushed with wine or expectation.
At the far side, a group of militia officers conspired to slice through the throng, the glint of their uniforms more a display of personal ambition than official presence.
Caroline’s lip curled at the colors: the yellow of Mrs. Long’s gown beside her neighbor’s burgundy, and the satin ribbons on a child’s bonnet, garish even by Meryton standards.
She moved forward, but Sir William Lucas intercepted her with a bow so elaborate that his coat tails swept the toes of the girl behind him.
The man’s voice rang above the room: “Miss Bingley, Miss Bingley, how delighted I am to receive you. Netherfield’s honor is ours tonight.
Lady Lucas is quite beside herself, and the neighborhood rejoices at so fine an occasion. ”
His gaze darted to her brother. “And Mr. Bingley. So pleased you have chosen to settle among us. I assure you, our community will provide an endless source of comfort and entertainment.”
Caroline forced a smile. “The assembly is most impressive, Sir William. So many neighbors in such good spirits.”
Bingley greeted Sir William with a handshake almost strong enough to dislocate a lesser man’s arm. “A pleasure, sir. You do your village proud.”
Sir William beamed, pivoting his attention to Darcy, who stood back by half a pace. “Mr. Darcy, a warm welcome to you, too. We hear much of your northern estate. Pemberley, is it not? We count it a distinction to host a gentleman of your consequence.”
Darcy’s bow sufficed, neither low nor slow, but correct. “You are very kind.”
Sir William returned to Caroline, as if Darcy’s presence was but a required detour.
“Miss Bingley, I must insist you meet my eldest daughter. She is standing by the refreshment table.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in confidence: “Lady Lucas means to have her play the pianoforte for you later. There are those who believe a taste for music is not general in the country, but I assure you, we are up to Town standards in that respect.”
Caroline accepted this with a nod, more to end the speech than from agreement. As Sir William moved to shepherd the party onward, she allowed herself a glance over the heads of the crowd.
From across the hall, the voice of Mrs. Bennet cut through the swirl of conversation, unmistakable even in a town where every mother held her own as an orator.
The sound carried first, then the woman herself, turbaned in yellow, her arms aloft in a gesture that threatened to make contact with a chandelier.
Beside her, Jane Bennet stood with her hands folded in a manner so neutral it suggested a talent for withstanding public attention.
Her gown was pale, unembellished except for a band of ribbon at the waist. She answered her mother’s commentary as if she knew resistance would prolong the speech.
On Jane’s other side, Elizabeth Bennet wore a gown of darker worsted.
Her expression hovered between amusement and detachment, her gaze traveling the assembly as though she was noting every oddity and deciding which to recount later.
Further off, Lydia Bennet was laughing with a red-coated officer. Her fan opened and closed like the wings of a moth, the movement quick and without aim. Kitty, standing just behind, laughed whenever Lydia did.
Caroline took all this in and let her eyes rest on the arrangement of the Bennet party.
She recognized the composition at once—a matron and her brood, each with its place and function.
A mother determined to parade her daughters who, whether by compliance or resistance, played their parts to the end.
Behind her, Louisa Hurst surveyed the room like someone examining fish at a market stall, her judgment reserved but not unkind. She was silent, content to play the part of supporting actress in her sister’s drama.
Hurst did not enter the main hall. He lingered by the side door, his eye on the card tables in an antechamber, and calculated how soon he could remove himself to pursue his preferred diversion.
At the sound of music, Caroline turned to see Bingley’s reaction and found him watching Jane Bennet across the floor. She listened to her mother without flinching, then turned to greet a neighbor with a smile that remained after the woman moved on. Bingley seemed to forget where he stood.
He said, without turning his head, “That must be Miss Bennet. I am told she is the eldest.”
Caroline replied, “She does appear to set the tone for her sisters.” There was no approval in it.
Bingley’s response was immediate. “She has the most unaffected manner in the room.” He moved off, navigating the crowd with surprising speed.
Caroline considered catching his sleeve but decided against it. She would not appear to chase, not here in a room so thick with witnesses. Instead, she smoothed the line of her gown and reminded herself that she had come to Meryton prepared to like Hertfordshire, and by God, she would.
Behind her, Louisa glanced at the Bennet sisters. “They are better looking than Mrs. Long described.”
Caroline’s nod was imperceptible. “It appears Mrs. Long is not a reliable judge.”
Darcy remained outside the conversation, content to let the others form their opinions. His gaze traveled the room. The candles distorted the colors of every gown, while laughter rose above the music and the crowd shifted with each new set.
He saw Elizabeth Bennet in profile, the line of her jaw and the arch of her neck as she leaned toward her father.
The young woman from the hedge wore an evening gown, but the attention in her face was unchanged.
Her laugh carried above the room. She was watching him, or perhaps the Netherfield party gathered at the entrance.
Bingley crossed the floor in search of an introduction, but Sir William caught him on the way and drew the rest of the Netherfield party with him.
“Mrs. Bennet, may I present Mr. Bingley, your new neighbor at Netherfield, his sister Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and his friend Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley, this is Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Mrs. Bennet dipped a curtsy, the turban bobbing. “We are so delighted, Miss Bingley, so very delighted to welcome you to our little society. You must forgive our excitement, but we have not had such company in years. The whole county is aflutter.”
Caroline nodded. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bennet. We hear so much of Hertfordshire’s lively society.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened at the compliment, which she did not question. “Mr. Bingley, I am hearing such excellent things of you. I told my Jane only this morning that I am sure you will find Hertfordshire superior to anything in Town.”
Jane colored, but her smile did not falter. “You are welcome here, Mr. Bingley.”
Bingley replied with earnest warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Bennet. I could not imagine a warmer welcome.”
He bowed, and Elizabeth addressed him. “I hope you found the road from Netherfield passable. It suffers after heavy rain.”
Bingley smiled. “We had only the sun, but I look forward to seeing it in all conditions.”
Sir William, never one to let introductions stagnate, said, “We must have you all to dinner soon. Lady Lucas insists.” He beamed at the company, as if he had settled the matter.
Hurst found his way to the card room and did not return.
The musicians struck up a country dance, and couples took their places on the floor. The Bennet girls joined them, Lydia and Kitty searching among the officers for partners. Mrs. Bennet stationed herself by the wall and watched each daughter.
Caroline surveyed the other young women, finding some prettier and others more accomplished than she expected.
Elizabeth accepted an offer from a local gentleman and moved through the figures without hesitation.
Caroline noted the fact, then placed herself where she might receive an invitation without appearing to seek one.
Darcy observed Elizabeth, no longer able to dismiss her as a servant or tenant. She was Mr. Bennet’s daughter, and he disliked having been mistaken. He withdrew to the wall, where he could survey the room and the Bennet sisters as they danced.
Bingley, having secured a set with Jane, moved with the delighted focus of someone who believed himself at the center of the only story that mattered.
Jane listened to him as they danced, her smile serene.
In her reserve, Bingley seemed to find proof of everything he hoped for.
When the set ended, he escorted her back to Mrs. Bennet, and the look he gave her lingered after they parted.
Caroline saw and did not forget it.
From beside the dance floor, Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye. She did not smile, but her gaze did not yield, either. It was the same look she gave him at the boundary hedge: direct, not deferential, weighing him rather than seeking his judgment.
The music changed, partners rotated, and the room grew hotter and louder with every set.