Chapter 20
Main Street
Meryton
One Day Later
Noon
Tuesday, 12th November 1811
Elizabeth stepped away from the carriage so that Jane could descend behind her, looking around as she did at the sunny streets of Meryton, which were bustling with their usual activity.
Matrons and farmers and craftsmen were going about their business from shop to shop, carrying baskets or herding animals or driving carts pulled by plodding farm horses.
It was a familiar and precious sight, and today Elizabeth was aware of a slight melancholy.
She would be journeying to London in a few short months, and it was possible, though perhaps not likely, that she would find a husband there.
If she did marry, the gentleman would almost certainly not live near Longbourn and Meryton.
She loved this little piece of Hertfordshire and its people, and the thought of rarely seeing it again was bizarre and unwelcome.
“Shall we?” Jane asked, and Elizabeth shook herself and said, “Yes, of course.
Stephen, the Bennets’ footman, stepped forward to open the door, and the sisters entered the dressmaker's shop, looking about as they did.
Elizabeth was unsurprised to see Miss Darcy standing beside the counter, accompanied by an attentive maid as well as the proprietress of the shop.
She was, however, a little startled to spy Mr. Darcy sitting in the corner nearest the window, folded into a delicate sort of chair that clearly was not intended for a gentleman of his lengthy proportions.
He held a book in his hands, the pages angled towards the great bay window, with the autumn sunlight illuminating the words.
The incongruity of seeing a gentleman reading in the dressmaker's shop amazed Elizabeth, but upon a few seconds of reflection, she realized that it really was not surprising to see Mr. Darcy here. The man was very protective of his young sisters, always concerned about their well-being, and it warmed Elizabeth’s heart to see the conscientious care he took of Miss Darcy and Miss Georgiana.
It would be far easier, and entirely acceptable, to have simply sent a footman to attend Miss Darcy, but it seemed that the master of Pemberley considered it his personal duty to accompany his sister.
Surely, given that a myriad of militia officers were in town, including the suspect Mr. Wickham, it was completely reasonable that Mr. Darcy had chosen to come himself.
Elizabeth thought it would be quite wonderful to have such a man in her own life.
Mr. Bennet had proven an excellent father to her, but when all was said and done, he far preferred the library to attending his daughters here and there.
Indeed, no one had even bothered to ask the master of Longbourn whether he wished to be in London for the upcoming Season; there was absolutely no way that Mr. Bennet would agree to such a plan.
The gentleman looked up and then rose and bowed. “Misses Bennet, good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, just as Serena Darcy turned and exclaimed, “Good morning, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. Thank you for coming!”
“Oh, it is our pleasure,” Jane said, her eyes shifting to the two gowns that were lying on a table in the corner. She continued authoritatively, “Are these the dresses that you are considering for the ball?”
“Yes,” Miss Darcy said.
Jane marched over to the table, where Mrs. Grayson, the dressmaker, was standing. “Let me see. Yellow and soft blue … hmmm. I think those are both excellent taking into account your coloring, but given … hmmm…”
“It is very kind of you to assist Serena in this matter,” Mr. Darcy said, and Elizabeth, confident that Jane had the situation entirely in hand, turned and said, “Oh, it is our pleasure, I assure you. Indeed, I am only here as a companion to Jane, who has a marvelous eye for what garments best suit a lady.”
Darcy lowered his voice and said, “I am most grateful. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were willing to assist Serena, but I think she will be more comfortable with you and Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked over to where Jane was now standing in front of Miss Darcy, her head tilted thoughtfully, and a moment later, the eldest Miss Bennet grasped Miss Darcy’s arm and said, “Come along to the back, please, and try the blue gown on. I think you would benefit from a fairly simple gown, but perhaps a little lace…”
Elizabeth watched as Mrs. Grayson and Jane shepherded a rather dazed Miss Darcy out of the room, while her maid trailed on behind the ladies.
“I hope I made the right decision in encouraging my sister to attend the Netherfield ball,” Darcy murmured.
She turned to him and said, “I believe it is a truly excellent plan. Miss Darcy can dance with men whom you know to be safe and honorable, and I assure you that our local neighbors will not think poorly of her if she struggles a bit with conversation. We are a friendly society.”
“You are, and I am grateful. We are in agreement that Serena will retire upstairs after dinner and that I will be watching over her carefully for the first half of the ball, but I wondered whether I might have the honor of dancing the Boulanger with you.”
Elizabeth felt her lips curve into a pleased smile, and she said, “I would be honored, sir. Thank you.”
He grinned at her and said, “I look forward to it. Now, I have already finished one of the books that your father lent me, Drapier’s Letters, by Swift. Have you read it?”
“I have,” Elizabeth confirmed. “I thought the arguments quite robust regarding concerns about inferior copper coinage, but I found it surprising that…”
***
Netherfield Hall
Monday, 18th November 1811
The ballroom at Netherfield was but a poor facsimile of the glories of London ballrooms, being smaller and a trifle shabby.
Such comparisons aside, Caroline was satisfied that she had done an excellent job, considering the meager setting, of evoking the glittering crushes of the haut ton.
She looked around slowly and with a deeply critical eye to ensure every last detail was absolutely perfect.
The entire household had been scrambling for days to make certain that nothing would mar this evening.
The parquet floor shone like a mirror, the chandelier above blazed like a thousand stars coalesced into one magnificent crystal point, the swathes of silk hid the outdated walls, and glorious bouquets of flowers perfumed the air and lent spots of bright color to the room that would certainly rival whatever tawdry finery these backwoods bumpkins could muster.
Caroline was especially proud of the flowers, which had been specially ordered from London and gleamed like out of season jewels.
Up on the dais, the musicians, also sent for from London, were tuning their instruments, cello and violin and pipes. It was a slight cacophony, but a tuneful one. Caroline stood listening for a moment, feeling very pleased with herself.
She was anticipating with satisfaction the utter shock that would doubtless be apparent on her guests' faces.
Certainly, none of these Meryton provincials would have ever seen such a magnificent ballroom.
Caroline had spared no expense, spending her brother's money lavishly, paying rush fees without a second thought.
This ball must be an unqualified success, reflecting perfectly her superb skills as a hostess.
She relished in the expectation of how impressed these uncultured rubes would be.
Not, of course, that her plebeian neighbors ultimately mattered.
No, it was Mr. Darcy's admiration that she most eagerly looked forward to observing.
She would have a chance this evening, for he would naturally dance with his hostess, and Caroline glowed inside at the golden opportunity to have his undivided attention for half an hour.
She would exert every effort to be the most charming lady in the room; not that it would be difficult, for Jane Bennet would be her only rival in that regard.
She knew herself to be exceptionally well dressed and quite handsome, but tonight she would be able to display her acumen in arranging a spectacular ball in just a mere few days.
It would be obvious to all that she was the perfect mistress for the great estate of Pemberley.
Though Caroline had pinned many of her hopes for the evening on Mr. Darcy, he was not quite her sole focus.
The ball would also prove an excellent opportunity for Charles to fall out of love with Jane Bennet.
Miss Bennet was unarguably a sweet girl and rather lovely, but she was not the only sweet-natured beauty to exist. Her dowry was so negligible as to be scarcely worth mentioning, and her connections, while not execrable, were little better than tenuous.
There was another blonde-haired, blue-eyed young lady in residence at Netherfield Hall, though she would not be putting in an appearance at the ball.
At sixteen years of age, Georgiana Darcy was not yet permitted to attend a country ball.
For many years, Caroline and Louisa had plotted to bring their brother and Miss Georgiana together.
Her accomplishments matched and even outstripped those of her elders, and when she entered the Marriage Mart, her dowry and name and relations would make her a prize indeed.
She was quite pretty, too, with a good figure, which could not but add to her desirability as a wife, and she would be lovelier yet when she grew into the flower of womanhood.
However, as Caroline had told Louisa but a week or two before, she feared that Charles, romantically inclined and showing signs of wishing to settle down, could not be counted on to wait for Georgiana to grow up enough to wed.
It was a great pity that Miss Darcy herself lacked so many of Georgiana’s advantages.
Serena was every bit as well-dowered and connected, of course, but she was not fashionably petite and properly accomplished.
She towered over other women, and over most men, as well, unless they were wearing tall shoes, and she made little effort to overcome her numerous oddities.
She was positively a bluestocking! Her conversation was also unfashionable and unsettling, dwelling on subjects that were not quite inappropriate for young ladies, per se, but were more often considered the purview of well-educated gentlemen.
It made having a light discussion with her challenging; not unlike Miss Eliza Bennet, actually.
At least Miss Darcy was not pert. Miss Eliza was most certainly pert and far too vigorous for a lady of fashion.
If she had many accomplishments, Caroline had not heard of them, and her conversation was as odd as Miss Darcy’s.
Like Miss Darcy, however, she made up for these shortcomings by reason of birth, being nearly related to a noble.
A viscount, the next step down from an earl, was of higher rank than a baron, and far higher than a baronet or knight, and not to be speedily dismissed.
If Charles insisted on falling in love with and wooing a Bennet girl, far better for him to turn his attentions to Miss Eliza or Miss Mary.
They were, admittedly, not nearly as lovely or docile as Miss Bennet, but they were considerably more advantageous as a connection.
At any rate, he would have ample opportunity to dance with both of them as well as all the other local girls this evening, and with any luck, he would begin to transfer his affections away from Miss Bennet.
Caroline turned slowly in place, taking in her masterpiece once more before sweeping magnificently towards the door, feeling as though all was right in the world.
Her ballroom was as ready as she could make it; supper was well on its way to being done, and the musicians were, judging by the harmonies floating from the dais, as ready for the evening as Caroline herself.
She paused in the doorway to take in the vestibule.
It was as polished as the ballroom and aglow with dozens of candles, lit up bright and warm and welcoming.
A large gilded mirror, one of her recent and necessary upgrades to this outdated old pile, hung above the table against the wall.
Caroline stepped close to it, examining her own reflection as critically as she had examined the ballroom.
If the ballroom was a gold setting, she was the jewel it would hold.
She was resplendent in green silk, shot with golden thread and embroidered with roses and knots.
A turban of the same silk topped her dark curls, ostrich feathers dyed for the occasion drooping becomingly overhead.
Diamond drops dangled from her ears, glittering and flashing like lightning in the candlelight.
Hundreds of gold links draped around the graceful column of her neck, delicately drawing the eye to her décolletage.
Yes, Caroline was certain that she would be the most resplendent woman in the room that evening.
She smiled triumphantly at herself in the mirror. There was nothing left to do but enjoy the ball.