Chapter 4
Netherfield House looked impressive with torches lighting the drive and the front of the house to welcome its guests.
Inside, everything was festively decorated, all the communicating doors were open and the main floor was arranged as a large ballroom.
Mr Bingley and his sisters welcomed each new arrival, and the former’s genuine gladness opposed the latter’s expressions of self-importance and condescension.
As soon as they entered, Elizabeth glanced around for a glimpse of either Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham, wondering about another possible confrontation.
A night of restless sleep and a day of fervent preparation for the ball had only increased her anxiety and escalated her doubts.
She had never enjoyed a ball so little and felt ashamed to pretend otherwise in front of her flushed and excited eldest sister.
Lydia and Kitty were more enthusiastic, and as soon as they spotted some of the militia officers and Mrs Forster, they ran towards the group with disregard for decorum.
Moments later, their chatter and laughter sounded across the room, drawing some curious and some reproachful looks.
After exchanging greetings, expressions of gratitude for being invited, and appropriate compliments for the grandeur of the decorations, the Bennets finally advanced into the ballroom, looking for their friends and neighbours.
Minutes later, Lydia hurried back to Elizabeth, who was standing with Jane and Mary, and whispered loudly and excitedly, “Lizzy, you will never guess what I have just learnt! Wickham is not to come to the ball! Denny said Wickham has not been seen since yesterday morning, and he suspects he has left to attend to some pressing matters of business in town. But Harriet said if he does not return by tomorrow or send news, he will be discharged from the regiment for leaving his post since he did not have the colonel’s permission to leave! ”
“Oh dear! I hope Mr Wickham is well,” Jane replied. “There must be some misunderstanding. He must have had some urgency. Surely the colonel will not punish him for it.”
“There is no reason for you to be distressed about him, Jane. I fear that no urgency can justify leaving without notice,” Elizabeth said coldly. “As uncomfortable as it might be when one is an officer, one should behave like an officer or bear the consequences.”
“Do not be so harsh, Lizzy! Even Harriet said she will try to convince her husband not to punish Wickham. I still pray he will appear later tonight — I would really like to dance with him and so would Kitty. Harriet agreed that he is an excellent dancer. Oh, and did you know that Mary King has inherited ten thousand pounds from an uncle? Ten thousand! Can you imagine? Archibald said it makes her much more appealing despite her freckles — but he was only joking!”
“An officer and the colonel’s brother should not speak in such a manner about a young lady,” Elizabeth said. “Mr King is standing quite close to your group, and I am sure you are not keeping your voices and laughter down. If he hears such a comment about his daughter, he might not be very pleased!”
“La! Come now, Lizzy, when did you become so tiresome? We were only joking. People laugh and joke at a ball, you know?”
“Could you try to laugh and joke without offending anyone?”
“I am going back now, to see what else I can find out,” Lydia declared, ignoring Elizabeth’s last question and, seemingly, almost all she had said before. Then, before her eldest sister had time to stop her, she ran back to the joyful and loud group.
Elizabeth shrugged, embarrassed and helpless, exchanging a defeated glance with Jane. Neither of them missed Caroline and Louisa’s censuring glares and Mr Bingley’s embarrassed expression.
The next moment, Elizabeth also noticed Mr Darcy standing behind his friend.
Her gaze met his and her cheeks burned instantly, as though he could guess her guilty thoughts.
No sentiments showed on his face; his countenance was stony, even more distant and haughty than usual.
He was by no means pleased to see her, but she had expected as much.
However, there was something even worse in his dark stare — a coldness that had not been there before, a mix of arrogance and resentment that made Elizabeth shiver.
He seemed angry with her and she could see no other reason, except for her connection with Wickham.
He must resent and detest her for being on friendly terms and exchanging confidences with a man he despised — and this time she could not blame him.
If, while preparing for the evening, she had fleetingly entertained some temptation to confess her presence at Oakham Mount to Mr Darcy, she quickly abandoned such a notion.
He did not look interested or willing to have anything to do with her, and asking him for a private conversation could only cause more perturbation between them as well as provoking risks of exposure for both of them.
That would not do — especially not at a ball.
Bingley approached the sisters and so did Darcy, both bowing civilly to them.
Bingley immediately asked Jane for the first set.
Darcy remained silent, steps away, in a rigid stance.
Elizabeth observed that he was holding his right hand in a peculiar way, revealing his discomfort.
And although it was somewhat concealed by a lock of hair, the bruise on his forehead was also visible.
Elizabeth had a strange feeling that Mr Darcy was about to address her, but at that precise moment the music started and Mr Collins came to claim his dance.
However, instead of leading Elizabeth to the dance floor, as all the other gentlemen had, the clergyman stopped in front of Mr Darcy with a large grin on his face and bowed deeply before addressing him.
“Sir, I have made the most exciting discovery! I am given to understand that you are Mr Darcy, the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, my noble patroness! I am in the happy position to inform you that her ladyship was in perfect health when I left Kent ten days ago.”
Darcy looked completely stunned and undecided how to react. He stole a look at Elizabeth and saw her flushed with mortification, then at the man in front of him, who was now bowing again.
“Thank you for informing me. And who are you, sir?”
“I am William Collins, Mr Darcy, at your service. I was blessed with the living at Hunsford, under the patronage of the inestimable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, where I serve with the most humble gratitude and deference.”
“Mr Collins is my father’s cousin and heir, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth whispered to complete the introduction, and Darcy looked at her again.
“I see. I hope you enjoy your time in Hertfordshire, Mr Collins. Now please excuse me,” he concluded, then, with only a nod, he departed.
“Come, Mr Collins, let us dance,” Elizabeth said, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.
Mr Collins proved to be as wanting in the art of dancing as he was in noticing the ridiculousness of his actions.
He stumbled several times, made the steps and turns all wrong, and importuned his neighbours in line, while he kept praising Lady Catherine and her nephew, whom he found as impressive as he had expected, and marvelling at his chance of respiring the same air as such an illustrious personage.
He embarrassed and distressed Elizabeth so deeply that she was on the verge of tears, her only comfort being the happiness on Jane’s face while she danced with her Mr Bingley.
From the opposite side of the room, Darcy watched Elizabeth intently, unable to take his eyes off her.
In other circumstances, he would have been mildly amused by the scene of the clumsy Mr Collins ruining the dance for his partner, but he could see Elizabeth’s mortification and his heart ached for her.
If the situation were different, he would do anything to end her suffering, even stopping Mr Collins and asking him something about Lady Catherine.
But such plans were of course unreasonable; surely, Elizabeth would prefer the torture of dancing with anyone than bearing a gesture of salvation on his part.
However, there was something in her eyes — or rather there was something missing — and her entire countenance and demeanour were very different from her usual self.
She seemed preoccupied with something, and he had seen her searching the entire room upon entering — could it be she had been looking for Wickham?
He had noticed how well she looked. Had she prepared herself with more care than usual for the miscreant?
Was the fact that Wickham was so far absent from the ball the reason she was almost despondent? Did she miss that scoundrel?
His hand was still hurting, and holding it down by his side increased the swelling and the throbbing.
He should retire to his room — there was nothing for him to see or to do at that event.
At least he could always blame his condition for not doing his duty as a guest and inviting Bingley’s sisters to stand up with him.
Bingley seemed pleased to dance with his favourite lady, already making a statement by opening the ball with her and not with his sister, while Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst seemed utterly displeased — no different from their usual demeanour.
He had planned to stay and endure until the end of the first set, but in the middle of it, a commotion began at the door.
Two uniformed men arrived, looking quite agitated and engaging in a discussion with the butler while pointing towards the group of officers that included Colonel Forster.
The colonel approached them and spoke to them briefly, seemingly learning the reason for such an interruption, then the two soldiers departed in a hurry while the colonel returned slowly to the ballroom.