Chapter 69
Elizabeth was, against all odds, bored.
After the weeks of planning, agonising over every flower and every instrument, suffering intolerable suspense and constant frustrations, she was… bored.
That was, she supposed, evidence that she had done well.
Had she not been so organised in her preparations then tonight she would feel anxious instead of detached.
Unfortunately, most of the things that delighted her about balls were the things that surprised her.
In her own gathering, she was not likely to marvel at the decorations or spend hours in pleasant suspense, wondering if her favourite piece of music would be played.
Everything was as she liked it - indeed, tonight was her perfect night!
- but it felt utterly tedious to be its architect.
Elizabeth had been standing beside her husband in the hallway for a good half hour, greeting sparkling strangers who looked at her with open curiosity and barely any friendliness.
They eyed Darcy just as critically, although at least they saw him worthy of a few words or a smile. Elizabeth felt invisible.
She sighed and tried to work out how many people were still waiting to be greeted when Darcy caught her eye and gave her a sudden, secretive smile.
Lizzie was caught utterly off guard. She would not have added Darcy to her list of tediums for the evening, but he hadn’t exactly been vivacious.
He had disappeared behind a polite, formal mask.
That, too, had been prepared weeks before.
Many of the guests had clearly accepted their invitations to get a chance to gawp at Pemberley and its disgraced master. Elizabeth was glad that most of them already looked disappointed. There was nothing about either Darcy or his home that could be criticised that night - she had made sure of it.
Pemberley glittered.
Unknown to Elizabeth, the same crowd had also been prepared to be most critical about the new Mrs. Darcy.
Certain sources had described her as a provincial fool, an arrogant upstart and a sly manipulator.
The gossips could not agree with any of that; Mrs. Darcy appeared to be elegant, witty, and utterly charming.
Elizabeth would not have troubled herself with their opinions even if she had been aware of them.
Her whole mind was now taken up with a single question: why had Darcy smiled at her?
She looked sidelong at him, studying him from his shining boots to his handsome face.
If nothing else, she hoped her close scrutiny would make him blush.
Darcy ignored her obvious attempt to intimidate him and serenely bid the man he was greeting to have an amusing evening. When the gentleman bowed and walked on, Darcy looked down at his wife.
He had the audacity to raise an eyebrow!
Infuriating man!
When the crowd finally dispersed and they were alone, Elizabeth took the chance to whisper, “I wish you would tell me, sir, why you insist on pulling faces at me!”
Darcy lowered his voice so that she would have to move closer. Embraced by the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his warm smile, Elizabeth fell for it. He touched her cheek lightly and murmured in her ear.
“Your dress is very beautiful, angel. I was looking forward to sliding it off your pretty shoulders.”
Elizabeth blushed brick red. “You cannot say such things here! We are in public, sir!”
“We are at a ball which cannot end soon enough.” He touched her wrist so lightly that her skin tingled, then traced a line up her bare arm. “Until then, I am afraid, I must defer to my lurid imagination. What are you wearing under this dress, Elizabeth?”
“I…” she blushed again and swallowed hard. Darcy chuckled and raised her hand to his lips. Then he glanced up, sighed, and let her go.
“I shall stop teasing you, my love. We have our orders, and the enemy approaches.”
Elizabeth looked in the same direction that he was and nodded. Mr. Collins, dressed in a brand new coat, was walking towards them with Mrs. Bennet on his arm.
Clearly seeing himself as the conquering hero, Collins had taken great care with his toilette.
He had combed his hair so much that it looked greasy.
It was obvious that he had chosen the odd style deliberately, as long strands were tactfully pulled over areas where the hair was thinning.
His skin was pink and scrubbed, his nails clipped and his smile sickly.
Collins gave them a benevolent nod. It reminded Elizabeth of the amiable way he had behaved when he first arrived in Meryton.
This was a man who let himself appear ridiculous.
Ridiculous men were not a threat. They could be underestimated, and then they could triumph.
The early worm strangling the bird came to mind.
Mrs. Bennet, on Collins’s arm, looked less self-possessed. She was staring at the decorations in wonder.
Since Elizabeth had decided to have the dancing outside, she had needed to find a way to encourage her guests not to linger in the house itself.
The hallway had been transformed into a glittering passage which led to the garden.
The walls were festooned with garlands of summer flowers.
Paper birds and butterflies, made by Kitty and Lydia, nestled among the real leaves with their wings shimmering invitingly in the through-breeze.
The grand doors to the garden were thrown wide open, tempting guests to step through and see the wonders beyond.
Lizzie had hired two sets of musicians: the chamber orchestra who would play for the dancing and a duo to play in the hallway. The sweet notes of Elizabeth’s harp, decorated with sweet-pea and twisted willow, blended richly with the silky notes of a viola.
Mrs. Bennet had been to many balls in her time. This was marvellous, even compared to them. Pemberley was extraordinary, and Elizabeth was clearly a formidable mistress of it. Mrs. Bennet was silent as she exchanged bows with her family but could not hold her tongue for long.
“I do declare, Lizzie, that you must have emptied every hothouse from here to Scotland!”
“Not quite, mama.” Elizabeth kissed her mother’s cheek, “What do you think?”
Mrs. Bennet gave her glowing praise whole-heartedly. In that moment she was not Elizabeth’s enemy, or Jane’s tormentor, but a proud mother lauding a clever daughter’s work. Of course, she spared some time to praise herself for raising such a skilful child - but that was only to be expected.
Elizabeth went pink despite herself. She told herself not to care about the wretched woman’s opinions, but she could not help feeling pleased to hear them. A pang of melancholy made her take a half-step back. She had never expected to make her mother happy, ever again.
But it was too little, too late. Mrs. Bennet was beyond redemption. All that remained was for her to be fooled.
Elizabeth offered to show her mother some of the other treasures that the night had in store. The plan, of course, was to break Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins apart. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet refused immediately. Seeing Elizabeth and Darcy exchange a dark look, the older woman rolled her eyes.
“Do not pretend to be offended for my sake! Politeness dictated that you make that offer, Lizzie, and you did it. Well, I can refuse, and then neither of us are put out. Besides, dear little Lydia has invited me to join her for the evening. She was quite adamant, the sweet thing. She has missed me a great deal, and I, her.” Mrs. Bennet prepared to glide regally down the hallway and then stopped.
Her posture became less dominant, her voice was clipped.
“If, Mrs. Darcy, you cared to make a similar invitation on another day, I would be inclined to accept.”
“Mama.” Elizabeth hurried forwards and took her mother’s hands. “Yes, mama, we shall.”
A small smile crossed Mrs. Bennet’s face. A tiny glance at Mr. Collins made it disappear. Nevertheless, some of the ice had finally melted.
Mr. Collins turned his slippery smile on Elizabeth as soon as Mrs. Bennet was gone. “It is such a delight to see the prodigal child returned to its mother.”
“Is it? I thought you preferred to tear them apart.” Elizabeth did not even bother pretending to be polite. She curtseyed, but only to her husband. “Mr. Darcy, I shall go and see to our guests.”
“Mrs. Darcy.” He returned the bow and then turned to Collins.
“Now, sir, I am glad to have the chance to speak to you alone. While I still stand by everything I and my wife said at dinner the other night, I feel that I have been remiss in my duties to you as host. You were thrown to the dogs, as it were. That is an inexcusable fate for any guest, much less a man of God. My point, sir, is that I would like to try again. In particular, I feel that I should be more familiar with the man who is soon to be my brother-in-law.”
“An abrupt conversion!” Collins cried, eyebrows almost disappearing into his fringe, “Can it be in earnest?”
“Yes. My wife refuses to accept the truth, but you and I are both realists. The marriage will go ahead; it is senseless to spend the rest of our lives in enmity."
“A generous condescension, sir.” the rector gave him a slight nod. A sly look crossed his face as a servant approached them with a silver tray. “Shall we drink to it, brother?”
Darcy almost sighed. The man was disgustingly easy to manipulate. It had only taken a few toadying words and a convenient chance to exploit a man’s addiction. Mr. Collins was a sadist of the highest order - but at least he was an idiot.
The footman walked faster when he was beckoned and offered the tray.
Darcy took two glasses of punch. The one that had been closest to him had no alcohol in it - but Collins did not know that.
The one closest to him had an extra shot of rum in it.
For all the rector knew, they were both drinking the same thing, for they looked the same.
For the rest of the evening, whenever a servant offered them drinks, the same easy trick would be used.
Darcy saw the footman grinning wickedly as he walked away. With an impatient gesture, Darcy dismissed him and the servant fled.
“Let us drink to… family.” Collins raised his glass with a smirk. Darcy mirrored him.
“To family. To getting exactly what we deserve.”