Chapter Eight #2
Kitty shrugged. “He is too old for me, anyway. I leave him to the two of you.” She gave her sisters a half-wave and nearly skipped over to one of the shaggy-haired young Lucas boys, Elizabeth could not recall which one. After a minute, he led Kitty to the dance floor.
Elizabeth was soon solicited for a set herself and found herself engaged in conversation with her partner.
She kept an eye on Mr. Darcy between the sets, confused by his conduct.
He wandered the edges of the ballroom as if searching for an escape.
This was the man who had dropped everything to bravely sail to occupied Spain and rescue his cousin?
Who had written something charming enough to make a grieving widow smile?
Georgiana had described him glowingly every time she mentioned him.
In her eyes, he was a kind and thoughtful brother, a generous master, a gentleman in every respect.
Georgiana was young, and perhaps biased in her understanding, but she was not a fool.
She would not speak so well of her brother were he not these things.
As a gentleman, he could certainly exert himself to be polite for one evening at a country dance.
Over the course of the night, she noted that he danced with Mr. Bingley’s two sisters, who were dressed exactly as she would expect for London.
She could not fault them, she supposed, but the attention they drew would not be amenable to her.
The Meryton women tittered for hours about Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley’s fine manners and fashionable attire.
“So many feathers! Such a lovely shade of puce!”
Unfortunately, it took very little time for Elizabeth to see through the gowns dripping with expensive lace, the garish feathers, and the heavy jewelry that marked them as new money.
She noted instead the disdainful upward tilt of their noses.
It would make a humorous drawing, she thought, considering how best to depict the long, drooping feathers, to exaggerate the thick gold necklaces . . . but not a unique one.
Elizabeth was both amused and wearied by the absurdity of it all.
According to the gossip, Mr. Hurst was heir to an estate, but not yet the master.
Mr. Bingley was leasing Netherfield and did not own a property of his own.
If true, many of the women here, including the Lucas daughters and each of the Bennet sisters, were above the Bingleys in precedence.
She supposed they liked to ignore inconvenient facts.
It made her head ache, thinking about the endless number of rules society imposed.
When she had complained about it to her aunt after the first month of school, Aunt Olivia had sniffed and remarked, “You must know what the rules are so that you know where and when to break them.
“ Mr. Bingley’s sisters, like her own, ought to be judged on their character rather than their fortunes, but Elizabeth knew that was a vain wish.
Character was often considered superfluous. Unfashionable.
Mr. Bingley had asked Jane again for the supper dance, and just before it began, pardoned himself to stride purposefully to his taciturn friend.
Oh dear, Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth thought with dismay, rushing across the room is sure to bring more attention to you both.
She saw Mr. Darcy’s posture stiffen and for a fleeting instant, she felt some sympathy.
The man had been uncivil, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the attention he was garnering, and his friend was not helping.
“Come, Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said, clearly aggravated. “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about here in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
Elizabeth smiled at the notion of the young Mr. Bingley scolding Mr. Darcy but tried to block out the rest of their conversation by humming to herself.
Despite her attempts, she overheard something about Jane being “the most beautiful women” Mr. Bingley had ever seen, and Mr. Darcy did agree with him, more or less.
Points for Mr. Darcy, she thought, amused.
He does not deny that Jane is handsome. She continued to watch him from behind, forgetting herself, noting with an artist’s eye the line of his shoulders narrowing to his waist, the large, strong hands, the dark hair that just touched his collar, where it curled.
Georgie’s hair is so straight, she mused.
It would be interesting to draw them together, a study in contrasts.
Then he turned and met her eye. She nearly gasped to be caught observing him but raised her chin and met his stare.
Fearless, Lizzy, she told herself. Be fearless.
Oh! If Aunt Olivia could see the glare he was giving her now, she would not scruple to box Mr. Darcy’s ears.
Hmm. He is rather tall, certainly taller than his father.
Aunt would have to climb up on a chair. She would do it, too.
Elizabeth dragged herself from that whimsical picture as Georgiana’s brother nodded once in acknowledgement and then withdrew, turning back to Mr. Bingley.
He sniffed and clasped his hands behind his back before saying, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.” Mr. Bingley blanched, tossing a nervous glance at her over his friend’s shoulder.
She returned the look askance. Mr. Bingley’s expression was apologetic.
He rolled his eyes at Mr. Darcy as the latter continued to speak.
“You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’ Even after he finished, Elizabeth could scarce believe it.
Worse and worse. Had they not been in public, she would have boxed his ears.
“Yes,” Mr. Bingley replied. “I believe I am.” He turned on his heel to return to Jane, and Elizabeth was left to consider how best to respond to this very public insult.
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had been engaged in a private conversation, but he was not a boy just out of school.
He had to know that such a speech, at such a pitch, would be overheard.
It would be welcome fodder for salacious gossip in a crowded space such as this.
Indeed, to her far right, she caught Lady Lucas’ eyes widening before she beamed and turned to Mrs. Long.
Her heart sank. Mr. Darcy had not made this easy for either one of them.
She should not have been staring, but he should not have been rude.
At least she had long won the favor of the principal matrons in the room; he was the man who had refused all introductions.
Of the two of them, he was likely to suffer more than she, though Elizabeth knew she would also be the subject of gossip for at least a fortnight, longer if nothing more scandalous came along.
Elizabeth wished to think well of Georgiana’s brother, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
Elizabeth moved to speak with Charlotte, who stood across the room.
Her path took her past a departing Mr. Darcy, but he did not look her way and she did not address him.
Some mischievous part of her savored the ludicrous situation in which she found herself.
She was his sister’s very good friend, she had been roundly insulted by him, and yet they had never been formally introduced.
What would Jane make of that? Her poor sister would twist herself into knots trying to absolve the man.
By the time Elizabeth reached Charlotte, she had turned the entire event into an amusing story and suggested playfully that Mr. Darcy was far too young to be such a curmudgeon.
“Perhaps he is hungry?” suggested Charlotte. “My younger brothers are always irritable when they are hungry.”
“Or perhaps his cravat is too tight?” responded Elizabeth.
“Or his shoes,” Mary said as she walked up. “Maria Lucas just told me what he said, Lizzy. The man deserves our pity, for clearly he is blind.”
Charlotte laughed at that and they all glanced to check whether either the cravat or his shoes were to blame.
Elizabeth found he was looking their way, a small line at the top of his nose showing he was disconcerted.
Well, good, she thought. You deserve it.
He tugged at his cravat, and Mary snorted.
“You win, Lizzy,” she giggled, and Elizabeth pretended to preen.
They had another small laugh at his expense and then moved on to other topics.
From where they stood, Elizabeth kept track of the gossip as it made its way around the room.
Lady Lucas shared it with Mrs. Long and then each leaned to speak to a friend in low tones.
It was almost as though she could hear the story growing wilder and more distorted as each listener turned to another.
He would not dance with her would become he thought her plain, or perhaps, he said she was uglier than a snake, can you imagine the nerve?
She was in this unhappy state of mind when she glimpsed Mrs. Goulding whisper something in Mama’s ear.
Her mother’s face grew still. Her lips tightened into a scowl aimed at the man who had slighted them all, but more importantly, one of her daughters.
While she would not wish Mama to make a spectacle, there was something comforting in witnessing her mother’s affront.
Even the very rich were not allowed to disparage her daughters.
When her mother turned to look at her, Elizabeth smiled, to show she was not affected.
Mama responded with an approving nod and returned her attention to her friends.