Chapter Four
Thanks to Hanson, Darcy was ready early, but remained in his rooms until the final moment. Were he to do as he wished and stand by the window over the drive, Richard would have had great sport with him.
The first carriages were arriving when he finally made his way downstairs.
Bingley had invited both him and his cousin to stand with them in the receiving line, but they had politely declined.
He was especially relieved by his decision when he spied Auntie Cleopatra descending the stairs.
Protruding from her Turkish turban were no fewer than seven long feathers in a variety of colors.
Bingley had done his sister a favor discouraging the expansion of her guest list to London.
Instead of greeting all and sundry, he waited anxiously for the one guest he most wished to see.
There seemed to be an interminable number of other people entering the house who greeted him and required return civilities, but in fact, the Bennet carriage was among the first to arrive.
He could hear Mrs. Bennet’s shrill exclamations preceding them up the staircase: the beauty of the house, the number of torches already lit outside despite the bright night, the large number of guests, the superior supper they might expect.
Darcy cringed a little; Mrs. Bennet was correct about it all, but when she had joined them in the family parlor over the past week, she had mostly spoken with Miss Bennet and Bingley.
This was the first time he had heard her in full voice.
Then Miss Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs, stepping lightly to the side to await the rest of her family.
Her dark hair was swept into an intricately woven knot sitting low on the back of her head.
As she turned to greet her sisters, he spied several curled tendrils arranged upon the bare skin of her slender neck. His fingers twitched.
As she faced forward again, he took in her gown.
It was snow-white, with a thin, golden-colored net overskirt fashioned like lace.
Gold embroidery along the neckline and long sleeves picked up the color of the skirt.
She favors yellow, he thought, recalling the dress she had worn to the first dinner at Netherfield.
This gown, like the one she had worn before, was meant to take advantage of the candlelight.
His eyes traced the dipping neckline that suggested but did not reveal what lay beneath the rich silk.
When the women had made their way past the Bingley family, Elizabeth stopped before him. Her cheeks were a little flushed and Darcy suspected her mother’s continued exuberance was the cause.
“Where is your father?” he asked.
“Although I suspect you have a large carriage, Mr. Darcy, I doubt that it accommodates eight,” she said cheerfully. “Particularly when six of the occupants are women in ballgowns.” She smiled. “My father offered to wait with Mr. Collins. The carriage will return to Longbourn for them.”
Six? Darcy glanced to the side where the Bennet ladies were congregating with the Lucas family.
Miss Lydia was indeed there in a soft pink gown, standing with Miss Bennet.
He had not thought she was out, but truthfully, he had not spoken with her much.
However, if her presence had kept the parson from riding in the carriage with Elizabeth, he could only be pleased.
“I have not seen Mr. Collins all week,” he said. If there was a touch of self-satisfaction in his tone, she would surely forgive him. “Has your cousin behaved himself, Miss Elizabeth?”
She nodded, and Darcy indicated they should walk to the ballroom. “Papa has exerted himself to keep Mr. Collins much occupied in his study, trying to teach him something about the estate.”
“How does he get on?” Darcy asked, picturing Mr. Bennet tossing Collins out the window.
“Not well at all, I am afraid,” Miss Elizabeth said, lifting her sparkling eyes to his. “It is now more an entertainment for my father than a serious task.” Her joy faded, replaced by an air of solemnity, and he mourned the change. “I believe I must thank you for intervening.”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied. “I did speak with the man, but it was your father who finally convinced him to cease.”
Her brows knit together. “Is that true, Mr. Darcy?” she asked. He thought he detected some hope in her question.
“It is,” he said simply.
Darcy was repaid for his honesty with a small, sweet smile. “Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly. “Papa has not said a thing about it.”
“You are very welcome,” he said. He noted her locket, the one he had meant to examine before. “Now, I have a question for you. Is that a lion on your locket?”
The smile grew. “Indeed,” she said, her hand rising to touch it. “It is a part of the Russell coat of arms. A gift from my aunt.”
Darcy nearly rolled his eyes. Of course it is. How many other clues did I miss?
He wondered if she knew what he was thinking, for her smile turned suddenly amused. She opened the locket for him. “These are pictures of my aunt and uncle when they first married.”
Be a gentleman, Darcy, he reminded himself before dropping his eyes to her chest. Look only at the locket. Inside were painted two very small miniatures. Unexpectedly, he was drawn to the painting of the woman. “This is your aunt, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth told him.
“I only ever met her later,” he said. “I recall thinking her handsome when I was a boy, but she was older than my father.” The hair, the skin, the shape of her face… “You resemble her a great deal.”
She nodded and closed the locket with some satisfaction. “I know.” Apparently, he was not the first to note the similarity.
“She was a beautiful woman, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied softly, and she glanced away modestly, but, he thought, pleased by the implication.
“May I say, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “you look enchanting this evening.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied and gave him a saucy little curtsey. “You are rather dashing yourself.” Her eyes met his.
Darcy swallowed. Oh, this will never do. I have an entire evening to get through.
He changed the subject to her lessons with Miss Mary.
Elizabeth was excited about her sister’s progress, and they conversed for a time.
When they at last entered the ballroom, it was nearly time for the dancing to begin.
The crowd had increased significantly. All the local gentry had been invited as had the militia’s officers.
“There must be nearly two hundred people here,” Miss Elizabeth said.
Darcy nodded. The ballroom was made up of several rooms opened to one another by sliding back walls.
The rooms had been scrubbed and the floor waxed lightly in preparation.
Scores of fresh, colorful flower arrangements, each one precisely the same, were placed along the walls of the room in tall porcelain vases.
In one corner of the largest room sat a table with an immense crystal punch bowl and cups.
Several servants stood behind it, waiting to serve the guests.
The musicians sat in the corner farthest from the refreshments, on a platform that spanned the back wall of two rooms.
Darcy was only a bit disappointed that there were no stuffed birds perched in the alcoves, no nests on display. To be fair, he thought, Miss Bingley has done well.
“The quality of the instruments is very fine,” Miss Elizabeth noted. “The musicians must be from town.”
“The flowers as well,” he pointed out. “The hothouse at Netherfield could not produce so many.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded. “I must credit Miss Bingley,” she said, as though she could read his thoughts. “She has done a splendid job.”
Elizabeth stood on her toes to try to see around the room.
She was eventually able to locate her sister Jane standing just inside the entryway with Mr. Bingley.
Jane was beaming, but before Elizabeth could approach, Jane took Mr. Bingley’s arm and allowed herself to be led away.
She spied Mama and Lydia near the refreshments and was relieved when she spotted her father walking through the crowd to join them.
“I was surprised to see Miss Lydia here tonight,” Mr. Darcy said. She glanced up at him, but there was no censure in his expression.
“She begged to be allowed to attend,” Elizabeth explained, “and none of us had the heart to deny her. She is to dance the first with Papa, but otherwise must remain with a family member.”
“Georgiana is the same,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Perhaps when we are in Derbyshire, I might allow her to attend a private ball under the same strictures. Will Miss Lydia be able to stay up so late, do you think?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Papa will escort her home after supper.” Kitty may wish to go as well.
The hum of voices was increasing in volume, and it was becoming difficult to hear.
“I believe,” she said, speaking a little louder, “offering a little freedom when a girl has proven she is worthy of it is the best way to ensure her continued good behavior.” She thought of Georgiana, flattered by the attentions of a handsome older man but reaching out for help anyway.
“I think Georgie would be very pleased if you demonstrated that sort of trust in her.”
Mr. Darcy appeared as though he was about to reply, but people began shushing one another.
Mr. Bingley had stepped up on the dais where the musicians sat.
He began his welcome to all the guests, thanking his sister, then his aunt for their hard work.
Then he held out a hand to assist Mr. Bennet to the platform and stepped down himself. The buzz of voices increased in volume.
Elizabeth clapped her hands together and beamed up at Mr. Darcy. She spun back to view her father. “Oh, Jane,” she whispered. “Oh, how wonderful.”