Chapter 25
On the night of the supper party, Elizabeth was in no condition to enjoy herself. Though perfectly well in body and, at least if Jane’s assurances could be believed, in fine looks, she was so nervous she felt little short of fainting as they approached Netherfield in Mr Bingley’s carriage.
She might excuse herself, at least, with the thought that the rest of the party was in an equal state of turmoil, and one more openly expressed.
Her younger sisters had talked of nothing else since Mr Bingley had issued the invitation, and their mother had been whipped up into a veritable frenzy.
Mary, poor dear, was little short of dreading the party, and making up for it by stoutly declaring that she would be delighted to play for the company, if it were asked of her.
Even Jane, though maintaining an air of calm, was not quite her usual steady self.
Understandably so, for it had been an age since their family had been out in society.
The prospect of some breach of propriety being committed by one member of the family or another seemed only too high.
Lydia and Kitty were ecstatic to the point of giddiness, and equal to any foolishness.
Mrs Bennet was cause for still more concern.
After her mother’s near-slip the other day, it seemed all too likely that she might let the secret out.
And what Elizabeth would do then, she could not say.
“Are you well?” Jane asked in an undertone as the carriage came to a stop in front of the house.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Yes, thank you.” She silently congratulated herself, for she had kept the nervous shake out of her voice almost entirely.
There could be nothing gained from making her sister as ill at ease as herself.
How could she not be nervous when her family had not been in society for over two years?
The younger girls were especially worrisome, for Kitty had barely been out when their father was alive, and Lydia not at all.
And now they were so sorely out of practice, anything might come flying out of their mouths.
Jane gave her a knowing smile. “All will be well. It was so kind of Mr Bingley to invite us here this evening,” she said. “Since it is a private family party, it will not be too shameful if the girls say anything they ought not to say. And we will keep them in check.”
It was not only the girls that she was worried about.
After Mrs Bennet’s near slip during her last meeting with Mr Bingley, who knew what she might say?
Unfortunately, their mother was more concerned with appearances than with the need to keep Elizabeth’s secret, no matter how often its importance was explained to her.
There was little Elizabeth could do to counteract the risk.
She could not be at her mother’s side the entire evening.
“I suppose you are right,” Elizabeth replied. Though she gave the words her best attempt at cheerfulness, the gentle, encouraging smile Jane gave her in response suggested that it had not been entirely successful.
As they climbed down from the carriage, Lydia immediately went into raptures. “Oh, Mama! How fine it is! How I should have liked to see Netherfield all lit up for a grand ball!”
“Well, hopefully we will soon see a restoration to the grand parties that old Mr Rensfield and his wife used to give before they moved to Bath. I do hope Mr Bingley plans to give parties and galas aplenty, once he is married.” Their mother flashed a knowing look at Jane.
Knowing her sister as she did, Elizabeth caught Jane’s brief sigh for patience.
It lasted only an instant before she turned the conversation with a more general wish for Mr Bingley’s comfort and happiness as their neighbour.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. Jane never wished to show anyone her private heart, but polite and neutral as her comments had been, she had yet caught something more in them.
Jane did like Mr Bingley, Elizabeth was sure of it, even if she refused to be as obvious as Mrs Bennet would have counselled her to be.
“Come along, girls!” Mrs Bennet called, recalling her to the present moment. “We should not dilly-dally.”
They walked up the limestone steps to the front door, which was swiftly opened for them. The butler invited them in, and their wraps were taken to be hung by several maids.
Mr Bingley and his guests were there to greet them. He smiled broadly, especially when Jane came into view. “Welcome, Mrs Bennet,” he said, turning to their mother. “It is a pleasure to have you under my roof, and all of your charming daughters, of course.”
They all exchanged their bows and greetings.
Very interestingly indeed, Jane developed a slight blush upon perceiving how often and how admiringly Mr Bingley’s eyes stayed to her.
Elizabeth wondered if her elder sister would be in a perpetual state of redness throughout the evening, for she did not perceive any likelihood of Mr Bingley ceasing to admire her.
It would be a good match, at that. Elizabeth had met few gentlemen who might claim to be as friendly, sensible, and even-tempered as Jane, but Mr Bingley was just such a one.
At that point, Miss Darcy could restrain herself no longer.
She flung herself at Elizabeth, embracing her with an enthusiasm that Elizabeth found as charming as it was undoubtedly over-familiar.
If all her own younger sister’s offenses against good manners could be equally pleasing, Elizabeth would be delighted.
“Oh, my dear friend, it has been far too long,” Miss Darcy exclaimed. Oddly, her expression did not seem purely delighted. She was glad at their reunion — there could be no doubt of that — and yet there was something else as well, something Elizabeth could not understand.
“I agree,” Elizabeth said simply, smiling at her young friend.
Once again, Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars that Miss Bingley was not in attendance.
At that thought, guilt overcame her. She had still lied to Miss Darcy.
And if her brother were ever to find that out, surely she would never be permitted near Miss Darcy again.
Mr Darcy was watching them, Elizabeth found.
His expression made her heart pound, for he had obviously found Georgiana’s forwardness as darling as she had herself.
She had greeted her as a member of her family, and a most beloved one at that.
And Mr Darcy looked…she hardly dared to think it… he looked as though he approved.
They were soon brought into the drawing room to wait until supper was announced.
Lydia and Kitty could not seem to sit still.
They constantly shifted and giggled and walked about the room admiring everything aloud, from the furniture to the paintings, and even the polished gleam of the floors.
Though their enthusiasm was uncouth, amounting almost to rudeness, Mr Bingley did not seem to notice.
Though his own manners were faultless, and he exerted himself to make sure that the conversation flowed well, he had eyes only for Jane.
Supper was soon announced, and they all went in to find their seats.
The men were sorely outnumbered by the ladies.
To Lydia’s disappointment, expressed in an undertone that thankfully did not seem to carry to their host, Mr Bingley had not invited any of the militia officers.
Elizabeth was doubly grateful that it was so.
First, their absence would limit the extent of Kitty and Lydia’s folly, and second, the opportunity to have something close to a family party with the Darcys was a treasure she could not have given up without regret.
But Lydia was not to be so quickly diverted. “What a lovely room, Mr Bingley. I must say, it would be made even more jolly with the presence of some flashes of red uniform, though.” Lydia turned, and she and Kitty giggled with one another. “The officers from the camp are excellent company.”
Mr Darcy’s face contorted into a frown. Elizabeth did her best to divert the conversation. “It is a lovely room, Mr Bingley. And so beautifully decorated! I hear the Netherfield hothouses are unrivalled in this part of the country. These blooms are exquisite.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I fear I am not well versed in hothouses. The gardener is an excellent fellow, though, and I am very pleased with how the arrangements turned out.” He turned his attention back to Jane. “What do you think of the arrangements, Miss Bennet?”
“They are breathtaking, Mr Bingley.” Her demure smile was enough to turn any man’s head, and Mr Bingley seemed to be wholly undone.
“These blooms would be the perfect subject for one of your sketches, Jane, would they not?” Mrs Bennet interjected.
Jane looked at her mother in confusion. “Mother, I do not quite know —”
“Oh, do not hide your accomplishments, my girl! I am sure they would be very lovely. Particularly if one could capture those colours, so remarkably fine.”
Mary, who had been silent throughout the whole of the evening, finally chimed in. “Jane does not draw, Mama. None of us do —”
“She has voiced an interest in learning, have not you, Jane?” Mrs Bennet hurried on. “But of course, she has not the proper subject. Certainly not one so lovely as these flowers!”
Mr Bingley nodded. “Then, by all means, you must allow me to send an arrangement home with you.”
Jane shot Elizabeth a pleading glance.
But there was nothing Elizabeth could do. The supper went on, exquisite in the dishes served and in the opportunity to be reunited with dear friends, but dreadful in the repeated offenses of her own family.