The Assembly Dissection
To nobody’s surprise, Mrs Bennet was very much enamoured with the attentions Mr Bingley paid her Jane. After all, she could not be so beautiful for nothing.
Her descriptions of the delights of the evening went long and loud until Mr Bennet had to put his foot down against any further mentions of lace, and opined he would have been better off had Mr Bingley sprained his ankle.
Elizabeth had little to say on the matter, and her commentary was far from necessary anyway. She could see that Jane entertained some modest hopes for the gentleman, and she had to admit to the same.
Mrs Bennet went on for some time about Mr Bingley requesting a second set, while Elizabeth held her breath waiting for one of her sisters to mention that another Bennet daughter had done even better.
Looking around the room, she realised something strange.
Mary was looking at her with a knowing smirk.
It was slightly crooked, but being possibly the first of her life, it was acceptable for it to be as uneven as Flora’s curtsy.
The rest of the family had no idea! She danced the first and last—two significant sets—with a handsome man, and nobody noticed!
(Aside from Mary, who noticed everything).
She wondered how it would go if anyone worked it out.
She imagined the chaos that would ensue if they decided she had danced two significant sets with a steward or tradesman.
The chastisement would be unbelievable. If they learnt of her perfidy after they discovered what Mr Darcy really was (whatever he was, it was not a steward), then the commendation would be even more unbearable.
For the moment, she was only happy she had enough sense to dance with him in the far corner of the assembly hall outside of the family’s awareness for both sets.
~
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him.
“He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, “sensible, good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!--so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”
“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.”
“I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.”
Elizabeth considered mentioning her own second dance but thought better of it.
Even though it had been a public assembly, something about her interactions with Mr Darcy seemed private, perhaps even clandestine.
It was like a shared secret, and she did not want to divulge it prematurely to anyone, even Jane or Charlotte; though Charlotte was probably aware of far more than anyone except Mary, and it was only a matter of time before someone else blabbed the truth where Mrs Bennet could hear it.
Jane was so happy about her beginning that Elizabeth had not the heart to mention what Mr Darcy related about Mr Bingley and his habits. For all he knew, the man’s attentions would be entirely spent on the assembly, and she need say nothing.
She resolved to keep her own counsel and see how things played out.
~
The ladies of Lucas Lodge and Longbourn were invariably required to discuss an assembly. The matrons went through their usual one-upmanship, with Lady Lucas claiming preference because Mr Bingley danced with Charlotte first, and Mrs Bennet firing back that he danced with Jane twice.
Elizabeth personally thought her mother won that round, and Jane very well might capture the elusive Mr Bingley.
She hoped he would show himself worthy, but she thought to reserve judgement until it became prudent to say something.
She arbitrarily gave it a fortnight. If Mr Bingley’s attentions had not waned, she would caution Jane and be done with it.
Through some subtle manoeuvres (more or less), Elizabeth found herself with Mary and Charlotte in a corner where nobody could overhear them if they spoke softly. Of course, with Mrs Bennet and Lydia in the room, speaking softly enough was no challenge.
“Lizzy, tell me about Mr Darcy,” Charlotte started without much preamble.
“I know little more than I already told you.”
Charlotte snorted, and Elizabeth wondered at the wisdom of speaking. The gentleman had not prohibited her speech, and it was not as if Flora were a spy who would take her secret to the grave. She finally swore Mary and Charlotte to secrecy and told the whole story.
When she finished, Mary asked, “So he could be prince or pauper?”
“Closer to the former,” Charlotte asserted.
“There is only so much damage you can do to a suit like that without rolling the poor man in the mud or lighting it afire—though he might not be the first man in history to dress better than he can afford or even borrow clothing from a friend for an occasion.”
“Plausible, though farfetched. I deliberately did not learn any more than I told you. I get the feeling the poor man has had trouble in such gatherings all his life, and if I can give him a fortnight of peace, I shall. I presume he is at least a landowner, but beyond that I shall not speculate.”
“You danced two significant sets,” Mary said, thus proving she knew all.
“I did, and when he asked, I had to give a great deal of thought before accepting the last.”
“What finally pushed you over the edge,” Charlotte asked curiously. Nobody had ever asked her for two sets of any kind in one evening, so she was curious about her friend’s triumph, such as it was.
“Two things, really,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully, not even certain she understood it herself.
“Do tell,” Mary practically begged.
“The first, which I shared with him, is that I did not want to let them win,” she said carefully.
“An admirable sentiment,” Charlotte replied. “It shows just the right amount of hubris. And the second?”
“You must agree he is devilishly handsome. I just could not resist!”
~
The ride back to Netherfield seemed endless to Darcy, especially when the space of a quarter-hour required him to trade the very agreeable company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her amiable friends, for the far less agreeable Miss Caroline Bingley and her obnoxious sister. It was a terrible bargain.
Bingley went on and on about ‘his angel,’ but since it was repetitious, and he knew no evil of Miss Bennet, it was no hardship to listen.
At least, when Bingley was speaking, his sisters had to be momentarily silent.
He had indirectly warned Miss Bennet via Miss Elizabeth, and though it was an untoward communication, he thought he had done as well as he could for both parties.
He judged he would give Bingley a fortnight to get over his infatuation.
If he was still going strong, he would pull him aside and caution him to be certain he knew what he was about.
A strong lecture on the fragilities of lady’s reputations might not be amiss either, especially since his friend was accustomed to the far higher levels of flirtation common in London; but that was a bridge he could cross if and when he came to it.
His sisters were horses of a different colour.
Darcy mostly agreed with Bingley, who could reasonably assert that everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful.
On that point, Darcy disagreed, but he had no argument with the rest, and he did not feel it worth his time to disabuse his friend of his obviously incorrect assessment of Miss Bennet’s beauty in comparison to her younger sister.
Bingley’s sisters, to the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom they had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure.
Miss Bennet, they acknowledged to be pretty, and grudgingly suggested that they admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of. Their brother felt authorised by such commendation to think of her as he chose.
When they came to Miss Elizabeth, they had an entirely different story. They had no idea how well Darcy knew the lady, since he had not spent much time with her after their arrival, and much of that in company with Bingley. It had not escaped them that he danced the last with her.
Mr Darcy had never danced a significant set with Miss Bingley, or anyone else she knew of. She suspected if he had done so in London, it would be in the paper by morning.
However, since he had admitted to wearing a very clever disguise, both women decided he was just enjoying a lark, dancing with a country nobody who no doubt thought him a steward.
His appearance had been noted in great confusion, and Miss Bingley had gradually convinced herself he did it for her, though his reasoning was hard to fathom.
Mrs Hurst adopted her sister’s way of thinking, mainly because it was the easiest way to live. There was little point in arguing with Caroline, and they depended on her brother’s largess, so there was no point rocking the boat.
Darcy added little to the conversation, and even Bingley had no idea what he had done before the party’s arrival (nor any ambition to find out), so nobody knew he had danced two sets with her.
He wondered if anybody in her family was aware, and if they would come looking to inspect his teeth within the week.
They arrived, and while Bingley’s sisters carried on at some length, one gentleman slept through the whole thing; another ignored them because it was their usual nonsense, and he had much more agreeable thoughts.
The third man was anxious for his next meeting with Miss Elizabeth. He wanted to go through her deportment manuals to see if there were any prohibitions against strangling your hostess.