Chapter 12
I found myself both anticipating and dreading the Netherfield ball. I was accustomed to the dread and confused by the anticipation, but life is like that sometimes.
I dreaded the ball for the same reason I dread all such gatherings.
I am always nervous at such events. I have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before.
I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.
My cousin Fitzwilliam tells me it is because I am too lazy to practise.
My friend Bingley tells me it is because I am too eaten up with my consequence.
I suspected Miss Elizabeth would agree with the colonel, and most would agree with Bingley.
In truth, I had been thus since boyhood.
It always distressed my parents, who were both more similar to the colonel in disposition, while my sister Georgiana and I inherited crippling shyness.
It was part of the reason my father enjoyed George Wickham’s company.
I made several attempts to mitigate my deficiencies over the years, and made some progress, until I came out in society.
A rather clumsy compromise attempt at my first society ball set the tone, and the next decade continued.
I could put up with Miss Bingley because she was slightly less predatory than average in London society, and Bingley had saved me from at least one attempt.
I knew the problem would solve itself when I married, but I had to admit that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was the very first woman to tempt me—and oh, how she tempted me!
I had gone through several levels of perplexity with both the elder Misses Bennet.
Thinking back as I was dressing for the ball, it seemed they watched me with more focus than even Bingley in the beginning.
At the time, I assumed it was because they were evaluating us for eligibility, which would obviously include both our suitability for matrimony and their ability to secure a match.
Their mother was certainly doing exactly that at a level that made Miss Bingley appear subtle.
Their younger sisters were just empty-headed flirts, though that they had not tried to elope with George Wickham put them slightly ahead of my sister.
Of course, for all I knew they might elope with someone else, but not with that particular rogue who died as he had lived with a bullet in his back running from his first battle in Portugal.
Their father was as inscrutable as the Sphinx’s riddle.
Miss Elizabeth's entrance took my breath away.
She was escorted by Miss Bennet who was handsome enough, I supposed, but Miss Elizabeth was special.
I had found a real danger in my attraction to her during her stay at Netherfield, and I suspected she found our last conversation rather confusing.
I doubted she understood that a half-hour in the library led me to a place where I had to either leave or declare myself, which would be rather untenable.
I was not in a position to wed based on affection and compatibility alone, especially after Georgiana's debacle, but I had to admit I was tempted—very tempted.
The start of the ball confirmed most of my assessments of her family, with the added mortification of yet another relative who not only introduced himself, but also blathered on about my supposed engagement to my cousin Anne, which exists only in my addled aunt’s imagination.
His opening the ball with Miss Elizabeth was rather amusing in a gallows-humour sort of way, and I determined that I would dance with her…
just once… to demonstrate that I could act like a gentleman, an assertion she had little evidence of.
She assented readily enough, though I could not tell what she thought about it.
I was my typical tongue-tied self, or at least that self when in a public place with her, which was even worse than my usual.
She managed to get me talking with some commonplace observations, and over the first dance of the set, I truly enjoyed myself.
I even wondered if there was any chance—any chance at all—that we might be more.
While there were certainly disadvantages to the match, it was clear that women who could gain my admiration were few and far between.
She was the first where I could imagine it.
Things started falling apart in the form of Mr Hurst’s kindred spirit, Sir William Lucas, who made about as much sense as Bingley’s brother. The man had the temerity to interrupt our dance right when our conversation was flowing as it had in the library, and I wanted to strangle him.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir.
Such very superior dancing is not often seen.
It is evident that you belong to the first circles.
Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shall take place.
What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr Darcy:—but let me not interrupt you, sir.
You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me. "
Admittedly, our dancing was perhaps above average but not exceptional. I was enjoying the dance more than any other in my life, but I doubted even Miss Elizabeth could detect my pleasure, let alone anyone else. I had learnt to hide myself away many years earlier and was very skilled in the art.
The startling part was his assertion that Bingley was already making expectations in the neighbourhood. I had warned him to temper his usual enthusiasm, but that was much like admonishing a new puppy.
I had been paying far more attention to Miss Elizabeth than Miss Bennet, but even then, I had noticed a certain wariness in both their looks at the start of their acquaintance.
That was easily explained if they had ever had any acquaintance with London society.
Anyone with the least sense knew a handsome man had good odds of being a rogue and one should be cautious—especially with a mother like theirs who did not seem that particular.
With Sir William’s reference to the trap my friend seemed to be sticking his leg in, I lost my focus on Miss Elizabeth.
I tried my best to hold up my end of the conversation through the last dance, but it was an even weaker effort than my usual.
As I walked away, I looked at her rather intently, trying to fix her countenance in my mind.
I was becoming certain that as much as I esteemed her, which I had finally admitted to myself, I did have obligations, not the least of which was to marry a lady who had some idea how to help Georgiana recover from her ordeal.
During the supper set, Miss Bennet and Bingley, as well as the rest of the Bennet family, commanded my close attention, and my concern gradually turned to agitation, thence to alarm, and finally to outright panic during the meal and entertainments.
Miss Bennet had wisely been subtle in her attentions to my friend up to that point, but she seemed to panic at the idea of him slipping away.
I will not assert she came anywhere near matching her younger sisters, or even his own sister, but she was certainly turning on the charm.
The younger sisters and cousin clearly made Miss Elizabeth wish she could crawl under the table, while Mrs Bennet did her very best to ensure Bingley was obliged, regardless of the wishes of Miss Bennet or Bingley.
She wanted a wedding, and was doing her best to force one, with no apparent thought to what would happen to the family’s reputation if Bingley abandoned the field, as any man with the most rudimentary sense of self-preservation would.
Miss Elizabeth tried valiantly to silence her, which had about the same effect as it would on my own aunt, Lady Catherine. Mrs Bennet even took a swipe at me for reasons I could not fathom. Perhaps she was just displeased I had not fallen at one of her daughters’ feet.
While Miss Mary tortured the pianoforte, Miss Bingley sidled up to me and did her own effort.
“Well, Mr Darcy, is this display enough to overcome your appreciation of Miss Eliza’s fine eyes?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sir, look around. Do you want a woman like Mrs Bennet visiting Pemberley, or living there for that matter? Are you not concerned one of those younger sisters might ruin herself before the night is over? Would you like your sister to consort with her sisters? Are you to spend your time with people without even the rudiments of propriety, let alone fashion? I admit that Miss Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, but does she even admire my brother? I can see nothing of it—only avarice bordering on desperation. Are you to visit their relations in Cheapside? Are you to congratulate yourself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath your own?”
I was frustrated with the whole ordeal and had endured about as much as I wanted from her.
“Miss Bingley, I suppose I must bow to your superior knowledge.”
She started to preen, and I was in a worse conundrum than at the beginning of the evening.
Whilst I hated to agree with Miss Bingley, there was really nothing she had said that was wrong, per se.
Perhaps she had a better understanding of Miss Bennet’s feelings than I did.
Like most men, I had no idea what women thought, so she had the minor advantage of her sex.
Other than that, I was about fed up with her and had been for some time.
I finally decided it was time to get rid of at least one annoyance in my life. “Perhaps I should clarify.”
She preened even more, and cooed, “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours.”