Chapter 24
The day of the ball, Elizabeth dressed with extra care, anticipating the evening ahead and wanting to please Mr Darcy.
He would be the handsomest man there, and they would spend as much of the party together as possible.
As soon as the dancing began, everyone would understand that they were not merely friends.
Given the way people gossiped, she imagined there might even be speculation on their eventual marriage.
After all, by his own admission, Mr Darcy danced as little as possible, since he did not like it, and he was always careful not to show a preference for any eligible lady.
“Everyone will know soon enough!” Elizabeth told her reflection as she completed her toilette.
While it was true he might make a better match in terms of fortune and connexions, his family liked her and would surely approve.
Apart from Lady Catherine, that was; Elizabeth expected it would displease her, but what did that matter?
“Her opinion means nothing to me. Only his does, and he cares for me. I know he does.” The thought made her feel complete as she never had before.
Whatever she had heard him say that long ago morning in Dublin when she was fixing her boot lace near a grand old hawthorn, Mr Darcy would choose to marry for love.
Both Lord Halsley and Mrs Ryde complimented her when she joined them in the drawing room; it added to her sense that it would be a wonderful evening.
Indeed, she believed it would be one of her most favourite days ever.
Was it because of her conviction that Mr Darcy returned her affections?
Likely it was, as well as the sense that their union would bring people she cared for pleasure, including her family, who would surely be happy for her and embrace him as a new relation.
Her mother would like him because he was handsome and rich, which were not the strongest reasons to like or not like someone, but her father would appreciate his intelligence, and he would be an excellent brother to her sisters.
The ballroom was already crowded when they arrived.
After greeting their host and hostess, Lord Halsley and Mrs Ryde led the way as they strolled about, stopping occasionally to speak to acquaintances.
It was several minutes before they encountered Mr Darcy.
He was with the colonel and the de Bourgh ladies.
The usual curtseys and bows were performed and words of greeting were exchanged.
Elizabeth did what was expected, but her eyes remained on him, hoping to catch his.
Yet, he did not look her way except briefly.
“How do you do?” he murmured, his voice quiet and not as robust as she had expected.
Her response was drowned out by his aunt, who said, “There are too many people here already, and I see Lady Todd has invited yet more. If she had consulted me…”
Elizabeth left her to her complaints, choosing instead to examine Mr Darcy and determine if they might speak a little further.
With luck, Lady Catherine would soon see someone she knew and go talk to them.
It struck her that he seemed distracted, even tired.
Briefly, she worried something was amiss, but she refused to admit it might be possible, not tonight when she was determined to have a wonderful time.
I shall cheer him when we dance together.
“I have always found Lady Todd to be an excellent hostess,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
“And I have been greatly anticipating tonight. Fine music, dancing with affable partners, seeing friends. Are you not glad to be here, Miss Bennet? I believe of all of us, your feelings would most agree with mine.”
“They do,” she said eagerly. “I enjoy balls, and I have been counting the hours until I would be dancing again.”
The colonel, along with Mrs Ryde and Lord Halsley, chuckled.
Lady Catherine peered at her through narrow eyes before looking away.
As for Mr Darcy—at whom her comment about longing to dance had been directed—he appeared…
uneasy was the first word that came to mind.
But she had no chance to think about it, because Colonel Fitzwilliam wanted to know when she might dance with him, and after she named a set, seemed desirous of maintaining a light-hearted conversation.
Unfortunately, Lady Catherine continued to speak—largely at Lord Halsley, whose expression was blank—making it difficult for anyone else to do more than make the occasional noise of agreement or disagreement.
Fortunately, in a moment, she announced, “Ah, I see Lord and Lady Servington. I wish to have a word with them.” She took her daughter’s arm and stepped away, all but ordering, “Come, Darcy.”
Irritation shot through Elizabeth. Aunt or not, how dare she speak to her nephew so disparagingly!
She would not use such a demanding tone even to a dog.
Her feelings darkened and became mixed with disappointment when he did no more than nod politely to her, Mrs Ryde, and Lord Halsley before following his aunt.
Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed. “Excuse me. I should keep my cousin…” He went after them without finishing the thought, though Elizabeth wished he had.
Mrs Ryde smiled kindly at her, giving Elizabeth the impression her friend understood this was not the start to the evening she had envisioned.
“Well, let us continue to greet our friends, shall we?” Lord Halsley said.
They walked about the room as best they could, chatting with other guests every so often.
“Elizabeth!”
Turning to discover who was calling her, she saw Marian. Walking with her was a scowling middle-aged man she soon learnt was Mr Strachan. He greeted Lord Halsley and Mrs Ryde civilly but far from amiably.
“You might remember me mentioning Miss Bennet, sir,” Marian said to her father. “She is an old friend of Miss Rebecca Darcy’s.”
He regarded Elizabeth haughtily and gave a soft grunt that combined acknowledgement and disinterest. “You really ought to find better friends, Marian, as I have been telling you for years.”
“Strachan…” Lord Halsley said, his tone warning.
“He does not mean Elizabeth,” Marian said before anyone else could speak. She gave the earl an apologetic look for having interrupted before adding, “He does not approve of Rebecca, or anyone named Darcy, to say nothing of the Fitzwilliams and many others, because they do not hold the same views.”
Mr Strachan’s upper lip curled as he looked at his daughter. “I advise you to hurry up and find a husband so that I might finally rid myself of being responsible for you.”
Marian grinned at him. “I am endeavouring to do just that, I assure you. But recall that, when I go, so, too, does my fortune. Every farthing of it. And you might not like who I choose to give it to, but as I am one-and-twenty, there is nothing you will be able to do about it.”
Mr Strachan shook his head, gave a barely perceptible nod to the earl and Mrs Ryde, and walked away.
“Thank you for helping me rid myself of his company,” Marian said, with no sign that her father’s cruelty disturbed her.
“You will not mind if I stay with you for now, will you? The first set is bound to start soon. If I was not so anticipating spending the time with my partner, I would want to know where my father was so that I might see his expression. He will not like it, and I find that amuses me.” Briefly, she covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
“Forgive me, Mrs Ryde, Lord Halsley. My jest was unkind and disrespectful, as was what I said to him earlier. He is my father, whatever his faults.”
“Not at all, my dear,” Mrs Ryde was quick to say. “But I am curious. With whom are you dancing the opening set?”
With her dark skin, it was difficult to tell, but Elizabeth suspected her friend was blushing when she admitted, “Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Like that, is it?” Lord Halsley said. “No, he will not like it at all, and”—he leant forwards slightly and lowered his voice—“polite or not, I, too, find it diverting.”
All three ladies laughed, and they continued to chat. Before long, the ladies left Lord Halsley with Lord Romsley and one of their mutual friends, and a short while later, Colonel Fitzwilliam came to collect Marian, saying he believed the dancing would soon begin.
Sure enough, the lines began to form. With so many people present, it would still be a few minutes before the music started.
Elizabeth and Mrs Ryde stood to one side of the room, Elizabeth wanting to be sure Mr Darcy would spot her.
Although she extended her neck this way and that, she did not see him.
Where was he? Mrs Ryde, too, seemed to be looking about the room, her brow furrowing.
“What a fine couple they make,” she heard a distinctive voice say.
It was Lady Catherine. Glancing over her shoulder, Elizabeth found the woman was standing to her left with another matron she recognised as a baroness.
Lady Catherine went on boastfully, “They were formed for each other, as I have always said, and at last, they will be married, just as his parents and hers planned since their infancies. That is why we have come to town. To purchase my daughter’s wedding clothes and prepare for the wedding, which will be early in the new year. ”
An icy hand gripped Elizabeth’s heart. There had to be another explanation for Lady Catherine’s words than the one that instantly sprung to mind, another gentleman she was referring to, despite her having implied Mr Darcy would marry her daughter just days ago.
He had told Elizabeth that while it was his aunt’s wish, it was not true, and he would not marry Miss de Bourgh.
Lady Catherine must be speaking of another couple, another gentleman.