Chapter 8 An Invitation to a Ball
“Ah, the beautiful Bennet women.” Mr. Bingley bowed to each of the Bennet sisters in turn. Mr. Darcy stood behind him and bowed as well.
Mrs. Bennet bustled into the drawing room and immediately took command of the conversation. “Please sit down, make yourselves comfortable.” She glanced around the room. “Your sisters are not with you today, Mr. Bingley?”
Bingley’s face flushed. “No, ma’am. Caroline is suffering from the headache this morning, and Louisa remained behind to attend her.
” He grimaced as his eyes met Darcy’s. In truth, Caroline had been so provoking at breakfast that Darcy had at last lost patience and spoken in anger.
She had begun, saying, “I remember, when we first met Miss Eliza, how amazed we all were to hear her called a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one Sunday after church, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”
“Yes,” Darcy had replied, his voice sharp, “but that was only when I first knew her, for it has been some weeks now since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
Caroline had gasped, then cried, “That emaciated country mouse? She is nothing at all!” Losing all composure, she had set down her teacup with a clatter and fled the room in tears, railing against the injustice of it.
The servants had stood frozen throughout the entire scene, as had Darcy and the rest of the company, who had remained motionless.
Bingley and Louisa were quick to apologize for her behavior.
Then Bingley turned to Darcy. “In light of what has just passed, do you still mean to accompany me to Longbourn to deliver the invitation?”
Darcy rose. “It would be a welcome reprieve, Charles, to get outside and ride. The air will help us put this shocking scene behind us.”
Now, Bingley, smiling, held out an envelope. “I have brought your daughters an invitation to a ball at Netherfield Park to be held on June second.”
Mrs. Bennet took the envelope and scanned its contents.
“Thank you for including all my daughters, Mr. Bingley, but Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins have lately taken my two youngest to London. My little Lydia will be helping her aunt care for her young cousin, and Kitty is in school. We are hopeful she will become an accomplished young woman at the seminary.”
Jane spoke. “Mamma, shall I ring for tea?”
“Yes, my dear, please do.”
Jane turned to Mr. Bingley, her eyes admiring, and said, “Sir, we have never been to an actual ball. You are very kind to plan one for our little village.”
Mr. Bingley turned to Jane with a smile.
“It is my pleasure, Miss Bennet. I am throwing this ball in compliment to you. With the Parliament session closed, some of my friends are idle in town. I thought to invite them to Netherfield for a ball. You will find it very diverting, and there will be no shortage of dance partners.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes to Mr. Darcy. He glanced at her and flushed when their eyes met. She would not have to sit out any dances if Mr. Bingley had indeed invited his friends. Mary pressed her hand and smiled at her sister. Perhaps they would meet their knights after all.
Mrs. Bennet spoke again. “Fortunately, Mr. Collins will return from London in plenty of time to attend your ball, Mr. Bingley.” She turned to Elizabeth.
“That is good for you, Lizzy. I will order you a ball gown so that you may catch Mr. Collins.” Then to Bingley: “The heir to Longbourn is half caught already, I assure you. When Lizzy is in the room, he cannot take his eyes off her.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes and bent her head, wishing the floor would open and swallow her up. Jane filled the awkward silence with a question. “Mr. Bingley, may I ask after Miss Bingley? Is she unwell?”
He did not answer her but instead stood up and asked a question of his own. “Mrs. Bennet, may we escort your daughters on a walk in the garden? It is a fine day, and I have a mind to see the black rose you spoke of. I only saw the purple one when I was last here.”
Mrs. Bennet agreed readily. “Yes, I am certain Jane would be pleased to show you my prize roses.” She turned to Mr. Darcy. “Sir, I am sorry to say that you must content yourself with Elizabeth and Mary’s company since my younger daughters are not at home.”
Darcy bowed, and Elizabeth flamed. Mary excused herself. “Lizzy, my music master is expected at one o’clock. I must practice the pianoforte before he arrives.”
Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy, who gestured for her to pass before him.
She moved to the entryway, took her bonnet from the peg, and slipped it over her hair, careful not to disturb the pins that held her unruly curls in place.
Hill helped her with a light shawl, while Mr. Hill assisted Mr. Darcy with his hat and coat.
By the time they stepped outside, Jane and Bingley were far ahead. Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth, I have not yet seen the hermitage. Perhaps we might walk there?”
Elizabeth nodded and gestured toward the path lined with tall hedges and yew trees. In the distance, the stone walls of the hermitage were visible. Mr. Darcy offered his arm, and they walked in silence. After some minutes, he asked, “Are you betrothed to Mr. Collins?”
Elizabeth stopped walking and raised her eyes to study his expression. “Why do you ask such a question, sir? Has something been said in the village that I have not heard?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, ma’am. I only wondered, based on what your mother said a moment ago.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Mr. Darcy, you must believe only half of what comes from my mother’s mouth. She is ever hopeful to have a daughter married.”
He remained silent, watching her.
“You would likely feel the same, sir, if you had five daughters and your estate was entailed away from the female line.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “Yes, ma’am, you are most likely correct.”
They walked on in silence until they reached the hermitage. Then Darcy spoke again. “Miss Elizabeth, you do not seem accepting of an alliance with your cousin.”
“No, I do not aspire to marry my cousin, though he is the heir to Longbourn.”
“Why not?”
“Sir, that is an impertinent question. I shall pretend you did not ask it.”
She took a step, but he did not move. “Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to be impertinent. I only wish to understand. I thought women married first out of prudence, and if they are fortunate, love or respect for their betrothed follows.”
She studied his face for several moments.
His question was sincere. “Sir, every woman would answer differently. For example, my friend Miss Lucas would accept a marriage of convenience. But for myself, I have always wished to marry for love. And if not love, then I must at least be able to respect my husband.”
He regarded her steadily. “And you do not respect your cousin? He seems a respectable, well-looking man. From the attention the young women paid him when we took tea in your mother’s rose garden, it appears they all think so too. Why do you not respect him?”
Elizabeth flushed and refused to look at him. “Mr. Darcy, that is a very personal question, and I barely know you. It is improper for you to ask me.”
He drew a breath. “Forgive me, ma’am. I am only trying to understand how women think and where love fits into the mix. I do not mean to embarrass you.”
She searched his face. “Mr. Darcy, there seems to be a private history shaping your questions. Have you known the caprice of a woman?”
He flushed to his ears, but he answered her. “It is only fair that you question me since I questioned you so personally. Yes, I have…” His eyes looked pained as his gaze flickered on her face.
Elizabeth remained silent. After a long moment, he spoke again. “I never saw it coming.”
Elizabeth pressed his arm briefly. “I am sorry, sir, for your disappointment. I can see you cared for her. And as for your question, in my view, respect is integral. A woman puts herself completely into her husband's power, both spiritually and physically.”
Darcy turned to her. “And you were saying, you do not respect Mr. Collins.”
“No, I do not. He is not a respectable man. He speaks improperly to me, and his inferences make me shudder. In truth, I fear him. I would never willingly place myself under his control in the married state.”
Darcy was silent for a moment. “I am sorry that the heir to your father’s estate is not respectable. It would have been a sweet resolution to the entail.”
She nodded in agreement. “Yes, my father was hopeful when he first laid eyes on him. My cousin presents well, tall, handsome, and courteous. But his character is depraved.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Depraved, ma’am? Do you have evidence of this?”
She flushed. “In truth, I do not. I assumed it from his sundry remarks and the things he says when he teases me. I believe he takes pleasure in raising my ire, sir.”
“So, his poor deportment may be due to a wicked sense of humor and not necessarily because he is a blackguard.”
“Yes, I take your meaning, Mr. Darcy. I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Please forget what I said before.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I will put it out of my mind.” He sighed. “In my own case, I believe the woman I once courted viewed an alliance with me as a marriage of convenience, without any of the warmer sentiments.”
He offered his arm again, and they walked on. “In hindsight, I see she did not feel for me what I felt for her.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but as they walked together, she began to understand this reserved man a little better. He was guarding his heart from every woman, not just women of her circle. And not just from her.
That same afternoon, Mrs. Bennet and her three daughters visited the modiste in Harpenden. Mr. Phillips lent them his carriage, and Aunt Phillips accompanied them. For the first time, Elizabeth and Mary were each allowed a new evening gown. Until now, they had worn only Jane’s hand-me-downs.
Mrs. Phillips turned on her youngest niece. “Young lady,” she said to Mary, “you will wear what we tell you to wear. Look at you, covered from neck to wrist, and that dreadful yellow-brown fabric makes you look sallow. No man will want a wife who looks half-dead.”
Tears sprang to Mary’s eyes. Elizabeth pressed her hand.
“That is right, Mary,” Mrs. Bennet added. “You never listen to me, but you will listen to your aunt. We will not waste this opportunity to find you a husband, but you must do your part. The Harpenden seamstress is well known for dressing a woman to advantage.”
She turned to Elizabeth. “As for you, Lizzy, do not expect me to spend too much on your gown. Mr. Collins already fancies you; there is no need to throw money away. A new gown, modest in cost, will do well enough for you.”
Then to Jane: “My dear, we will spend most of the pin money on you. If you can secure Mr. Bingley’s hand, you will be mistress of Netherfield, and we will be saved from the hedgerows.”
Elizabeth whispered to Mary, “Aunt Phillips does not beat about the bush, does she?” She gave her a little hug. “You are a lovely girl with a fine figure. She means well.”
Jane agreed. “My dear, you would look well in forest green or rose. And we will ask Alice to style your hair like ours. Are you willing to try, Mary?”
Still teary, she nodded.
The modiste quickly found a sapphire silk for Jane, a jonquil gown for Elizabeth, and a dark rose for Mary. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips were satisfied. “That color brings life to your face, Mary,” Mrs. Bennet said with approval.
They visited the large haberdashery, where they purchased gloves, slippers, shoe roses, and ribbons. The ride home was quiet, each woman except Elizabeth contented with the day’s work.
That night, as Elizabeth prepared for bed, Jane tapped on her door and entered.
“What is it, Lizzy? You hardly touched your dinner.”
Elizabeth set down her brush. “Oh, Jane, the last thing I want is to attract Mr. Collins’s attention.”
Jane laid an arm around her shoulders. “Perhaps one of Mr. Bingley’s friends will take a liking to you, Lizzy, and carry you away from here.”
Elizabeth sighed. “My knight in shining armor. How I long for those days when we believed in fairy tales. The reality is dreadful, Jane. To marry for convenience, without love, and to discover that the man is not even respectable, is a horrible fate.”
Elizabeth began to weep, and the two sisters sat on the edge of the bed, one weeping over her fate, the other trying to offer comfort where there was none.