Chapter 9 The Netherfield Ball #3
He offered her a glass of wine, and she drank.
Her breathing slowed, but she no longer wished to speak with him.
His words repulsed her so much that she felt she might be ill.
She longed to get away and never see him again.
She raised her eyes and scanned the room.
Her father was watching her, as was Mr. Darcy. She struggled to comport herself.
“Elizabeth. Take another drink. You are very pale.” Mr. Collins pressed the wine glass to her again.
He watched her and decided to stop speaking lest he drive her to flee.
He had no experience with virgins. Elizabeth looked like a ripe peach, waiting to be picked and savored, and he had not considered how na?ve and inexperienced she was in such matters.
How had he behaved like such a fool? Had he ruined his chances with her?
The music started up again, and the people around them were beginning to return to the floor. Elizabeth still looked pale. Her father approached. He looked at his daughter and then at Collins.
“Lizzy, drink a little more wine, dear. You look a little green.”
Elizabeth took another swallow.
“Shall I send you home in the carriage, my girl?”
Elizabeth stood. “No, Papa, I will be myself again, just give me a moment.”
He took her hand and threaded it into his arm. “Come, my dear. Come sit with me for a few minutes while your color returns.”
They moved toward the ballroom. “Who is your next partner?”
She looked at her card. “Jamie.”
“He is a good dancer and a childhood friend. You will do well enough with him, my dear.”
With each step away from Mr. Collins, Elizabeth felt stronger.
They reached the ballroom and stood just inside against the wall.
James Goulding approached her. Compared to Mr. Collins, Jamie looked like an innocent boy.
She felt safe with him, relaxed, happy. By the end of the dance, she was herself again.
It was midnight, and the ball would soon draw to a close. Mr. Robinson returned Elizabeth to her sister’s side and then left to find his next partner.
“You look like you are enjoying yourself, Lizzy.”
“Oh Jane, it has been marvelous. Mr. Bingley’s friends are such fine gentlemen.”
Both sisters turned when Miss Bingley uttered a shrill cackle. Elizabeth wondered if the woman had had too much punch. Caroline shot her a sly look.
“Mr. Darcy, you really must watch your tongue, sir. I know a certain young Hertfordshire woman would take offense if she knew what you thought about her reputed beauty.”
Jane took Elizabeth’s hand and whispered, “Just ignore her, Lizzy. I believe she is in her cups.”
Elizabeth squeezed her hand in reply while looking at Miss Bingley in mortification. The woman looked slyly at Mr. Darcy again and then at Elizabeth. Three of Mr. Bingley’s London guests were present and waiting curiously to hear the quip.
Caroline sniggered. “Mr. Darcy said, ‘Elizabeth, a beauty? I should as soon call her mother a wit.’”
The jest fell flat. None of the gentlemen laughed.
Before anyone could speak, Elizabeth stepped forward.
She was angry. Angrier than she had ever been in a public setting.
Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. She shot Caroline a feral grin that did not reach her eyes, then looked deliberately at Mr. Darcy, her eyes glittering.
“So true, Miss Bingley. I fear Mr. Darcy’s tongue failed him once again. My mother is the reputed beauty, and I am the wit.” She forced a giggle, then laughed with genuine amusement when she saw Caroline’s face deflate.
The men laughed with her. Mr. Grayson stepped up. “Miss Elizabeth, our first dance was so delightful, I hope you will honor me again. May I have this dance?”
She smiled brightly at him, grateful for the escape. He was dazzled. She placed her hand on his arm, and they bantered all the way to the floor. She kept him amused and chuckling throughout the set, though it cost her dearly to maintain the pretense.
When the dance finally ended, she asked to be escorted to her father, then stood quietly next to Mr. Bennet while he chatted with Mr. Goulding and Mr. Watson.
She struggled to hold herself poised and smiling, while deep inside, she felt shattered and broken.
She told herself she must not think of Caroline’s words or she would lose the battle against the tears that threatened.
Several minutes later, still rattled, she decided to step out to find a private place in which to compose herself.
She left the ballroom and wandered down the hall, then entered the library.
Card tables were set up, but the room was empty.
She walked to the nearest table, picked up an unopened box of cards, and stared at it without comprehension.
Caroline had humiliated her again, but this insult cut deeper.
She had begun to think well of Mr. Darcy, even trust him, yet this proved how mistaken she had been.
He must hold her and her mother in contempt, or why else speak so slightingly of them?
To be weighed and measured like a piece of merchandise in a shop.
What must his elegant London acquaintances think?
And on how many other occasions had he laughed at her behind her back?
Tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks.
Why was her life so difficult? Mamma had habitually belittled her, no matter who was present.
Nicholas had abandoned her. She remembered how broken he had been, how they both had wept.
And then he had bidden her goodbye. She was certain he had loved her, yet he had left her behind.
Mr. Collins had treated her as if she were a mistress, and now Mr. Darcy had mocked her appearance, her very self.
She covered her face with both hands and wept.
There must be something so fundamentally wrong with her that no decent man would choose her.
She did not hear the footsteps approach her from behind until it was too late. A pair of hands settled gently on her upper arms.
“Elizabeth, that woman is a cat. You must not believe anything she says. She is jealous, and her only wish is to hurt you.”
More footsteps sounded. “Lizzy, what are you doing alone in the arms of a man?”
Blood drained from her face. She reached out to the table to steady herself. Sir William Lucas stood at the door.
“What is the meaning of this, young lady?”
Another set of footsteps followed. She looked up. “Papa!”
She ran to her father and buried her face in his shoulder.
“Lizzy, my dear. What are you doing in this room alone with your cousin?”
Elizabeth was sobbing. Mr. Collins spoke. “Sir, I heard Miss Bingley insult my cousin. I saw that Elizabeth was distressed and followed her here to offer comfort.”
Sir William spoke sharply. “Young man, surely you know it is improper to be alone with a single young woman in a room? The only mitigating factor is that the door was open when I arrived, but you had your arms around her when I walked in.”
He was outraged. “You have compromised this young woman, and now you must make it right.”
Elizabeth could bear no more. She slipped to the floor in a dead faint.
When she awoke, her father was kneeling beside her.
“Papa.”
“Do not speak, Elizabeth. I am here. You are safe.”
She reached for his hand.
“My dear, are you able to stand?”
Sir William was still droning on. “Thomas, you know there is no other way out except that Lizzy marry this cousin of yours. She has been compromised. I saw his hands on her in this very room.”
Another set of footsteps entered.
“Elizabeth!”
Mr. Darcy knelt beside her. “Elizabeth, are you well? Speak to me.”
She opened her eyes. His face hovered over hers, his brow furrowed in concern.
“What happened here?”
Sir William supplied the tale. “I walked into this room and found Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth alone. He had his arms around her. And now she is compromised, and they must marry.”
Darcy’s voice was low. “Elizabeth, sit up. I will help you to a couch.”
His voice was reassuring, bracing. She sat up.
“Very good. Now let me help you to your feet. Hold my arm for support.”
He helped her to her feet and led her to a couch. Sir William continued to talk.
“Thomas, I insist. This will not go unpunished. They must be married at once to save her good name.”
Darcy leaned toward Elizabeth. “Close your eyes if it helps you feel better while I take care of this business.”
He rose and walked up to Sir William until he stood within a foot of the man’s face.
“You will stop sermonizing now, sir. We all know that Miss Elizabeth has not been compromised. There has not been enough time. And Mr. Collins is a respectable man. He is a rector for God’s sake.”
Sir William fell silent. Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet.
“Sir, I have not yet had the opportunity to speak with you, but Miss Elizabeth and I are betrothed; therefore, she cannot marry another man. She is promised to me.”
Elizabeth was grateful she was already seated, for the room began to spin, she felt sick, and then everything went black as she fainted again.
The three men stood in tense silence, each studying the other. Darcy turned first to the blustering elder gentleman. His voice was low and sharp.
“Sir William, I will make myself perfectly clear. If you breathe one word, one whisper, about my betrothed in the same sentence with the word ‘compromise,’ I will take you to court for defamation of character. Do you understand me, sir?”
The portly man bobbed his head in alarm. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I understand completely. I will not breathe a word about what I saw in this room tonight.”
Darcy stepped nearer, his tone hardening as he looked down his nose at the man. “What exactly did you see, sir?”
The man gasped. “I saw Mr. Collins comforting his cousin after an insult.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Not good enough. Try again.”
Sir William hesitated. “Again? I do not understand what you are asking, Mr. Darcy.”