Chapter 6 #5
Mr. Barlow offered his arm, and he and Elizabeth preceded the Gardiners into the grand ballroom.
Though she had seen it many times before, Elizabeth was awestruck by the transformation.
Candles glowed from the chandeliers above and from the sconces lined along two of the walls.
Flames licked the edges of the grand marble fireplaces, situated across from one another at the centre of the room.
As a result, though it was January, the room was quite warm, and as it began to fill with more and more guests, it became almost too much so for Elizabeth in her wool gown.
The decorations in the entryway and outer hall had been impressive but were nothing compared to those adorning the room.
Holly, pine boughs, mistletoe and ivy filled the space with bursts of green.
The boughs and laurel wreaths all had bows and ribbons of red, white and silver.
Together, the smell of the greenery, the bright colours and twinkling lights created a magical atmosphere.
“I see the Robertsons are here,” Mr. Gardiner said as the foursome turned, having made their way to a table filled with meats and fruits alongside drinks. Mr. Barlow handed Elizabeth one of the crystal glasses, and she eagerly took a sip.
“Who are the Robertsons?” Elizabeth asked, looking to the family in question, composed of a handsome older couple and what appeared to be two sons who she guessed were Darcy’s age or possibly a little younger.
“They hold Pemberley’s largest tenancy. Their farm is almost five hundred acres, I believe,” Mr. Gardiner answered.
“Indeed, Robertson is an excellent farmer, and Darcy and myself learned much from him when we took over our own estates. Both of our fathers had been somewhat reluctant to institute any of the newer farming or harvesting techniques and equipment, but Robertson never met an innovation he didn’t like.
Never afraid to try new things. If they didn’t work, he simply moved on, and so we benefited from his successes and failures—he generously shared both. ”
Elizabeth thought about this. Her father was younger than Mr. Barlow and Mr. Darcy and likely this Mr. Robertson too, but he sounded more like the men of the previous generation.
Though with him it was less an aversion to new things than to exertion of any kind.
Newer equipment and practises required some form of effort beyond the perfunctory, and Mr. Bennet preferred not to exert himself.
She loved her father but often wished he were different in this regard.
“I should like to meet them, if you would introduce us,” Elizabeth said. “I am thankful that my first formal event at Pemberley is one with people from the village and Pemberley’s tenants.”
“I am sure the Robertsons would be glad to meet you,” Mrs. Gardiner said, indicating they should make their way over to where that family stood, beside the quartet strumming quietly.
“And as to the guests—it is a Twelfth Night tradition begun, I believe, by Mr. Darcy’s grandfather.
Pemberley hosts all of the principal families from the different parts of our little society—the shop owners, the tenants and the nearby estates. ”
Mr. Gardiner introduced her to the Mr. and Mrs. Robertson and their sons – Edmund and John. A few minutes of pleasant conversation followed. However, just as it veered towards crops and harvests as Elizabeth had hoped it might, the music changed.
“There will be a few dances before the meal is served,” Mr. Barlow explained to Elizabeth.
“If you will excuse us,” he said to the Robertsons.
“I have the privilege of this young lady’s first dance.
” As she allowed herself to be escorted away, Elizabeth hoped she wasn’t imagining the look of disappointment on John Robertson’s face.
Mr. Darcy strode to the centre of the floor with Mrs. Woodhouse, a widow from an estate on the edge of Derbyshire.
Darcy and Georgiana came to stand next to them, and the musicians began a lively country tune.
After a minute, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth and Mr. Barlow and several other couples joined in.
As Mr. Barlow partnered Elizabeth through the steps and turns, she caught glimpses of the others smiling, candlelight shining in their eyes.
Laughter floated in and around the music.
Darcy was looking down at Georgiana with affection, smiling with his eyes, if not his mouth.
The widow Woodhouse appeared absolutely delighted at whatever Mr. Darcy was saying to her.
Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle were clearly having a grand time.
They all twirled around the large dance floor—making a charming scene she wouldn’t soon forget.
Though she was caught in the fun and spectacle, Elizabeth was proud she missed only a few steps, which her partner covered well.
When the final chords were struck, Elizabeth clapped along with the others, breathless and smiling.
Mr. Barlow escorted her to the punch bowl.
They were met there by Darcy and Georgiana and then Mr. Darcy as well.
“I am off to my exile—I may watch from the upstairs landing if Miss Baxter is feeling generous. Before I go, I must tell you, Lizzy, you are a wonderful dancer,” Georgiana enthused. “You as well, Mr. Barlow. Though I have seen you dance before.”
It was clear her friend thought she meant to abandon her and was not at all put out. Elizabeth had to admit she was tempted. She did love to dance, and an atmosphere like Pemberley’s ballroom, even for this less formal affair, was a sight she knew she would not soon experience again.
“I fear that, like drawing and playing, I will always be outdone by your superior skills in dancing, my dear. But I thank you for the compliment. I have not had much practice. Though Longbourn hosts a Twelfth Night celebration, it is not quite as grand as this and does not involve dancing.”
“You must learn to accept a compliment, Miss Lizzy,” Mr. Darcy admonished. “You and Georgiana both acquitted yourselves quite well.”
“Yes, Lizzy, and what of the three assemblies you have attended since your come-out?” Georgiana pressed with a conspiratorial grin. “You told me you danced several dances on those occasions.”
“It is true,” Mr. Gardiner said as he and his wife joined the group. “I am told Lizzy is in high demand as a dance partner at the Meryton assemblies.”
“We must hear more about these gentlemen, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy teased.
“Uncle, that is not true. I am a passable dancer and not one that is at all sought after,” Elizabeth insisted, ignoring Darcy for the time being and thinking desperately for some way to change the conversation.
She did not want Darcy to hear about the country assemblies where she was thrust into company at an age he must deem too young and where she danced with gentlemen he might not approve of.
Moreover, being completely uncertain how she felt about it made it hard for her to know how to turn it all into a jest as she normally would.
She enjoyed the attention at the assemblies, but somehow felt she should not.
She loved to dance, but feared that meant something in her character was wanting.
Why should dancing bring her more joy than the more sedate pursuits ladies enjoyed, such as needlework or drawing or even the pianoforte?
The first two bored her and the third she did enjoy, but if she had to choose a way to experience music, dancing was her preference.
“I hope you will forgive me for contradicting you in front of all your friends, Miss Elizabeth, when I seek your hand for the next dance?”
John Robertson had apparently arrived at the small cluster of companions along with the Gardiners.
Elizabeth had failed to notice. His request pleased her, but for all the reasons her mind had just canvassed, her very enthusiasm caused her to feel an uncomfortable sort of trepidation.
John was handsome, and the thought of standing across from him for half an hour, leaping and stepping, hands touching, thrilled her.
But he was not Darcy. It was wrong for her to feel that kind of eager anticipation.
For her heart to race and mind to whirl at the thought of it.
“You are too kind, Master Robertson,” she said with a smile she hoped would alleviate any harm her words might inflict. “I had, however, planned to spend the remainder of the evening with Miss Darcy, who is to retire presently. Therefore, I must decline, but thank you for the compliment.”
Though Georgiana looked ready to contradict her, Elizabeth linked their arms and made to move them towards the doors.
“I understand,” he said with a broad smile.
He reached for her hand, and she gave it.
He pressed a light kiss on it. When he released it, she was confused.
Why did it please her so? It was not a novel experience to have her gloved hand kissed.
And though the rush of feelings was not the same as when Darcy was near, it was more than she had experienced with any other gentleman previously.
And that was before he added, “You are clearly a good friend, and I praise you for it. I hope we might have another opportunity when you return for the summer.”