Chapter 7
Elizabeth rolled her eyes to Jane, who in turn covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. Mrs. Bennet had been going on and on for the last hour about Netherfield’s new tenant, a Mr. Bingley from somewhere in the north of England.
Mr. Bennet had gone to visit him, but when Mr. Bingley returned the call, the ladies had been out.
Only Lydia had been home, watching from the window, and she told her sisters that he was an attractive man who rode a black horse and wore a blue coat.
Mrs. Bennet had not stopped speaking of it since.
“Do you suppose he will be at the assembly tomorrow?” asked Kitty.
“I do not see why not! It would be terribly unneighborly of him not to show himself,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“He may be a private sort, Mama,” added Jane. “We should not judge a person we do not know.”
Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips. “I am certain he will be there. You must all look your best. Jane, Lizzy can help you add new lace to your blue gown and Lydia can embroider more flowers along the hem.”
Lydia looked up in surprise. “What? Why do I have to do it? Jane’s stitches are neater than mine.”
“Because Jane will be preparing for the assembly! You are staying home, so you have more time to assist your sisters.”
Lydia crossed her arms and slumped back into the chaise. She was trying to improve herself, but her mother did make it difficult sometimes.
“Is your gown ready for tomorrow, Kitty?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes. Everything fits perfectly, and Sarah practiced a new style for my hair already.”
“Oh that sounds lovely!” said Jane. “I cannot wait to see it.”
Now that Mrs. Bennet was off the topic of Mr. Bingley and onto the more agreeable subject of gowns and trims, her daughters breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Kitty was attending an assembly for the first time tomorrow.
She was now seventeen and it was time to come out.
Mary had come out in simple fashion last year, asking her mother not to host a party or force her into anything overly social.
She had requested she stay home with Lydia the next night as well, and as Mrs. Bennet was preoccupied with her other daughters, she agreed.
Kitty could not understand Mary. To not want a fuss for her come out! And to not want to dance at every opportunity? It was beyond comprehension. Kitty would have liked a grand ball if it were possible. Alas, she would settle for the local assembly.
As they prepared for the assembly the next day, Elizabeth’s mark began to feel warm and parts of it tingled.
She thought it was the way she was moving, or perhaps her stay was digging into her ribs, but even in nothing but a chemise and wrapper, the burning sensation continued.
She had no idea what it meant, but after what had happened with Lydia’s mark, and how large and unusual her own was, she had come to the conclusion that the Bennet sisters’ soul marks simply did not behave the way marks usually did and that was all there was to it.
“Lizzy! Hurry and dress! We mustn’t be late!”
Elizabeth sighed at her mother’s shrill voice, then stepped into her gown. It was high enough in the back that only a tiny sliver of her soul mark showed. It would be easy to miss unless one was looking for it.
Jane’s mark was more difficult to conceal, on the back of her neck as it was.
She had a few curls hanging down that covered it partially, but it was still visible to anyone who was looking.
It had not escaped the sisters’ notice—nor Mrs. Bennet’s—that Mr. Bingley had the correct initial for Jane’s mark.
They did not know his given name yet, but Jane looked nervous.
“All will be well, Jane. I know it,” said Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Lizzy. There is no use wondering until we know. It is either him or it is not.”
“That is a very sanguine approach. I applaud you.”
“Girls! Come downstairs!” Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice echoed up the stairs.
Elizabeth sighed and pinched her cheeks. She would not think about the mysterious Mr. Bingley or his party of strangers. Tonight was Kitty’s first assembly and she deserved her sisters’ attention. Besides, Jane was nervous enough for both of them.
The assembly room was a crush. Every family they knew in Meryton was there as well as some from further afield. The local tradesmen who could afford a ticket were also in attendance with their families.
Kitty was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Are you nervous?” Elizabeth whispered to her sister.
Kitty turned to her with wide eyes. “No. Should I be?”
“No, not at all! Nearly everyone here is known to you, at least by sight, and you have your family about you. All will be well.”
Kitty nodded and looked about the room with a bright smile. She would open the dance with her father, and her Uncle Phillips had requested she save the last dance for him. For the rest of her dances, she faced the daunting task of finding partners.
This was where having a social mother and two well-liked elder sisters was a distinct advantage. Within ten minutes of them arriving, every man present knew it was Kitty’s first assembly and her dance card was filled.
“Well, Kitty, your first ball appears to be a success,” commented her aunt Phillips after the first dance.
“And why wouldn’t it be?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “These young men are lucky to be dancing with her!”
“I was only saying her evening is filled with—”
Mr. Bennet interrupted. “Now ladies, let us not take the attention away from Kitty. This is her night after all.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed and lifted her nose in the air and her sister flounced off to her friends.
Just as the second set was starting, there was a commotion at the door. Everyone turned to see the party from Netherfield striding in. There were three gentlemen and two ladies, a far cry from the numbers which had been circulating, and the entire group looked rather too pleased with themselves.
Sir William Lucas rushed over to greet them, loudly crying, “Mr. Bingley! Welcome to our assembly!”
Soon enough, Sir William was taking Mr. Bingley around the room, introducing him to all and sundry. Mrs. Bennet quickly gathered her daughters like chicks to a hen and placed them in order of seniority.
“This is Mr. Thomas Bennet of Longbourn,” intoned Sir William.
Elizabeth listened with half an ear as he went down the family line, bobbing a curtsey when her name came up. What was the man’s given name? Oh, why did he not just say it already?
“Mr. Charles Bingley.” That was all Elizabeth needed to hear.
CB! His initials were CB! Now if only his middle name were Harold or Henry or Hezekiah.
Jane grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, squeezing tightly.
When Mr. Bingley asked Jane for the next set, Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand in return.
She had not even heard the rest of the conversation, and she had completely missed the name of Mr. Bingley’s companion.
This could be him! Jane’s soulmate! How could anyone focus on such a night?
“Did you hear that, Darcy?” asked Bingley in an excited whisper.
“Yes, tonight is Miss Catherine’s first assembly. It would be polite to ask her to dance.”
“Not that! Jane! Her given name is Jane! JB!” He looked at Darcy expectantly until the other man acknowledged the wonder of meeting a woman with the initials JB.
“Have you not met a great many women named Jane? It is not an uncommon name.”
“Yes, but not with the last name Bennet and in possession of a mark.”
“How do you know she is marked?” asked Darcy.
“It is common knowledge in the town,” answered Bingley, color tinging his cheeks.
Hmm. Darcy imagined he knew exactly how Bingley knew.
He had probably set his valet to question the local servants on the ladies of the neighborhood.
Most women in the ton were not marked, so it was not unreasonable to think his lady love might be country gentry.
It would not be the step up Darcy had hoped for his friend, but it would be better than a servant.
“I see,” said Darcy.
“I shall ask her when we dance.”
“Bingley! You cannot ask a woman about her mark. It is unseemly. Not to mention entirely too personal for a public ballroom.”
“It may be on display. Many ladies’ marks are,” he said, ignoring Darcy’s words.
“Did you see it?”
“No, but I was hardly looking for it. I could not do such a thing in front of her father!”
Darcy sighed. “Of course not. You could look discreetly while you dance. Discreetly, Bingley,” he added when his friend looked entirely too excited.
“She is an angel, Darcy. Look at her! Have you ever seen such a beautiful face?”
Darcy could admit she was pretty enough. He was not blind and he knew what was considered attractive. But he did not feel attraction, not like an unmarked man would. “I suppose she is pretty.”
“Ha! You only say that because you are marked yourself. You cannot truly see her.”
“That is all the better for you.”
“It must be her, Darcy. I have never found a woman so lovely.”
“You could ask her father, you know. Save yourself all this wondering. It is quite an acceptable question. Better than involving the lady and facing an embarrassing situation if you are wrong.”
“Yes, yes,” said Bingley absently. “I should speak to her father. Wonderful idea, Darcy!”
Darcy shook his head, certain his friend had not really understood what he was saying.
When Bingley led Jane Bennet to the floor for their set, every eye in the assembly hall was on them. The entire town knew Jane was marked, and that the initials on her mark were CHB. A man named Charles Bingley could not possibly come into the area without a great deal of scrutiny.
They faced one another on the line and the musicians began to play. They danced across from one another for a few minutes, neither speaking, each staring into the other’s eyes as if in a trance. Mrs. Bennet could not stop thumping her husband’s arm, whispering, “Look! Look at them!”