Chapter 1.6
The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female in the Bennet family.
Mrs Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and she was particularly flattered.
Jane pictured herself having a happy evening in the society of her two friends and the attentions of their brother.
The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia was as great as for any other event of that kind, and even Mary could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it.
Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with a certain gentleman and of seeing a confirmation of everything she believed in both Mr Darcy’s and Mr Wickham’s looks and behaviour.
The time spent with both gentlemen and the discussion she had had with her father the previous day had been most enlightening for her.
She could see very clearly now that, even if Mr Wickham’s story was—totally or partially—true, his motive in addressing her and narrating it to her on their second meeting was not at all honourable, and she had been a simpleton to accept such an intimate conversation with him.
She prepared herself for the ball with extra care, and she was delighted to see that the gown she had ordered—a cream-coloured one—was flattering to her figure.
Annie, her maid, had arranged her hair masterfully with small, white flowers plaited into it, leaving a few heavy curls of her dark hair to dance freely on her nape.
Even her mother complimented her, and Mr Collins was more attentive to her than ever, obsessively repeating how anxious he was to have the pleasure of their first set together.
By the time of their departure for Netherfield, the whole Bennet family was exhausted from enthusiasm and agitation, but none more so than Mr Bennet, whose only hope was for as quiet and peaceful an evening as was possible at a ball.
Even more, he seriously considered feigning a sudden headache in order to remain at home, but the prospect of a noisy fight with Mrs Bennet was even more appalling, and he finally resigned himself to the task and entered the carriage.
∞∞∞
Darcy was dressed long before the first guests appeared but did not descend to the ballroom in order to avoid Miss Bingley as long as possible. He knew he would have to dance with her eventually, but he would not ask her for the first set; he refused to pay her that compliment.
He smiled to himself at the boyish eagerness with which he was waiting to see Elizabeth again, hear her voice, and enjoy her sparkling eyes. He was certain he had never before awaited a ball with such happy anticipation. Well, truth be told, it is not the ball that I am waiting for.
After a month of inner torment and struggle against his own feelings, Darcy had at last surrendered to what he felt and what he wanted.
The result was an amazing sense of peace—a joy and liveliness long forgotten.
He remained wholly aware of the considerations against her family—chiefly the lack of decorum and propriety in the youngest girls and their mother—but he was relieved that at least one of her parents was quite to his liking.
He knew Mrs Bennet to be on a desperate quest for rich gentlemen for her daughters, and he was pleased to discover Mr Bennet’s differing opinion on the matter.
The indubitable proof had been that gentleman’s reaction when he discovered the truth about the time his daughter had spent alone with Darcy in the cottage.
Most fathers—those with greater wealth, connexions and positions—would have asked him immediately to marry the lady for less compromising situations.
Mr Bennet, however, had merely expressed his hopes that such a sacrifice would not be necessary, relinquishing the prospect of future wealth far above his present situation.
In doing so, he had stated clearly that his second daughter’s well-being and happiness were his main concern.
Darcy could not help wondering—and a smile spread over his face at the thought—how Mrs Bennet would react if she knew the particulars of the situation.
He could well imagine himself shackled and married the following day.
Considering that the next step would be the wedding night, I would not mind. I could bear the sacrifice well enough.
With such thoughts in his mind, he stared from the window at every carriage; finally, his wait ended as he recognised the Bennets among the first guests arriving.
Elizabeth descended from a carriage and, as if attracted by a spell, looked up and saw him at the window. His breathing stopped and then his heart beat wildly when he saw her smile tentatively at him. Oblivious to all others, he hurried downstairs to greet her.
∞∞∞
When they reached Netherfield, Elizabeth’s impatience and eagerness to see Mr Darcy made her feel ashamed of her lack of restraint.
His appearance at the window and the smile directed at her filled her heart with an overwhelming exultation and an even more pleasurable anticipation of the night’s events.
Only a moment later, she saw him disappear and hoped—knew—he would come to meet her.
The whole family entered the main hall, greeted with a polite and apparently kind welcome by Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Elizabeth passed by them, smiling politely but coldly. She could still hear Mr Collins’s compliments on their elegance when a well-known voice startled her.
“Miss Bennet, what a pleasure! You look wonderful tonight!”
“Thank you, Mr Wickham. You are very kind.”
She was so disappointed that she could not hide the bitterness in her voice.
“May I accompany you inside, Miss Bennet?”
“In fact, I—”
“Are you waiting for someone specific?”
“No, indeed—only for my family.”
“I just saw them entering, so shall we?”
She had no other choice than to accept his arm and walk into the ballroom. As she feared, Mr Darcy appeared in the doorway, instantly checking his rush to her side and restraining his obvious desire to approach her.
He greeted her properly and politely, bowing to her, and Elizabeth answered elegantly with a timid smile, her eyes searching his face with worry. She was mortified at the thought that he would be angry at seeing her with Mr Wickham and that the unfortunate event would spoil their evening.
However, Darcy had learned his lesson from the previous day.
He knew her preferences well enough to keep his jealousy and displeasure under control.
He felt tempted to pull Wickham away from her—or even to order the servants to throw him out—but such a conflict would certainly embarrass her and possibly ruin the time they could delightfully spend together.
That was a prospect he rejected utterly.
Nothing would come between them that night; it was a promise he made to himself, sealed by a barely noticeable smile meant only for Elizabeth.
Her lips turned up slightly in response, proving to him that she understood his silent assurance.
He did not speak to or even look at Wickham, but addressed Elizabeth directly. “I just met Mr Bingley and your sister, and they asked me to look after you and see that you are well.”
Her smile grew and brightened her countenance.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy, I am perfectly well. Mr Wickham has very kindly offered to escort me inside.”
“Then I shall meet you again later. Now, if you will excuse me…”
He departed without haste, and a moment later Mr Wickham turned to her, smiling ironically. “I notice that Mr Darcy has become quite a favourite of yours lately. I was surprised to see some members of your family having amiable rapport with him.”
“You are correct, sir. Mr Darcy seems to be the kind of man who improves on better acquaintance. Quite different from others, I might say.”
Wickham did not quite know how to respond to her statement.
Something in her countenance alarmed him, and he was almost relieved when Elizabeth excused herself to talk with Charlotte Lucas, allowing him time to think on what he should do with this unexpected development.
Slightly afraid of Darcy’s reaction, he had decided to attend the ball regardless, confident that his old acquaintance would do nothing to provoke a scandal in his host’s home.
Moreover, Wickham was certain he had a far better position than Darcy in the neighbours’ esteem—especially in the Bennets’ opinion—but his worry grew as he came to understand he had been wrong in his assumptions.
He had noticed on the previous day that his presence near Miss Elizabeth was annoying Darcy though he could not guess why.
Perhaps Darcy was a friend of Mr Bennet.
However, annoying Darcy was enough of a reason for him to defy prudence.
Darcy took a glass of wine as he stared at Elizabeth.
She looked beautiful! Her gown faithfully followed the curves of her body with every move.
The low neckline revealed the creamy skin of her long neck; her only jewel—a garnet cross necklace—drew his gaze obsessively to that spot.
She is more beautiful than I ever saw her before… in company.
He hid his smile behind the glass, afraid someone would guess the improper thoughts aroused by his recollection of their precious moments spent alone together with only the rain for company.
He was almost ashamed of the wanton desire he had for her, barely within control, but his sense of guilt was somehow diminished by the certainty that his intentions towards her were nothing but honourable.
He wanted much from her—he wanted everything from her—but he desired nothing that she was not willing to give him.