Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
There is little I dread more than this wretched assembly save my return to London society this winter.
However, as she had months to prepare herself for the latter and only hours to become ready for the former, the former took precedence in Elizabeth’s mind. Already, she could feel her anxiety mounting, and as she sat looking in the glass above her vanity, she gave herself a bracing scold.
“Your son needs a father, and you need a husband. You will not find one by reading in your library or wandering the fields of Hertfordshire! If you cannot do this, then you might as well resign yourself to an arranged match. If you wish to find a husband on your own, you must go out, you must dance, and you must enchant. This assembly will be an ideal place to practise those arts. At least for this night, you will be among friends you have known your entire life—surely, a dance or two is not impossible.”
Not for the first time, she keenly felt how she despised those who had taken her darling husband from her. Never had she thought she would again be single, alone, and sitting among the young maidens of society, all them seeking a “good match” such as it was.
How could anyone possibly be a suitable match for her? Henry had been everything that was desirable, amiable, loving, kind, and intelligent! No one could ever hope to match him.
For a moment, she allowed herself to become lost in bittersweet recollection.
We were in Italy, strolling the streets of Florence and seeing sights such as I never could have imagined only months prior.
Henry delighted in my wonder, and he matched my eagerness to see and do all that could be seen and done.
The Italians are much less reserved in expressions of feeling and emotion than the English, and thus did Henry and I feel quite at ease walking hand in hand on the street, indulging in a kiss whenever we wished, and giving all appearance of the young lovers we were.
Henry made a rather bawdy comment to me—he did delight in shocking me—but my maidenly sensibilities had waned dramatically over the days in Italy, and so I did not blush but returned a rather bawdy comment of my own.
He swept me off my feet in delight, laughing loudly and twirling me around in a close embrace, proclaiming, “Lizzy, I shall love and adore you until the day I die!” We quickly turned on our heels, intent on returning to the carriage and the house, both of us eager to make our bawdy remarks a reality.
Lost in her memory, Elizabeth spoke aloud. “…love and adore you until the day I die? That day certainly came far sooner than either of us could have ever foreseen in even the very worst of our dreams.” With a start, she recalled herself to the present and saw the tears in her eyes.
“This is not helping!” Elizabeth informed her reflection. I must not be caught in melancholy right before this assembly. I must ready myself, I must go, and I must dance. Surely, this first time out will be the worst.
Meryton society had arrived en masse to the assembly. The townsfolk were always eager for a gathering of this sort, but on this occasion, there were two additions to the party that raised interest even further.
The first was the appearance of Miss Elizabeth, who had rarely been seen in society for the past two years.
Miss Elizabeth was always well regarded, and although the townspeople did not speak of it, they were all saddened by what had happened to her.
Moreover, hidden or not, she was one of their own who had become an exalted personage, the only countess many of them had ever seen, much less known.
All were eager to spend time in her presence.
Elizabeth placed a determined smile on her face, resolved to appear happy as she greeted each one.
The second and still more enlivening event was the appearance of the new occupants of Netherfield Park. Those who had already been introduced looked forward to becoming more intimate, and those without an introduction hoped to be so gratified.
By the buzz throughout the hall, Elizabeth supposed that Mr Bingley and his party had already arrived, and so they had.
She saw them standing by the refreshment table, assuming rightly that the blond man wearing a blue coat and an expression of eager enthusiasm on his countenance was Mr Bingley himself.
Miss Charlotte Lucas, a dear friend of the Bennet girls, removed herself from her group and came over to see Elizabeth and Jane. She smiled encouragingly at Elizabeth as she greeted the sisters. “Dear Eliza, how well you look this night.”
“Shall I make it through without causing any embarrassment?” Elizabeth laughed weakly.
“Of course you will,” Charlotte spoke soothingly. “You will have a dance or two; it will be just like old times.”
Elizabeth gave a little doubtful shrug, then looked away, her friend’s kind solicitude bringing her emotions a little too close to the surface for comfort.
Charlotte decided to change the topic. “Have you met the Netherfield party?” On their negative reply, she identified them all.
One of the gentlemen, a Mr Hurst, she reported to be married to Bingley’s elder sister, Louisa, a small and rather plain woman who had evidently wished to compensate for her rather colourless demeanour by an excess of jewellery and ornaments.
The younger of the two sisters was identified as Miss Caroline Bingley, who was pretty enough and dressed fashionably, if a bit ostentatiously for a simple country assembly.
“And the taller gentleman? Do you know him?”
“He is Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire, and one of Mr Bingley’s oldest and dearest friends. He comes from an old and respected family, and”—she lowered her voice—“worth ten thousand a year, maybe more.”
Even before Charlotte’s report of Mr Darcy, Elizabeth had begun to look at him, a queer fluttery feeling arising in her chest for reasons she could not quite understand.
He was undeniably handsome, tall with a fine, muscular figure and regal bearing.
He had thick, dark, curly hair, and his dress was impeccable.
Not a dandy, but his clothing was fashionable and well made.
Very handsome indeed. The thought made her both intrigued and ashamed, as though she betrayed her husband’s memory. Her shame was not enough to stop her, however, and she looked at him again, searching her mind to recall whether his name had been on Lord Matlock’s list.
He had little interest in dancing, choosing instead to walk about the room looking unhappy. You and I are both not pleased with the evening. What makes you so unhappy to be here? Then again, you might wonder the same of me.
Mrs Bennet joined them at the same time, as did Charlotte’s father, Sir William Lucas.
“Mr Bingley has requested an introduction.” Sir William glanced questioningly at Elizabeth. “If you would be so obliging?”
Elizabeth replied, “We would be honoured,” at the same time her mother said, “If we must. They are to be our neighbours after all.” Elizabeth elbowed her.
Mr Darcy did not accompany his friend to be introduced, giving Elizabeth the first indication that he considered himself above this society.
Mr Bingley proved amiable and kind, and he immediately solicited Jane for a dance.
One glance at her sister’s blushing face told Elizabeth how pleased Jane was with his request, and she smothered a smile.
As Jane went off with Mr Bingley, Elizabeth wandered through the hall, greeting her friends and relations with great pleasure. She had just received a cup of punch from young Mr Goulding when her mother immediately beckoned her back to her side.
“Lizzy? Lizzy! Come here this instant, child!” Mrs Bennet hissed loudly. Elizabeth joined her quickly. “Speak to Jane, and make sure she knows she is not to encourage this Bingley person.”
“Mama, he seems a very amiable gentleman, and Jane is having a nice time dancing with him.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake! I suppose you would well like to see her settle for some tradesman, but I assure you, it will not do. ’Tis best to stop it now before it goes any further.”
“Mama, lower your voice. Mr Bingley or his party might hear you.” Elizabeth flushed.
“I do not care a bit if they do! Best they know now their pretensions will be discouraged in this quarter.”
“Yes, Mama, I shall speak to her when their dance is ended.” By this time, Elizabeth would have agreed to nearly anything to get her mother to stop her offensive speech. She attempted to move away, but her mother grabbed her arm.
“If you should happen to dance with Mr Bingley, forward Charlotte Lucas to him. She is a good girl, and at her age and being so plain, she will not mind being married to a tradesman.”
Elizabeth gasped at the coarseness. “Mama!” Glancing around in mortification, she noticed that both Charlotte and Miss Bingley were nearby. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed for a moment that they had not heard her mother, though it seemed unlikely.
At the end of their set, Mr Bingley escorted Jane to Elizabeth and excused himself. When he had gone, Jane allowed her smile to droop, looking at her sister in concern as the two ladies found some seats. “Lizzy, are you well?”
“I am well enough. I know I have not danced, but I feel mostly at ease, which is more than I might say of our mother. Mama is vexed.”
Jane frowned at her hands. “Because Mr Bingley is from trade.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Mr Bingley is an agreeable gentleman and has not ever worked.”
“I know, and what is more important is that I can see how well you like him.” Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand in sympathy and added, “In London, we need not worry about Mama. Think of that, Jane.”
No more could be said as Mr Bingley approached and offered a cup of punch to Jane. Beaming, he asked, “Miss Elizabeth, would you like a drink?” He held out the second cup, which had obviously been intended for himself. Elizabeth declined it immediately.