Chapter Eight #3
Mr. Bingley laughed affably. “My friend thinks me incapable of really serious matters like poetry and naming property. I suppose I would gratify him better if I talked only of fanciful whims like dancing.”
This was enough to captivate the attention of all the ladies.
Even Miss Elton, who was seated too far from them to properly contribute to the conversation, leaned over to voice her approbation.
“I should love to hear of dancing, though it is a pity I must go away so soon, before I have danced with anybody!”
“Oh, but I am perfectly ready to oblige you all,” Mr. Weston cried. “I have not a proper ballroom here at Randalls, but I daresay we might make space for three or four couples, if I may take the liberty of including you amongst the young ladies, Miss Taylor.”
“She quite depends upon it,” Miss Woodhouse said merrily.
Mr. Bingley grinned. “I hope we shall have enough dancing that I might stand up with all the young ladies, which I daresay would be entirely accomplished of me! You have already promised me a dance, Miss Fairfax.”
Elizabeth shrank back a little at being singled out; she reminded herself that Jane was not at liberty to enjoy such attentions. She could see that Miss Woodhouse would be happier with such notice, and rather seemed to expect it.
“You must dance first with my friend Miss Woodhouse,” Elizabeth said.
Mr. Darcy studied Elizabeth with a trace of curiosity. “Very discerning, Miss Fairfax; you no doubt wish to ascertain that he is a tolerable partner before accepting him yourself.”
Mr. Elton, with a hand resting against his heart, moved closer to Miss Woodhouse as he said, “I, too, should desire some opportunity to prove myself worthy in that aspect, Miss Woodhouse. Dancing is among my most favorite pastimes; I have often assisted my dear sister Violet in practicing her steps.”
Mr. Knightley covered his mouth to conceal another laugh, and Elizabeth gave him a look of shared amusement. She knew she ought to endeavor to affect some of Jane’s reserve, but the fawning vicar was simply too diverting.
Mr. Knightley recovered himself, and then leaned closer to Elizabeth. “You have done Emma a kindness,” he whispered. “I have long wished that you might grow to be friends.”
Elizabeth merely smiled and bobbed her head into a nod, fearing her altered manners were putting her in some danger of discovery.
Mr. Knightley studied her for a minute more. “But who will you dance with?”
Elizabeth looked around the table. Mr. Weston was clearly besotted with Miss Taylor, Mr. Bingley was too amiable to give any encouragement, and Mr. Elton reminded her of her cousin Collins, whom she had summarily rejected the month before, to her father’s immeasurable amusement.
Mr. Darcy was not a possibility that warranted any consideration, for she could sooner imagine him taking flight than deigning to dance with any of the ladies present.
But Mr. Knightley was cheerful and kind, and certainly posed no threat of forming any serious designs upon her – upon Jane , who was already betrothed.
“With you, if you will ask me,” Elizabeth said, affecting a modicum of modesty.
“You know I seldom dance, but on this occasion I would be happy to, after your olive branch to Emma. I should like to hear more of your time in Weymouth; I believe it has improved you.”
Elizabeth raised her wine glass to him, her head fuzzy enough from the drink that she daringly said, “I am practically a new person.”
Mr. Knightley looked surprised, then shook his head with a smile. “Nonsensical girl”
By the time dessert was served, the conversation turned to the other ways they might divert themselves over the course of the summer. Mr. Bingley expressed an intention of hosting his neighbors frequently at his manor.
“I have invited one of my sisters to come and act as hostess for me,” Mr. Bingley said. “My sister Louisa and her husband will surely come; they have been languishing in Hertfordshire, visiting our sister Caroline’s intended.”
Mr. Darcy’s expression grew more sour at this, but he said nothing.
Elizabeth’s interest was piqued by the mention of her home county, though she tried to appear impassive. Miss Woodhouse inquired about Mr. Bingley’s sisters, and a swell of laughter at the other end of the table nearly prevented Elizabeth from hearing his reply.
“The Hursts generally reside in London, and that is where Caroline met her betrothed – I believe they were introduced by Mr. John Knightley. Mr. Bentley – no… Benson? Well, he is some years older than I, and has a property a few hours north of London. Weatherfield, I think. No – Weatherborn. Netherbourn? Pah, I forget. Apparently it is a charming house with an impressive library and splendid views of some sort of mountain, though Caroline is not impressed by the locals.”
Elizabeth listened in stunned silence, feeling unsettled by the similarity of the names he mentioned, to names that held great significance for her. But it was impossible – her father would never….
“I did not know there were any mountains in Hertfordshire,” Miss Woodhouse sniffed. “But your sister must be pleased at being received amongst the gentry.”
Mr. Darcy began coughing, until Elizabeth feared he might be in some real danger. Gooseflesh covered her arms, and she turned to inquire after his imminent demise, when she heard Mr. John Knightley supply the name Mr. Bingley could not recall. “Mr. Bennet, of Netherfield.”
Elizabeth lost all sense of herself as she glanced down the table, toward her mother.
Miss Bates was speaking to Mr. Woodhouse with great animation and appeared not to hear, but John Knightley looked directly at Elizabeth as her hand collided with Mr. Darcy’s wine glass, spilling it across the table.
She drew back as if fearful he might snarl at her, but Mr. Darcy did something far more shocking – he looked as though he might laugh.
Mr. Knightley was excessively attentive. “Are you unwell, Miss Fairfax?”
“No, not at all – just clumsy,” Elizabeth said with a note of panic in her voice. Her father could not be engaged, it was impossible. Mr. Bingley had an air of silliness about him, which might otherwise be endearing, but he must be under some misapprehension.
Miss Woodhouse cleared her throat. “Who is to tell us, Mr. Weston, when it is time for the ladies to withdraw? What do you think, Miss Taylor?” Both the ladies stood, and Emma extended an arm as if beckoning to Elizabeth.
She only nodded, peripherally aware of the other ladies at the table following suit and preparing to withdraw.
Miss Woodhouse took Elizabeth’s arm as they made their escape to the parlor, and they sat on a sofa at the back of the room as Miss Taylor organized the other ladies into a game of cards. “Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.”
“Of course – and you may call me Emma, after all these years. I think you attempted to do me a kindness in telling Mr. Bingley to dance with me.”
“It seems to be your right,” Elizabeth said with a rueful laugh.
“It is some little recompense, since his friend is determined to disappoint – what an unsettling fellow he is!”
“Mr. Darcy would do better to avoid going in company; he only makes people uneasy,” Elizabeth huffed. She was still trembling from the shock of Mr. Bingley’s revelation, and Miss Bates had finally noticed.
“Jane, my dear! Oh, Jane! Are you unwell?”
“She was overly warm, ma’am,” Emma declared. “I will sit with Jane here by the window, where the air is a little cooler.”
Miss Bates smiled, seeming stunned by their sudden intimacy, but she gave a nod of approbation. “Sharing secrets, eh? I see what you are about; of course you must carry on! What else should you do with such handsome gentlemen to think of?”
“And such repellent ones,” Emma whispered with a wicked smirk.
“And to think I thought him handsome when first I saw him!
Well, I think him very ill-favored, now.
‘Tis a pity that his friend should be so much pleasanter, despite his low origins. I will dance with him, since I have agreed to, but he is not for me. But can you not like him, Jane?”
Elizabeth chuckled wryly, that Emma should think Mr. Bingley not good enough for herself, but a catch for Jane Fairfax – though perhaps she was right.
But of course, there was Mr. Churchill to think of, for Jane’s sake.
“Any chance of me setting my cap at him vanished when he declared himself a poor reader yesterday. I nearly laughed when you observed that it is possible to read outdoors.”
“We are composers of great reading lists; we must think of such things,” Emma said warmly.
“Especially if we do not want his friend to be severe upon us.” Elizabeth dropped her voice low as she mimicked Mr. Darcy.
“ To all your charms you must add the substantial virtues of extensive reading, composing sonnets and concertos hourly, and never thinking the slightest bit critically, for that is entirely my own purview.”
Emma laughed, but then her eyes widened and she sat up straighter.
Mr. Weston led the other gentlemen into the parlor, declaring that they could not content themselves with brandy and cigars when there were so many fine ladies to visit with, and some who were eager to dance.
The other gentlemen agreed – except Mr. Darcy, who only stared so intensely at Elizabeth that she was sure he heard her mockery.
The other ladies swiftly abandoned their game of cards, and the gentlemen dispersed about the room to converse as Mr. Weston supervised the footmen who were summoned to move the furniture to make a space for dancing. Mrs. Knightley went to the pianoforte and began perusing the music selection.
Emma was still laughing at Elizabeth’s impudence. “Jane Fairfax, you astonish me! I believe some of Lady Gresham’s lively manners must have influenced you while you were in Weymouth. You were always so shy!”