Chapter 14 The Ball at Netherfield
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE BALL AT NETHERFIELD
The day of the ball dawned bright and clear.
Yet the paths remained too muddy for Elizabeth to attempt her usual walk, and her mother would have been seriously displeased had she made more work for the maids on that day of all days.
Thus she remained indoors, dividing her time between keeping out of Mrs Bennet’s way and observing her mother’s attempts to direct Mr Collins alternately towards herself or Mary while taking care not to provoke Mr Bennet’s strictures against openly pressing the matter.
Mrs Bennet, meanwhile, was in a state of high agitation, determined that all her daughters should appear to their best advantage and secretly hoping to secure at least one engagement before the night was out.
Elizabeth felt sympathy for her mother’s nerves on this occasion, yet she could not help but be amused by the way she bustled from one sister to another, adjusting a curl here and criticising a ribbon there, as if a few artful pins or a brighter sash might turn the head of every eligible gentleman in the county.
Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted often to Mr Darcy as she prepared for the evening.
Her gown, a light primrose yellow, pleased her particularly, for she recalled that gentleman had once seemed to favour her in that shade.
She had been glad to remember that her ball gown was of such a colour, and she had improved it during the rainy days indoors—altering the sleeves and trimming them with some new ribbons she had kept for such an occasion, and adding delicate embroidery along the neckline and cuffs.
She had little experience with being courted, yet she had observed that Mr Darcy was somewhat more attentive to fashion than her own father—something she attributed to his having a younger sister.
While she could not be certain he would remark upon her efforts, she secretly hoped her gown might at least catch his notice.
It did.
From the moment the Bennet family descended from their carriage, Darcy’s eyes sought hers, and the very first glimpse of her stirred his heart with a quiet sense of wonder.
How he wished he had been at hand to offer his arm and assist her down, yet, from this distance, he could only watch, his composure a thin disguise for the longing he fought to master.
He met her a few moments later just beyond the cloakroom where the Bennet ladies had gone to remove their cloaks and change into their dancing slippers.
There, as she emerged into the passage with a smile that warmed him to his very soul, Darcy thought that never in his life had he beheld such grace, nor had he ever desired so strongly to call any woman his own.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing over her hand, his voice lower than he intended, “you honour us this evening by your presence.”
Elizabeth curtseyed, her eyes alight with amusement and something softer beneath. “You are very kind, sir. I daresay the company would manage tolerably well without me.”
“Not I,” Darcy replied before he could stop himself.
His gaze lingered, but he managed to compose himself enough to extend his arm to Elizabeth which she took without hesitation.
“For me, the evening would be diminished indeed were you not here.” He dropped his voice so only she could hear as his free hand rose to lie upon her own. “I have missed you, Elizabeth.”
A faint blush touched Elizabeth’s cheeks, even as her smile deepened.
“Then I must endeavour to make this evening a memorable one. I will admit to having been saddened over the last few days not to have the chance to speak to you. Even this morning, I wished to walk out, hoping to meet you again, but I knew Mama would be displeased were I to do so.”
Darcy chuckled lightly. “I, too, considered riding to Oakham Mount, hoping to see you and speak to you for a few minutes. However, good sense prevailed, and I did not. I am pleased to know that you were not waiting for me.”
Before more could be said, they were joined by Mr Collins.
“Mr Darcy!” he cried. “I fear I must ask your pardon for not greeting you sooner. I was escorting my cousins inside and did not see you at first.” He looked between Darcy and Elizabeth and frowned slightly.
“I have written to my patroness—your aunt—concerning your denial of your betrothal, and with this rain I cannot be certain whether my letter has yet reached her—”
“Mr Collins!” Darcy’s voice cut across his babble, sharp and commanding. The parson stopped short, blinking in astonishment at the anger darkening the gentleman’s features.
“Why, in heaven’s name, would you presume to write to my aunt concerning my private affairs?” Darcy demanded. “She is perfectly aware that I am not engaged to her daughter, and you had no business making free with such matters.”
Mr Collins’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but surely it was my duty… to inform Lady Catherine—”
“It was not,” Darcy barked. His eyes blazed.
“It is bad enough that my aunt proclaims her wishes so openly. Should such gossip spread beyond her household, it could do irreparable harm to my cousin’s reputation.
Would you truly wish to be the cause of Anne de Bourgh’s ruin, to leave her unfit ever to marry?
” Although he knew full well that Anne had little desire to wed, he spoke deliberately, hoping to make the man at least consider the weight of his words for once.
Mr Collins stammered, crimson and sweating, apparently incapable of a coherent reply after the sharp rebuke.
Elizabeth, sensing Darcy’s rising vexation and determined to prevent him from saying something he might regret—or striking the fool outright—stepped in quickly.
Hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground, she said lightly, “Why, cousin, how very conscientious you are.” Her tone was all sweetness, but her eyes danced with mischief.
“I had not realised it was a clergyman’s duty to oversee the private affairs of every great family in the kingdom.
Such vigilance must be most exhausting for you. ”
Thoroughly flattered, Mr Collins beamed as he puffed out his chest. “Indeed, it is no small responsibility, but one I bear gladly in Lady Catherine’s service.”
Darcy, however, caught the sparkle in Elizabeth’s eyes and the dry irony beneath her words. Despite his lingering irritation with Mr Collins, the corner of his mouth threatened to betray him.
“Truly, Mr Collins,” he said, his tone gravely earnest, “your dedication is unparalleled. One can only suppose the nation would benefit greatly if all clergymen managed the affairs of their superiors with such… zeal.”
Mr Collins expanded visibly, accepting the remark as a compliment entirely his own.
“You are too generous, sir! I strive only to follow the example of my noble patroness. Lady Catherine often remarks upon my attention to detail, and I consider it my sacred duty to ensure her wisdom is spread as widely as possible. Why, only last week I corrected the gardener at Hunsford on the precise manner of pruning roses—an instruction delivered on Lady Catherine’s authority, of course—and he was most grateful.
Truly, such small offices of service, multiplied across a household, ensure that harmony and order are preserved. ”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to hide her laughter, her shoulders shaking faintly.
Darcy, for his part, allowed himself the smallest exhalation that might have been a laugh, quickly suppressed.
Their eyes met for the briefest instant, and the shared amusement between them spoke volumes—an unspoken understanding forged in the absurdity of the moment, at Mr Collins’s expense.
Fortunately, another approached, giving the couple the opportunity to escape the pompous windbag, who continued speaking, seemingly unaware that his audience was gone.
When the strains of the orchestra announced the opening of the ball, Darcy and Elizabeth took their place in the set. Just before them stood Jane with Mr Bingley, and Darcy could not help but notice where Elizabeth’s eyes lingered.
“I have spoken with my friend these last few days,” he said quietly, his voice pitched for her alone.
“He likes your sister very well, but he is not yet certain of marriage. Tomorrow he departs for London to settle the matter of his sister’s dowry, and intends to use the time to examine his feelings.
I must confess he is often out of love almost as swiftly as he falls into it.
His regard for Miss Bennet has endured longer than most, yet he is young still and uncertain. ”
Elizabeth frowned, the line between her brows deepening. “Is he often so indecisive?”
Darcy’s eyes softened as they lingered on her face.
“He is, unfortunately, unaccustomed to making such decisions for himself. Too often he has relied upon the judgement of others—mine most of all. I fear I have done him a disservice, for he has grown accustomed to leaning upon me rather than trusting his own mind. Although I have urged him to act for himself, he has been slow to do so. In this case, I have been especially reluctant to advise, for I would not presume to guide a man in the choice of a wife. Were I to appear partial, he might one day resent me for it.”
The figures of the dance parted them, and Elizabeth considered his words.
When they met again, she lifted her eyes to his with a look that carried more than her reply.
“I understand you, sir. Jane likes Mr Bingley very well, yet I cannot say with certainty that she loves him, for she has never spoken it outright. While I believe they would suit, both must come to that conclusion on their own.”