Chapter 14
Longbourn
Dear Clara,
Thank you for your recent letter. I am thankful you have settled easily into Greyfell. It sounds like a charming estate.
I spoke to Jane at length, and we wish to accept your invitation to visit you in early January, and Mamma has given her blessing as well. Of course, if something critical were to happen, like illness or something of the sort, one or both of us might not be able to come. I know you understand.
There is a ball tonight at Netherfield Hall, and my mother and sisters and I are all very excited. By the by, Mr. Darcy apologized for his rude remark at the ball, and I have agreed to dance the fourth set with him. He is at least handsome, and I hope he can keep from trodding on my toes.
I am not certain when Sir Thomas and Mary will return. With the comet so bright, it may be weeks before cold drives them home.
With much love,
Elizabeth Bennet
***
Ballroom
Netherfield Hall
Evening
11th November, 1811
Elizabeth looked with pleasure around the ballroom of Netherfield Hall.
Regardless of her personal dislike of the arrogant, ambitious Miss Bingley, there was no denying the lady’s talent for arranging a ball.
The parquet floor shone like a mirror in the light of dozens of candles set in candlesticks of gleaming silver.
Overhead, the chandelier sparkled like thousands of stars, faceted drops of glass glittering like jewels in the bright glow of the candles it bore.
Swathes of silk draped gracefully from rosette to rosette, and massive bouquets in a glorious array of colors perfumed the ballroom with a sweet scent.
Elizabeth paused beside the nearest bouquet, admiring the perfect velvety petals of the display.
The hand of a master could be discerned in the arrangement, purples and crimsons and pinks and whites all playing pleasingly off of one another, framed against a backdrop of glossy dark green leaves.
It must have been very expensive, Elizabeth thought, then looked in wonder around at the dozens of other matching bouquets.
Miss Bingley, it seemed, had spared no expense in impressing her more provincial neighbors.
Elizabeth suspected that the same care and expense had gone into choosing the musicians who were currently tuning their instruments on the dais.
Elizabeth recognized none of the powdered men with their impeccable black coattails and snowy cravats who were now laboring over violins and a flute and a very handsome cello.
Perhaps they had come from London to grace the Bingleys’ palatial ball.
At any rate, they were likely to be very skillful, and Elizabeth looked forward to dancing to their music.
The ballroom was already alive with guests, chattering and marveling at the splendor of the extravagant beauty around them.
Jewels winked at ladies’ ears and throats and gloved wrists and in men's pins.
Nor were the four-and-twenty families alone; the officers of the militia had also been invited, and their scarlet coats lent a cheerful hue to the atmosphere.
The inclusion of additional gentlemen was a welcome one.
Tonight, it would be a rare occurrence for any young lady to be left sitting on the sidelines for want of a partner, and since Elizabeth truly loved to dance, she eagerly anticipated an evening filled with that pleasure.
“Oh, it is lovely, is it not, Lizzy?” a voice said from her side.
She turned and smiled at Kitty, who was dressed simply but charmingly in a light green gown with delicate lace at neck and hem, and with a green ribbon in her dark hair.
Kitty was the thinnest of the Bennet ladies, and the one most likely to catch a cold, but now her eyes were shining with pleasure, and she looked both happy and healthy.
“It is,” she agreed with a smile, just as two of the militia officers, Captain Denny and Lieutenant Smythe, approached the pair and asked for the first dances of the night.
The gentlemen were accepted with alacrity, and the two couples stayed to converse until the musicians began playing the first notes for the country dance, whereupon Captain Denny held out his arm to Elizabeth, which she took, and the pair walked toward the dance floor.
Captain Denny was an excellent dancer, and the ensuing twirling and stepping was delightful.
The last days had been fatiguing with business correspondence relating to Emerald Island, and consultations with Mr. Wallace, and it was wonderful to have a few hours to set aside the concerns of both estates in favor of dancing.
***
Later
As a member of the house party of the host and hostess, it would have been insupportably rude for Darcy to avoid dancing the first set.
He had asked the hostess of the ball for the opening dance and had performed it with stiff correctness, his face stern to his partner’s wreathing smiles.
He regretted that their dance was doubtless keeping aflame the hope that he would offer for her, but there was no avoiding a set with his hostess.
From Miss Bingley, Darcy had proceeded to Mrs. Hurst, fanning herself delicately near the table of drinks, to claim her hand for the second set.
This too he had executed with all the solemnity and weight of duty, and when the dance was completed, had escorted Bingley’s elder sister to a chair to await her next partner.
Now he lurked in the corner, observing the third set.
If Darcy were to follow his usual course at balls, he would hide in this corner for the rest of the evening, exhibiting the most forbidding expression he could muster in the hopes of warning away any young ladies who might turn limpid eyes in his direction.
Owing to his immense desirability on the colloquially termed Marriage Mart, Darcy had made it his custom to dance only with ladies with whom he was well-acquainted and reasonably certain of not raising expectations.
This was not a custom he had ever planned on breaking, or at the very least, not before his eventual marriage, and he had thus cultivated the habit of finding unobtrusive spots in which to scowl.
But tonight was different, as Mr. Darcy was eagerly awaiting the advent of his dances with a marriageable young lady.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet had promised him her graceful hand for the fourth set, and he was looking forward to it with pleasure.
He had been anticipating it all day, in fact.
Now, watching her dancing the third set, he did not expect the upcoming experience to disappoint as Miss Elizabeth was a gifted dancer.
Skillful and light on her feet, she twirled and stepped her way around with her red-coated partner, her fine eyes sparkling with delight and her straight white teeth peeping out through rosy, happy lips.
No affectations marred the enjoyment of the sight; she assumed no consequential airs but gave herself wholly to her love of the dance.
Darcy, used to society misses flirting with their fans, coquettish or missish and shy in their dancing, was ever more intrigued.
Miss Elizabeth, country-bred as she was, might reasonably be expected to show a wild and indecorous abandon in her dancing, or be overwhelmed by the splendor of the ball Miss Bingley had arranged.
Instead she showed appreciation but not bucolic awe, pleasure but not wildness, grace without assumed airs. Fascinating, indeed.
“I hope you are enjoying yourself, Mr. Darcy?”
He tore his eyes away from Miss Elizabeth and looked down on Miss Bingley, who was standing to his right.
His hostess was dressed extravagantly, with a delicate dress of silk and net in a fetching rose pink that wonderfully flattered her complexion and her hair.
This latter was, with the exception of a few artful curls beside her face, piled in a pearl-pinned confection atop her head and sprouted a profusion of cunningly curled ostrich plumes that were dyed to match her gown.
Pearls and diamonds in silver dangled from her ears and encircled her throat, drawing the eye to her low-cut décolletage.
“I am, thank you,” he replied.
She smiled at him coquettishly and said, “I enjoyed our dance very much.”
“It was a great pleasure,” he replied, bowing slightly.
“I know that you do not enjoy dancing with strangers, sir, and while I will be somewhat busy with managing the arrangements for the ball, I am always available if you wish to dance again.”
“Thank you,” Darcy replied stiffly. He knew perfectly well that his hostess wished to become mistress of Pemberley, and thus had no intention of asking for another set for fear of giving her hope that he would make an offer to her.
To his profound relief, the musicians ended the current dance with a flourish, and Darcy bowed again and said, “If you will excuse me, I have the next set with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
This provoked narrowed eyes on the part of his companion, and his own heart sank. He had been careful to hide his burgeoning interest in Miss Elizabeth, and now ... but it mattered not, truly. Miss Bingley would see him dancing with the second daughter of Longbourn in a few minutes, anyway.
The irritation on Miss Bingley’s face smoothed away, and she produced another artificial smile. “That is very kind of you, to dance with Miss Elizabeth.”
He did not feel like responding, so he bowed for the third time and walked away.