Chapter Twenty-Nine
The assembly rooms at Meryton were lit and warm and already in full voice when they arrived.
The Bennet party was received with the usual mixture of welcome and curiosity, the curiosity on this occasion rather more pointed than usual, as Mr. Collins had been at Longbourn for the better part of a week and his particular attentions to Miss Elizabeth had not gone unobserved by anyone who had happened to pass the house or speak to anyone who had.
Mrs. Bennet settled herself at the matrons' table with the satisfaction of a general taking the high ground, and was joined in short order by her sister Mrs. Philips, Lady Lucas, Mrs. Long, and, somewhat to her left and slightly outside the immediate circle of consequence, old Mrs. Hayes, who had come with her son and his wife sat with the air of someone entirely indifferent to the room's opinions.
"Jane will do very well tonight," Mrs. Bennet announced, to the table in general.
"Mr. Bingley is expected, and she is looking particularly well.
That shade of blue was always her colour.
" She glanced about the room with the satisfied air of a woman surveying an investment.
"And of course Mr. Collins is already engaged for the first two with Lizzy, which is very proper. "
"Mr. Collins," said Mrs. Philips, with the attentive interest she brought to all information that might be further distributed, "has been very particular in his attentions, I think."
"Very particular," Mrs. Bennet agreed, in a tone that suggested this was entirely as it should be.
Lady Lucas inclined her head with the careful neutrality of a woman whose own daughter had not received any particular attentions from anyone recently. "Miss Elizabeth is looking very well this evening."
"She does well enough," Mrs. Bennet said, in the tone of a mother long accustomed to making excuses for her, "She would do better if she took more care with her appearance, but you know how she is.
Always out of doors, always off somewhere.
Before Mr. Collins came along, I sometimes thought the best she might hope for was a tenant farmer's wife.
" She laughed, to indicate this was not quite serious.
Mrs. Long said she thought the rooms were very well attended this evening, and Mrs. Philips agreed, and the conversation redistributed itself.
Elizabeth had dressed with more care than usual, though she would not have admitted, even to herself, for whom the care had been taken.
She had come in anxious spirits, and concealed them with sufficient success that nobody observing her would have suspected it.
She greeted Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen since her return, and found the relief of a familiar face sufficient to carry her through the first minutes of the room.
The first two dances brought their own particular misery.
Mr. Collins danced with the solemn application of a man who considers the activity beneath him and performs it as an act of condescension, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it.
He held her hand with the confidence of a man who already considered the connection established, and Elizabeth bore the full shame and discomfort of a disagreeable partner with the smile of a woman who has had considerable practice.
The moment of her release from him was a considerable relief.
Mr. Goulding came to claim her next dance, and when it concluded escorted her to the refreshment table. It was there, standing once again with Charlotte, that the door of the assembly room opened and the Netherfield party arrived.
Bingley came in with the easy warmth of a man who is always pleased to find himself among people, and brightened visibly the moment his eyes found Jane, who appeared very well placed to receive him.
He crossed to her with the directness of a compass needle finding north, and the room observed this with the satisfied attention of a neighbourhood that has been hoping for exactly this development since the moment Netherfield was taken.
Behind him came his sisters and Mr. Hurst, Miss Bingley in an orange gown of considerable ambition, her hand already settled upon Darcy's arm with the proprietary ease of a woman who considers the position established and requires only the rest of the world to acknowledge it.
She surveyed the room and appeared confirmed in every poor opinion she had formed of Meryton before entering it.
Charlotte said, with the mild interest of a woman finding the whole proceeding vaguely entertaining, “There is the Netherfield party.”
"So it is," said Elizabeth, and kept her eyes on Charlotte.
“There is Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“And Jane, do you see how he went straight to her? Straight to her, without looking anywhere else. That is a young man who knows his own mind.” She settled back with the satisfaction of a woman watching a plan execute itself.
“I said from the beginning that Jane would do very well, and so she will.”
"She is a lovely girl," said Mrs. Philips warmly.
"She is," said Mrs. Bennet. "She always has been."
"And the tall one who arrived with Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Long said, with the hopeful interest of a woman who has nieces and has not yet heard the latest. "Who is he?"
"Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Bennet, in the tone of a woman who has intelligence worth sharing and knows it.
"And you will not believe it, but he is connected, in a manner of speaking, to my own sister Madeline.
Very grand family. Very rich. Though I am told he is engaged to his cousin, so there is nothing in it for us.
" She adjusted her shawl. "Besides, he is too proud by half. Not good enough for my girls."
At the edge of the room, Bingley had danced his first with Jane and obliged several of the other ladies besides, and was just contemplating dancing with Jane again when he observed his friend, who had not stood up at all, not even with his sisters.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner."
“Indeed,” said Bingley. “And after seven weeks in the same neighbourhood, I should think you particularly acquainted with at least one person here.”
“I am acquainted with Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said evenly. “That is not the difficulty.”
“Then there is no difficulty at all,” said Bingley cheerfully, and settled the matter to his own complete satisfaction.
Elizabeth, owing to a temporary scarcity of gentlemen, had been obliged to sit down for part of the set and was standing near enough to overhear more of the conversation than either gentleman intended.
She heard Bingley’s last declaration just as Jane approached from the opposite side of the room, her attention fixed rather more upon Darcy than upon Bingley himself.
Bingley saw only that Miss Bennet was approaching. “Ah! Miss Bennet,” he said, immediately offering his arm. “You are come at the very moment to rescue me from Darcy’s excuses. You must stand up with me for the next.”
Jane’s smile appeared without hesitation, though something in it altered briefly when she realised Darcy was already moving away.
“Certainly, Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy crossed the room before further interruption could arise. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “Would you do me the honour?”
"Mr. Darcy," she said. "I should be happy to."
At the matrons' table, Mrs. Bennet made a sound that was not quite a word.
"Well," said Mrs. Philips.
"He is engaged," Mrs. Bennet said.
"Yes," said Lady Lucas, watching the floor.
They took their places as the music began, and when the first figure brought them close he said, low enough that it reached only her, “How are you.”
“Quite well,” she said, which was not entirely true and they both knew it. “And you?”
“Better,” he said, “for this.”
The figure separated them. She moved through the next sequence with her expression composed and her pulse rather less so, and when the dance brought them close again he said, barely above a breath, “Collins.”
“I know,” she said.
“Are you—”
“I will manage,” she said. “I always do.”
The figure separated them again. Darcy crossed briefly to Jane as the dance required, while Elizabeth found herself opposite Bingley. Jane’s attention lingered upon them for a moment before Bingley said something that drew a smile from her and turned her thoughts elsewhere.
When the dance brought them together again, Elizabeth said at once, in a tone properly suited to public conversation, “Come, Mr. Darcy, we must speak a little, or the room will think us quarrelling. You may remark upon the size of the assembly, if you can think of nothing else.”
A hint of amusement touched his expression.
“It is a very tolerable room,” he said. “Though perhaps somewhat warmer than usual.”
“The crowd is considerable this evening,” Elizabeth replied.
“Indeed,” he said. Then, lower, close enough for her alone, “Your uncle. Have you had word?”
“Nothing yet,” she said quietly. Then, aloud, “I believe the musicians are very good this evening.”
“Remarkably so,” he replied. “Though I suspect they improve in proportion to one’s partner.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes for a moment in an effort to conceal a smile the room would certainly have misunderstood.
The dance carried them apart once more before bringing them together again in the next figure. “I have written again,” he said quietly. “To my uncle. I expect a reply within the week.”
“Good,” she answered softly. Then, with proper steadiness, “Do you often attend assemblies of this kind, Mr. Darcy?”
“When occasion permits.” His expression steadied into something more formal as the figure turned them again before the room. “The company is generally agreeable.”
“And Meryton compares favourably with other assemblies?”
“I find myself very well satisfied with it this evening.”
The music drew gradually toward its conclusion. The final figures brought them together one last time, and he said, very low, “Do not lose heart.” Darcy bowed over her hand.
"Never have I seen a couple dance so well together," Lady Lucas observed, watching Mr. Darcy escort Elizabeth from the floor.
"Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet replied, "dances well enough, I suppose. Though she will never have Jane's elegance."
"She is very lively," said Mrs. Philips.
"She is forward," said Mrs. Bennet, "but it will all come to nothing. He is engaged, and she has her duties."
"Her duties," said Mrs. Hayes. "Last I checked, those were a matron's responsibilities. But then, we are better off with her. I shall be sorry the day she leaves."
Mrs. Bennet stiffened. "You may get your wish sooner than you think."
"And what does that mean?"
"You are a tenant," said Mrs. Bennet, "and I am not obligated to explain myself to you."
The evening continued much as assemblies generally did.
Bingley obliged every lady in the room with a dance if he could manage it, and conducted himself throughout with his usual easy good humour.
Jane received the attentions of the evening with placid sweetness and no visible vanity.
Lydia and Kitty secured a partner for every set by whatever means were necessary and considered the night a success.
Mary did not dance, but sat at the edge of the room in the hope of being asked, and was joined for more than half an hour by a gentleman who talked pleasantly and at length and never quite arrived at the invitation she was waiting for.
As for the rest of the Netherfield party, Darcy did not dance again after standing up with Elizabeth.
Miss Bingley made one circuit of the room, established that there was no one present worth noting, and spent the remainder of the evening placing herself, whenever possible, near Mr. Darcy without entirely abandoning her sister.
Mr. Hurst had found himself a chair near the refreshment table, and Mrs. Hurst sat beside him, alternating between attempting to moderate his enthusiasm for the refreshments and gossiping with her sister.
The final set of the evening was approaching. Elizabeth was being led from the floor by Mr. Hayes when Collins appeared at her elbow.
"Cousin Elizabeth," he said, with the proprietary confidence of a man who considers interruption his right. "I wonder if you might favour me with another dance."
"I am afraid I have promised the last dance to Mr. Lucas," she said pleasantly.
Collins's expression altered. "Perhaps he may be persuaded to give up that privilege for someone more appropriate. After all, soon all will—"
"That set is spoken for," Elizabeth said, "and I am not aware of any prior claim, nor do I think this the place to speak of such things."
"Are you not," said Collins. He moved to take her hand. Mr. Hayes, who had not moved from her side, shifted slightly, and the thing was not accomplished.
"There are arrangements in place, Cousin Elizabeth, of which you may not be fully sensible, but which confer upon me a connection to your family and to yourself that goes considerably beyond the ordinary claims of cousinship.
I speak of a contract, entered into by your father on your behalf, which establishes—"
"No."
The word went further than she intended. Silence spread outward from them through the room. Collins reached for her arm but Mr. Hayes stepped into his path, and Mr. Lucas, who had come to claim his promised dance, blocked the way beyond.
She made it outside. She found the spot she knew her family would not think to look, and had barely reached it when she heard a step behind her. She turned, and in the next instant found herself in Darcy’s embrace.
“I am here,” he said quietly.
For the first time since coming home, she stopped trying to hold herself together.