Compromised at the Meryton Ball

Chapter 1

Meryton Ball

Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of Mr. Bennet of Longbourn, looked around the assembly hall solemnly.

This was, she knew, the last time she would attend the assembly as a single woman, and she was filled with a strange mixture of joy and bittersweet wistfulness.

So much had changed in such a short time, and sometimes Elizabeth wondered whether it was real or but a dream.

The sound of strings and pipes competed with the buzz of cheerful conversation as the musicians practiced in one corner of the ballroom.

Friends and neighbors who had not seen each other for days or even weeks flitted from one to another, sharing all the news that had occurred since the last assembly.

They were a bright gathering, their raiment as cheerful and varied as their conversation, dresses in peach and azure and cerulean and sunshine yellow and gossamer white.

Each sconce on the walls contained a candelabra of glowing wax candles, and the chandelier above the dance floor reflected off the polished parquet beneath.

Maria Lucas, across the room beside the table with the punch and the ratafia cakes, caught her eye and dipped a curtsey, and Elizabeth nodded in return.

She was closer to the eldest Miss Lucas, Charlotte, than to Maria, but the younger girl was sweet, and all the Bennets and Lucases were good friends.

“I think that is the party from Netherfield Hall!” Mrs. Bennet cried out, and Elizabeth looked over to the door.

The party in question was composed of four gentlemen and two ladies.

Elizabeth’s eyes went immediately to the tallest of the men.

He was very handsome, with aristocratic features and dark, curly hair.

He was dressed neatly and with propriety, with no hint of dandyism.

His companions were less impressive, but one of them, a dark blond individual, was also handsome, while another gentleman wore a red coat indicating that he was a member of the military.

The remaining man, who looked to be about thirty years of age, was not particularly good-looking and was already showing signs of corpulence.

“Oh, Jane!” Mrs. Bennet said, reaching out to grasp her eldest daughter’s arm. “We simply must be introduced to them all. Come along, my dear, come along!”

Jane, who was blue-eyed and blonde and incredibly beautiful, obediently followed her mother toward Sir William Lucas and his family.

Sir William served as master of ceremonies at the monthly Meryton assemblies, and thus he would be able to introduce Jane to the single, eligible master of Netherfield Hall and his friends.

“I believe the music is about to start. Shall we, Elizabeth?” a male voice said from her right.

Elizabeth carefully composed her expression and turned toward Mr. Amos Stirling, her betrothed.

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

Mr. Stirling held out his arm, and the pair made their way to the floor for the first dance of the night.

Elizabeth, standing in a line with the other ladies, looked across at Mr. Stirling and forced herself to consider him dispassionately. He was not handsome, exactly, but neither was he ugly. His garments were finer than those of his country fellows, and his cravat was arranged with nicety.

He was also five and forty years old, which was more than double her own age. He was far too old for her, but the circumstances were such that she had not been able to refuse his offer of marriage.

The banns had been called three Sundays now, and Mr. Allen, the rector at the church in Meryton, had set aside Friday morning, three days from now, for the wedding itself.

Mr. Stirling was, at least, a competent dancer, which permitted her to look around her as she performed the steps. Charlotte Lucas was partnered with the dark-blond gentleman of the Netherfield party, while Patricia Long, the elder of the Long girls, was dancing with the red-coated military man.

Half an hour later, the last strains of music died away. After the requisite clapping from all the dancers, Mr. Stirling bowed, and Elizabeth curtsied, and the former said, “If you will excuse me, I believe I will spend some time in the card room. You will, of course, keep the Boulanger for me.”

She managed a smile. “Certainly.”

He nodded and departed. Elizabeth watched him until he had disappeared out of sight, and then heaved a deep sigh and walked off the dance floor.

***

Meryton Assembly Hall

Later

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood in the corner of the room, his eyes roaming to and fro.

The Meryton assembly hall was respectably large, but it was sufficiently full of country gentlemen and their wives and sons and daughters as to be uncomfortable for a man of his temperament.

Mr. Hurst, husband of Bingley’s sister, Louisa, had already disappeared into a room set aside for cards.

Darcy liked playing cards but not with strangers.

In truth, he did not like doing much of anything with strangers. He had danced with his host’s two sisters today and had refused to dance with anyone else.

That was, of course, in contrast with his friend Charles Bingley, who was currently partnered with an exquisite blonde beauty who was arguably the most handsome lady in the room.

He sighed. Sometimes he wished that he had a more outgoing personality. Both Bingley and Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were adept at making friends easily, whereas Darcy was mournfully aware that he often caused offense without intending it.

“Cousin!” a male voice cried out.

Darcy turned as Richard Fitzwilliam, younger son of the Earl of Matlock, stepped up to him.

“Yes?” he demanded

“I must have you dance,” Richard said with determination. “I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not,” Darcy returned with a lowered brow.

“You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” Richard replied, wrinkling his nose, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening, and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“Bingley is dancing with the only truly handsome girl in the room,” said Darcy, looking at the blonde angel.

“She is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. I met her half an hour ago. Shall I introduce you to her?”

“Which do you mean?” Darcy demanded, turning around.

He looked at the dark-haired lady seated on a chair some ten feet away and said coldly, “She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better find a lady for the next dance and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

Richard blinked and sighed, but the young lady in question rose from her chair and took a few steps toward him, her eyes flashing.

“How dare you?” the lady demanded. “How dare you speak to me in such a way?”

He drew himself to his full height and looked down his aristocratic nose at her. “Excuse me?”

“I will not excuse you,” the girl replied, tossing her dark locks. “How dare you come into this assembly hall and insult me in front of my friends and family? You, sir, are no gentleman!”

His heart beat faster at these words, and he took two steps toward her in order to more adequately loom over her. This was not difficult, as he was a tall gentleman, and she was rather petite. “Have you not heard that it is unwise to eavesdrop on those around you? It is your own fault…”

“My own fault?” the lady replied, her face now becomingly flushed. “I was sitting here before you made your arrogant way to this corner of the room, and you were but ten feet away, nor were you particularly quiet. I could hardly keep from hearing you.”

He took a step closer still and glared down at her. “When a lady is forced to sit out a dance…”

“It is because there are not enough young men to serve as partners,” she snapped.

“I understand that Colonel Fitzwilliam is your cousin. Perhaps you are too high and mighty to pay attention to such matters as armies and militias, but if you had, you would know that a great many young men have been forced overseas due to the depredations of the Corsican tyrant, and thus assembly halls like this one are sadly short of young gentlemen.”

Darcy glanced around. His argument with Miss Elizabeth had attracted the attention of a substantial number of ladies and gentlemen, their expressions ranging from outrage to naked curiosity.

He blew out a breath and said, “Miss Elizabeth, you are embarrassing yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am not embarrassing myself. I…”

“Enough,” he snapped, turned on his heel, and moved to step away.

The sound of ripping fabric accompanied his movement, and he lurched toward her. He frantically tried to regain his balance, failed, and fell down on the lady in an ungainly heap.

He gasped and found himself staring into the face of Miss Elizabeth, who gazed up but a few inches into his face with wide eyes and a flushed countenance.

For a few seconds, the pair stared at one another, and then someone grasped his arm and yanked him upwards. Once he was on his feet again, he turned to discover Richard at his side, with one hand still on his arm.

“Thank you, Richard,” he said stiffly and then stepped carefully forward and held out a hand to help the fallen Miss Elizabeth to her feet. “Lizzy, are you hurt?” a feminine voice cried out.

Darcy turned toward the blonde lady, who hurried to Miss Elizabeth’s side and gazed anxiously into her face.