Chapter Sixteen
Meryton Assembly
Darcy
Darcy could not have said exactly what he expected when he left Somerset for Hertfordshire on the tenth of October.
Elizabeth’s next letter had arrived only the day before his departure, rewarding his decision to remain at Willowbrook a little longer, and amongst its accounts of Longbourn and Meryton she had mentioned an assembly to be held the following week.
No particular date had been given, but he had carried that small piece of information with him nevertheless.
Upon reaching Netherfield, Darcy discovered that no enquiry on his part would be necessary.
Bingley had already accepted an invitation to the assembly, a circumstance he announced with delight almost before Darcy’s travelling case had been carried upstairs.
Miss Bingley and the Hursts meant to accompany him, and Bingley appeared to consider Darcy’s attendance equally settled.
Darcy had not expected to find himself at a Meryton assembly within two days of arriving in Hertfordshire.
In truth, he had possessed no settled plan at all.
He had brought Elizabeth’s letters with him, together with the reply he had written and never sent, and had supposed that at some point he must contrive a proper means of approaching Mr. Bennet.
How precisely a gentleman introduced himself to a stranger in order to confess that he had read nineteen private letters belonging to his daughter was a difficulty Darcy had yet to resolve.
Still, he had intended to explain the extraordinary circumstances by which the letters had come into his possession and, at the very least, put an end to Elizabeth’s belief that Julia Harding remained at Willowbrook.
Bingley’s determination that he attend the assembly had rendered such careful contrivance unnecessary, at least for the present. Darcy could think of no reasonable excuse for refusing him without provoking precisely the questions he wished to avoid, and so he had agreed.
Now, standing in the crowded assembly room two evenings later, Darcy was conscious of an anticipation he had not experienced upon entering a ballroom in many years.
Elizabeth Bennet was here. Or she ought to be.
He had been careful to ask no questions concerning Longbourn or the Bennets since arriving at Netherfield.
Bingley was naturally curious, and his sisters considerably more so; an unexplained interest in a family with whom Darcy had no acquaintance would not pass unnoticed.
Thus he knew the workings of Elizabeth’s mind with an intimacy that had become increasingly difficult to justify, knew the names of those she loved and particulars of her life he had no right to possess, yet might have passed her upon the road that afternoon without recognising her.
The absurdity had occurred to him more than once.
Bingley, predictably, was delighted with everything.
Within seconds of entering the assembly he had pronounced the room cheerful, the company numerous, and the evening certain to be agreeable.
Darcy scarcely attended. His gaze travelled instead amongst the ladies in the room, though he knew perfectly well there was nothing by which he might distinguish one particular woman from all the rest.
A gentleman with greying hair soon approached and introduced himself as Sir William Lucas. His evident pleasure in welcoming the Netherfield party quickly expanded into an offer to present them to several of the principal families of the neighbourhood, an office Bingley accepted with enthusiasm.
The Lucases came first. When Sir William presented his eldest daughter, Darcy's attention sharpened at the name Charlotte.
So this was Charlotte Lucas, the sensible friend whose opinions Elizabeth valued even when she disagreed with them.
She appeared near his own age, perhaps a little older, and Darcy found himself regarding her with an interest the lady could have had no reason to understand.
The Gouldings followed. Names and civilities passed with little impression upon him until Sir William turned towards a family gathered some distance away.
“Come, Mr. Bingley. You must know the Bennets. Longbourn is one of your nearest neighbours.”
Darcy's attention fixed upon them at once.
The Bennets. Longbourn.
There could be no mistake.
Five young women stood with their mother, and as Sir William conducted the party towards them, Darcy found himself studying the sisters despite every effort not to appear to do so.
Elizabeth was the second daughter, but that knowledge assisted him very little.
The two eldest appeared near enough in age that either might answer to what little he knew.
One was extraordinarily beautiful. Darcy acknowledged it immediately, yet his attention did not remain with her.
It went instead to the other woman beside her.
She wore blue, and there was nothing in her appearance which ought to have distinguished her to him before he knew her name.
Yet her eyes arrested his attention. They were dark, lively, and observant, moving over the approaching party with an intelligence that suggested she was less concerned with being noticed than with forming her own judgement of those before her.
Something in Darcy tightened.
Surely...
He was scarcely conscious of continuing across the room until Sir William began the introductions. Mrs. Bennet first, then the daughters in order.
“Miss Jane Bennet.”
The beautiful one.
Darcy's gaze shifted immediately to her sister.
“And Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Elizabeth.
For weeks the name had existed only at the bottom of a page and in his mind.
Now she stood before him.
Darcy forgot to bow.
Sir William continued through the remaining daughters, presenting Mary, Catherine, whom the family called Kitty, and Lydia Bennet before mentioning that Mr. Thomas Bennet had chosen not to attend the evening's assembly.
Darcy registered the names, attaching them almost automatically to what he already knew of each sister, but his attention remained fixed upon the second.
Elizabeth Bennet was not so strikingly beautiful as her elder sister, but she was very handsome.
More than handsome, Darcy found, for there was an animation in her countenance which no letter could have prepared him for.
Her eyes in particular held him. They were fine, intelligent eyes, and at present they regarded him with increasing curiosity, as though she were attempting to discover why a gentleman newly introduced to her had forgotten every ordinary rule of civility in favour of staring.
Darcy knew he ought to look away.
He did not.
For months he had supplied a face to the voice upon those pages without ever being able to settle upon one.
None of his imaginings had resembled the woman before him.
There was more liveliness in her expression than he had expected, more warmth about her mouth, and something quietly challenging in the return of his gaze which brought irresistibly to mind every argument she had committed to paper.
This was Elizabeth.
The realization produced a strange quickening in his chest.
It took Bingley’s asking for the eldest Miss Bennet’s hand for the first set to finally break Darcy’s gaze. Jane Bennet accepted with a becoming blush, and thankfully Sir William soon proposed conducting them towards the next family.
Darcy followed with the others, his heart beating with an insistence he could neither account for nor command. He glanced back before good sense could prevent him.
Elizabeth was still watching him.
One brow rose slightly when their eyes met, curiosity plain upon her face, and Darcy turned away with the uncomfortable knowledge that he had given her every reason to wonder at him.
He had wanted to make her acquaintance, and when at last presented with the opportunity, he had done little more than stare.
Darcy drew a slow breath and attempted to attend to Sir William’s next introduction. It proved considerably more difficult now that he knew exactly where Elizabeth Bennet stood in the room.
Once the introductions were concluded, the Netherfield party quickly separated.
Bingley went in search of Jane Bennet, Mr. Hurst discovered the refreshments with very little difficulty, while his wife and Miss Bingley found chairs from which they might observe the company while remarking upon the inferiority of a Meryton assembly to anything London could offer.
Darcy paid them little attention. He withdrew instead towards the farther side of the room, where a pillar afforded some escape from the press of company, though apparently none from his own thoughts. His eyes found Elizabeth again almost immediately.
What was he to say to her?
More troubling still, ought he to speak to her at all?
He possessed an acquaintance with her which she did not share, and the impropriety of that imbalance had seemed considerably easier to contemplate when she had existed only upon paper.
Now she was across the room, laughing at something Kitty Bennet had said, entirely unconscious that a stranger knew thoughts she had entrusted to her dearest friend.
Darcy was still considering the difficulty when Elizabeth's expression suddenly changed. Kitty Bennet was no longer near her.
A gentleman was approaching her. She saw him, hesitated, and then altered her course towards Darcy's side of the room with such purpose that it appeared very much as though she meant to avoid him. The gentleman altered his course as well.
Darcy straightened.
They were within earshot when the man overtook her. Elizabeth stopped and offered the brief civility propriety required.
“Mr. Sotherton.”
Darcy recognised the name at once.
“Miss Bennet.” Sotherton bowed. “I had hoped I might find you disengaged for the first dance.”