Chapter 1 #3
My coming-out assembly was done, and the memory of it lingered with a strange mix of pride and disappointment.
A bittersweet experience, because it became increasingly obvious that many of my partners had been told by their mothers to dance with me, just as William Goulding had.
But, truth be told, I had enjoyed myself.
Did I dream of finding the perfect partner and beginning the journey of falling in love?
Unlikely—of the four-and twenty families in the neighbourhood, there was not one boy, man, or ageing greybeard for whom I had the slightest romantic inclination.
William Goulding had wounded me, but it would take more than a stuttering youth to steal the pleasure I found in moving with the figures and music.
And truly, I can count myself lucky—at least he didn’t step on my toes or catch the hem of my dress.
Mrs. Bennet was unusually quiet as the carriage rattled its way back to Longbourn. “Did you enjoy yourself, Lizzy?” she asked after some time had passed. “I thought the young men of our acquaintance were very attentive.”
I laughed. “But how many of them asked me for my own sake, and not because their mothers sent them? William Goulding only wanted to dance with Jane, but was instructed otherwise. I am not offended, truly. I suppose I ought to be flattered that anyone took notice at all.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed. “It is only your first assembly, Lizzy. It takes time. Jane’s first dances were not half so well attended, if you remember. But she persevered, and look at her now! You must allow yourself to be admired a little. Do not be so contrary.”
“I do not remember Jane ever being without partners…” I paused—I was being contrary, but continued nevertheless.
“I do not think I am contrary, Mama. Only honest. I enjoyed myself, even if I did not inspire a crowd of admirers. There is a pleasure in dancing, and I am far too young to seek a suitor.”
“Oh, I agree,” interposed Jane brightly.
“There is nothing so delightful as moving with the music, and feeling as if one is part of something larger than oneself. I would prefer to just enjoy the dance, rather than have some man attempt to flatter me as we make a turn. Indeed, I would choose to be somewhat plainer, for then my partner might engage in genuine discourse, rather than mere blandishments.”
“Dearest, you must think of beauty as a gift, and you must not throw it away by pretending it does not matter.” Mrs. Bennet took her eldest daughter’s hands, giving them a gentle squeeze.
Jane’s voice was subdued, almost pleading. “I do not wish to pretend, Mama. Only to be liked for myself. Sometimes I feel as if no one sees me at all, only the idea of me. It can be very lonely.”
“Perhaps, Jane,” I interrupted, “I should teach you some impertinence, for Mama tells me that cleverness and wit frightens men away.”
I attempted to lighten the conversation; the mood in the carriage was turning melancholy.
Papa was sitting very still, as he felt every bump and rut in the road.
Dear man, it must have been so very hard for him to relinquish to Sir William his leading the first set with me on my coming out. I leant over and took his hands.
“Papa, thank you so much for standing up with me.”
“You must thank Sir William, Lizzy. For he did the duty I was unable to perform. But I can truly say that it gave me the greatest pleasure to see you dancing. Fanny, was it not The Haymakers when we first danced together?”
* * *
The next morning, I was early to breakfast. Jane and Mama would sleep a further hour, and Papa, as usual, would take a tray in the library, for even moving about the house was now painful.
I was bursting to tell of the evening. I buttered toast for each of Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, placing a slice on their plates. Mary preferred her toast warm with melted butter, whereas Kitty and Lydia liked their toast buttered once it had cooled.
“Oh! My dear sisters! We had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball.” I poured tea for Kitty. “I wish you had been there. Of course, Jane was very much admired. Everybody said how well she looked.”
I went to the hearth and refreshed the teapot with hot water from the kettle.
“And me? I danced the first with Sir William—an excellent dancer, so nimble on his feet; the second with William Goulding, little changed from when he was an awkward child just learning the steps; the third I waited out with Charlotte Lucas; the two fourth with Henry Robinson…”
“Lizzy! Whatever are you doing?” Mama stood at the doorway, staring at me in dismay, her face flushed, tears moistening her eyes.
“I—I’m sorry, Mama. I was just telling my sisters of the assembly.”
“But you promised, Lizzy. You promised me!”
I burst into tears. “Oh, Mama. I so longed to share with them my coming out. Surely it is of no consequence.”
I looked at the table. Mama’s plate in her place at the head; to either side, Jane’s and mine. I had gone to the sideboard and retrieved plates for my sisters. On each one, I had placed a slice of buttered toast. But, of course, their chairs were empty.
“Oh, Lizzy. You cannot know the torment—the grief I feel.”
I rushed to the door. Gently, I led Mama to a chair.
“B-but I thought to remember them, that they would always live in my heart.” I clasped her hands; she leant her head onto my chest, silently weeping.
Some time passed until, abruptly, she stood, wiping her tears away.
“Come, let us go to the parlour, where at least the chairs are comfortable.
I must speak to you and Jane; for too long have I kept silent.
You are of an age to know, and, I believe, to understand the pain and guilt a woman must ofttimes bear.
* * *