Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The afternoon of the assembly, the sisters were all aflutter with preparation. All but Elizabeth. She felt as if she was floating in a pool of water and some monster below was pulling at her leg, attempting to drag her under. But why? She had always enjoyed assemblies in the past.
Elizabeth and Jane went into the room Kitty and Lydia shared.
“Lizzy, might I use your slippers?” asked Kitty.
“Where are yours?” Elizabeth asked.
“They are too ragged!”
Elizabeth beckoned her over and discovered that her sister’s shoes were, indeed, scuffed and frayed, for, when possible, the older girls passed their gently worn ones down.
“We forget you get the slippers near to last, my sweet.” She kissed the top of Kitty’s head and said she might take her second pair. “But do be careful with them.”
“When am I ever careless?” asked Kitty.
Elizabeth would have found this assertion humorous in any circumstance, but at that moment, Kitty tripped over a pile of gowns, leading them all to laugh.
Jane said, “Girls, you ought to hang your gowns.”
Lydia flipped her hair off of her shoulders. “Mrs Hill can do it.”
“Or Sarah,” added Kitty.
“They are busy with their other duties and readying us for the assembly. We can surely pick up our own gowns.”
Kitty took hold of one and brought it to the wardrobe, but Lydia lifted her nose and sat at her dressing table as if she had not heard.
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances and returned to their room.
What was to be done? They were not the girls’ mother, and Mama did not set a good example, always leaving things about.
It was her prerogative, as it was her house, and it was true that the servants were there to make their lives easier, but there were limits, were there not?
Did not some modicum of responsibility do one good?
“I shall wear my blue gown,” said Jane, and Elizabeth agreed, knowing it went perfectly with Jane’s eyes. Jane would not speak much of Mr Bingley, but Elizabeth knew she was anticipating this evening with pleasure.
Elizabeth put on a yellow gown. She thought it becoming, and liked the feel of the material against her skin.
It was a good dancing dress, and she hoped she might have the opportunity to do so.
Too often there were more ladies than men at Meryton assemblies, and she had had to sit out more than once.
She refused to flirt and beg the way her youngest sisters did, and would not sulk, like Mary.
Mary sulked as a practice, but truly hated assemblies.
Elizabeth thought it cruel that Mama insisted she attend, but there was no arguing with Mama when it came to gatherings involving potential husbands.
Soon enough they had pinned everything in need of pinning, eaten lightly, and departed.
When they were finally arrived, the room was decently full, though it was, for the time being, possible to move about.
Elizabeth took the opportunity to look for her dear friend Charlotte Lucas, and spotted her immediately.
Charlotte was in a pale pink gown, which Elizabeth found curious given that at the last assembly, Charlotte had worn the same gown and deemed it unbecoming.
As she approached, Charlotte, who knew her mind better than anyone save Jane, said, “Before you mention the dress, I will share that our new maid burned my favourite lavender gown, and the new one my mother is having made was not completed in time. She is in a dither, though I do not think which gown I wear to yet another Meryton assembly shall make one bit of difference to my marriage prospects. Though it is rumoured that two new men shall grace the assembly, it shall do no good as one is, apparently, already besotted with Jane and the other is apparently an unpleasant snob who ought to be avoided.”
Elizabeth burst into laughter. “Charlotte, you have an uncanny ability to speak the plain truth and so quickly one hardly has time to consider all that you are saying.” She hugged her friend then added, “Though one of the new men of whom you speak—the one not already besotted with Jane—seems a decent fellow.”
Charlotte cocked her head. “That is not what is being said of him. Have you had occasion to speak to him?”
“Why yes. Just the other day, he and his friend, Mr Bingley, along with Mr Goulding, walked with us to and from Meryton, and they had tea at Longbourn.”
Charlotte’s smile drooped almost imperceptibly, though Elizabeth knew her friend well enough to have caught it. “I suppose, unpleasant or not, there is no hope then.”
“Charlotte, do not give up hope in general. Mr Darcy might not be for you, but there is a man who is.”
Charlotte twisted her handkerchief between her hands. “Of course,” she said, though she did not sound convinced.
Just then, two gentlemen the girls had known all their lives approached and asked Elizabeth and Charlotte to dance.
It was a scotch reel, and the steps, the tune, and the company were immensely enjoyable, in part because there was no expectation of an attachment, simply amusement, which was a relief to all.
By the time the music had finished, the room had grown crowded and hot, and Elizabeth desired refreshment.
She told her partner she might go alone and he should dance, so he asked Charlotte, and the man who had danced with Charlotte sought out another victim.
Yes, victim, for though Elizabeth found him kind and the conversation stimulating enough, the gentleman was known for his careless footfalls, and had been stomping on her toes accidentally for the past four years.
After taking a glass of Negus, Elizabeth walked about, greeting neighbours, and then stood against the wall, as easy movement was no longer possible.
She spotted Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, and watched their approach, but they did not see her.
They stopped, Mr Bingley looking about, likely for Jane.
Mr Darcy looked sullen, his eyes darting more than once towards the door leading to the road.