Chapter IX #2
This seemed to satisfy Mrs. Hurst, yet Elizabeth had a sense that there was an undercurrent in the exchange she could not quite understand. Mr. Darcy turned back to her, and soon they were engrossed in another conversation, pushing the matter from her mind.
ON THE DAY OF THE ASSEMBLY, an event of some significance occurred, though the families at Netherfield and Longbourn would not learn about it until later. It was a typical winter day, the weather a little mild for the season which tended toward dreary clouds, rain, or even a light dusting of snow.
By this time, the Netherfield party had been present at the estate for almost two weeks, and had settled in with a comfort that would have seemed impossible the season before.
Visits between Netherfield and Longbourn were common if not daily, and that fine morning those at Netherfield had set out for Longbourn for their usual visit.
With five members of the party in the carriage, the quarters were tight, but not unbearable for a short journey.
The conversation was pleasant and even affectionate, and before long it turned to future events, and even gentle teasing.
“Well, Darcy,” said Bingley, his efforts to tweak his friend’s nose not unusual, “tomorrow is the assembly. Do you mean to shun the local ladies and stalk about in your usual stupid manner?” Bingley grinned and added: “Or perhaps this time it is unnecessary, as Caroline is not here to vex you.”
“Oh, Charles,” said Mrs. Hurst with a disapproving shake of her head, though Darcy noted the woman’s slight smile.
“If it were not true, I would not say it,” said Bingley, raising his eyebrows.
“Mayhap it is,” conceded Mrs. Hurst. “There is no need to say it.”
Bingley just grinned and turned back to Darcy, one eyebrow arched as if in challenge. Darcy, unbothered by his friend’s jesting, took a moment to respond, listening instead to the horses’ hooves and the rumble of the carriage wheels on the hard-packed gravel.
“You know enough of me to understand that I do not perform to the masses,” said Darcy at length.
“Well do I know it,” said Bingley.
“Do not concern yourself, my friend, for I shall not embarrass you. I cannot imagine I will frequent the dance floor so much as you will, but I am not opposed. Besides,” said he, giving his sister an affectionate look, “I must dance at least three dances with my sister.”
“Oh, but you must favor the local ladies with your hand,” said Georgiana. “I must insist on this, Brother.”
“So I shall,” replied Darcy, considering how many—or how few—dances would satisfy his sister.
In his mind’s eye, the memory of a dark-haired vixen with laughing eyes and an impertinent manner tormented and teased him. Darcy meant to have Miss Elizabeth’s hand for at least a set, and it would not be the confrontational dance he had shared with her at Bingley’s ball.
“Then I wish you well,” said Bingley when Darcy was in danger of falling into reverie. “For my part, I shall dance with Miss Bennet—the first, to be certain. Then I shall secure her last two sets.”
“I am only looking forward to seeing my friends,” said Georgiana.
She fixed Darcy with an arch look he might not have seen only a few weeks before, one that reminded him of a certain lady of his acquaintance.
“Since the only gentleman I am to dance with is my brother, I must induce Elizabeth and her sisters to stand up with me.”
“Though I am but a poor substitute,” said a laughing Bingley, “I shall also promise a set with you, Miss Darcy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” said she, appearing composed.
Though no one spoke to him, Hurst muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Foolishness!” Hurst was even more taciturn than Darcy was himself, and his energy did not extend to dancing, though he would dance once with his wife.
Mrs. Hurst, Darcy noted, looked heavenward, though he knew she was at least fond of her husband.
“If my memory is accurate,” said Mrs. Hurst, “all the Bennet girls were popular partners at the last assembly and the ball.”
Though certain she had spoken so for a reason, Darcy decided not to respond.
“Except for Miss Mary,” supplied Bingley.
“Why is that?” asked Georgiana, appearing perplexed.
Bingley coughed, not wanting to speak, leaving the response to Mrs. Hurst. “I have heard it said that Miss Mary is not so comely as her sisters.”
“Why, that is nonsense!” exclaimed Georgiana. “Her manner of dress is more severe than her sisters, but she is not ill-favored.”
“I suspect it is also her demeanor that prevents her from dancing,” said Darcy. “Miss Mary appears to be a young woman who is not fond of society.”
“With that I must agree,” replied Bingley.
“Perhaps she would enjoy it if gentlemen would solicit her hand more often,” suggested Mrs. Hurst.
“I shall do my duty and stand up with her for a set,” said Bingley.
“You must do so as well, Brother,” said Georgiana.
“I have no objection,” replied Darcy.
Darcy thought a set with Miss Mary would please him more than standing up with her younger sisters.
Misses Kitty and Lydia were comely girls, but the soft-spoken Mary would fit his own sense of brevity—unless he was acquainted with the lady, Darcy preferred the dance to pass in occasional conversation rather than a constant stream of words.
“What of the other sisters?” asked Mrs. Hurst, bringing the conversation back to where Darcy suspected she wished it to go. “If you mean to dance with them, you must ask them early, for otherwise their dance cards will be full.”
“I hardly think it necessary to solicit Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia,” said Bingley. “Their preference would be to dance with the officers anyway.”
Then Bingley turned to grin at Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth is another matter altogether. If you mean to have a set with her, you had best snap her up before all her dances are taken, old man.”
“Oh, to be certain!” cried Georgiana. “Tell me, Brother; do you mean to finally present me with a sister?”
Darcy studied his companions. Bingley looked on with amusement bordering on glee, Georgiana with enthusiasm, and Mrs. Hurst with studied nonchalance.
Even Hurst, though he feigned disinterest, was paying close attention.
For a moment, Darcy wondered if they had arranged matters between them.
Then he decided they had not, and it did not signify anyway.
“Talk of a sister is premature, Georgiana,” said Darcy at length. “However, I shall oblige you and stand up with Miss Elizabeth for a set.”
“The first?” pressed Georgiana.
“Darcy never dances the first,” said Bingley. “It is his scrupulous interest in not giving any young lady a notion of favor.”
“I shall not say you are incorrect, Bingley.”
“Yet I do not think giving Elizabeth such a notion concerns you a jot,” persisted Georgiana.
“We shall see,” said Darcy, not wanting to speak on the subject any longer.
It was fortunate for his peace of mind that Georgiana did not press the matter. Soon thereafter they sighted Longbourn through the trees.
THE ACQUAINTANCE OF twenty years had taught Elizabeth that her mother could embarrass her in any setting, even the banality of a morning visit.
The problem was twofold—the assembly was scheduled for the following evening, and Mrs. Bennet had noticed that Mr. Darcy spoke to Elizabeth more than anyone else in the family.
At first, the visit was not unusual. Mr. Bingley situated himself next to Jane the moment he entered the room and refused to move from her side, Georgiana went to Elizabeth’s youngest sisters and spoke in low tones punctuated by frequent giggling, Mr. Hurst sat in a chair as if bored, and Mrs. Hurst sat close to Mrs. Bennet and Mary, though Elizabeth knew she preferred little conversation with the former and had little in common with the latter.
The trouble began when Mr. Bingley made his intentions known to Jane.
“Of course, I shall be pleased to dance the first with you, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane, her serenity hiding her excitement.
Then in a most daring manner for her reticent sister, Jane added: “I will note that it is unusual for a man to request a woman’s sets before the day of an assembly.
” Then Jane winked at Elizabeth. “Though I seem to recall Lizzy getting just such a solicitation the last time.”
Elizabeth glared at her sister, promising retribution, but Jane’s placid smile did not alter, though Elizabeth could see her sister’s eyes twinkling in merriment.
She had no opportunity to consider it, however, for Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose in praise and overwrought gratitude, and Mr. Darcy spoke, distracting Elizabeth.
“Given what I recall of the last dance,” said the gentleman, “I cannot suppose that solicitation was at all agreeable.”
Elizabeth offered him a wry grin. “As my partner moved wrong and collided with another dancer within the first ten steps, I cannot say you are incorrect.”
“Yes, I remember something of that,” said Mr. Darcy.
Before the conversation could continue, Mrs. Bennet’s voice interrupted them, and her comment did not please her second daughter.
“What of you, Mr. Darcy? Shall you also dance the first? I am assured you would please us all, for I have observed that you are an excellent dancer.”
“He ought to be,” said Georgiana, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I remember his dance lessons when I was but a girl.”
“And I have had many years to practice since then,” said Mr. Darcy, nodding agreeably to his sister.
“Your practice has not been so abundant as it might have been,” said a laughing Mr. Bingley.
“I shall not endure this teasing from you, Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy, not appearing displeased at all with his friend.
“Oh, aye,” said Mr. Bennet, “for not everyone is a popinjay intent on amazing the entire room with his stamina.” Mr. Bennet winked. “Darcy here is a man after my own sensibilities.”