CHAPTER 5
A fortnight later, gossip of the militia had found its way into every corner of conversation in Meryton, the Bennet household not excepted.
While Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters indulged themselves freely in fancies of handsome and heroic officers, Elizabeth remained rather more guarded in her enthusiasm; Jane was too pleasantly occupied with Mr. Bingley's attentions to trouble herself much over the new arrivals; and Mary took no interest in the matter whatsoever.
One evening, Sir William Lucas undertook to gather a party of young people and respectable neighbours for an evening's entertainment.
Among the invited were Mr. Bingley and his party, the Bennets, the Alders and the Brookses, together with the newly arrived Colonel Forster and several of his senior officers.
The summer heat made for close conditions, and though Sir William had seen to it that every window in the ballroom stood open, the air remained warm and heavy, and the company kept close to the punch table in a general, if hopeless, effort to cool themselves.
Elizabeth had some hope of speaking with Colonel Forster, that she might learn what had recommended Meryton as a posting for his regiment, and how long they were like to remain.
Her youngest sister Lydia had already made an attempt upon the colonel's young wife, and Elizabeth, wishing to make Mrs. Forster's acquaintance herself, was making her way toward them when a figure stepped directly into her path, obliging her to stop short and look up.
"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy’s tone was crisp but polite.
Elizabeth suppressed an inward sigh. She had marked Mr. Darcy's entrance some time before, and had taken some care since to avoid his notice.
However, having approached her, there was no possible outlet that would allow her to retreat from that moment without being abominably rude.
She offered a polite curtsy, as was expected of polite society, "Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she replied, resolved to be civil, though her eyes strayed past his shoulder toward her intended object.
"If you would," he started.
"How are," she continued.
Having both spoken at once, they fell silent together. And, Elizabeth inclined her head, yielding him the word, with a slight nod and demur smile.
"How do you do this evening, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy tried again.
This time, Elizabeth replied with speed, "Very well, I thank you.” She turned her head towards the direction of her younger sister, Lydia, “I was just now on my way to my sister.” She nodded in Lydia’s general direction.
“If you will excuse me, sir." She had just began to attempt to move past him, before he interjected.
He spoke gravely. "Of course. But before you go, if you are not otherwise engaged, might I have the honour of the next dance?"
Elizabeth could not entirely conceal her astonishment, for she had scarcely thought the man who had spoken so sharply to her in the woods a few days past was capable of such civility now.
Surely Mr. Darcy did not ask me for a dance, certainly not after his behavior in the woods? How very bold, she decided.
Though her internal thoughts protested a stout denial, she demurred with a civil denial, "Why, I thank you, Mr. Darcy, but I am not disposed to dance this evening.” She offered another slight curtsy, for good manners, and then lightly said, “Good evening to you, sir."
She is as stubborn as any creature I have met, thought Mr. Darcy, receiving what he could only understand to be his first refusal at a lady's hands.
Before he could recover himself sufficiently to ask her reason, Elizabeth had already stepped past him, making her way toward the far end of the room.
Meanwhile, to Elizabeth’s vexation, before she could reach her sister, Lydia had moved to the edge of the dance floor with a striking young officer in a red coat.
However, she would not be so deterred, this time, looking for Mrs. Forster.
Unfortunately, she soon spotted Mrs. Forster, but noticed the young woman too had been claimed for the dance; her husband led out by her own insistence.
Thus, Elizabeth resigned herself to waiting the better part of an hour for either lady's leisure.
Despite her failed advances to secure the attention of Lydia or Mrs. Forster, Elizabeth was glad enough of an excuse to remove herself from Mr. Darcy's vicinity. As such, Elizabeth continued about the room in search of any tolerable conversation.
At length, she came upon her father, who bore the trials of society, as ever, with the driest of humour, and would infinitely have preferred his own library to any ballroom, though his wife had made plain enough the consequence of his refusing Sir William's invitation.
He was engaged at present with Mr. Brookes, a kindly gentleman some years his senior, whose modest estate lay on the far side of Meryton from Longbourn.
Childless himself, Mr. Brookes was known through the neighbourhood as a diligent and fair-minded landlord, much occupied with the care of his own fields.
The two men were speaking of the militia, whose camp lay nearer his land than the Bennets'.
"They seem an orderly enough set," Mr. Brookes was saying. "The colonel has led men before, I think, this is no first command of his. They asked the use of my stream, and I could hardly refuse them."
"And how far are they posted from Fairview?" Mr. Bennet asked inquisitively.
"Not far at all, two fields over, no more," the man returned.
At this reply Elizabeth entered into the conversation. "Mr. Brookes, do you know whether the soldiers fought in the wars on the Continent, or whether they are chiefly new recruits?"
The older gentleman looked somewhat surprised by the question. "That is an interesting question, Miss Elizabeth, and I could not say with certainty. I should guess a mixture of the two; I noticed both younger and older faces when I called upon Colonel Forster at the camp."
"Thank you, sir. I was merely curious whether the regiment was a seasoned one,” she replied in a casual tone.
"Elizabeth has been much occupied with the newspapers of late, Brookes," Mr. Bennet put in. "She takes a considerable interest in the aftermath of war."
Mr. Brookes appeared uncertain what to make of this, and Elizabeth came to his rescue. "A little worldly knowledge is much like a good stout, is it not, Mr. Brookes? Best taken in moderation, and apt to go to one's head."
The old gentleman laughed heartily at this, and Mr. Bennet joined him. "Worldly knowledge, akin to stout! If only our finest scholars could be found holding court in the taverns, Brookes, we might all be the wiser for it."
"That would be something to see, sir," Elizabeth said, smiling politely.
Her father returned her smile before turning back to his companion, and the conversation drifted once more to matters of the estate.
To that, Elizabeth slipped quietly away, declining along her path a dance offered by an elderly neighbour, lest she appear inconsistent in having so lately refused Mr. Darcy.
Eventually, she found Charlotte, and drew her aside to share what she had learned. "Charlotte, there you are. I have had it from Mr. Brookes that the regiment is a mixture, some seasoned men, some new."
"So I have heard as well. Do you see the gentleman there, with the fair, curling hair? Lieutenant Sanderson." Charlotte inclined her head discreetly toward a middle-aged officer in a well-decorated coat. "Second in command, or so they say. He fought on the Continent, alongside Colonel Forster."
"I see," said Elizabeth, regarding the two men where they stood together.
"What is it you see, Eliza?" Charlotte asked with a certain look in her eye, as if knowing her friend had not disclosed half of her thoughts.
"I see that the King is well protected by seasoned men, Charlotte." Elizabeth offered Charlotte a small, teasing smile.
"I do not doubt it. But what else do you see?" Charlotte asked, knowing that smile, and owning there was much more to it.
Elizabeth drew her friend a little closer, still smiling. "I confess I still cannot see why they should be here at all."
"That I cannot tell you," said Charlotte, her attention already drifting toward some other object across the room.
Elizabeth followed her friend's gaze and found Mr. Darcy regarding her from across the hall. Their eyes held a moment before he turned away, seemingly unwilling to prolong the encounter.
"Mr. Darcy has looked this way a great deal this evening, Lizzy. I have counted at least three times."
"I cannot think why, unless it is to find some new fault in me,” Elizabeth replied, shaking her head.
Charlotte turned back from Mr. Darcy and looked at her friend, "I should be surprised if fault were his object. Perhaps he likes what he sees rather better than he lets on."
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wider, "Charlotte! You go too far."
"You needn't look so astonished. You are very handsome this evening, Eliza. I have half a mind to insist you play tonight, so the whole room might admire your looks along with your talent." Charlotte responded with confidence.
"You would not dare, you dreadful creature," Elizabeth had a playful tone, but it suggested to Charlotte that she should not push the subject further.
"Would I not?" Charlotte laughed, a twinkle in her eyes.
The two friends laughed together, and, preferring punch and a little quiet to any public exhibition, made their way out to one of the adjoining balconies to escape the closeness of the ballroom.
The evening remained close and warm, and Elizabeth felt the heat gathering uncomfortably at her neck; Charlotte looked scarcely more at ease.
Much as Elizabeth might have wished to make Mrs. Forster's acquaintance that evening, she found herself content enough to remain with her friend, having already gathered what news of the regiment she could from Mr. Brookes.
Within the ballroom, the dancing continued in high spirits, Mr. Bingley among the most animated of the company, his attentions fixed entirely upon Jane, with whom he danced as often as propriety would allow, both growing rather warm with the exercise and the closeness of the room.
Mr. Darcy, meanwhile, stood apart from it all, having resolved that if he could not dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he would not dance at all that evening