Chapter Twelve A Ball of Excellent ution Part I
BY SEVEN O’CLOCK, NETHERFIELD had acquired enough candles, flowers, and polished silver to conceal any quantity of evil beneath excellent taste.
Light blazed from the ballroom chandeliers, musicians tuned their instruments in the gallery, and servants moved through the public rooms carrying final instructions which contradicted the instructions issued ten minutes earlier.
Miss Bingley had revised the placement of the chairs twice since dinner, although no one in the house had dined, and the eastern doors had survived only because Bingley had placed himself physically between them and his sister.
Darcy stood in Bingley’s study with the household assembled around him.
Bingley occupied the space before the fire, his hands clasped behind his back in a poor imitation of calm.
Hurst had taken the corner nearest the drinks table, while Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley shared the sofa.
Fletcher waited beside the door, a folded plan of the ground floor resting in his palm.
“He does not touch her.” Darcy allowed his gaze to move over every face. “Not her hand, her arm, or any part of her clothing. We require evidence of a fresh offence, but Miss Elizabeth will not be injured to obtain it.”
Hurst leaned one shoulder against the wall. “We understood the rule the first three times.”
Darcy pointed a finger at him. “You will understand it a fourth.”
“Then I understand it with unusual thoroughness.”
Bingley left the hearth and walked to the table where Fletcher was spreading the plan. “An attempt at compulsion will be sufficient?”
“Yes. The True Blood is protected under the oldest law. An expressed threat, an attempt to compel her, or any movement intended to seize her permits intervention.” Darcy placed one finger against the marked position of the study. “He need not draw blood. He must not reach her.”
Mrs Hurst studied the narrow passage running between the card room and study. “I shall remain between the drawing room and the ladies’ staircase. Caroline will control the ballroom, and Hurst will take the western corridor when Wickham leaves the dancers.”
“The servants stationed here and here know that no guest may enter the private rooms.” Fletcher indicated the eastern passage and the stairs.
“Two men will remain near the terrace doors, one inside and one in the garden. The study has been opened as an additional gentlemen’s room, but the service door behind the shelves will remain under my control. ”
Miss Bingley rested her hands against her skirts. “I continue to object to using my ball as a judicial trap.”
“Your brother’s ball,” Hurst corrected.
“I arranged it. Charles engaged musicians and then asked whether musicians needed chairs.”
Bingley turned away from the floor plan. “We can still cancel.”
Miss Bingley stared at him. “We cannot cancel a ball an hour before the guests arrive because one officer has deficient morals.”
“He has fangs, Caroline.”
Darcy moved to the windows. The curtains had been closed at dusk, and the glass behind them held nothing but darkness.
Miss Elizabeth had chosen to proceed after learning the truth.
Her consent had been clear, informed, and accompanied by conditions which left no room for convenient misunderstanding.
None of that reduced his responsibility.
If Wickham reached her, Darcy would remain the man who had opened the door and permitted him to enter.
Hurst pushed away from the wall, his voice devoid of mockery.
“If we cancel, Wickham approaches her at Longbourn, Meryton, or the next assembly. We shall not choose the room, control the doors, or know who stands near her. Tonight, he enters ground we have prepared, and every creature capable of stopping him is waiting.”
“She should never have been required to stand on that ground at all,” Darcy said.
“No, but that decision belonged to Wickham. Miss Elizabeth has decided what she will do about it.”
Darcy turned from the window. Hurst’s correction struck too near the argument Miss Elizabeth had made. Respecting her choice only when it agreed with his own would turn concern into another form of control.
Fletcher cleared his throat. “There remains the matter of the bowl.”
Miss Bingley’s posture sharpened. “It is locked in Mr Darcy’s chamber.”
“It was locked there.” Fletcher maintained the grave composure which had helped him survive twenty-seven years in a vampire household. “It has twice crossed the room since luncheon. The second time, I discovered it under my coat.”
Hurst examined the valet’s narrow frame. “That must have required optimism.”
“It displayed determination.”
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where is it now?”
“In the centre of your bed with the door locked, the key in my possession, and a chair placed against the handle.”
Miss Bingley rose from the sofa. “It will remain there. I refuse to have an ancient ceremonial vessel pursuing Miss Elizabeth between the dancers.”
“It may improve the figures,” Hurst suggested.
Mrs Hurst stood and smoothed one hand over the front of her gown. “The guests will begin arriving shortly. We all know our positions.”
Darcy glanced once more at the floor plan before Fletcher removed it. The ball, the study, and Miss Elizabeth’s part in the trap had been reduced to doors, routes, and assigned places.
The first carriage entered the sweep before eight.
Others followed in quick succession while footmen opened doors, received outdoor clothing, and announced families into the ballroom.
Sir William and Lady Lucas arrived early enough to praise the house before it became crowded.
Miss Lucas entered behind them, found Mrs Hurst near the ballroom doors, and took the place agreed between them without any hesitation.
The Bennet carriage came next.
Bingley had been greeting a local magistrate but abandoned the gentleman so quickly that Miss Bingley was forced to complete the welcome.
He reached the entrance hall as Miss Bennet surrendered her cloak to a maid.
Mrs Bennet followed, already describing the roads, the number of carriages, and the excellent effect of Netherfield’s windows when illuminated.
Mr Bennet stepped aside to permit Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty to enter together, Miss Mary came after them, and Miss Elizabeth crossed the threshold before Collins brought up the rear.
Darcy forgot the room.
Her gown was fashioned from pale ivory silk with dark green embroidery at the sleeves and hem.
The low neckline left the graceful line of her throat uncovered, and the pulse moving there carried the True Blood through skin no more capable of concealing it than glass could conceal flame.
Every civilised instinct Darcy possessed insisted that he greet her with composure.
Every other instinct proposed removing every man from the house and setting fire to the invitations.
Miss Lucas joined Miss Elizabeth while the maid took her cloak. Their brief exchange confirmed that both women remembered the plan they had discussed the previous evening.
Collins attempted to pass the footman without surrendering the stout walking stick in his right hand.
“Allow me, sir.” The footman extended one gloved palm.
Collins drew the stick closer. “That will not be necessary.”
“Walking sticks are placed in the entrance stand until departure.”
“This is not a decorative accessory, sir. I require it for physical support.”
The footman’s eyes descended to Collins’s feet. “Are you injured, sir?”
“I have suffered a disturbance of the smallest toe.”
“You walked from the carriage without difficulty.”
“The pain is intermittent.”
Hurst approached from the ballroom and surveyed the stick. Its polished ash shaft ended in a heavy brass ferrule, while the handle appeared thick enough to support far more than Collins’s disputed toe.
“You intend to dance while unable to cross a hallway without assistance?”
Collins drew himself upright. “The motions required by dancing differ materially from those required by ordinary walking. Lady Catherine has often observed that physical infirmity should not be permitted to obstruct social duty.”
“Has Lady Catherine inspected the toe?”
“The injury occurred after my departure from Kent.”
“Then we must rely on your diagnosis.”
Fletcher appeared beside the footman. He studied the stick, then Collins’s grip on it. “Mr Collins may retain it, provided that he keeps the ferrule from the polished floor.”
Miss Bingley reached the hall in time to hear the ruling. “He may not take a walking stick into my ballroom.”
Collins bowed. “I shall exercise every caution, madam.”
Miss Bingley withdrew to the receiving line before Collins could produce further medical equipment.
Darcy bowed to Miss Elizabeth. The hall contained her family, the Lucases, several newly arrived guests, and enough servants to carry every careless expression through Hertfordshire before supper. He kept his hands behind his back.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr Darcy.” Her eyes moved over his formal coat, his rigid posture, and the hands he had deliberately removed from reach. She lowered her voice. “You appear displeased to see your bait.”
“I am displeased that bait was required.”
“Nothing has changed,” she murmured. “I have not withdrawn my agreement.”
“You may do so at any time.”
“I know.”
Darcy inclined his head, accepting the answer without accepting the risk, and allowed her to pass into the ballroom with Miss Lucas.
Bingley had reached Miss Bennet and forgotten that he was responsible for receiving half the county. Miss Bingley reclaimed him by catching his sleeve before he could follow Miss Bennet beyond the entrance.
“You must stand here until the principal guests have arrived.”
“I have already greeted Miss Bennet.”
“The remainder of Hertfordshire also expects recognition, Charles.”
Bingley turned to Miss Bennet, who had stopped, watching the exchange with amusement. “May I claim the first dance after I am released from my duties?”