Chapter 16
THE BALL AT NETHERFIELD
“Miss Bennet, you are a vision,” Mr Bingley declared when Jane, on her father’s arm, appeared before him in the receiving line. He bowed to the family. “Mr Bennet, Mr Collins, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, how do you do? But where are Mrs Bennet and Miss Lydia?”
“My father feels Lydia is too young for such an event,” Jane said, smiling, “and Mama unfortunately is unwell tonight. She is most disappointed to miss the occasion.”
Mr Bingley uttered words of sympathy, and Elizabeth exchanged a glance with her father. Though Jane had not been untruthful, her brief reply had contained no hint of the utter chaos which had erupted as they made to leave for the evening.
They had been assembled in Longbourn’s front vestibule, donning their cloaks and coats, when Lydia came tripping down the stairs in her ballgown, wearing Mrs Bennet’s pearls, demanding that Mrs Hill fetch her cloak.
Elizabeth’s heart had sunk; either there was a confrontation ahead, or her father would give way and Lydia would be allowed to come to the ball.
Neither was desirable, though the former was preferable.
Mr Bennet had sharply asked what she thought she was doing, and upon hearing her careless reply that she was going to the ball, had made it clear that the only place she was going tonight was back upstairs, where silly, disobedient little girls must stay while their better-behaved sisters enjoyed a night of entertainment.
Lydia had shrieked that she was not a little girl, she was a woman grown, claiming that ‘all the officers’ were expecting to dance with her.
Mr Bennet had no sympathy for her or these forlorn swains, and remained unmoved.
Neither had Mrs Bennet’s wails and pleas done anything to sway him, much to Elizabeth’s relief.
She would not have been at all surprised had the plaster begun to crack from the cacophony her mother and sister were creating.
“Mrs Hill,” he had said even as they continued to assault his ears with their complaints, “please take Lydia to her room.” There had been a distinct martial glint to the housekeeper’s gaze as she marched up to the youngest Bennet, seized her by the arm, and pulled her towards the stairs.
“Why are you so cruel, Mr Bennet?” the lady of the house had wailed. “You would deny your daughter a night of entertainment and the chance to secure a husband, merely for a bit of flirtation with a handsome officer?”
“For not having the sense to stay well away from a known seducer, I most certainly shall!” he had declared, his temper fraying.
“And as for marriage, she is far too young and far too ignorant for it, though I admit the notion of allowing her to become some other man’s problem is tempting.
” Though Elizabeth was proud of her father for standing firm, she would have wished he had not chosen to say something quite so provocative just then.
“You have no compassion for my nerves! You care not that I have such tremblings, such flutterings all over me, such pains in my head, and all from your unkindness!”
“It sounds as though you are very unwell indeed, my dear.” She had agreed eagerly, only for him to reply, “In that case, you had best take one of your tonics and go to bed. Come, Collins, come, girls, let us leave your mother in peace and hope she will be well again tomorrow.” He had ushered them out as Mrs Bennet stood gaping like a fish at this sudden reversal of fortune.
Miss Bingley’s welcome was civil, but decidedly chillier than her brother’s.
Once past her, they entered the ballroom and separated to greet their friends.
Elizabeth made directly for Charlotte and discreetly gave her to know that their plans had apparently been for naught, as Mr Collins had hardly strayed from Mary’s side since the evening at Haye-Park.
“That must be a great relief to you, however,” Charlotte said. “I am a little disappointed, but it is better for your family that he wed one of your sisters, and one who is much more suited to him.”
“The only one who is at all suited to him,” Elizabeth agreed. “But we shall find someone for you, my dear friend. Unless I miss my guess, we are very likely to meet all of Mr Bingley’s friends in the coming year.”
“I would very much like to be married,” Charlotte replied wistfully. “To have my own home to manage how I like, children to love and raise, and the knowledge that I will not be a burden on my brother when Father is gone.”
“Your brother would not mind at all if you lived with him forever,” Elizabeth objected.
“No, but whomever he marries very well might.”
That, Elizabeth could not deny. Much as she often wished for the security of a loving brother, she could very well imagine how uncomfortable it would be to live in a household where the mistress resented her for claiming a share of resources that would otherwise fall to her and her children.
“It would be so very convenient if I could fall in love with your brother, and he with me, but alas, neither of us is so inclined.”
Charlotte laughed. “I have wished for that often, myself.”
Mr Darcy stopped before them then, bowing and greeting them both. “Miss Elizabeth, I hope I have not approached too late to secure a set with you?”
This application she could not but find utterly charming, for half those invited had not yet arrived. “Only my third has been claimed, sir. You may have any other.”
“The second, then, if it suits you.” She agreed readily, and he turned to Charlotte. “Dare I hope you might have a set available for me as well, Miss Lucas?”
“I do, sir. You may take your pick.”
They settled on the third set, and after a few moments’ discussion of the decorations enlivening the already handsome room, he went away.
“Two dances claimed already, Eliza! Well done,” Charlotte teased.
“Do not be hasty with your congratulations. The third has been secured by my cousin, and I do not have great hopes of finding him adept at the art. He reserved Mary’s first,” she added significantly, “and then the rest of us in order of precedence, though now he shall have to find a new partner for the fifth, if he means to dance it.”
Charlotte frowned and glanced about the room. “I had not noticed that Lydia was not with you. And where is your mother?”
She drew Charlotte off then into a far corner where they would not be overheard, and related to her the events of the past few days as they concerned her youngest sister and a certain scoundrel.
Her friend shook her head and tutted over the girl’s heedless disregard for her father’s edicts and her own reputation, and praised Mr Bennet for putting his foot down.
Elizabeth agreed, though to Charlotte alone would she confess that she feared his resolve might not last as long as the militia’s residence in the area.
They left their corner to be sociable and were speaking with Miss Long, Miss Harrington, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, positively resplendent in his full uniform, when the dancing commenced.
At the head of the line, Jane and Mr Bingley were utterly radiant as they moved into the first figure, while next to them, Miss Bingley seemed rather less pleased to be opening the evening with Charlotte’s brother.
Halfway through the first dance of the set, there was a commotion farther down the line when Mr Collins turned the wrong way, and only the quick reflexes of several other dancers prevented a great collision.
The confusion was made worse when he stopped to apologise profusely.
Mary, cheeks red, persuaded him to rejoin the figure and delay his amends until the pause between dances.
“Viewed in a certain light, it is brave of him to take to the floor at all,” Charlotte remarked.
Elizabeth was torn between amusement and sympathy as she watched her sister attempt to direct Mr Collins through the dance.
He often stepped forwards when he should have stepped back, or made to turn left when he ought to go right, only to reverse course at a word from his partner.
She looked away from the floor when the first dance ended, not wishing for a further glimpse into what awaited her, though judging by the expressions of repressed hilarity upon the faces of Charlotte and the colonel, who watched the second dance of the set, he did not improve much if at all.
When the second set began to form, Mr Darcy arrived to collect her.
She ignored the looks of amazement from her neighbours and was privately grateful that her mother was not present.
What she might have said, and at what volume, was best not imagined.
They spoke of commonplaces as they moved through the steps—the quality of the musicians, the number of couples engaged in the dance—until Elizabeth thought to introduce a more serious topic.
“Mr Bingley, when he visited us last week, mentioned that you and your cousin were to visit Colonel Forster with proof of a certain person’s debts. We have been confined by the rain since and have heard nothing more; I hope you do not mind if I ask how your meeting went?”
He appeared briefly uncomfortable, but answered readily enough, “Forster gave no hint that he disbelieved what he was told about Wickham previously, but proof must always be welcome, and he was glad to have it. He has been watching his newest officer closely, and vowed to continue to do so. However, Wickham will not much longer be resident in the area, I am happy to say.”
“I am pleased to hear it, but you must know that I will not be satisfied with such a vague statement,” she replied with a teasing imitation of sternness.