Five
Meryton Assembly
Elizabeth
Had it rested entirely with Elizabeth, she would gladly have remained at Longbourn that evening.
Her father seldom attended assemblies, and on this occasion had chosen to remain at home besides.
Mrs. Bennet, however, would undoubtedly have lamented her poor nerves to every acquaintance in Meryton had Elizabeth contrived an excuse to stay away, and no daughter of hers was to deprive the neighbourhood of an opportunity to admire the Bennet ladies.
It was not that Elizabeth disliked assemblies altogether.
Indeed, she generally found them diverting enough, provided the company justified the trouble of attending.
What she did dislike was her mother's unwavering conviction that every gathering existed chiefly to display her daughters before whatever eligible gentlemen happened to be within ten miles, as though matrimony were merely a matter of placing the proper wares before the proper purchasers.
"Lizzy." Jane touched her lightly upon the arm. "Mama will scold you presently if you continue to look so solemn."
"I was not aware I looked solemn."
Jane smiled. "Your expression whilst Mr. Martin was speaking to you a few moments ago would scarcely have encouraged a less determined gentleman."
Elizabeth laughed softly. "You observed that?"
"It was difficult not to."
Elizabeth leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. "He spent the better part of our conversation recounting his adventures at yesterday's duck shoot, in such exhaustive detail that I almost pitied the birds more than I admired the sportsman. Pray tell me what answer such a history requires."
"Only a smile, perhaps."
"And encourage him to repeat it another evening? No, thank you."
Jane shook her head with affectionate resignation, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement. She had scarcely drawn breath to reply when a stir near the entrance caused every face in the room to turn towards the door.
Elizabeth soon caught sight, over the heads of those before her, of the party whose arrival had so quickly claimed the attention of the room.
She needed no one to tell her who they were.
Since the Netherfield gentlemen had taken possession of the house, scarcely another subject had been spoken of in Meryton, or indeed by Mrs. Bennet, who appeared perfectly satisfied that Mr. Bingley's arrival in the county could have but one proper conclusion, namely his marriage to Jane.
Her own curiosity had been sharpened only the previous morning.
Her father, who seldom troubled himself to pay calls upon strangers and still more seldom returned from one with anything complimentary to say, had surprised the breakfast table by speaking favourably of both gentlemen.
Mr. Bingley, he declared, possessed an openness of manner that promised to make him universally liked before the month was out.
The family had not even known he had paid them a visit until he mentioned it with an air of satisfaction that had surprised them all.
It was the other gentleman, however, who had lingered in Elizabeth's thoughts.
Mr. Bennet had laughed when describing him.
"Mr. Darcy is a sensible fellow," he had said, "and possessed of rather more humour than I suspect the world gives him credit for. Yet, for all his civility, he looked to me like a man carrying a burden he had not yet found anyone willing to share."
Elizabeth had found the observation unusually thoughtful coming from her father, who more often amused himself by laughing at other people's follies than considering their cares. She had wondered ever since what sort of gentleman could leave such an impression after scarcely an hour's acquaintance.
"That must be Mr. Bingley," Jane said softly, watching the smiling gentleman return Sir William's greeting with unaffected ease.
Elizabeth nodded, though her attention had already wandered beyond him in search of his friend.
Her father had mentioned a Mr. and Mrs. Hurst amongst the party, and it required little discernment to identify them.
The burly gentleman appeared altogether more interested in the refreshment table than the introductions being made around him, whilst his lady accepted Sir William's attentions with evident satisfaction.
The younger lady, whose gown alone looked as though it had travelled directly from a London modiste, could only be Miss Bingley.
Beyond them stood a taller gentleman, reserved in manner, his expression composed without appearing severe.
Elizabeth had scarcely begun to consider whether this could indeed be Mr. Darcy when her mother appeared at her side, breaking the thread of her observation entirely.
"There now!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed behind the shelter of her fan. "Trust Sir William to present the gentlemen to his own daughters before anybody else. Had your father chosen to come, Mr. Bingley would have been introduced to Jane before this."
"Mama, I do not believe it signifies who is introduced first." Jane said.
Mrs. Bennet gave a little scoff. "Does it not? Sir William knows very well his Charlotte has a younger sister behind her and is seven-and-twenty besides. He is not going to lose the first opportunity of placing her before a gentleman with four or five thousand a year."
"Mama!" Jane protested gently. "Surely you do not think Sir William so calculating."
"My dear Jane, every father with daughters must be calculating. If he is not, he deserves to be pitied. That is why it is vexing that your own father chooses not to attend these events. If he were here, I daresay Mr. Bingley would already have asked you to dance already."
Elizabeth shook her head at her mother's manoeuvring whilst Mrs. Bennet turned at once to summon Kitty, Lydia and Mary to her side, anxious that none of her daughters should escape the notice of the gentlemen newly arrived.
Jane had just begun to admire the elegance of Miss Bingley's gown when Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy turn in her direction.
She had been observing him whilst Sir William presented the party to Mrs. Long, and had not expected him to look back.
Though her instinct told her to lower her eyes, curiosity prevailed.
He was considerably handsomer than Mr. Bingley, a fact her father had neglected to mention, perhaps from thinking it of no consequence.
Had the gentleman smiled only once since entering the room, Elizabeth suspected there would have been very little dispute as to who possessed the finest countenance in the assembly.
His eyes met hers only for a moment before he turned away again, just as Sir William concluded his introductions to Mrs. Long and began conducting the party towards them.
"My dear Mr. Bingley," cried Sir William with undiminished enthusiasm when they reached them, "allow me the honour of presenting Mrs. Bennet and her daughters."
Elizabeth scarcely attended to the formalities. Her attention had already settled upon Mr. Darcy.
He bowed exactly as good breeding required.
Nothing in his manner suggested reluctance, yet neither was there the easy openness that distinguished his friend.
His civility appeared practised rather than natural, though she detected no arrogance in it.
If anything, there was an air of fatigue about him, as though his thoughts had accompanied him into the room and refused to leave him.
Her father's words returned unbidden.
A man carrying a burden.
She found herself wondering what burden could weigh so heavily upon a gentleman who appeared scarcely thirty.
Mr. Bingley, by contrast, required no such speculation.
Before Sir William had finished the introductions, he had entered into conversation with Jane so readily that Elizabeth could not help smiling at the ease with which he did everything.
There was nothing studied in his manners.
He appeared to like everyone almost immediately.
Mrs. Bennet required no such restraint.
Elizabeth heard the little sigh of triumph beside her before Mr. Bingley bowed.
"Miss Bennet, might I hope for the honour of your hand for the first set?" Bingley asked Jane a little after the introduction.
Jane coloured prettily as she accepted, whilst Mrs. Bennet's fan fluttered with such animation that Elizabeth wondered it survived the exertion.
"You see?" she whispered to Elizabeth. "Did I not tell you?"
Elizabeth smiled, though whether at her mother or with her she could not afterwards have determined.
Sir William soon bore the Netherfield party onwards to the next family, whilst Mrs. Bennet continued congratulating herself upon the accuracy of her own predictions.
Elizabeth had heard very nearly the whole history of her mother's foresight before Mr. Martin approached with an awkward bow to ask her for the first set.
Mrs. Bennet gave her a look that rendered refusal impossible.
Elizabeth accepted with as much cheerfulness as she could command. She had no particular wish to dance with Mr. Martin, but even less to mortify an honest man who had asked with evident sincerity.
The musicians struck up almost immediately and the set dancers moved to the floor.
Mr. Martin proved every bit as attentive upon the floor as he had been in conversation earlier.
Unfortunately, he proved equally inclined to discourse upon himself further.
Before they had completed half the figures Elizabeth had learned of the remarkable prosperity of his farm, his uncommon ability to remain beneath the water for two full minutes whilst swimming, and the astonishing number of partridges he expected to shoot before Michaelmas.
She smiled whenever civility required it, ventured an observation where silence became impossible, and was sincerely thankful when the final notes at last released her.
The first interval afforded a welcome opportunity to escape.