A/N: I was watching this documentary type video on YouTube where they recreated the Netherfield ball and it got me thinking on how important dancing was and how terrible it would be if you messed up. It's online if you ever have the free time to look it up. It's an hour long so fair warning.
I don't own anything.
Darcy stood still while his valet finished tying his cravat and then inspected him over to make sure not a curl was out of place.
He had dressed with the most care he had ever done. For tonight would be the night where he, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, would allow a little indulgence tonight and ask for a dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
As he stood at the edge of the room, looking over the heads of those assembled, he couldn't help notice the obvious amazement and awe of some of the attendees. Never had some of them perhaps, had seen such a display of wealth at an event. The tall six-hour long wax candles on little tables in front of mirrors and the chandelier were enough to leave no crevasse in the shadows. The room was already increasing in temperature as more and more guest came in.
Women talked amongst each other, complimenting each other on the other's dress and any moderations done to it, or maybe even the style in which they twisted their hair. Then, they would remark on another further in the room and what they were wearing and how they styled their hair.
Little news flowed through the conversation as nothing much happened since most had been rained in until the day of the ball.
Darcy walked about the room in search of the one woman in the room that had gained any of his interest in the small county. He was sure that Mrs. Bennet would contrive to have themselves to be one of the first ones there. Though this was the case, he had not seen Miss Elizabeth yet.
As the noise increased with the growing crowd, Darcy finally caught sight of her. The image of her appearance took his breath away and he only just stared. Their eyes met for a brief second before she looked away.
Her friend, Miss Lucas, joined her and the two ladies talked until the first dance was announced to begin shortly.
Darcy steeled himself as he moved in her direction.
He couldn't, not with the tight crowd and not without showing too much interest, walk straight towards her. Instead, Darcy made a show of moving about before he was soon near enough to see more of her figure.
Her form was even more pleasing up close. The white dress with intricate needlework must've been her own work. The display of her talent was for all to see and admired, and admire Darcy did. Her sleeves were slightly puffed and her modest neckline revealed only slightly her decolletage which was the length most women her age wore it. Curls framed her face in a becoming way that made Darcy wish to play with them, and white little flowers were woven into the rest of her hair that made her all the more stunning.
His revelry was broken by the sudden appearance of a man that had to be a couple years older than himself, that, or he looked to be older than he actually was. Dressed in clerical garb, the man stood close to Miss Elizabeth in a way that made Darcy frown slightly.
With the object of his intentions now taken by what seemed another man, Darcy could only continue his path across the room to find another wall to stand against.
To his annoyance, Miss Elizabeth was standing opposite of the same man for the opening dance. Further down the line was Mr. Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet.
As the band struck up the first song, the dancers began. The women were to move first and then the men second. Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth's partner as he moved along the dance floor.
From his more critical eye, Darcy could see that the man did not have that easy way in which he stepped, showing that he did not often take time to practice. It soon became apparent to everyone else, as the man made a critical error and stepped into the path of another dancer, drawing them scandalously close. The man spent more time apologizing then attending his partner.
Miss Elizabeth wore an expression that gave no hint to her feelings, though it was obvious that no one could not be embarrassed to dance with someone wholly unsuitable.
Dancing was considered to be the most important step in finding your future husband or wife, that it was marital suicide to make even one error while dancing. Not only would it not recommend you to your partner, the entire room would be watching. This was a battlefield, and anyone ill-prepared would come out the loser instantly.
Darcy's parents had hired the best dancing instructor to teach him all the intricate steps of each dance. Sometimes he would consider it more difficult than fencing. It was a skill, however, that was not only necessary, but expected to be learned. Though he hated attending balls and social events, dancing was the only real time in which he could test the compatibility of his partner with himself. While of course they were all well-versed in the steps and made no errors, there was something missing in either conversation or just gut feeling that never made him seek out another dance with them at later events.
The dance ended and the pair walked back towards Miss Lucas who waited with her friend while the man disappeared into the crowd after saying something.
Darcy decided now was probably not the best of times to offer for a dance, though he, of course, would make no such mistakes while dancing.
During that time during the dance, Darcy listened occasionally to the conversations around him. It was one of these conversations that he heard a man speak Miss Elizabeth's name in a familial way.
Careful not to be seen eavesdropping, Darcy turned slightly in his position to see an older man standing next to Sir William Lucas.
It would seem they too had witnessed the spectacle of a dance and were now discussing it.
"He is a good sort of fellow to be sure." Was what Sir Lucas said next.
"If that 'good sort of fellow' thinks he has a chance at gaining my Lizzie's interest then he is sadly mistaken. I have only seen such great opposite a match once before," Mr. Bennet gave a knowing tone that must speak of his own personal experience.
"Yes, I don't think they are suitably matched, that one," Lucas agreed.
"My wife, think the match to be certain though I will not have it. To have any of my children, especially my little Lizzie unhappily married, it would pain me greatly." A pause, "Say, William, I see that your eldest seems to be talking agreeably to my cousin. Do you think there any chance of her having any interest in him?"
Sir Lucas looked shocked, "You would give up on the chance of having one of your daughters so well settled?"
"I would rather them be well settled in the hedgerows than be not able to respect their partner. Charlotte has more patience than my Lizzie or any of the younger girls, and she has her wits about her to be able to instruct him," Bennet mused.
The two men chuckled amongst themselves and Darcy could only stiffen at how the men would trade off suitors. Though he wholeheartedly agreed that the clergyman had not the slightest idea how beneath he was compared to Miss Elizabeth, he could never say more on the matter.
For who could suit such a woman who was beyond any of these men assembled? Even Bingley, though he was a great friend of his, wouldn't understand half of what Miss Elizabeth said. That, and he only seemed to have eyes for her eldest sister.
The next dance began and Darcy saw that Miss Elizabeth was standing up again, this time with a man from the militia.
She seemed to be enjoying her second dance better, allowing herself to smile and even let out the occasional laugh.
Though it was considered poor manners to laugh and show too much enthusiasm on the woman's part, Darcy couldn't help be drawn in by that lovely melodic sound and her captivating smile.
If he actually thought about what he told Bingley about Miss Bennet smiling too much, he would see that him liking a woman who would laugh at a ball, tease and even playfully argue with him to be considered worse in some people's idea.
It was decided, by himself at least, that he would have the next dance with Miss Elizabeth.
Escaping him completely was the fact that he hadn't even stood up with Bingley's sister. However rude some might consider him for this, he'd find the time later on that evening to dance with the lady. Perhaps, if he was truly lucky, her dance card would be full at that time.
Tonight he only wanted to have the pleasure of Miss Elizabeth's hand for a dance and possibly a verbal sparring match. After tonight, he was planning on leaving Netherfield, and subsequently, wouldn't see her ever again.
Part of his thought process was that he was getting her out of his system and would be able to leave without the regret of missing an opportunity to see how well they suited one another, if at all.
The second dance ended and Miss Elizabeth was released back into the company of her friend.
Darcy decided that if he didn't exert himself a little then he wouldn't be able to secure her hand for his dance and he wasn't quite brave enough to ask for the supper set. Having to lead her into the dining room and then sit next to her and talk. It was more than he was willing to take on this time.
This time?
Darcy had to remind himself that this was to be the only time, or rather, there wouldn't be a time. After tonight, the name Elizabeth Bennet would be a memory.
He saw that when he approached, that Miss Elizabeth seemed to be a bit distressed. Her friend, however, informed her of his approach and the two ladies turned to him as he bowed and they returned it with a curtsy.
"If you're not otherwise engaged, might I have your hand for the next dance, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy stood straight, waiting for her acquiescence.
"I had not-that is to say-I thank you, yes," she said with a little more reluctance than he had expected.
Had she thought herself unworthy or hadn't thought he'd ask her? It only made him that more pleased as he bowed and retreated until the dance was called.
Darcy had turned around and caught the eyes of both Bennet parents.
The mother looked displeased while the father seemed bemused. Since he didn't really hold the mother in any consideration, Darcy dismissed her opinion. He knew she didn't like him, though her cold civility left her not talking to him as much, he didn't bother to do anything about it.
The father had the twinkle in his eyes, something that he saw in the man's second eldest daughter's eyes when she found something amusing. Darcy wasn't sure what has humored him so, but he would leave it for later contemplation.
As the dance was called, Mr. Beveridge's Maggot, Darcy could only congratulate himself on securing a dance that not only allowed him time to gaze at his lovely partner but to converse with her too.
Though he had exerted himself to finally ask for her hand, Darcy forgot that it would no doubt be expected, especially with this partner, that he should speak. Never talking much when he usually danced, Darcy was trying to come up with something to say when the lady herself began.
Leave it to Miss Elizabeth to find something to talk about.
It was after the first full movement when she finally began.
"I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy. A very little will suffice," she turned away from him, "You might say something about the dance perhaps, I might remark on the number of couples."
Darcy quirked a smile, "You talk by rule when dancing?"
He knew she would, often ladies tried to make him converse with him during the dance, none, however, made him want to speak as much as this lady, however.
"Yes, sometimes it is best, that way we may enjoy the advantage of saying as little as possible."
They turned again and circled back around to join up again. Darcy picked up their conversation, "Do you consult your own feelings, or seek to gratify mine."
It was no hardship on his part for sure when speaking with her. He couldn't imagine a better way to pass the time.
"Both I'd imagine. We are both of an unsocial taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless to amaze the whole room," she teased.
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character I'm sure."
They danced in silence for a while, completing another movement.
Determined to find something to talk about and grasping for the first thing he could think of, he began, "Do you often walk into Meryton?"
She arched an eyebrow, "Yes, quite often," there was a brief pause, "When you met us the other day, we were just forming a new acquaintance."
Darcy felt himself grow rigid as he tried to keep his temper down while trying to drop hints that Wickham was not to be trusted.
In vain it would seem were all his efforts to make her understand. A ballroom was not the sort of place to speak on private matters and he had to remind himself that he'd be gone on the morrow and her opinion of him wouldn't matter after that.
Who was he kidding? He wanted her good opinion, though it seemed to have suffered at the hands of his old childhood friend.
During a pause in the dance for their half, Sir Lucas stepped forward.
"Allow me to congratulate you, my dear sir. Such superior dancing is rarely to be seen. I'm sure you'll own your fair partner is well worthy of you." He smiled at Miss Bennet, "I hope to have this pleasure often repeated when such desireable event takes place," He looked down the line to where Bingley and Miss Bennet were dancing, "What congratulations will then flow in."
"Sir I-" Miss Bennet began but was cut off by the man.
"No, no I understand..."
Darcy had tuned out the man as he watched his friend and his partner. Bingley was beaming as he danced with his 'angel'. All eyes in the room were on the couple and Darcy couldn't help but feel his friend was going to be caught up in the desires of the county and trap himself to such an unsuitable a match.
When Sir Lucas bowed and backed away, Darcy snapped back into attention and continued in the dance.
His eyes, however, kept drifting down the line and he was ashamed that he wasn't attending his partner.
When she spoke up, he turned his head back to look at her.
"I remember you once say that you hardly ever forgave. That your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very careful in allowing your resentment to be created?"
"I am."
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not," Darcy furrowed his eyebrows slightly, "May I ask to what these questions attend?"
"Merely an illustration of your character, I'm trying to work it out." It was no surprise that she was doing so. This was truly the only time they had to get to know one another.
"And what is your success?"
"I don't get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly." Darcy wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
They continued the last part of the dance and then lined back up for the final note to which they each bowed and curtsied to their partner.
Darcy took Miss Elizabeth's hand and led her back towards her family.
"I wish, Miss Bennet, that you would not attempt to sketch my character at the present moment. I fear the performance would reflect no credit on either of us."
For while he was being falsely accused, she would no doubt feel embarrassed if the truth was made aware of how wholly incorrect she was in trusting the wrong man.
"If I don't take your likeness now, I may not have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend the pleasure of yours," Darcy bowed and walked off.
If he thought about it, maybe her thinking him in a bad light would help him get over her.
To his surprise, some of the gentlemen besides Sir Lucas, or maybe that gentleman shared his idea with others, that he and 'Miss Eliza' looked well partnered together.
In truth, Darcy did find something that he had not felt when he danced with the other ladies. Neither of them faltered or fumbled when reaching for the other's hand. It was like they knew where it was going to be without looking down. Her hand, which was small, fit so nicely in his. It was the first physical contact he had with her, though she was still wearing her gloves. It was a feeling, that when gone, left him feeling cool and missing it.
Darcy had to remind himself that it was his own question during the dance, had ruined the second half of it. The only thing he had to remember this moment would be the touch of her gloved hand in his and her beautiful appearance that evening.
Tomorrow he would be in London and would be free of her captivating fine eyes.