Almost immediately, the ball was upon them, and Darcy felt certain he had but blinked and been transported from the inn to the front steps of the Parkers' townhouse, which was ostentatious in its appearance, far outstripping his own modest abode. There was something lacking in the taste applied to the house's design, however, so that it stood out from its companions for all the wrong reasons. The adornments were too much, too striking, and it gave the house an almost comical appearance, that had not been helped by the great swathes of additional decorations that had been applied to it in celebration of the festive season. Darcy swallowed his groan as he approached the front door, but could barely succeed in mustering a grimace, let alone a smile.
"Mr Darcy! Jolly good to see you again. And how do we find you this evening?"
"You find me as content as ever I could be." He bowed, already irritated by Mr Parker's too-warm welcome. "And you, sir? How is your family?"
"Well, well!" Mr Parker grasped him in a hearty handshake such that Darcy struggled to free himself from straight away, and was instead wheeled around and paraded in front of at least half a dozen of Mr Parker's other guests, none of whom he particularly wished to speak to.
"Come in, come in. My Annabelle is wild to see you!"
Indeed, Darcy thought, mentally readying himself for the spectacle of a wild Annabelle Parker. Fortunately, this description had been all artistry by her father, and he spotted her arm in arm with Charles Bingley, already monopolising him with every ounce of her abilities. Darcy was poised to rescue his friend, when he noticed Caroline Bingley standing on Charles' other side, surreptitiously scanning the crowd. She must be watching for his own arrival. He hesitated but a moment, wondering if it would be possible to speak to Charles without attracting the notice of his sister, but had scarcely had time to formulate a plan before Caroline called out to him, waving enthusiastically. There would be no escape for Darcy that evening, and he sighed, forcing his grimace into something approaching a smile, and went to join his friends.
"Miss Parker, Miss Bingley." He dismissed the ladies with a nod and fixed what remained of his attention on Bingley. "Charles, how do you fare this evening?"
"Well enough, Darcy." His friend actually smiled. "Though it does me good to see you here. Goodness, will you dance, as well?"
"I believe that is the occupation one must seek, at a ball," Darcy remarked, with grim acknowledgement of his evening's fate. His answer delighted the ladies, and Caroline hovered expectantly to his left. It would be a trial to dance with her, for she would take his invitation with far more weight than he intended. Yet would it be any more a trial than attempting to select a partner from a roomful of practical strangers? He glanced about him, and seeing no immediate alternative he preferred, offered his arm to Caroline. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bingley?"
"Oh!" she trilled, her cheeks flushing with modesty he fancied was manufactured. "Oh, well, yes! Yes, Mr Darcy, I would very much like to dance with you."
He nodded, curtly, and they took their places in the crowd of other dancers, with Charles and Annabelle Parker on their other side. Darcy was pleased to see the promise of some activity lift Charles' spirits a little, although the ghost of disappointment still lurked around the edges of his friend's features.
He could not help but recall another dance that they had attended when Charles was more eager for Darcy to dance than Darcy himself was: the Meryton Assembly, the first time he had laid eyes on any one of the Bennet sisters. He had formed an immediate, and unflattering, opinion of Elizabeth Bennet, and shared it freely, though he had come to repent of it even before the evening was over. He had been so used to being surrounded by ladies such as those that occupied this particular ballroom that seeing anyone who deviated from their set pattern was unusual to him and unfortunately provoked perhaps the worst of all his personal failings: his habit of rushing to judgment. He was not often proved wrong, yet in those cases that he was the results could be dire indeed. He recalled discovering the relationship between Georgiana and George Wickham, which he had been certain was a rumour, only, passed on by a well-meaning but mistaken friend. How shaken he had been to discover the truth, but how fortunate that he had done so in time to prevent anything more serious taking place.
"You are quiet this evening, Mr Darcy," Caroline remarked, as if he was usually anything otherwise.
"Merely reserving my attention for the dancing, Miss Bingley," he responded. "I did not realise my conversation was required as well as my feet."
Caroline laughed, although his comment had not been entirely humorous. She lapsed into silence, though, taking his response for a command. He was gratified, in a way, to be left alone to his thoughts, but to some degree could not help but contrast her behaviour with Elizabeth Bennet's, who had not taken such a rebuttal to heart, and continued for the duration of their dance to attempt to engage him in conversation. It had worked poorly, but even he had been a little disappointed at how resigned they had been to silence. He had found Elizabeth interesting, although he would no more admit that to himself than he would declare it aloud to his friends.
"Oh!" Caroline exclaimed, theatrically lifting her hand to her forehead. "Oh dear! I feel dreadfully faint." She wobbled, clutching tight hold of Mr Darcy's arm, and peeled away from the crowd of dancers. "The heat!" she murmured, directing them both towards the wide windows that opened onto a dark terrace. "Oh, it is so dreadfully warm. Here, let us take a moment for some fresh air."
Darcy could no more free his arm from Caroline's vice-like grip than he could, in all good conscience, leave her, and so they both walked closer to the window, where an icy blast blew in and cooled whatever fever had caused Caroline sudden onset of dizziness.
"There, now!" she exclaimed, turning a smile that might have been called sly towards him. "Is this not a much better position to be in?"
"I rather thought you wished to dance, Miss Bingley," Darcy said, at last extricating himself from her grasp and putting a foot of space between them. "But if you are unwell, perhaps I ought to fetch your brother?"
"No!" One harsh monosyllable was softened by a short laugh. "No, do not worry Charles. I am quite well: or, rather, I will be quite well. Only do not rush away, Mr Darcy."
"Perhaps you will permit me to fetch you a chair?" he asked, seeking some occupation, anything that might give him a task to complete. This was agreed upon as being a good idea, and he turned to find a chair, moving it closer for Caroline's use. He noticed, then, the flutter of something white towards the ground, and had bent to retrieve her handkerchief, intent on returning it, before he caught sight of her expression and realised his folly.
They were quite sheltered in this particular corner, and Caroline had, he fancied, moved still closer to the terrace, where shadows might conspire to conceal them further from view. It was the last place of all that he would normally have sought to go with any young lady, for fear of their behaviour being misconstrued, wilfully or otherwise. Caroline had no such scruples, he knew, and he was certain, as the tableau played out, that this was her intent all along.
As he reached up to return her handkerchief, she moved still further away, dancing across the threshold of the ballroom to the darkened terrace.
"Miss Bingley -" he began, irritably hoping she might cease in whatever ridiculousness she was attempting before she went any further. She ignored him, and with a sigh, he stepped into the cold night air. "Your handkerchief."
"Oh, Mr Darcy!" Caroline cried, moving closer to him. "You are very kind."
Reaching to take the proffered cotton square, she caught her foot on something, real or imagined, and pitched forwards. Instinctively, Darcy reached out to break her fall and found himself pulled down with her into a pile on the floor.
He struggled to right himself quickly, glancing over to ensure they had not been seen, but he heard a couple approaching even before he managed to see them, and certainly before he managed to free himself from under Caroline's weight.
"Are you sure you do not prefer to dance, Miss Parker?" Charles asked, a little unhappily, as they approached the terrace. "I wonder - oh! Caroline! What on earth?"