Hello my loves! A happy Thursday to you, and I hope everything is well in your parts of the world.
It is hot here, and the sky is overcast with smoke from the annual summer forest fires. 'Tis the season and all that.
Thank you again for the lovely and instructive comments - one in particular I wanted to address but it was from an anon/guest so I couldn't send them a message directly. There is a mistake in this manuscript when I make note that Kent is north of Hertfordshire. That is absolute my silliness, and I must confess, I was probably exhausted when I looked at the map, and mumbled to myself that no, no Kent is definitely north of Hertfordshire when it is in fact, not.
My husband is from England, and when I told him, he stared at me, snickered, and went off to make tea. Uncharitable gentleman.
Mostly, when I deviate from canon, it's by conscious choice (in this, I wanted to make Lizzy innocent of London and the ton, so I wrote that she'd never been, although she only lives about a day's carriage ride or so away), but in the case of plopping Kent up north... nope, I have to admit it: I was wrong and I hope you can forgive me my poor geography.
Today was spent researching bathing habits and regency undergarments for my second book that I'm working on - do you, or do you not think that Mr. Darcy was an avid bather? I would rather imagine that he was. ;) Your opinion?
With lots of love,
Nora
Then the morning of the ball came to the Bennet household, and Elizabeth's thoughts turned back to Mr. Darcy. He would be there, she was sure of it, although Wickham had also promised he would as well, and had even been so bold as to ask her for a dance before the event had even started.
That Mr. Wickham would be there to shield her from Mr. Darcy made her feel much better, and her stomach was all a-flutter as they loaded into the phaeton. All the girls were in a giddy mood, and their mother was of no-mind to hush them. Mr. Bennet sat ahead with their driver, of no mind to the propriety or impropriety nature of it, as he said he was not going to be assaulted by all manners of shrieks and giggling on the trip to Netherfield.
Elizabeth for once did not mind the noise, but the sound of her sisters just added to the turmoil and frenzy that were twisting in her gut. She held onto Jane's hand, their white kid-gloves entwining as their fingers did, and she spoke not a word the entire trip there.
When they entered, she found herself faced with Caroline Bingley immediately, and she curtsied in greeting. Caroline eyed her dress with a half-smile, and curtsied in return, a barely-there movement that seemed to be a comment on Elizabeth's dress and the lack of mode it showed more than anything else.
Behind her, Jane stopped to say hello to Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth knew her sister would linger. Instead, Elizabeth ducked into the grand house, marveling at the press of people and the sheer numbers of local society that had been invited. Local society, and some of higher as well, for there was a party of people definitely from London, although from a quick look Elizabeth did not see Mr. or Mrs. Hurst in attendance. That left her with some relief and she looked again for Mr. Wickham.
She felt as if she had walked around the rooms four times already when she realized he was not in sight. Perhaps she had missed him, perhaps he was a few paces behind her and they had been walking at the same pace, in the same direction this entire time?
She turned and nearly bumped into Miss Charlotte Lucas, who smiled and greeted her old friend with much enthusiasm.
"Lizzy, your dress," Charlotte said quietly, giving her an admiring look. "It suits you so well, and the cut extremely well also." Charlotte smoothed a hand down over her own dress, a fine muslin embroidered along the sleeves and hem. It was a plain gown but elevated from the decorations that had been worked into it, decorations that Elizabeth suspected came from Charlotte's own hand. She was accomplished with embroidery, and was also of the mind to practice good economy since she was nearly seven and twenty, past the age of receiving offers, and was most definitely a burden to her parents with the cost of her keep. She would not ask for fine dresses when the money would be wasted upon her, unlike that of her younger sister Maria who was still looking forward to offers in the future.
"Thank you, and goodness Charlotte, those flowers, they must have caused someone to go blind just to create them," Elizabeth said, bending close to examine what looked like rows of white blossoms and delicate knots floating on the fabric. "Say, but have you heard if a young man from the militia, a Mr. Wickham, is here in attendance?" She looked around the room again but Charlotte shook her head.
"I have not, but I have not been the room over and over, so maybe we shall go and find your Mr. Wickham, at some point?" Charlotte asked, and then slipped her arm around Elizabeth's. "Oh look!" Charlotte flicked open her fan in the direction of a set of dancers. "Jane is dancing with Mr. Bingley. They make such a handsome pair." There was a wistful but lovely smile on Charlotte's face, and Elizabeth was of the mind that even if Charlotte was not quite handsome and considered plain, that her smile transformed her from a woman that one might take no notice of, to a woman that one could not ignore. She still held hope that someone would offer for Charlotte, so Charlotte could grow old and wise and be a formidable matriarch in her late years.
They looked again for Mr. Wickham after watching Jane and Mr. Bingley dance for a little longer, and had all but given up hope when they rounded a corner and nearly ran into one Mr. Darcy.
He stood there, like a rod stuck into the ground, and stared at Elizabeth with so heavy an expression she thought she might stop breathing right in that instant. Charlotte recovered quickly and curtsied, dragging Elizabeth with her. Mr. Darcy bowed, not in any perfunctory manner, but in a move of respect.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, never taking his eyes from her face. "Might I ask you for the pleasure of a dance once this set is done?"
She swallowed hard, a feeling like a tremble in her chest.
"I thought you did not dance?" she blurted out and then regretted it, for his expression flinched for a moment.
"I do when the occasion calls for it," he said plainly, and with no further explanation. Charlotte's fingers grabbed hers, hidden behind their skirts where their dresses brushed each other.
"And does the occasion call for it then?" Elizabeth asked boldly, tilting her to one side. Mr. Darcy looked about the room.
"Yes," he said, "perhaps it is just that the moon is in the right position in the sky now," he drawled, raw humor in his voice. Then he straightened his shoulders, apparently shocked at his own words. "Will you dance with me then?"
"Yes," she said, forgetting herself in amusement at his little joke and then the way he'd seemed taken aback that he had even made it. Mr. Darcy nodded.
"Very good, I will find you at the start of the next set," he said, and then Charlotte tugged on her hand and they melted into the crowd, leaving Mr. Darcy behind. They ran, a little bit overcome and hysterical from the short conversation until they were far away, tucked around a corner and in a shadowed recessed part of the wall where might have stood some statue at some point.
"I've agreed to dance with Mr. Darcy, the detestable, and for the dinner set as well," Elizabeth gasped out, looking at Charlotte in confusion and horror.
"Oh my, yes, yes I believe you did," Charlotte said, pressing her closed fan to her lips. "But Elizabeth, you're shaking," she exclaimed then hushed herself, looking around to see if anyone had overheard them.
"I cannot help it, for…" Elizabeth paused and decided it was better not to bring the topic of Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy's relationship up. There were too many people about, and she did not want to tempt fate as Mr. Darcy had done and speak ill only for the subject of her conversation to be right there.
"Is it his ten thousand a year that gives you those tremors?" Charlotte asked, although they both knew that Elizabeth was not cowed by money in such a fashion.
"Maybe he will think that, I am sure, for a poor country Miss as myself must be awed by those of such vast fortune!" Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself and then heard the music from the current set concluding. Charlotte squeezed her hands gently.
"I will wish you luck, but I hardly think you need it. Let him think you overcome, and he will leave you be, for he would not take interest in a girl who shakes at the very thought of even dancing with him!"