Chapter Thirteen
Darcy had been watching from a library window as the guests arrived for the ball. He was still putting off joining the merriment when he noticed the Bennet carriage pulling up to the front door. Without realising it, he held his breath as he anticipated Elizabeth being handed down by the waiting footman.
He felt his heart beat faster when she came into full view, she looked delightful in a white gown with trim that shined in the light from the lanterns on the driveway. As soon as he had finished watching her elegant figure glide inside, he left the sanctuary of the library and ventured out into the crush of the entrance hall.
Jane and Elizabeth walked into the Netherfield ball behind Mr Bennet and their step-mother, followed dutifully by their sister. Mary, who had been dressed in one of Lizzie's finest London bought gowns, looked radiant if not a little awkward. She was not fond of her mother's tricks and schemes and did not believe they would do her any favours in winning a husband; especially not one already besotted with Jane. That her sisters did not blame her for Mrs Bennet's antics was something Mary was profoundly grateful for.
Mr Collins had also arrived in the same carriage but had become distracted by the grandeur of the exterior decorations, leaving the rest of the family to abandon him to his effusions.
Darcy watched from a doorway as the object of his attention entered the drawing room, and had just determined to follow her when Bingley caught his eye and began to pull him into a conversation with Sir William Lucas about the ballroom's decoration.
Elizabeth entered the drawing room at Netherfield looking about eagerly for Mr Darcy. He had not been in the receiving line when they arrived and she had cursed herself (most unladylike) for being so impatient to see him. She had dressed with more than usual care for the evening despite the obstacles placed in her way by Mrs Bennet; Lizzie had been delayed taking her bath, and their Abigail was frequently called away when fixing her hair to tend to Mary.
Now, she stood with Charlotte observing those also in attendance when she overheard that Mr Wickham would not be amongst the company for the festivities. Given his earlier declaration that Mr Darcy would not drive him off, Elizabeth found it to be yet another mark against the credibility of his story. Lizzie was hopeful that she may obtain some clarification during the course of the evening, if only she could locate the elusive Mr Darcy.
Mr Collins soon returned to Jane's side and when the first strands of music filtered through to them, he took her delicate, and thankfully gloved, hand in his and forced his way through the crown with little tact until the pair were lined up next to the other dancers readying themselves in the ballroom. Mr Collins was so enamoured at the stateliness of the ballroom that he almost forgot to be enraptured with his dance partner; his lack of attention meant he stepped wrong more often than right. At the end of the first set, Jane was required to delay the officer who had come to claim her second until later in the evening so that she might have time for her toes to recover.
Unfortunately, both Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet took this as a sign that Jane wished to remain in the clergyman's company a while longer and it acted as the signal for both of them to begin the gossip which would soon spread rapidly around the ballroom. The extent to which the claims were believed varied greatly, few placed much stock in Jane choosing to become a parson's wife when a man of five thousand a year had been as good as courting her in recent weeks. Those who did, however, rejoiced in the prospect that such an eligible man would remain on the marriage mart.
Elizabeth had just come from her obligated dance with Mr Collins, and was taking refuge by a window overlooking the terrace, when Mr Darcy approached on her left.
"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth," he greeted with a bow. Elizabeth lit up with a bright smile as she made her reply which increased his confidence as he continued, "May I enquire whether you have a partner for the supper set as of yet? Or has some local dandy beaten me to the pleasure?"
Elizabeth laughed freely at the thought, "No, it remains unclaimed. Most of the local gentlemen have learned not to invite me to dance that particular set. Only John Lucas is brave enough to attempt it and he is not in attendance this evening."
"We have dined together before; I did not find I required undue bravery to survive the experience. I am sure you must exaggerate."
Elizabeth turned slowly, observing the occupants of the ballroom as she spoke, "Most men do not appreciate a woman being equally or, in some cases, more knowledgeable on current affairs than they are. Though seeing as they have little interest in gaining an understanding of needlepoint, I found I had hardly a choice in the matter - I am required to read the newspaper if I wish for stimulating conversation."
"Have you had many unsuccessful conversations with gentlemen about needlepoint then, Miss Elizabeth?"
Darcy could see the teasing glint in her eye as she responded, "Enough to write it off as a hopeless endeavour, though I tried repeatedly at first."
Darcy could not control his mirth as his mind's eye conjured the image of Elizabeth stubbornly persevering with conversations about crafts simply to spite her companions.
"If you have no objection to having one such as I as your conversational partner during dinner, may I claim the set that remains vacant?"
"To the conversation I have no such objection, sir, but perhaps you may ask for a later set instead? To dance the supper set together may raise eyebrows that would be better off staying in a lowered position. Richard's warning should, I believe, be taken seriously."
"I understand, I am sorry I did not think of the consequences of such a request." Darcy was surprised at himself; he had never before sought out a young woman for that particular dance; he did not wish to give rise to expectations in his partners. Now, the one lady he wanted to throw all of his rules out of the window for, he had been warned to be cautious around.
Later, as if by silent agreement, both Darcy and Elizabeth made their separate ways to the table where Bingley and Miss Bennet had seated themselves.
"I shall allow you to select the topic of conversation, Miss Elizabeth. With a younger sister, I am fluent in all manner of things from music to fashion and even embroidery. You need not stick to your newspaper articles for me." Darcy teased.
"Is that what she told you, Mr Darcy?" Jane replied, much to Elizabeth's embarrassment.
"Are you to tell me I have been misled? Your sister does not, in fact, attempt to intimidate local gentlemen with her intelligence?" He asked with a half-smile and sideways glance that had Lizzie reaching for her a sip of wine to settle her fluttering stomach.
"Oh, absolutely she does, but my sister's reasons for picking up a paper to begin with were not nearly so self-serving."
Turning to the subject of their banter, he suppressed a smile and said, "Miss Elizabeth, I have spoken before, have I not, on how I detest artifice and disguise? You own me the truth, I think everyone here would agree."
Lizzie blushed prettily as My Bingley seconded the motion for an explanation, all while marvelling at the change in his usually taciturn friend. Bingley had rarely seen Darcy in such playful spirits, and at a ball no less!
After directing a mock reprimand towards Jane, Elizabeth regaled the group with the story of the first time she read a newspaper.
"I was maybe nine years of age, no more the ten for certain, when cook asked me to take a few jars of strawberry preserve to one of the tenant families. The Tate's have worked our land for generations, old man Tate had been forced to handover most of the work to his eldest son before I was born due to failing eye sight, and his younger son had joined the army.
"When I arrived, Mr Tate was playing with his granddaughter in the garden and they invited me to join them. As we were playing, he asked if I knew my letters. I said that I did, and well the gist of it is that he pretended not to believe me and goaded me into reading from a newspaper he had in the kitchen.
"I knew what he was about when he asked me to read the war report. His son, Tommy, was serving in Africa at the time and it soon became clear that it was just an independent man's way of asking for help. My papa would never have approved of my reading such material at that age had he known, so I never told him. Sarah, his granddaughter that is, found those to be terrible stories to hear and insisted on my reading something happier.
"I ended up reading war bulletins to old Mr Tate and wedding announcements and society columns to Sarah every Tuesday until Tommy came home a few years later with an injured leg."
Darcy desperately wanted to tell Elizabeth how marvellous he thought she was, but settled simply for, "That was a very kind thing for you to do, Miss Elizabeth."
"Perhaps it was, but it was not as selfless a deed as Jane would have you believe. Claiming to be helping Mr Tate with Sarah also got me out of some of my lessons for a time."
"Why," Bingley asked, "did old Mr Tate not ask his son to read the section to him?"
"I cannot say for certain, I never asked the question myself, but I think he was afflicted with a condition which I have observed most men to suffer; pride. He had already had to hand over the farm to his son before he would have liked to, I can't imagine it would have been easy to ask for further help also."
The foursome was just about to move on to a new topic which Elizabeth would have felt less self-conscious about, when the echo of Mrs's Bennet's punch induced cries reached their ears from halfway across the room.
"Oh, it will be a most advantageous match on both sides!"
"I concur." Mr Collins began to reply, but was drowned out by Mrs Bennet before he could continue.
"Jane will be securing her family's future at Longbourn and Mr Collins will have himself an obedient, pretty wife."
"For heaven's sake, mama, do speak lower!" Begged Mary from beside her mother.
From their place a few tables away, Jane and Elizabeth both darkened with a flush of embarrassment. Whilst they had not heard it explicitly stated before that moment, both knew that Mr Collins had set his sights on Jane. Elizabeth had hoped to have time to think of a plan before they would have to deal with the problem that Mr Collins's attentions could bring to her sister, but it seemed to Lizzie she would have to think quickly.
Jane was horrified. She was sat beside the amiable Mr Bingley, whom she liked very much, and was hearing herself all but declared engaged to another man. One she had no preference for and had given no encouragement to. Jane knew Mrs Bennet to have had the right of it when she described her as obedient, for Jane disliked confrontation immensely and complicity was a sure enough way to avoid it, but on this matter, she knew herself to be right; Mr Collins and she would not make a happy match. She would have to reject him when he came to her to make his proposal of marriage. She would be firm on that point, she told herself, 'I only hope Lizzie will be able to lend me some of her courage when the time comes'.
As if hearing her sister's inner thoughts, Lizzie reached for Jane's hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
Whether fortunately or not (it all happened so fast that Elizabeth had no time to determine which), a footman arrived at Mr Darcy's side before anyone at the table had chance to comment or move on from Mrs Bennet's outburst. He bowed and presented the bewildered gentleman with a folded, but unsealed, piece of parchment. Darcy opened the paper and read the only thing that could have made his night worse.
'Peony. Study.'
The two words were scrawled with a tight hand he recognised instantly. Before he could even finish making his excuses to his dining companions, Darcy was five paces away from his seat and heading in the direction of Mr Bingley's study. He had settled on the code word with his valet shortly after his father's death. Peonies were the flowers carved into the furniture in his mother's bedchamber at Pemberley – the room that would one day be occupied by his future wife.
The code had been used only once before, when he had been at a house party hosted by his aunt, Lady Matlock. On that occasion, his valet, Sampson, had approached him as he was about to join some of the other men at billiards to inform him "the peonies you requested, sir, could not be procured. I have a list of alternatives for you to review." At which point, Darcy ushered the man into an empty drawing room and had from him the overheard gossip, let slip by a maid, that one of the young ladies in attendance would attempt to sneak into Darcy's chambers that night and force a compromise. For the rest of the week Sampson slept on a cot in the corner of his master's chamber.
Now, as he walked briskly towards the study, he thought about the possible orchestrators of such an attempt and how they might go about it during a private ball. Darcy could only assume that the threat was imminent if his man had not taken the time to construct a narrative or deliver the message at a more convenient time. As he opened the study door, he knew he would not have to wait long for answers; his valet was already waiting for him inside.
Sampson bowed as his master was closing and locking the door behind him, then without preamble he said, "Miss Bingley, in the library, with a faulty lock, sir."