Netherfield Ball
Elizabeth settled behind the vanity, and watched as Jane carefully made up her hair. Jane was already dressed for the ball, a simple white gown with blue accents at the waist and hem, her hair arranged in a simple bun. Elizabeth smiled into the mirror, where her sister was watching her.
"You look beautiful Jane."
Jane returned her smile with a sad look.
"Not beautiful enough, it would seem."
Elizabeth turned to Jane, rather abruptly, causing half of her hair to fall out.
"Lizzie!" Jane admonished. "Lydia and Kitty still wish to use your vanity, and they have spent their time taking care of Papa and Mama while we are in here to use it before we have to leave!"
Elizabeth saw the wisdom of her sister's words and submitted to her sister's gentle instruction.
Mary had taken more of an interest in her appearance, as a consequence of sharing a room with her formerly scatter brained, brash sister, Lydia, and that inclination had followed to her hairstyles Previously, she had arranged her hair, simple and unadorned, as something she was able to do herself, and without a mirror. Being that Lydia and Kitty had been recalled from society, they had transferred all of their attentions to Mary. Not surprisingly, due to the upcoming ball, Lydia and Kitty had spent half the morning, when they were able to dodge Mr. Collins, arranging Mary's hair, and had come up with a number of interesting and creative styles that suited Mary, as they said.
Lydia and Kitty, however wished to use the large vanity that now resided in Elizabeth's room, and had unfortunately made their desire clear in Mr. Collins' presence. He had ordered that should they wish to use something that was not theirs, and in fact belonged to the future mistress of the household, never mind that she was their sister, then they would have to earn the time spent in Elizabeth's room.
And so, Lydia and Kitty had spent part of the morning and early afternoon inpPapa's room. As more and more time passed, more and more of the duties in his care were heaped on the Bennet ladies, as Mr. Collins required Mr. Hill more and more frequently on the farm. They had shaved the growing hair on his face, had fed him, given him a short sponge bath on his face, arms, and chest, and then had changed his bedding with the help of Mrs. Hill. She assured them that Mr. Hill would come in later to attend to Mr. Bennet's private needs, and that was that.
Mary and Lydia had then spent the rest of the time comforting their mama. Elizabeth's mouth compressed into a thin line, each time she thought of the situation. Mr. Collins had been informed by several gossips, that at her Aunt Phillips card party, that her mama had been holding court with the neighbors, spreading the notion that Jane would soon be courted by Mr. Bingley, due to the attention and care he had bestowed upon her each time they met in company.
Mr. Collins admonished her mama for spreading such falsehoods, and unfortunately the invitation for the Netherfield ball had come to their home that very morning that Mr. Collins had been informed of her mama's deeds. He had determined that for her punishment in maligning such an honorable man, she should say that she were not feeling well, and stay home for the ball.
Mrs. Bennet had called for her smelling salts soon thereafter, and was now enclosed in her rooms and had refused to leave. It had been a week since then, and neither Lydia, nor Jane, nor Mary could persuade Mrs. Bennet to leave her room. They had been bringing her trays every morning and night, but Elizabeth feared that soon Mr. Collins would grow weary of submitting to her mama's nerves, and order that she should have no food, if she would not come downstairs and eat with the family.
Her mama had already suffered enough blows to her pride and sense, and Elizabeth did not wish for it to worsen any further.
Perhaps, after papa was gone, and they were wedded and bedded, Mr. Collins would have everything he wanted, and their situation would not seem so dreadful.
She could only hope.
Elizabeth sat on the end of the bed, with Jane and Mary, watching as Kitty finished Mary's hair. It was an elaborate style that Elizabeth would have thought was too much for Mary's simple gown, but she found that it enhanced her entire being. She noted with more than a touch of pride that Kitty was very much becoming an accomplished hairdresser. They did not even need a maid anymore, not that they could spare Maria with mama's nerves, nor from Mrs. Hill.
"Lydia, Kitty, Mary-" Elizabeth started, her eyes darting to the door, checking to make sure that it was closed. "I should like to speak to you about something, a matter which I have done some thinking of, for the past few days."
"What is it?" Mary asked softly, noting the serious look on her sister's face.
"It is about Mr. Wickham, Mary. I do not know if any of you noticed, but while we were at Aunt Phillips', Mr. Wickham approached me at the punch bowl."
"Oh yes!" Lydia said with a devious grin. As she spoke, everything came out with a rush, "I saw you-Maria and I both did. He seemed very interested in you Lizzie."
She sighed dreamily, "Isn't Mr. Wickham frightfully handsome? It would be awfully romantic if you should marry him instead of that stodgy Mr. Collins, Lizzie! I know! You should run off and elope to Gretna Green-I would cover for you by sleeping in your bed-or perhaps Mary should, you are both around the same size, and I am so much smaller than both-"
"Lydia!" Elizabeth said sharply, much more sharper than she intended. Lydia's mouth closed, and her mouth turned downward, as she looked at her hands. On both sides of her, Kitty and Mary put an arm around her in comfort.
Elizabeth gave a soft sigh. "I am sorry, Lydia. But what I have to say is important."
"What is it, Lizzie?" Jane was curious, as Elizabeth had not said anything to her about Mr. Collins. She too had noticed that Mr. Wickham had approached her, as she was trying to ignore the boasting her mama was doing on her behalf, for an event she was certain would never occur.
"I think," Elizabeth started hesitantly, "that we should stay away from Mr. Wickham. I do not trust him."
"Has he said anything untoward, Lizzie?" Jane wanted to know.
"No, Jane. He has been very proper, a gentleman. But I feel that there is something sinister about him. We spoke for a few minutes of general topics-the weather, how he liked it her Meryton, and so on. And then he turned the conversation towards Mr. Darcy. You all saw how rude Mr. Darcy had acted towards him, when we met in Meryton. Well, he informed me that he had known Mr. Darcy since he was a child, and that his godfather had even been Mr. Darcy's father!"
Jane knit her brows together. "Then why should Mr. Darcy have treated him thus?"
"He claims it is because he was the favorite of Mr. Darcy's father, and inconsequence, refused to allow him at his deathbed, nor claim the inheritance that Mr. Darcy's father left in his will."
"And you do not believe him?" Kitty asked, speaking up for the first time.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I do not know. But what I do know is that it is very odd that he should have relayed all of this information to me! I had barely been introduced to the man, and he has told me all of his woes in short order!"
Lydia's eyes grew wide at her implication, caught between her glee and happiness at being able to at least view the officers at her aunt's card party, and the knowledge that one of her new favorites was dishonest. Ever since she was a little girl, her mama had waxed rhapsodies over the honorable nature of the officers that she had met in her youth, before marrying her papa, Mr. Bennet. So kind! So honorable! So brave to sacrifice one's life for one's country! One of them would have made an excellent husband, had she not succumbed to Mr. Bennet's charms.
Elizabeth shifted her tone into that of a soothing presence. "I do not know if he is lying, Lydia. But I do think it odd that he should tell all of this to me, after one brief introduction. And, I went to the market today with Mrs. Hill and asked the vendors of Mr. Wickham, and they have all reported that he has told them all the same story! I know that Mr. Darcy is proud and arrogant, but-" and here her voice softened, and she hated herself for her weakness, for her reliance on the scraps of kindness and propriety that Mr. Darcy had deigned to convey to her, and only her, "he has been very kind to me, while we have been in the same company."
The Bennet sisters exchanged knowing looks, as Elizabeth had already informed them of the conversation they had after the disastrous dinner with Mr. Bingley.
"He and Mr. Bingley were abominably rude about Jane when they first met, although I believe due to the pressing circumstances, they have more than made up for their slight." Elizabeth said lightly, aware of Jane's discomfort, yet also wishing to be fair to Mr. Darcy, for it pained her to be aware that he truly behaved in a more gentleman like manner, when it came to her sister, than the majority of men that Elizabeth had grown up with! The day that one of those gentlemen would do more than stare at Jane, when they believed they were being discreet, and come up to her and speak, then that should be the day that Mr. Darcy should be overruled.
"Mr. Darcy, especially is hated and everyone in town is disgusted by his pride and arrogance. But I believe him to be an honorable man. His actions have revealed that to me. I do not trust this Mr. Wickham, as we do not know enough about him, and I simply wish for you all to be on your guard against him. As we have already seen, he is a determined flirt, and at the very least we should get into some trouble with Mr. Collins-especially you, Lydia and Kitty. If it comes back to him that you are encouraging his attentions while at Aunt Phillips' card party, then he may ban you from going to them as well, no matter if she is our aunt."
At the threat of no longer being allowed to attend their sole societal amusement, Lydia and Kitty both nodded in agreement, and made rapid promises of never flirting with him or the officers.
"Miss Elizabeth!" Mr. Bingley greeted her enthusiastically, as Elizabeth made her way down the receiving line at Netherfield.
"Mr. Bingley." she returned his greeting. She was slowly warming up to him, his eager and gentle manners made it quite hard to dislike him. Of course, her mama had done an admirable job of helping her along, with spreading the rumors that Mr. Bingley should like to court Jane. After spending half the night awake in anger, Elizabeth simply realized to herself that she was angry because Jane was in love with him, and no matter what, no matter what attentions he bestowed upon Jane, he would never make her an offer. However, that expectation came not from him, nor the town, but from mama, and Elizabeth knew that it was not fair to him, nor to Jane. She was amazed that he even paid them the particular attentions that he had, knowing that it would fuel the rumor mill. And his sisters.
He was a good man, and it was not his fault they were in this situation. That was what she had to tell herself. That was what Jane had to tell herself, as he bowed over her hand with a flourish.
"Miss Eliza, how droll to see you!" Elizabeth kept her smile plastered on her face, as she curtseyed for Miss Bingley.
"Of course Miss Bingley, it is an honor for my family and I to be here. I thank you for the invitation." with another curtsey, she was about to leave and look for Charlotte, as behind her, Miss Bingley was already questioning Jane as to why their mama was not present,when a warm and moist hand grabbed her arm. She froze.
Mr. Collins.
"Do remember, my fair cousin," he said, his tight grip not loosening, "that I have claimed your hand for the first two dances."
She gave him a curtsey, after he had let go of her arm, "Of course, sir. I was about to find my friend, Charlotte. I shall look for you when the dances are started."
He inclined his head, "Of course my dear cousin. You may go." he said, giving his permission. Giving him another curtsey, she left to find her friend.
Charlotte was across the room, nibbling on a small tart, when Elizabeth found her.
"I do not have long, Charlotte," she said, as her friend embraced her, "as I have promised my first two dances with Mr. Collins."
"Is he so very bad, Lizzie?" Charlotte asked, her head tilted to the side.
"Not as bad as his father. He is a rather poor imitation, but an imitation none the less."
Charlotte patted her hand.
"You simply need to decide what you are willing to settle for. There are many who would give an eyeteeth to be in your position, Lizzie. However, you have other prospects." she said slyly, her eyes moving across the room-to where the glowering Mr. Darcy stood, stiffly with his hands at his side.
Elizabeth looked at her friend, aghast. "I swear Charlotte, every time we meet you come up with new fantasies in order to amuse yourself. Mr. Darcy is not interested in me!"
"He is watching you at this very moment, and has been watching you since you arrived. Do you fault his taste?" she asked tartly.
Elizabeth was spared from answering, as Mr. Collins had arrived to claim his dances.
"My dear cousin." He bowed, and they went to their positions in the line, and the dance began, with Mr. Bingley leading it with his sister, Mrs. Hurst.
Elizabeth, although as a rule always made it a point to speak during a dance, she had learned that she may as well keep her answers limited to "Yes, Mr. Collins" or "Of course, Mr. Collins", as he was excessively fond of imagining their future together, while they were dancing. Something about the act, she supposed how intimate it was, always spurred his thoughts and feelings-thoughts and feelings that were best left unspoken.
"How wonderful, my dear cousin! That we should be able to tell our children that we have danced together at Netherfield, for the first time in three generations! I imagine that it should be a point of great pride and pleasure, even many years in the future, should Mr. Bingley choose to stay, that he had such a prominent, betrothed couple attend his ball."
"We are not betrothed, Mr. Collins." Elizabeth cursed herself as the reprimand slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Mr. Collins eyes and mouth tightened, and she knew she had gone too far.
"Of course not, my fair cousin. Not yet." he said, ominously, and then continued on, as though she had not said anything.
He had then shocked her by allowing her to return back to her friend Charlotte, while he attended upon Sir William and Mr. Bingley, who had been joined by Jane and Mary, and she knew that the ball had granted her a reprieve.
For now.
She had been speaking to Jane and Mary, as Charlotte had gone to attend to her father for something or other, and was shocked to see Mr. Darcy stalk up to her, his face tight, as though he were in agony.
He addressed her with his usual low, grave bow, and then gave her a long look before asking brusquely, "May I have this next dance, Miss Elizabeth?"
She was so stunned that she could only murmur an affirmative, and he was gone before she could even curtsey.
Her expression was still stunned when Charlotte arrived, who questioned her appearance.
"Mr. Darcy has just asked Lizzie for the next two dances." Mary helpfully informed Charlotte.
Charlotte gave Lizzie a knowing look, saying "And now who is fantasizing, Lizzie? You shall see that I am right."
Mr. Darcy had collected her for their dances, offering his arm in his usual grave manner. As they walked past the assembled throng to line up for the dance, with some small satisfaction, she was glad to see the briefly horrified face of Miss Bingley, who then quickly found a partner for the coming dance. She did not understand why Miss Bingley had thought to be so jealous of her, especially when she knew that Elizabeth was as good as betrothed and united in marriage to Mr. Collins.
Their dance began, and it was utterly silent. Elizabeth felt almost unnerved as she felt Mr. Darcy's eyes follow her, yet he never said a word.
"Come Mr. Darcy, we must speak of something while dancing."
That shook him out of his almost dazed state. "Do you speak as a rule, while dancing then?"
"I do indeed, Mr. Darcy. I find silence, generally makes for an uncomfortable dance."
"Uncomfortable for yourself?"
"Indeed, sir."
"You do not seem to be the type, to wish for conversation while dancing. I understand that you were an avid walker."
"I was, Mr. Darcy."
"An undertaking that you did alone."
Elizabeth gave him a knowing look. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. We all of us have our inconsistencies and faults."
Mr. Darcy startled at her reference.
"I did not mean to imply-"
"It is of no importance, Mr. Darcy. I am only teasing."
Their moves were silent for a few more minutes, as Mr. Darcy ventured with, "Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?"
Ah, so here it was, she thought. He wished to know what Mr. Wickham had said to her. "We do not, Mr. Darcy. I accompany our cook on some occasions, but lately we have not had the time. The day we met with you and Mr. Bingley, it had been our first outing in quite a while-for our aunt's card party, you see."
"And the gentlemen you met?"
"Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth helpfully supplied. "Yes, we had just met him as well. A very charming and witty man, I also spoke to him at my aunt's card party. He had been invited along with the other officers."
That Mr. Darcy did not, Elizabeth noted, as his face grew more grave and grave with each word that spilled from her lips.
"Mr. Wickham is blessed with happy manners, he is very sure of making friends wherever he should go. Whether or not he is capable of retaining them, is of another matter entirely." Mr. Darcy spoke angrily, so much so that Elizabeth faltered in her steps and nearly lost her footing, and it was only his actions that kept her in part with the other dancers.
"Miss Elizabeth?" he said worriedly, his anger transformed into caring. "Are you quite all right?"
Elizabeth was tired of that question.
"I am perfectly well, Mr. Darcy." she said coldly.
He seemed surprised at her answer and manner, but made no more attempt at any conversation throughout the dance. After it was over, he escorted her back to Mr. Collins and her sisters, who were speaking to Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Mrst. Hurst.
As they drew near, Mr. Darcy appeared to recover some of his earlier pride, and stated confidently, "I would advise you, Miss Elizabeth, to tread carefully when it comes to Mr. Wickham. He is no gentleman."
Coolly, Elizabeth replied, "I am not a child, Mr. Darcy. And as for Mr. Wickham's birth, he has informed me himself that he is the son of a steward, no great deception on his part."
Mr. Darcy spoke no further, but simply delivered her to Mr. Collins, and stalked away. Elizabeth watched him go, paying half a mind to the conversation at hand. How dare he speak to her as though she were a child! As though she had not one lick of sense in her head!
She had tried-had tried to give Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley the benefit of the doubt, regarding her sister. As it was, despite their disgusting joke, they were the only two gentlemen who actually looked at Jane as a person, and not as someone who was on the shelf, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She did not even know why she cared. If Miss Bingley had her way, Mr. Bingley would soon be gone-back to town, or to purchase an estate that was closer to Mr. Darcy's home. They would soon be out of her life, and she would have to focus all of her attentions elsewhere.
Mr. Darcy, she decided was a walking contradiction. He had shown understanding and sensitivity regarding her father, yet decided the majority, if not the entire town of people, people she had grown up with her entire life were unworthy of any attentions. Except her, apparently. Try as she might, she could no longer ignore Charlotte's teasings.
Elizabeth had excused herself to look for some punch, when Miss Bingley intercepted her.
"My dear Miss Eliza, I had simply thought to warn you."
"Warn me of what, Miss Bingley?" Elizabeth asked in what she hoped sounded like a pleasing tone, as she was already starting a headache with all the people who had apparently attempted to warn her tonight.
"I have heard that you have taken a fancy to Mr. Wickham. I understand you met him in Meryton, and then at one of your aunt's quaint card parties," Miss Bingley smiled, showing all of her teeth, "He is a scoundrel of the first order, and has abused Mr. Darcy most abominably."
"And how is it that he abused Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley?" Elizabeth asked, actually interested in the feud between the two men, and whether or not there was more than an appearance of truth to Mr. Wickham's story.
Miss Bingley hemmed and hawed for a moment. "I don't know the particulars, but I do know that it was not Mr. Darcy's fault!" she exclaimed.
Elizabeth smiled. "Of course not, Miss Bingley. Mr. Darcy is without fault."
Miss Bingley's mouth twisted as though she had sucked on a lemon. "Excuse me, Miss Eliza. It was kindly meant."
The two ladies curtseyed, and Elizabeth was left to continue her journey, her thoughts wandering more and more to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham.