Thank you all so very much for continuing to come by and read this story as it progresses! I am absolutely chuffed by the number of favorites and follows that have come in since I posted the last chapter. I couldn't be happier that so many are interested in what's happening next. A special shout-out to everyone who decided to drop a few lines in the reviews - you're always making my day with your comments. ~ CC
"For such a small market town as this, there are a surprising number of our neighbors in attendance."
Beside Elizabeth, Jane laughed softly. "You'd not think this lot a surprise, Lizzy, had you ever attended an assembly before."
"La! There is Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas," cried Mrs. Bennet as she spotted her friends—and rivals—across the ballroom. "I must go to them and see if they've any notion of when Mr. Bingley will arrive."
Without waiting for a response from any of her daughters or her niece, Mrs. Bennet scurried away. Kitty and Lydia next left their party in search of their favorite militia officers, leaving Elizabeth to take a turn about the room with Jane and Mary.
They soon came to meet with Charlotte Lucas, daughter of Sir William and the aforementioned Lady Lucas. She was their eldest child, a moderately clever young woman with an amiable character and even temper. She was, however—at the age of seven-and-twenty—still unmarried. Her plain features were often blamed, for her character was above reproach.
Charlotte was also Elizabeth's closest friend aside from Jane, and she greeted her warmly. "Elizabeth Woods, as I live and breathe! Fancy seeing you at a Meryton assembly."
Elizabeth glanced sidelong at Jane. "Even I can only take so much badgering, Charlotte."
"And it only took four years to wear you down," her friend replied with a laugh. "Of course, did I not know you so well, I would imagine you had come just to catch a glimpse of the infamous Mr. Bingley."
"I should like to know Mr. Bingley as much as the next person, to be sure," Elizabeth replied. "But it is Jane we all hope will catch his eye, you know."
"She is five times as pretty as the rest of us," offered Mary. "Thus she has the greatest chance of securing him."
Jane's cheeks flushed with color, and her companions laughed. They all then moved to the refreshment tables, where each took up a glass of punch, before moving again to the perimeter of the room to observe all who were there—and always with their eye upon the door. Kind remarks were also exchanged as to each other's gowns, with Charlotte especially observing the simplistic elegance of Elizabeth having added dark green satin ribbons to her white dress.
"Well, Charlotte, you know I like to keep things simple—even my elegance," Elizabeth replied cheekily.
The din of the room suddenly quieted almost at once, and all eyes were now on the group of five who had just entered. At the front was an amiable-looking young man with an eager expression who greeted Sir William warmly when he approached. At his side was a young woman with similar features, enough that Elizabeth guessed them to be brother and sister; she knew from the gossip her Aunt Bennet had shared that Mr. Bingley had at least two. Standing behind them were a slightly older couple—she thought the lady to be another sister—and then, at the rear, stood a man in a soldier's dress.
Kitty and Lydia should certainly be pleased, Elizabeth thought.
"Only two ladies," Jane observed. "That should be of some relief to the other single young women in attendance."
"Especially given that one of them is already married, if the cant is to be believed," said Elizabeth.
At that moment, she noted Mrs. Bennet bustling toward them through the crowd. "Girls! Girls!" she cried as she waved her handkerchief at them. "Wait until I tell you the news!"
Jane smiled indulgently at her mother as Elizabeth fought not to roll her eyes. "I have just had it from Mrs. Long that Mr. Bingley has five thousand a year, and very likely more! What a fine thing for you, my dearest Jane!"
"Do you know who the others of the party are, Mamma?" asked Mary as conversations resumed around them and Sir William began to lead the Netherfield party about the room.
"Oh yes, Mary!" Mrs. Bennet replied. "The young man at the fore is, of course, Mr. Bingley himself. Is he not handsome, Jane?"
Jane blushed, though Elizabeth noted her eyes had hardly left the young man since settling on him. "Indeed he is, Mamma."
"At his side is his sister Miss Bingley, who is to keep house for him. But only until he marries, of course," Mrs. Bennet went on. "Following are Mr. Bingley's other sister, Mrs. Hurst, and her husband, and at the rear is a gentleman called Colonel Fitzwilliam."
Elizabeth did not hear her begin to gush about what a fine thing it would be if Lydia caught the colonel's eye, for she "dearly loves a man in a red coat"; a bolt of ice-cold dread had rattled down her spine on hearing a name she'd not even dared to think in the last four years.
"Lizzy? Are you well?" Charlotte queried softly. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"I… I rather think I need some air, Charlotte," Elizabeth said.
Dear creature that she was, Charlotte immediately took her by the arm and led her away from her aunt and cousins, and moving in the opposite direction than that of the Netherfield party, guided her toward the vestibule and then out of doors.
Elizabeth gulped the slightly cool evening air in deep draws, praying that she did not lose her equanimity and panic outright—she'd never had such a reaction before, and had no desire to be answering uncomfortable questions. Charlotte rubbed a hand up and down her back, saying nothing, until at last Elizabeth had calmed herself enough to speak.
"Thank you," she said haltingly. "I just… I needed to get out of there."
"I can't say as I'm surprised you became overwhelmed, this being your first assembly and all," said Charlotte. "There is quite the crush tonight, what with so many wanting to catch a glimpse of Mr. Bingley and his company."
Elizabeth uttered a silent prayer of thanks that Charlotte had not deduced the true reason for her distress. "I've only myself to blame for staying home to take care of Ned every assembly since he was born," she replied with a nervous laugh.
"Are you all right to go back in?"
Drawing another deep breath through her nose, Elizabeth held it for the ticking of two heartbeats, then blew it out slowly through her lips and nodded. "I'll be fine, Charlotte. Now I know what came over me, I can face it head-on. You know my courage always rises—"
"—at every attempt to intimidate you," Charlotte finished with a grin.
Her friend then linked their arms together again and turned back for the door. Inside the hall, Elizabeth looked for Jane and smiled wide; the true reason for her episode was momentarily forgotten when she noted that her cousin stood with Mr. Bingley, another dance about to begin. Satisfied to see Jane so apparently pleased with her partner, she began to scan the room the the one that had driven her from it.
Ah, there he was—standing with Colonel Forster and another of the officers from the regiment of militia that were quartered in Meryton for the winter. Hoping she did not appear too obvious, Elizabeth began to walk about the perimeter of the room, observing the man identified as Colonel Fitzwilliam. His features were not what she would call handsome, but then she wasn't studying him for his attractiveness or lack thereof—she looked to see if there was anything that would confirm his relation to him.
He had a cousin in the army, she recalled. A cousin some three years his senior, and this fellow looked to be about the age the gentleman would be now. It had to be him—there could not really be so very many colonels in His Majesty's Army with the surname Fitzwilliam, after all.
After several moments' observation, Elizabeth's nerves began to settle. He seemed an amiable fellow, laughing and talking as he was with Colonel Forster. And it wasn't as though she had to meet him, or even speak to him if she did. He was hardly likely to know who she was, who she had been to his cousin, and there was certainly no way he could possibly know about Ned. There was nothing whatsoever for her to get worked up over. It was foolish to worry.
She decided she did not care that his cousin had somehow ended up at the same assembly as herself, apparently a friend of Mr. Bingley's. She had come to this gathering to visit with her neighbors and to enjoy herself, and Elizabeth was determined that she would.
Nearly an hour passed after the Netherfield party's arrival in which Elizabeth found herself relaxed enough to almost forget about Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had laughed, talked, drank punch, and even danced with one of Charlotte's brothers. Her hard-won peace was threatened when Jane, on the arm of Mr. Bingley, led him and one of his sisters—the single one, she thought—over to where she stood with Mary watching the dancers.
With them was Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"Mary, Lizzy, may I present our newest neighbor, Mr. Charles Bingley," Jane began with a smile. "Also his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, and their friend Colonel Theodore Fitzwilliam. Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Colonel… my sister Mary and our cousin, Mrs. Elizabeth Woods."
Curtsies and bows were exchanged. Miss Bingley looked Elizabeth over, then said, "I understand from Miss Bennet and another young lady I met a while ago—a Miss King—that you are a dressmaker, Mrs. Woods?"
"I am, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth replied. "The gown Miss King is wearing is one I made for her."
"And the one you are wearing is also your work, is it not, Lizzy?" Jane said.
Elizabeth looked down at her own dress. "You know, I believe you are right, Jane. It's been a while since I've worn this gown, so I really hadn't thought of it."
"And a very pretty gown it is, Mrs. Woods, wouldn't you say, Fitzwilliam?" said Mr. Bingley with a grin.
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled. "It is indeed, Charles," he replied. "Mr. Woods is a lucky man, to have a wife so skilled."
"He would be, if he were still with us, Colonel," said Elizabeth, hoping her voice did not sound as stilted to the others as it did to her. Goodness, it had been so very long since she'd had to actually tell the lie that she found it hard to get the words past her lips. "I'm afraid my husband died four years ago."
Fitzwilliam looked appropriately chagrined. "I am very sorry to hear it," he replied.
Elizabeth nodded and mumbled her thanks, and hoped fervently that there would be no more questions asked regarding the fictitious Mr. Woods.
"Please!" chirped Miss Bingley. "Let us have no more talk of death—we're at a dance!"
Her eyes, as she spoke, turned toward Colonel Fitzwilliam, but he either ignored her or did not notice that Miss Bingley was clearly waiting to be asked.
"You are absolutely right, Caroline!" said Mr. Bingley. "Miss Bennet, would you care for another set?"
Jane's answering smile warmed Elizabeth's heart. "I should like that very much indeed, sir."
"Theo, why don't you beg Miss Mary or Mrs. Woods to dance?" Bingley said to his friend, seemingly oblivious to the shocked expression of his sister at the suggestion.
Fitzwilliam grinned. "As a matter of fact, Bingley, I was about to do just that." He stepped closer to Elizabeth and bowed. "Would you kindly do me the honor, Mrs. Woods?"
She had no rational reason for which she might refuse him. And really, would one set or one dance do a harm? He could not know who she really was, as they had never met the entirety of the eight months she had worked at Pemberley, though Miss Darcy and her brother had spoken of him often.
Plastering a smile to her lips, Elizabeth replied, "I should be delighted."
Fitzwilliam continued to smile as she placed her hand in his, turning his eye to wink at Mary. "Do not think I have forgotten you, Miss Mary. Save the supper set for me, if you are not already engaged."
Mary's eyes widened with incredulity; she rarely danced, being too shy to really put herself forward, and had never been flirted with in her life until that moment.
"I…I am not engaged, sir," she stuttered in reply.
"Excellent!" the colonel cried, then turned about to lead Elizabeth onto the floor.
It was all she could do not to groan when the next dance called was a cotillion; she and Colonel Fitzwilliam would certainly be in close proximity.
In a moment, the dance was begun. She followed the steps with her partner in silence until he said, in a solemn tone, "You must have been very young."
Elizabeth swallowed the lump of nervousness that suddenly formed in her throat—it seemed she would not escape an inquisition after all. "I was, yes. Young and naïve to the ways of the world; my marriage ended almost as soon as it was begun."
He said nothing at first, and then, "Forgive my saying so, Mrs. Woods, but you sound rather bitter. May I ask after the manner of your husband's death?"
"He was a soldier. He went to war," she said with a lifting of her shoulder. "Soldiers die in war, Colonel. I'm sure you know that well enough."
She said another silent prayer then that he did not ask her the name of her husband's regiment. Elizabeth had never prepared for the eventuality of discussing the military service of a man who did not actually exist, as the citizens of Meryton had been content with hearing that "Mr. Woods" had died in the war.
"I do, yes," Fitzwilliam replied. "I've lost a fair number of friends—almost died myself once. Nasty business, war is."
"Indeed, Colonel," Elizabeth replied.
Deciding a change of subject was most definitely in order, she managed in a much livelier tone, "I want to thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for asking my cousin Mary to dance. I'm afraid she's rather a shy creature, and I am told she is not often asked."
"You are told?" Fitzwilliam said.
"Yes. Where Mary is shy, I am reclusive," Elizabeth replied. "Four years I have shared my cousins' home, but this is the first time I have joined in the merriment of an assembly."
Fitzwilliam scoffed. "You cannot be serious, madam. You dance far too well for a lady who has never attended a ball."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "One does not need to attend balls, Colonel, in order to know the steps to a dance. I have a very good reason, which we have already discussed, for being too reticent to attend my cousins these four years."
"Then why are you here tonight?"
"It was heavily implied by certain members of my family that I had closed myself away from the world for long enough," Elizabeth replied with a sigh. "Thus, here I am. At my very first ball."
Fitzwilliam smiled. "So you are, Mrs. Woods, and may I say you are doing splendidly."
"You are too kind, sir."
The colonel continued to talk throughout their set together, asking the same general questions anyone new to the neighborhood would ask. In turn, she feigned interest in his reason for coming, and learned that he was in Meryton to help his host survey the Netherfield property and assess it's potential for increased income, as Mr. Bingley had signed a lease with the possibility of purchase should he find it to his liking. Fitzwilliam had actually taken the place of a cousin at the last moment, one who was more intimate a friend of Mr. Bingley than himself, as the gentleman's younger sister had fallen ill and he had remained at home to attend her.
Elizabeth was certain he referred to him, and curious in spite of herself—for Lady Anne had been very kind and Miss Darcy she remembered as a very sweet girl—she asked him, "Has your young cousin no mother to attend her while she's ill?"
Fitzwilliam's expression shifted ever so slightly. "She has, yes, but my cousins suffered the loss of their father only a few years ago. Darcy has taken up his father's mantle as head of the family and he attends to the needs of his mother and sister most diligently."
Must be nice that he attends to some family with diligence, Elizabeth thought bitterly.
She could not help but feel relieved when the set was ended and she gave up her place as Colonel Fitzwilliam's partner to her cousin Mary. Feeling no real desire to dance again, she started for the cluster of matrons and mothers among which her aunts stood gossiping and pointing about the room, but found herself waylaid by Jane and Mr. Bingley.
"Mrs. Woods," said Bingley, "Would you do me the honor of dancing the supper set with me?"
"I… Well, I hadn't planned on dancing again, sir," Elizabeth stuttered. Blast that wretched colonel for making her so uncharacteristically nervous by his mere presence—oh, that she had said no to attending the ball!
"Please change your mind, madam! I have seen how well you dance, though Miss Bennet has told me this is your first ball since Mr. Woods passed," said Bingley.
Elizabeth flicked her eyes at Jane, whose expression was apologetic; she decided to forgive her and forced a smile to her lips. "Very well, as you have complimented my dancing and a third dance with my cousin would set the gossips to twittering. I should be much obliged."
Her comment about gossip set Jane's cheeks aflame with embarrassment, but the smile Mr. Bingley cast her way as they traded places at his side was worth it; Elizabeth could tell each was already very smitten with the other. She decided then that she would talk of nothing but Jane and her many amiable qualities, that Mr. Bingley would fall even more in love with her.
A happy marriage for herself might be a dream of the past, but that didn't mean she would not wish for such happiness to be found by the cousin she thought of as a sister.