Although the Pearsons' arrival was not formally announced to the neighborhood, their presence was taken note of by Meryton's inhabitants in two quite different fashions: Firstly, the sight of a young woman all but dragging Miss Bingley into the local merchant's premises and calling the reluctant Caroline 'my dearest cousin'. Secondly, the long awaited invitations to the hoped-for ball at Netherfield were at last delivered.
Unfortunately, Charlotte and her fellow Watchers were ill-able to enjoy the excitement leading to such an anticipated event, as Mrs. Bennet felt that it was of the utmost importance to maintain a constant vigilance. As Elizabeth was becoming quite the late riser, her sisters - notably and most loudly, Lydia - took to nettling her about her recent adherence to fashionably late hours.
In preparation for the ball, chaos descended upon Longbourn, for how was a house with five young women in it to remain calm in the face of such superb provocation? To the relief of many - and most particularly, Mr. Bennet - the ladies were ready and gone in what could be considered a reasonable amount of time.
Elizabeth entered the ballroom with no expectation of delight, despite the fineness of the decorations and expertise of the musicians. However, if she could describe pleasure as being perpetually on her guard and watching Kitty and Lydia chasing officers - despite their mother's adjurations - then, yes, perhaps she should anticipate much 'pleasure' from this evening. To have encountered Mr. Darcy's stern face immediately on crossing the threshold of Netherfield did nothing toward encouraging one's felicity. That gentleman courteously acknowledged the acquaintance and, after being assured of a dance with Mrs. Bennet's two eldest daughters, soon withdrew to another part of the room.
Mr. Collins had accompanied the Bennet family and ensured a set with each of the Bennet daughters for, he explained, Lady Catherine would surely not object to a ball given by a young man of good name and amongst this fine community. He wished to request such an honor from Miss Bingley and sought her out for that purpose, until he noticed in whose company she stood. Elizabeth observed his action and detected the instant when he spotted Caroline; the object of his gaze was equally interesting to Elizabeth.
James Pearson had the distinction of belonging to a family that was quite insistent that its members resemble one another. Sadly for them, their desire was only partially achieved, for their sons were merely somewhat similar in countenance and build. John Pearson had a larger, stouter frame; whereas, James, despite being the elder brother, was more slender and less thickly built; but none who saw them together could mistake the familial connection. Agnes was, to her advantage, much of a kind with the sibling's mother and did not favor the Pearson line.
There was but a slight hesitation by Mr. Collins on seeing one of the Pearson brothers that made Elizabeth wonder. After a moment, however, he continued in his movement across the room and Elizabeth turned her eyes toward his goal.
It was James alone with whom Caroline Bingley was so companionably standing.
Despite her assignment to remain at Mr. Collins' side, Elizabeth could not help but survey - albeit in a surreptitious manner - the remainder of the spacious but crowded room for John Pearson; she ceased her scrutiny on spotting the minute shake of Mrs. Bennet's head. Doubtless her mother had already set another to follow the monster.
The varied and ceaseless movement of a great number of people, some dancing, some content to observe, served admirably as a distraction for those who wished to monitor the actions of specific persons; it was unfortunate that such an advantage could aid both the protectors and the ones from whom the populace was being protected.
Elizabeth could hear, quite distinctly, Mrs. Bennet's voice describing her joy in having her daughters paid the compliment of many requests and the prospects of their future happiness until Mr. Collins spoke.
'My dear cousin,' he began, all politeness, 'As your company is enjoyable and pleasant, please do not view it as a slight that I have promised your elder sister this dance. I do hope that you will not be offended at my leaving you alone for such a time and pray that you remember how I had asked you for the next.' Thus saying and bowing, he removed himself and crossed the room in search of Jane, who stood beside their mother.
He had not been gone for upwards of two minutes - and the music already started - when a quiet voice from behind her said, 'Miss Elizabeth. Might I have the opportunity of speaking with you in privacy? I have great need of your help.'
Without turning, she replied softly but smilingly, as if amusing herself at the dancers, 'Why, Mr. Wickham. Do you enjoy the evening equally well standing behind a column as you are? How may I assist you? Have you lost your comrades?'
'Elizabeth!' came the loud cry, 'Your sister requires your presence. I insist that you attend her at once.' Mrs. Bennet appeared and noisily waved Elizabeth in the direction of her youngest daughters and, very near them, Mr. John Pearson. The younger lady hurried off, ready to shield her family from trouble, and it certainly was co-incidental that, on seeing a certain person's closest friend, the fellow quitted the area directly.
Ensuring that her voice carried, Mrs. Bennet proclaimed, 'My gracious! The air in here is terribly close!' Thus saying, the good lady nearly collapsed in a chair nearest the pillar and began fanning herself with vigor. She continued, 'Oh! I must have some air. Perhaps I shall step out for a bit and return momentarily.'
Several minutes later, Mr. Wickham crept outside, mindful not to draw notice to himself. Where had that woman gotten to?
He backed up near the stone wall of the house, examining his surroundings until a menacing whisper in his ear hissed, 'Why are you here, Mr. Wickham? What is your true purpose in this locale?' As the voice spoke, he felt the sharp end of a dagger come to rest firmly against his throat.
In his life, George Wickham had known acute fear prior to this moment and if he were to recollect the only other time that had occasioned such an emotion to a similar degree, it had been, oddly enough, at the hand of another woman - for the voice was that of Mrs. Bennet. He thought to move away from the danger but, after a tightening of the blade at his slight movement and the additional prick of a second weapon near his heart, truly felt that any action would cause his corpse to be found on the morrow by Netherfield's staff.
His shaky reply was, 'I wish to request your help. I have heard from . . . ah, I have heard of your group and how you prefer to aid those in need and wondered if you could - that is, if we could speak at length. There is much that must be explained.'
A prolonged silence was his answer. Finally, she responded, 'I am to hold a card party an afternoon this week and Mr. Denny will bring you. There will then be an opportunity for discourse. A warning to you - my youngest, Lydia, fancies herself in love with a uniform, so long as the man who fills it accepts her interest. But she is young, not ready for the attentions of a man and none will be tolerated.'
With noticeable sincerity, Mr. Wickham stated, 'You have nothing to fear from me, madam.' Satisfied, the matron withdrew her knife and permitted his rather round-about and stealthy return to the dancing. A few minutes later, Mrs. Bennet re-entered the ballroom, amidst her cries of the rejuvenating quality of evening air. She proceeded to exclaim over Jane being partnered with Mr. Bingley a second time and the good fortune that allowed Elizabeth to have procured such a fine partner as Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy's taciturnity during their dance was not displeasing to Elizabeth; indeed, it was the opposite. His silence enabled her to focus not on his irksome self but on performing her assigned task, for, she had to concede, his stubborn resistance to speech was far more amusing than distressing. Could he not be bothered with the barest of civilities? No matter - he disliked her and she was full aware of this. There was no purpose in conversing with an unpleasant person disinclined to politesse.
For his part, the gentleman in question found it difficult to enter discourse with a lady who could, regardless of his private wishes, be nothing to him. She was as handsome and lively as ever but he should not like to raise her expectations of a future in his presence and in his home. How very many arguments could he bring - her connections, the complete unsuitability of her relations, her insignificant portion, the necessary but undeniably inappropriate nature of her clandestine vocation? He therefore remained mute.
To the immense incredulity of many present, Agnes Pearson was as big a flirt - if not more so - than even Lydia. Whilst the youngest Bennet sisters were relishing a spirited conversation with Mr. Denny and a few of his comrades-in-arms, Miss Pearson was seen laughing and running through the ball room, brandishing a sword, and being chased by yet another of the officers. Caroline Bingley saw the scornful looks being directed at Agnes; she was astonished at her cousin's forwardness and felt mortified at the relation. More appalling, even Lydia Bennet had her mouth covered by her hand and she appeared to be unsuccessfully stifling loud laughter.
'Is there no way to stop this?' Caroline begged the girl's brother.
In a phlegmatic voice, James replied, 'Lina, what are we to do? I own that it is terribly embarrassing but John and I have found no way to restrain her, aside from shutting poor Agnes up in the house. We believe her to be one of the silliest girls in all of England.'
The blush and pained look on his countenance belied his disinterested tone; it also matched quite neatly the face of his companion, who murmured determinedly, 'Be certain that we shall talk more on this later.'
The music soon restarted and into the activity they proceeded as if nothing were amiss. Miss Bingley had to admit enjoying the sight of Elizabeth Bennet less than happily dancing with her cousin, who, if talk was to believed, not only was to inherit Longbourn but was also to marry one of the Bennet sisters. It was not enough to cause Caroline to forget her cousin's behavior but it assuredly helped in lifting her spirits. For Caroline, the evening could not end rapidly enough; she had no desire to further expose the vulgar failings of her own relations to the local society.
Although Mr. Collins' performance was acceptable and not to be found too wanting, Elizabeth could not rally herself to seem pleased, for she was simply dancing - dancing! - when that man was stalking after another victim. She could see him creeping about, entranced by the whirling skirts and gracefully flowing limbs. But no! She must remember Philidor and his assertion that on occasion a pawn must draw out one piece in order to force another markedly more important to reveal itself. As the fundamental principles of combat on the checker'd field are rather similar to those of the battlefield, she recognized the imprudence in ignoring such wisdom.
Moreover, she had not seen Eldon thus far tonight, which, knowing his opinion of the Bingley's cousins, was worrisome.
When the imposing longcase clock in the hall began to chime twelve, Mr. Collins drew near the Bennet ladies and declared with visible discomfort, 'My most profound apologies, Madam. It is unfortunate that, though I have as great an enjoyment of a convivial ball as any, my constitution is not quite vigorous enough for a protracted period of dancing. I must humbly beg your leave to remove myself from this festive event and return to Longbourn.'
With a gracious smile, Mrs. Bennet placed her hand upon his arm and answered, 'Why, Mr. Collins! We cannot have the neighborhood believe our family to be lacking in common decency so as to abandon a relation in need. I would be honored to accompany you. Let me but speak with the person who will see to my daughters and then we shall be off.'
She then turned to a somber Mrs. Phillips, who had approached but minutes prior to the uncomfortable cleric, and remarked with energy, 'Oh sister! You know what is to be done - we have done this countless times, you see, Mr. Collins - and I thank you for your help.'
The news that circulated on the subsequent morning was astonishing: While the good citizens of Meryton and its surrounding environs had been engaged in honest pursuits, such as merry making or perhaps even slumber, a small band of miscreants had attempted, with some savagery, to set upon a home filled with unsuspecting innocents. The malefactors had tried but they had not succeeded in pillaging and burning the family and its modest house, for the Watchers had doused the lit torches brought for that express purpose and had called out a warning to those in immediate danger.
From the accounts being spread - and reckoned as directly heard from the grateful family - the Watchers came, surrounded the villains and with great rapidity, dispatched three of the four from this world. The last rogue was rendered harmless by injury and then captured, bound for prison and interrogation. To the disappointment of many, however, aside from the particulars given of the rescue, none were any wiser as to the identities of these renowned heroes.