Hello, dear readers! I must confess that I've actually had this chapter done for a few days now, but I had decided to wait until I had started the next before posting it. And would you believe that when I finally sat down to write, my Muse has cooperated so much that I am actually a further two chapters ahead?! That's right - I have the next two chapters already completed, and I am about to start on chapter 16!
The book stands shy of 55,600 words at present and I think I may have it finished in only a few more chapters, which would make this my shortest novel yet. My previous books have all gone over the 100K mark, but with how this one is progressing, I begin to think I might just get it finished in only another 20K or so words. Of course, I'm not committing to anything, as my Muse may yet surprise me!
My deepest thanks to everyone reading along and commenting. You help me more than you know.
Chapter Thirteen
Four days of successive rain followed the dinner party at Longbourn, restricting the ladies of that house—and all of the neighborhood—to remaining indoors.
Kitty and Lydia complained incessantly of not being able to visit with their aunt Phillips or their favorite militia officers. Jane, less vocal than her sisters, was sorry she could not visit with her fiancé. Elizabeth wished she could visit with Catherine and Georgiana and Charlotte, and even missed Mr. Darcy's company a little—not that she could admit as much to anyone but herself.
The only one of the sisters to have no complaint was Mary, who used the time to practice more. Longbourn was almost never silent amidst her playing and the youngest girls' complaints.
Shoe roses and other "absolute necessities" were purchased by proxy on Saturday, a servant being sent out with a list after a letter from Netherfield brought with it an official invitation to the ball to be held there. Tuesday was to be the day, shorter notice than Elizabeth had expected, but she was certainly not displeased. It gave the whole house something to look forward to.
Even Mr. Collins expressed some delight in the prospect of attending a ball and declared he would be extending his stay that he could. Elizabeth was rather surprised that he neither entertained any scruple on joining in such an evening's amusement nor dreaded a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance. He went so far as to say that he was by no means of the opinion that a ball of this kind, given by so amiable a young man as Mr. Bingley to respectable people, could have any evil tendency.
"I am so far from objecting to dancing myself," he added, "that I shall hope to be honored with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially."
Kitty and Lydia twittered madly at this, and Mrs. Bennet declared it quite the honor for her to be so singled out. Elizabeth, therefore, could not but be gratified in explaining that not only were the first two dances already claimed, but the second two also. Collins colored with embarrassment, and Mrs. Bennet sputtered with surprise.
"Who, Lizzy? Who have you promised these dances to, when our dear Mr. Collins has been so very attentive to you during his visit?" her mother demanded.
"Ma'am, with all due respect to Mr. Collins," said Elizabeth with forced civility, for she hoped to avoid dancing with her clumsy cousin entirely, "you would not have me reject the offers of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam when I had no guarantee that my cousin would even attend Mr. Bingley's ball, would you?"
"Why would such gentlemen as they ask you to dance, Lizzy?" queried Lydia. "I'm a far better dancer and more interesting than you—and I am certainly fonder of officers than you are. Mamma, was not Colonel Fitzwilliam so very fine in his regimentals last evening?"
"He was indeed, my dear, but Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet, "why did they ask you to dance? Our family owes the proud Mr. Darcy no particular civility, and his cousin, though an officer, is unknown to us."
"I believe it a personal challenge between the gentlemen, ma'am," Elizabeth replied. "Each of them spoke of Mr. Darcy's late mother having taught them to dance, and because Miss Morland and I were in conversation with them at the time, we were each of us asked to dance, that they might prove to us which of them was the better dancer."
Mrs. Bennet regarded her with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering whether her least favorite daughter had somehow attracted the richest man in the neighborhood or the son of an earl—or if she could, given the "proper encouragement". Elizabeth feared these were her mother's thoughts as she sat back suddenly with a satisfied smile upon her lips.
"Mr. Collins, I am sure Mary will be delighted to dance with you," said the lady. "And did you know that she is as much a student of Mr. Fordyce as are you, sir? Mary dear, perhaps you and Mr. Collins might spend some time together today reading from your book."
Elizabeth stifled a groan and pitied her sister for being manipulated into spending time with their cousin. Mrs. Bennet was not at all subtle in her designs of having him take an interest in one of her daughters; if he married one of them, she would never have to leave the house that had been her home for more than twenty years. Elizabeth had been her first object and his, as Jane was engaged. Now, it seemed she believed her to be the object of affection to either Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam, and had thus suggested Mary.
It was perhaps unchristian of her, but Elizabeth began to hope that they were both of them disappointed, and that he was forced to return to Kent without having succeeded in his quest.
The day of the ball arrived, bringing with it brighter skies and no rain. This was a great relief to all the ladies at Longbourn, who had each in her own way feared the ball might be cancelled. Mrs. Bennet insisted that each of her daughters have a bath, putting the maids to a great deal of work hauling buckets of water up and down the stairs. They were none of them allowed to eat very much, for she was certain that Bingley would have a grand feast.
Elizabeth had chosen to be a little bold with her ensemble, pairing a white satin gown she had worn several times but was still remarkably in excellent condition with a sleeveless open robe made of red Indian muslin. The material had been a gift from her aunt Mrs. Gardiner, but she'd had no idea as to what to make with it until now, and had spent the majority of the four days turning the material into a garment that might be paired with any number of her evening gowns. Jane had kindly helped her to add some ready-made gold embroidery to embellish the piece.
The hours we spent making this had better be worth it, Elizabeth thought as she slipped her arms through and secured it at her bustline. It was her hope to dance half or more of the night away, to be far too busy enjoying herself to remember that she would soon be losing her most beloved sister to marriage. One more week was left for Mr. Nelson to read the banns before Sunday service, and then Jane and James would set a date. The rest of the Morland clan would come to Hertfordshire to attend the wedding, and then Jane would be taken away to Wiltshire to begin her life as Mrs. James Morland.
She wondered as she sat at her dressing table and began to set her hair how soon she might be able to go and visit her sister. Wiltshire was delightful country, according to the Morlands and Mrs. Allen, and she would be more than happy to spend several weeks there with her sister.
"Oh, Lizzy, you look lovely!" cried Jane when she entered the room some minutes later. "You will surely stand out from all the rest in that red."
Elizabeth frowned. "Do you think it too bold?"
"On the contrary, it's wonderful! I think it brings out the highlights in your hair," her sister replied.
"Well, in any case, it is not I who must shine brightly tonight," Elizabeth went on. Admiring her sister's soft peach frock, she said, "That gown looks really lovely on you, Jane. Your dear Morland will not be able to stop smiling from the moment he catches sight of you."
Jane smiled and blushed, then said, "And I am sure a certain gentleman from Derbyshire will not be able to stop smiling when he sees you, Lizzy."
Elizabeth waved away her words as she set down her brush and stood. "Do not you start on that nonsense, Jane. I have enough of Catherine's foolish hopes that he admires me."
"But he does! Surely you are not blind to it—oh Lizzy, I am surprised at you!" said Jane with a laugh. "Mr. Darcy speaks to almost no one but you whenever he calls here, and even when he is in conversation with another, his gaze finds you wherever you are. It is the same anywhere we are in company together."
Elizabeth felt her emotions begin to swirl but fought to rein them in. "I am sure you are mistaken, dearest. While I have had conversation with Mr. Darcy, and have danced with him—will dance with him again this evening—I am sure our acquaintance is nothing more than a pleasant diversion to him."
Jane tilted her head to the side as she regarded her. "Who are you trying to convince of that, Lizzy? Me, or yourself?"
"You, of course, for I am already convinced of it," said Elizabeth as she picked up her gloves and brushed past her sister. She would not tell her the truth—could not, as she had hardly been able to admit it to herself. In spite of her every intention otherwise, she had begun to feel an attachment forming for Darcy. But it was one she knew in her heart had no hope of being furthered, for he was a rich man with noble connections, and her father could give him nothing.
It would be difficult, but she would enjoy their evening together and then say her goodbyes when the time came. For no doubt he would soon leave the country to spend the winter in London—is that not what men of his station did?
In time the Bennets were arrived at Netherfield, and took their place in the line of guests moving into the house. Soon enough they were the next to be greeted by their host and his sisters; Bingley was as amiable and welcoming as ever, and his sisters as sneeringly civil as they usually were. Elizabeth was determined not to allow the contempt of the sisters to dampen her spirits or her enjoyment of the evening. There were candles everywhere for light, and displays of flowers and ribbons to catch the eye. Whether Caroline had accepted Mrs. Allen's assistance, done the work herself, or put it all on her aunt, the décor was splendid.
"Elizabeth, you look stunning!" cried Catherine as she and her brother approached; the latter's eyes were, of course, only for his fiancé. In fact, James offered his arm to her sister and in moments he and Jane drifted away from them.
Turning her attention to Catherine's violet-colored gown, which very pleasantly complimented her friend's eyes, she said, "I think stunning is a word that better applies to you, Cathy. What an extraordinary dress you are wearing."
"I am sure Mr. Darcy will disagree," said Catherine with a grin.
"You are no doubt mistaken. Mr. Darcy and I are only friends."
"Oh, Elizabeth, how can you be so blind!" said Catherine, then she frowned suddenly and added, "Do you not like him at all? Is that why you deny any attachment?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "My dear Cathy, I deny there being an attachment because none exists," she said. At least not on his side, I am sure, she added silently.
Catherine snorted softly and laughed. "I don't know what county you've been living in these last weeks, dear Elizabeth, because I can assure you that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy definitely admires you a great deal. I do not know how you can have talked with him so much and not noticed."
"Not noticed what, Cathy?" said Georgiana as she and Darcy stepped up to them.
Elizabeth pasted on a smile. "How very lovely you look this evening, Miss Darcy!" she said brightly.
If at no other time that they had met, she could then most definitely feel Darcy's eyes on her, and she endeavored to meet his gaze with equanimity. "Mr. Darcy," she greeted him with a bow of her head and a curtsey.
Darcy bowed. "Miss Bennet."
She turned her attention to Georgiana. "You really do look splendid this evening, Miss Darcy. That white gown suits you very well."
Georgiana blushed and fingered the folds of her skirt. "White looks good on everyone," she replied. "But you! Oh, I do not know that I could look as well as you in red."
"You are very kind to say so," said Elizabeth.
Fitzwilliam approached them then, offered his own compliments on her ensemble, then held out his arm to Catherine. "I figure we might as well stick by each other, as we are to dance the first dance together, Miss Morland. What say you, Darcy? Shall we take a turn about the room with our lovely partners?"
As his sister held his right arm, Darcy wordlessly turned and offered Elizabeth his left. She took it in equal silence, and they strolled lazily about the perimeter of the ballroom together with Fitzwilliam and Catherine providing the majority of the conversation.
It was not until the first dance of the evening had begun that Darcy spoke more than her name. "You look beautiful this evening, Elizabeth."
His voice was so soft that she nearly did not hear him, though when his words registered, she felt color fill her cheeks. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she replied.
Darcy's grip on her hand tightened a fraction, leading her to look up. "I mean it," said he. "I… I think you one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."
Were the dance not a familiar one, Elizabeth thought she might have stumbled, so stunned was she by the confession. Could Catherine—and Jane—be right about him? Did he admire her more than she realized?
"I am honored by your praise, sir," she managed at last, offering a tentative smile.
Darcy's posture immediately relaxed, and he answered her smile with one of his own. For the rest of the set conversation flowed more naturally between them, and when their two dances were over, he seemed rather reluctant to hand her over to his cousin.
"So, Miss Elizabeth," Fitzwilliam said as soon as the dance had separated them from Darcy and his sister, who were now to dance together. "I have you to myself at last."
Elizabeth laughed. "And why should you desire that, sir?"
"Because now I can beg you to end my cousin's torment."
She frowned. "Whatever do you mean, Colonel?"
"Darcy! He's wild about you, I'm sure of it," Fitzwilliam replied.
Elizabeth scoffed to cover her shock at his words. "Good gracious," said she. "Whatever is in the water here at Netherfield? Catherine, too, has suggested that Mr. Darcy admires me, and I will tell you as I have done her that I am sure you are mistaken."
"On the contrary, madam," said her partner. "You do not see how he looks at you, watches you, when you are unaware. You do not see the way he has glared at some of the other young men here when they have turned their heads to admire you."
"Even if that were true," said Elizabeth, endeavoring to ignore the thrill that coursed through her, "just because your cousin thinks me pretty does not mean he desires an attachment. He has known me for the same length of time that Mr. Morland has known my sister Jane, and has made no overtures of courtship."
"That's because he's shy!" the colonel retorted.
"Impossible," she argued.
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Nay, it is true—he's afraid you will reject him, I am sure of it."
I think you one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.
No. It was as she had said—just because the man admired her beauty did not mean he was in love with her. Catherine, Jane, Fitzwilliam—they had to be wrong!
Who are you trying to convince of that, Lizzy? Me, or yourself?
Jane's words from earlier came back to her, and it was then that shock began to course through her. What if they were right?
"Miss Elizabeth, are you well?" Fitzwilliam asked then.
"I am quite well, I assure you," she replied. "I just… How can he love me? I am sure your family would never approve a match between us."
"And why should we not? You are a gentleman's daughter, he is a gentleman. Does that not make you equals?" Fitzwilliam said.
"But who is my mother? Who are my aunts and my uncles? Surely you are not ignorant of their situation—my uncle Phillips is an attorney in Meryton and my uncle Gardiner owns warehouses in Cheapside. Would not your father the earl disdain such connections?"
"My dear Miss Elizabeth, Darcy's choice of bride is his own—my father may give his opinion, but ultimately the decision of whom he takes to wife is his," Fitzwilliam told her.
Elizabeth stubbornly shook her head. "That may be so, but I am sure Mr. Darcy has no more wish to marry me than I have any wish to marry my father's cousin. He has given me no indication that he cares for me as more than a friend, and I am intelligent enough to know that to expect more would be folly. A man of his station would be far better off marrying a girl from a family as rich as his."
Fitzwilliam looked at her with incredulity. "You don't think you are good enough for him, do you?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. "Sir, I really think we should speak of something else."
"Forgive me, madam," the colonel said. "I have no wish to distress you, of course, but I hope you will at least consider what I have said. I do believe that Darcy truly admires you, and I do not think you could find a better man than he. My cousin has never cared as much for the opinion of the ton as others of our circle."
"Perhaps not as regards himself," said Elizabeth. "But he must think of his sister. Even if he were to decide a country squire's daughter with no dowry is good enough for him, his marrying me could sully her prospects, and I know he loves her too much to take the risk."
Feeling suddenly quite overwhelmed, Elizabeth broke away from her partner and excused herself. She made her way across the ballroom and walked through the music room to the garden doors, which were quite thankfully standing open. Yes, fresh air was what she needed, and room to think. Why was everyone so suddenly sure that Mr. Darcy liked her? What did it matter if he did? It was as she had told his cousin—he had given her no indication of feeling more than friendship for her other than the compliments he had given her earlier that evening. If he could not show her how he felt, how was she to know his words had meaning?
"Lizzy, are you all right?"
Elizabeth turned to find Catherine behind her. Forcing a smile to her lips, she replied, "I am quite well, Catherine. I think I became overheated, is all—there's quite the crush at this much-anticipated ball of Mr. Bingley's."
Catherine seemed relieved, though also as if she did not quite believe her. She's an observant one, Elizabeth mused, as the younger girl came closer and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Are you certain you are well? Mr. Darcy thought perhaps the colonel had said something that upset you."
"Why should he care?" Elizabeth countered as she turned back to gaze over the lawn.
"Dear Lizzy, why must you be so obtuse?" said Catherine as she stepped up beside her. "I own that I am certainly no expert in matters of the heart, but I cannot help wondering why you do not acknowledge the truth when it is plain before you."
Elizabeth drew a breath and sighed deeply. "I suppose that… Oh, Cathy, for all my wit and impertinence, it would seem I am just as vulnerable at heart as any other girl."
She looked to her friend with a weak smile. "I am afraid, you see, of you all being right about him, because it would mean risking my heart. I want you to be right and am afraid you are wrong. I am afraid he would choose me only to regret his choice."
Catherine once again put a hand on her arm in a comforting gesture. "But why should he regret you, Lizzy? You are so very kind and amiable, witty and charming…"
"And certain members of my family are utterly ridiculous," Elizabeth rejoined. "You have seen how Kitty and Lydia behave with the officers, receiving encouragement instead of correction from our mother and indifference from our father. A man of his station would never connect himself to such a family."
"A man of what station, pray?" said a voice from the shadows.
Elizabeth was startled and Catherine gasped; alarm shot through the former to see Mr. Wickham stepping out of the darkness and into the light.