Nightfall brought new expectations. Well-rested and attired, Elizabeth and Lydia joined Colonel and Mrs. Forster in their carriage for the short drive down King's Road to the Old Ship Inn. Colonel Forster dominated the conversation in the carriage by relaying information to his wife, and the Bennet sisters by proximity, about the attendees.
"I'm afraid a favorite of yours is not here, my love. Colonel Farrington was recalled to London, along with his wife," Colonel Forster announced, allowing Mrs. Forster to express her disappointment.
"Mrs. Farrington is a brilliant card player, we will be poorer off without her," Mrs. Forster explained to the Bennet sisters as the carriage slowed, reaching the long line of vehicles waiting to unload their passengers. Mrs. Forster looked out the window and clucked her tongue. "I thought the reception was to be at the Major General's house, up in Preston?"
Colonel Forster shook his head, then reached down to pat his wife's hand. Elizabeth smiled at the diligent care Colonel Forster showed his young wife, and for a fleeting moment considered that not all soldiers were of the misbehaving sort. "That is why I explained Farrington is out. A Fitzwilliam is in, and he has turned the outfit of officers at Russell House into a respectable bunch. Had cadets and privates scrubbing the walls and floors and even lieutenants I'm told banging out the carpets. Major General was so impressed, he wished to recognize the young man's leadership... more work!" The Forsters laughed at the common phrase of rewards one might receive for exemplary performance, and Elizabeth stiffened on the bench next to her sister.
"I beg your pardon," she interrupted, "could you say the name of the commanding officer once more?"
Colonel Forster coughed to clear his throat and tore his gaze away from his lovely wife to give Miss Elizabeth his undivided attention. His brows knit together as he tried to recall what he knew of the man. "Colonel Fitzwilliam. They say he served with Wellesley himself in the Peninsular campaigns. Cavalryman."
Elizabeth held her breath. There couldn't possibly be another Colonel Fitzwilliam in the kingdom, also in the cavalry and with experience under General Wellington himself. What had meant to be a night of easy companionship with her host and new strangers was suddenly a reunion with a family member of Mr. Darcy! Mrs. Forster, always a keen observer, stopped her explanation of the evening to Lydia to remark on Elizabeth's distress.
"My dear, are you unwell?" Mrs. Forster asked, and Elizabeth quickly braced herself to feign a fake smile for her host's benefit.
"Quite well. I believe that I am acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but we shall have to see."
Colonel Forster slapped his knee in amusement. "Acquainted? My, what a small world we live in after all! You travel all this way from Hertfordshire only to dine and dance with your existing friends!" Colonel Forster elevated the mere acquaintance to a friendship, and Lydia pounced on the opportunity.
"I've never heard of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Where did you meet him, Lizzy?"
"In Kent, when I visited Mrs. Collins at Easter." Elizabeth prayed that if she offered the most basic details, the conversation would move past her familiarity with the man about to be their host for the evening, or that their carriage would be next to unload. In the end, it was the latter that saved her from further explanation.
To Elizabeth's dismay, there was no sign of Colonel Fitzwilliam as they exited the carriage into a crush of military uniforms Instead, the familiar faces of Lieutenant Denny and Mr. Wickham soon found their party, along with Mrs. Warrender and the Lennoxes. Elizabeth craned her neck as introductions and pleasantries were exchanged, hoping to spy her friend from Kent. She rose out of her stupor when Mrs. Warrender's shrill voice drew her attention by speaking about Miss Bennet instead of Miss Lydia. Absent Jane, Elizabeth held the precedent of birth order to be called by her last name.
"Out of order, Mr. Wickham! Out of order!" Mrs. Warrender complained. "You cannot invite the younger sister to dance while the eldest has yet to secure a partner!"
Elizabeth's face began to turn red as she understood what had transpired. Mr. Wickham had asked Lydia to dance, and Mrs. Warrender's meddling was about to force her hand to dance with Mr. Wickham!
"I am not envious, Mrs. Warrender. Let Lydia have her fun, I am sure to find a partner for the first set," Elizabeth looked pointedly at Lieutenant Denny, but the man was far too engrossed in conversation with Colonel Forster to pay her any mind. It was a shame, as Elizabeth infinitely preferred Lieutenant Denny's manners over Mr. Wickham's lack thereof.
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Wickham said, bowing low. "Please forgive my oversight, I presumed your hand was spoken for the first set. Please, may I have the honor?" George Wickham smiled with a roguish charm that elicited sighs from her sister and other ladies around her. Anyone with a gown seemed to easily fall in love with Mr. Wickham's toothy smile, save for Elizabeth who knew the truth about the shark's bite.
Unfortunately, she also had no choice but to accept Mr. Wickham's paltry ballroom games. If she refused to dance the first set with him, she could not dance any set the rest of the evening. Not even the punishment of standing up with Mr. Wickham was worth voluntarily spending a dull night without exercise.
"Yes, Mr. Wickham, I shall be happy to dance with you," Elizabeth said, as Lydia laughed when finally, Lieutenant Denny rejoined their party's larger conversation and asked Lydia to dance.
The assembly rooms of the Old Ship Inn scarcely held the officers of three regiments in the area and the limited wives and young ladies invited to the evening's ball. Elizabeth performed a quick calculation and realized with so many more men than ladies present, especially unmarried ladies, it was unlikely she would sit a single set out! The situation was a far cry different from her experiences at local assemblies in Meryton.
As Mr. Wickham offered his hand to lead Elizabeth to the dance floor, she felt as though ice coursed through her veins. She did not doubt the veracity of Mr. Darcy's letter, accusing the man of nearly ruining the underage Georgiana Darcy. But she did see how difficult it truly was to spot a cad amongst the chivalrous. Mr. Wickham's charming demeanor proved effective at disarming even the most scrupulous chaperone and matron. Elizabeth had witnessed it herself but a moment ago. A less handsome man would have been turned away altogether by Mrs. Warrender for such a breach in etiquette.
To her relief, the man did not begin a conversation. The musicians finished their perfunctory warmup and the first strains of a violin started the dancing off with a flourish. Nearly forty couples stood up on the dance floor, and Elizabeth grew nervous about the unfamiliar settings and company around her.
She tried to focus her gaze on Mr. Wickham as she took her turns and cues for the dance, but that only served to anger her further while the man ignored her. She began to wonder how she ever found his face handsome, and his manners pleasing. Knowing the man wished nothing more than to find an heiress to ease his way in the world, the unsuitable nature of his present situation seemed at odds with his desire. If nothing else, perhaps if he gave up his position in the militia, then Lydia would be safe from his dalliances.
"I wonder, Mr. Wickham, why you persist in soldiering. A man of your intellect and abilities would certainly find such a profession beyond tedious." Elizabeth cared not if her brazen outburst offended the man. Suddenly, the irony of Mr. Wickham's restricted lifestyle due to the militia began to amuse her.
"You know the profession I preferred, Miss Bennet. It was my deepest wish to go into the Church."
"Never any interest in the law, then?" she asked, and as soon as the question tumbled from her lips, she recognized her danger. He had never spoken of such a thing to her and he could rightly guess where she had received such intelligence.
Mr. Wickham's mask of congeniality slipped for a moment and she caught a glimpse at the ruthless man who would stop at nothing to achieve his aims. Frightened, she blinked and braved a smile to soothe over the revelation that she knew more about him than she let on. However, her smile was unnecessary as Mr. Wickham laughed off her query in a resemblance of the man he wanted others to believe him to be.
"I cannot say that the law held any interest to me," he confessed, diplomatically. His eyes flashed a warning that he was near the limit of his patience if she nettled him further.
Elizabeth frowned. She heard his twist of words that could not be used against him. Even if he admitted to studying the law at some point in his career, corroborating Mr. Darcy's tale, he was not currently pursuing the law. Therefore, it was reasonable to state the profession did not hold his interest.
The set could not end fast enough for Elizabeth as she fought back a cringe each time she had to return to her partner. She lamented that merely a few months ago, she wished for nothing more than to dance with Mr. Wickham at Mr. Bingley's ball. The comedy of her predicament served as a distraction from the displeasure she felt in finishing the set. By the fourth couple they passed in the line, repeating the dance steps over and over, she resolved the dance to be a penance for her poor judgment of men. At last, when the song ended, Elizabeth bowed her head in the slightest way to grant him a polite adieu and hurried to find Lydia to keep an eye on her.
In reward for her sisterly supervision, Elizabeth won the next set with Lieutenant Denny. But to her dismay, Lydia took the arm of Mr. Wickham and stood up with him at the opposite end of the line-up. She had not only failed to keep an eye on Lydia, but her callous conversation on the dance floor might provoke his worst behavior.
Mr. Denny used the set to begin a pleasing conversation and Elizabeth gave up hope of constantly glancing down to the other end of the assembly room. Too many people bustled about in eagerness to make introductions and secure dance partners.
"I was unaware that during our time in Meryton you had grown particularly close to the Forsters, Miss Bennet. Why I hardly ever saw you in our afternoons at your Aunt Philips." Mr. Denny marveled at the turn of events that saw the Bennet sister he knew the least to be in residence in Brighton.
Elizabeth smiled mischievously at the good lieutenant, assuming he had wished Kitty had accompanied Lydia instead of her. "Is there another of my sisters that you wish had come to Brighton?" she teased.
Mr. Denny blushed. "On my honor, Ma'am, it would not be right of me to say such a thing."
Elizabeth nodded but granted the man the freedom to speak about her sisters, promising to keep his confidence. "You will not offend me in the slightest, sir. I readily admit that I was the last choice for this particular assignment," she said, taking a short hop with the other ladies in time to the music as the step required. Elizabeth found herself quite breathless at the speed at which dances were performed in Brighton. Either her travels earlier in the day were too taxing or the quartet leaders conducted a pace befitting a soldier's stamina!
Mr. Denny's cheeks remained crimson, from embarrassment or exertion, Elizabeth could not tell which. Together, they stepped left and right, greeting their corners, then stepped left and right once more. "I was there, the day Miss Lydia was invited. Poor Miss Catherine turned white as a ghost. I don't believe Mrs. Forster intended to slight your sister, and I said as much to the Colonel."
"You advocated—" Elizabeth began, having to pause in her conversation as another couple passed between them, while they kept time with their claps. "What did the Colonel say?" Elizabeth asked, rather interested now Kitty had been on the precipice of an invitation.
Mr. Denny shrugged. "He said the dilemma was solved by Mr. Bennet."
The song ended and rather than return to the party of Mrs. Forster and Mrs. Warrender, Elizabeth thanked Mr. Denny and began to walk away. The poor man tried to stop her from walking in the opposite direction, but the room was too much of a crush for him to be effective.
"Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!" he called, but Elizabeth marched away, determined to find Colonel Fitzwilliam in the assembly room.
Another set began, and Elizabeth walked more freely against the wall, feeling the floor shake and shudder under the tremendous efforts of the dancers. A table with refreshments along the back wall captured her eye and she moved to serve herself a glass of punch. Unfortunately, Mr. Denny caught up to her and handed her the glass.
"Miss Bennet, we really ought to return to our party," he stressed.
But Elizabeth stood up on her tiptoes and craned her neck to try to spot her query.
"Do you know Colonel Fitzwilliam?" she asked Mr. Denny, not expecting him to know such a man.
"But of course, he's standing right over there. Come, I will make the introduction," Mr. Denny said, looping his arm in Elizabeth's and leading her away from the group of officers by the punch bowl before anyone could ask to meet her.
Elizabeth finally spotted where Mr. Denny was leading her and her feet fumbled a step, but she regained her balance. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood with his back to them, talking animatedly to another officer and a tall man, not in uniform. Gasping to see him in Brighton of all places, Elizabeth locked gazes with the sad, soulful eyes of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.