Chapter 10

After possibly the most depressing and badly weathered week of all time, the Netherfield ball is upon us.

I cannot stress how excited I am about it. I've prepared my favourite dress (the one bought two years ago with Mrs Bennet, it's probably one of the prettier dresses I own), and I'm curling my hair myself, in a way I wouldn't have been ashamed to show off in the 21st century. I can hear Sarah helping Lizzie and Jane, and from the giggles coming from Kitty and Lydia's room I can guess they're enjoying preparing themselves for the event also.

I hear a knock at my door, and Mrs Bennet bustles in.

"Oh Mary, how good you look! Almost as pretty as Jane, I would say. I wonder who it is you're making these efforts for?"

I blush at the intrusive question. "Not Mr Collins, if that is what you are thinking." He has not really let up in his 'attentions' to me – most recently, asking for my hand for the first two dances at the ball.

But I have to admit, I did dress up a bit. Not too much to make it noticeable, but enough to show I'm not just the dowdy Bennet sister. The reason ? My growing attraction to Mr Gregory. The past week hasn't been good for my sanity; I kept noticing things which annoyed me in Mr Collins and which proved Mr Gregory was infinitely superior. In the state I'm in, I think I would seriously consider getting married to Mr Gregory if he made me an offer!

That's probably silly old me getting carried away by a crush, but still, I'd rather look my best tonight.

I've told Kitty and Lydia about Mr Gregory – specifically the pseudo hand holding – just before going to bed one evening. They were over the moon for me (they prefer Mr Gregory to Mr Collins, which gives credit to their sense), and now keep winking at me whenever Mr Gregory is mentioned. Mr Collins' constant presence has pretty much cut me off from Lizzie and Jane, but I'll tell them once he's gone. It's not like I have much to tell, really. Hopefully I will after tonight – I'm expecting at least a dance with my 'beau'! (Kitty and Lydia may have hyped me up just a little bit too much.)

Mrs Bennet makes some comment at me, but frankly I don't even try to listen. I'm too excited for the upcoming ball. It's been a while since I've felt so… alive, and not just going through the motions of living in this time.

Netherfield is glowing in candlelight when we arrive. We greet our hosts summarily, and delve into the crush of bodies. Who would have thought four and twenty families, plus a regiment's worth of officers, would be so crowded?

Kitty and Lydia quickly disappear to entertain themselves with the redcoats. Jane is chatting with the Bingley sisters – good luck to her, I say.

I'm looking for Lizzie when – "Miss Mary, I was quite scared I would lose you in the throng! I am quite determined to spend the evening in your lovely presence."

Sigh. No, do not smack Collins, Mary, do not smack Collins. "I would not wish for you to spend all your evening with me. This is a social event, we are supposed to socialize, and in your case meet new people. I would be happy to present you to the Lucases, who are our friends."

Sorry, Mariah, but on the off chance you'd take him, I have to try.

The music starts soon after, and Collins leads me to the dance floor, beside where Lydia is dancing with an officer. Carter, I think. Near the top of the line, Bingley is escorting a proud Jane. Just below them, I can see Lizzie is standing up with Mr Gregory.

I suppress any jealousy I might have that he went to see her first. He must have seen Mr Collins and assumed – correctly – that I was occupied.

Collins and I plod through the dance dutifully. Neither of us is particularly good at dancing – me, because I have difficulty adhering to the rigid steps of the quadrille, him, because he isn't familiar enough with the dances. Conversation is at a minimum – on my part. Collins is busy apologizing for real and imagined slights to our neighbours. I can see Lydia is getting exasperated by the way she glares at Collins whenever he has to take her hand. He seems almost scared of her, poor thing.

Thankfully, the two dances are soon ended. Mr Collins is sent away, with the pretext of having to fetch me a glass of punch. I hone in on where Mr Gregory is speaking with Lizzie, and join in on their conversation.

"I am glad our small neighbourhood is large enough to satisfy you, Mr Gregory. It is not much, but the people are good and lively enough, I think."

"Very true, Miss Elisabeth. I do enjoy good company, as much as the next person, but I have not always had occasion to spend much time in company. My duties at school often take up much of my time."

"I'm glad you mention your school; I've been meaning to ask. Why are you not there right now? I must admit I have been very curious, but I would not wish to ask about a sensitive subject."

"Oh, not at all, Miss Elisabeth, on the contrary. I am currently on sabbatical, you see. My master, Charles Hutton, has been ill these past few years, and I had been replacing him in his duties, but he wished to return to the schoolroom for one last year. Who am I to deny him? Instead, I am focusing on a side project of mine. I am trying to determine how long it takes for someone to hear a musket fire at a distance of 1100 feet."

"How fascinating! Is the sound not instantaneous?"

"No, it isn't! It's fascinating - we've been using an unused field on the estate, and the results are impressive. I must say I quite enjoy the work; it helps that the countryside is so beautiful."

"Oh, I quite agree with you there. I dearly love to go on a walk. My sisters are not as outgoing as I, but I can often convince one of them to accompany me. This last week has been difficult; we have all been cooped up because of the rain. I think I was never quite so eager for a ball!"

"I was quite eager for this ball as well," Mr Gregory answered, his voice lowering from their light banter to a somewhat deeper tone. "I particularly anticipated the first dance."

Huh. So the first dance between them was planned, and apparently quite anticipated on Lizzie's side also, from her breathy laugh. I'm surprised; when could he have asked her? Perhaps at Meryton, while we were meeting Wickham, and I was busy watching his interaction with Darcy. Why didn't Lizzie tell me, though?

Of course, Mr Collins butts in at the best of times. "Ah, Miss Mary, there you are! I had quite lost you in the crowd. But do not worry, I shall always find you, my dear cousin."

Cue interrogating looks from Mr Gregory, and commiserating looks from Lizzie.

"Indeed, Mr Collins. Mr Gregory, might I introduce you to our cousin, Mr Collins? Mr Collins is a clergyman in Kent."

"Ah, I see. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir."

"Indeed, Mr Gregory, very pleased indeed. Thank you, my dear Mary, for introducing us. Whereabouts in England are you from, Mr Gregory?"

"Not too far from Cambridge, although I no longer live there. I am a professor at the Royal Military Academy, in Woolwich."

"Mr Gregory specializes in mathematics," Lizzie supplies.

"A distinguished situation, I'm sure. My dearest cousin, would you like to take a breath of fresh air at the balcony? I find the air here quite stifling."

Mr Collins has grabbed my arm, and is practically dragging me towards the balcony, before I really understand what is happening. I quickly shake him off, but the deed is done, and I have been kicked out of the conversation. I had been hoping Mr Gregory would ask me to dance, but I can spy him going to the refreshments table, talking animatedly with Lizzie. Jane and Bingley are similarly ensconced in a private area, as if there was nobody else at the ball to entertain.

Sigh. I am resigned to Collins for a bit.

My patience wanes as the music signals the supper set. How many inane comments can come from a single person? I feel like Collins is in a competition with himself to spout out the silliest information available. The urge to turn violent has never been so strong for me. Why has nobody else asked me to dance yet?

I'm rubbing my eyes (very unladylike), which I suppose explains why I didn't notice his arrival.

"If you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes," I blurt out reflexively, recognizing a voice which is not Collins'.

I open my eyes, and – of course. It's Mr Darcy.

He holds his arm out to me, and I take it. I don't see Mr Collins' expression as we leave, but I'm sure it would be priceless.

The dance starts, and Mr Darcy is very solemn. We dance in silence as I get my feelings under control, but when I finally decide I won't snap at Darcy immediately, I prompt him with;

"I suppose we should talk a little, Mr Darcy."

I may be repeating what Lizzie had said to him in the book, but I can't think of anything else.

"I thought you might need a moment to compose yourself," he answers, slightly teasingly. "I was standing behind you and your cousin for the last five minutes and rather thought you deserved a break."

"I'm surprised you are so open with me about it. Although, I should express some gratitude. I am not sure what would have happened if not for your intervention."

"Nothing much, I am sure. You were being very patient."

I don't answer. Where is this civilized Darcy coming from and how can I make him stay and meet Lizzie? I suppose he is starting to have feelings for her, and thought he might scope her out via her siblings. Now, how to find out if I'm right?

"Nevertheless, I am glad you intervened. This is only my second dance of the evening, and I would have been disappointed to have danced so little by supper."

"You enjoy the activity, then?"

"When I am dancing with an agreeable partner, yes. Those are rather rare, though."

"Ah, is that why you do not wish to marry?"

"I suppose I have shocked you all greatly with my declaration. Judge me if you must, I am not afraid of you. My mother reprimands me enough for me not to be bothered by what the rest of the world thinks of me."

"I would not have you afraid of me."

A surprisingly gallant remark. I'm not in the mood to answer, so I let the conversation quiet for a while. Mr Darcy, however, seems otherwise inclined.

"I admit I am curious; who wouldn't be?"

I shrug. "It is strange. But until I find a man worthy, I will not marry. And I am not sure I have ever met such a man."

Liar, my brain screams at me. I glimpse Lizzie dancing a bit lower than us in the set. She's dancing with Mr Gregory - again. First and supper set, eh? One more and it's practically a declaration! They certainly seem to be getting along well. I fight the twinge of jealousy with slightly more difficulty than at the beginning of the evening. Mr Gregory did dance with Miss King at one point. He could have asked me for a dance, despite Collins' presence.

We are interrupted by Sir William Lucas. "What superior dancing! You do Miss Mary credit, Mr Darcy. She is more discreet than her sisters, to be sure, but that does not mean she is less worthy!"

I. Am. Mortified. And I suspect that if I let him keep going, he will ruin Jane's prospects with Bingley.

"We really must be going, Sir William," I interrupt brusquely. I grab Darcy's hand, and insert us into the dance.

Right next to Lizzie and Mr Gregory.

They don't even notice our arrival; they are busy laughing at something together. After a few seconds, they catch on, and Lizzie beams at me, obviously radiantly happy.

Clearly, I'm spending a worse evening than her.

I spend the rest of the dance pouting, and Mr Darcy doesn't try to engage conversation. We just listen to Mr Gregory and Lizzie's banter. We are separated before the end of the dance, so as we head for supper, it's only Darcy and I.

"Your sister and Mr Gregory… They seem well suited," Mr Darcy says tentatively.

I look up at him quizzically. Maybe he's jealous because Lizzie was having fun with another? "They certainly get along well, but Mr Gregory is the sort of gentleman with whom it is easy to get along."

"Certainly. I am not surprised he and Bingley are friends."

I don't say anything. We are entering the dining area, my arm tucked into Darcy's. It feels weird.

I let him guide us, until reach the table where Mrs Bennet is presiding, where Mr Darcy seems to want to stop. I push him a little, to go one table further, where we will be sitting with Maria Lucas and her friends. The quality of the conversation might not change much, but I'd rather keep some distance from Mrs Bennet, and even more so from Mr Collins, who is sitting next to her.

"I apologize, but I was trying to avoid a certain someone," I explain as we sit.

Mr Darcy glances at the table, spots Mr Collins, and turns back to me.

"I see that you are quite skilled at evading people."

"Whatever can you mean?"

"When you were staying at Netherfield, I was quite impressed by how you managed to avoid speaking with Miss Bingley, for instance."

"Oh, that is easy," I blurt out. "She was always so engrossed by you that she had no time to spare for her other guests. Mr Gregory and I sorted ourselves out very well with her music box."

"It is still not fixed," Darcy observed.

"Then I shall have to return and make Mr Gregory fix it."

We are interrupted by the crowing of Mrs Bennet. "Yes! Five thousand a year, and likely more! And Mr Gregory is a good prospect too, for Lizzie. They have already danced two dances tonight. He is a renowned professor, you know. And of course, Mr Collins is quite enraptured with our Mary."

Poor Lady Lucas is listening, but looks like she is bored to tears.

I, of course, am desperately praying for whatever being which sent me here to send me back. I can't stand any more embarrassment. I can feel an ugly red flush creeping over my neck.

"Mr Collins can enrapture all he likes, but I will not marry him." I whisper to myself furiously. I'm hardly conscious of Mr Darcy next to me, but I do manage to keep in the next thing which has made me seriously panic. Lizzie and Mr Gregory? I mean, yes, they seem to get along well, but – she's supposed to end up with Mr Darcy! I shoot a look at the gentleman in question, he is looking at me stonily. He doesn't even look upset about this speculation about Lizzie! What's wrong with him? I shoot him a glare and return to my supper. It suddenly feels like all my frustration with Collins, and my almost–jealousy of Lizzie and Mr Gregory had spilled into anger at Darcy. Couldn't he fall in love with my sister like he's supposed to? Useless.

"From what I understand, Mr Collins is set to inherit Longbourne?" Mr Darcy asks, in a very neutral tone of voice.

"Yes."

"But you do not wish to marry?"

I level another glare at Mr Darcy. Has he seen Mr Collins? "As I have said, and as you have asked several times now, no, I do not wish to marry. I believe I would be perfectly able to earn my own keep if necessary."

"But how? Surely not as a governess?"

"Probably not, no. Although I think I would do well, I am quite good with children, and I have the classic accomplishments, I do not enjoy the idea of surrendering my independence. No, I think I would like to try my hand at a trade. Possibly something close to what my uncle works in, which is the textile industry. I have set a bit of money aside to get started once I have reached my majority."

Mr Darcy is silent. I have probably thoroughly affronted him. I'm not repentant; he needs some shock therapy to change his attitude. His questioning is slightly rude, but at least it's distracting me from the rest of the fiasco which is this ball.

Mrs Hurst has just sat down to play a piece at the piano. She plays technically well, but it's a piece I practiced two years ago, and I'm not sure I approve of her interpretation of the proper rhythm. I idly wonder what Mr Gregory thinks of it, and spot him whispering something in Lizzie's ear. I set my fork down; I'm not hungry any more.

We all applaud Mrs Hurst when she finishes, looking smug.

"Would you not like to play a piece?"

"Certainly not."

"Why not? The other young ladies are more than willing."

Cue a slightly off performance from one of Mrs Long's nieces.

"I do not enjoy performing for a large audience."

"You played at Lucas Lodge."

"It was a small party, and I mostly played so that my sisters could dance."

Applause for another performance.

I see Mr Collins rise, turning to look at us with bemused wonder on his face. He's not focused on me, though, but on Mr Darcy.

"Oh no," I whisper.

"Mr Darcy, I must introduce myself. I have the utmost privilege of being your aunt, the great Lady Catherine De Bourgh's parson. My name is William Collins, at your service," cue an over the top bow. "And I can assure you that she was in the best of health, exactly eleven days ago."

I give in to the urge to rub my forehead. I enjoyed this when I was reading it, but in real life it is mortifying. My annoyance at Collins peaks and turns into resentment. My only solace is that Lizzie and Jane are not in the area, and may not have seen the whole fiasco.

Mr Darcy grunts out a reply, to which Mr Collins responds with an even longer speech on Lady Catherine's greatness.

I can't take it anymore.

"Headache," I blurt out. I get up, and head to the balcony. Surely nobody will notice if I go outside for a short while? I was done with dinner anyway.

I sit on a stone bench, and look at the night sky. One of the great things about this time, and living in the country in this time, is that the stars are so much brighter than in the 21st century. It soothes me, and within minutes I'm back to my old self.

I hear a crunch of gravel behind me, and I turn to see Mr Darcy, awkwardly holding two glasses of wine.

Something is up. He would never have done something like that for Lizzie in the book, and he was head over heels for her! What's different?

"You mentioned a headache, and I thought perhaps a glass of wine might help."

"Why are you being nice to me, all of a sudden?"

I can't help it, I'm too curious.

He seems surprised by my question. "Have I not always been nice to you, Miss Mary?"

"When we met, you said that I was 'tolerable, and not handsome enough to tempt you'. What changed? Why are you bringing me wine while I have a headache?"

His eyes widen, and he looks like he would like to escape. Instead, he hands me one of the glasses and sits next to me on the bench.

"I apologize for my remark. It was not worthy of me, and certainly not of you."

"You're not addressing my question," I challenge. "Why has your attitude changed all of a sudden?"

He sighs, visibly still uncomfortable. "You're rather direct, Miss Mary. So I shall be direct in return; I'm curious. You're a young woman of sense, your every word points to it. Yet you do not wish to marry, which has always been to my mind the appropriate path for a young lady. Although, when I see who your would be suitor is, I do not blame you. And, to me, your unwillingness to marry makes you the perfect person to spend a tedious ball with. Bingley cannot bother me about dancing at his ball, since I have danced with and spent time with you, but I can spend time with you without raising your expectations, or those of anyone else."

"So I'm a curiosity, and an escape route, to you? Don't you wish to dance with other young ladies?" If Mr Darcy knew anything about me, he would be worried about the edge to my voice.

"I'd rather spend time understanding you, Miss Mary. If you'd allow it, I'd like to be friends."

This should sound like the dream of any Pride and Prejudice fan. Strangely, I'm offended. I resent the fact that Darcy is basically using me to fulfill his guest obligations to Bingley. And he should be falling for Lizzie right now, but clearly doesn't care about her at all. If she's into Mr Gregory, and Mr Darcy isn't interested, how are they going to end up together? What a mess.

It's been a while since Mr Darcy spoke, and I can see he's getting offended.

"Mr Darcy, if you wish we can be friends, yes. But you must understand why I am not delighted at the prospect. At our first meeting, and several meetings since, you have expressed no interest for me, and instead have been rather scornful. Now that I have proved to have some singularity about me, you are curious, and would like to use me as a way of evading your duties to your host. How am I supposed to receive such a suggestion?"

Mr Darcy splutters for a bit, then becomes silent.

I might as well drive my point home, while I'm at it. "If you had behaved agreeably from the start, like Mr Gregory, then I would be happy to count you among my friends. You may have apologized for your initial remark, but in your dismissal of the other guests in this ball you show that you have not changed in essentials. I'm sorry to say this, but your motivations are selfish; you are curious, and you need someone to spend the time with who is not Miss Bingley."

Whoops. I've called him selfish, which has clearly sparked his ire.

"You say that I do not interact with your neighbours, but are you any better? Except your sisters, I have not seen you willingly speak to anyone from the neighbourhood. By your own estimation of my actions, I will guess that you do not care for anybody outside your immediate family."

I frown. That's not true – I introduced Mr Collins to Mariah Lucas this evening. But, my motives were selfish. I was hoping she would be desperate enough to take him – but she is still young, unlike Charlotte was in the original Pride and Prejudice. Mariah spent maybe five minutes with us before excusing herself.

But Mr Darcy is somewhat right; I don't have many friends besides my sisters. I remember, from when I was younger, that the children thought I was no fun (as an adult in a child's body, of course I wasn't), and the adults thought me odd for not behaving as a child should. That perception of me held somewhat, especially as I got better at maths and the piano – I was seen as some sort of alien genius child. At least my sisters accepted me.

I'm mortified to have tears in my eyes, at the thought. It's been a while since I've been so affected by my temporal displacement.

"That comment was below me," Darcy apologizes, when he sees me becoming teary. "I apologize, again – for my words, and for my behaviour. You have given me much to think about."

"No, you're right," I mumble thickly. "I'm too – strange – for Meryton. And I apologize for calling you selfish. It was uncalled for."

There's a heavy silence. I'm busy trying to hold in my tears. I don't know why I'm so emotional – probably a mixed result between my anticipation for the ball, my disappointment with Mr Gregory, annoyance at Mr Collins, and Mr Darcy being Mr Darcy. I try to wipe my eyes with my hand, and Mr Darcy hands me a handkerchief. He's standing now.

"I think I had best return to the ball, lest our absence be noted," he explains awkwardly.

I nod, wiping at my eyes, and watch him leave.

What a mess.