Chapter Two
They arrived fashionably late. In Darcy's mind, it bordered on offensive. Still, he abashedly rejoiced at not having to spend any more time in the company of total strangers than was strictly necessary. So he withheld his guidance on the propriety of entering an assembly a whole hour after it had started, and it was with a slightly soothed mind that he entered the dance hall behind his friends. They need only stay for a half-hour.
"Ah, Mr. Bingley."
A short, squat man wearing the fashions of two seasons approached with the eagerness of someone who knew he was inferior to his neighbors. He grinned excitedly and bounced up and down on the balls of his well-worn boots.
"I have the distinct honor of welcoming you and your party to our humble little gathering, Mr. Bingley. I know it is not much compared to the finery you must be accustomed to, but it is certainly a…" at this point, Darcy refused to subject his ears to the outrageously sycophantic groveling the strange little man dove into and turned away.
He watched, with ill-disguised impatience, the proceedings before him, ignoring the curious murmurs and stares. Across the room, a flurry of motion caught his eye. A fair young lady in a cream-colored frock was practically sprinting through the crowd. In an instant, her arm was snatched, seemingly out of thin air, by another lady, and the culprit was forced to halt. This one looked older and wore a pale yellow dress that contrasted very prettily against her dark curls. The younger of the two, who was a full head taller than the other, caught Darcy's eye. She gasped and tugged on her companion's arm, bending down to say something, flinging her hand in his direction. The shorter woman raised her gaze to meet Darcy's and–
Before remembering who had just been making their acquaintance, he whipped his eyes from hers and turned back to Bingley's party.
"-and there is really nothing that can compare to the splendor of St. James. Why, when I was introduced there myself, I had the honor of meeting a person no less than Earl Howe, who was all affability and politeness that his noble birth bequeaths him. I say, sir, your–"
"Thank you, Sir Lucas, for your kind welcome," Bingley said quickly, smiling so affably that one could not be offended by the interruption. "My sisters, you already know from calling on us last week. This is Hurst, Lousia's husband–" Hurst gave a short bow which Sir Lucas returned, smilingly, "and this is Darcy, a dear friend of mine, from Derbyshire."
There was no alternative, so Darcy deigned to return Sir Lucas's bow. "Mr. Darcy from Derbyshire–you can't be the Darcy from Pemberly mentioned when I was presented at St. James's Court?"
Darcy bowed again. "The very same."
"Oh! But this is too fortuitous; I was just saying to Lady Lucas–"
"I was hoping, Sir Lucas, that I might have the honor of an introduction to your eldest daughter," Bingley said, shooting Darcy a nervous smile.
"Indeed! There she is, over there, in the pink." Sir Lucas gestured over to a cluster of young ladies whereabouts there happened to be two ladies in pink. "No, no, not Miss Kitty, the taller of the two." Bingley's party looked. There was a cluster of around half a dozen young women, including the two Darcy had spotted earlier. The girl in the egg-shell dress looked properly chastened and was standing, long elegant neck bowed, in apparent reverence to the shorter lady in the daffodil dress. The young lady in pink, evidently not Sir Lucas's eldest daughter, had the fair coloring of the youngest of the bunch and was just as handsome. The same could not be said of Sir Lucas's daughter, who stood awkwardly, wearing a fuchsia frock that did nothing for her sallow complexion. It did not help that she was standing next to perhaps the prettiest girl Darcy had seen thus far in a sky-blue dress that brightened her golden curls and gave the overall impression of a sun against a brilliant horizon.
Bingley stared at this vision in cornflower blue. Darcy frowned and leaned over, knocking a little harder than strictly necessary into his friend.
"Er, yes. Miss Charlotte. Please, Sir Lucas, lead the way." Darcy watched as Bingley was shown across the room to homely Miss Charlotte in the offensive pink dress. Miss Bingley, who had been quiet until now, sidled up to him with a grim smirk stretched across her face.
"Shall we be quite safe here, Mr. Darcy, do you think?"
He gave a curt nod. On his right, Mrs. Hurst was cajoling her husband into leading her onto the dance floor. Miss Bingley inched closer, twisting her tall figure towards him.
"You did promise me a dance tonight, Mr. Darcy. I have quite the perfect memory, you see." She said with a flourish, mouth stretching wide into a smile as he held out his hand.
They danced. Darcy felt hot under the intent stares of the entire room and could hear murmurs of "10,000 a year!" and "half of Derbyshire!" whichever way they spun. Miss Bingley snorted, and Mr. Darcy shared her disdain. How garishly gauche of this small town to discuss the personal financials of a stranger–and a gentleman, no less.
The song ended, and they made their bows to one another. He could see in her eyes the hope he would request her hand again but disappointed her with his silence. Instead, he offered his arm to her sister, who had followed them off the floor, which she delightedly accepted.
While Mr. Darcy led Mrs. Hurst out to the center of the room, Elizabeth watched as her new neighbor, a Mr. Bingley escorted her dear friend Charlotte Lucas back to her side. She had never seen her friend as happy as she now was, having been singled out by the handsome new man as his first dance partner. Elizabeth could barely conceal her own broad grin for her friend's triumph. Poorer and plainer than the Miss Bennets, Charlotte had the disadvantage wherever she was introduced while in company with her prettier friends. Elizabeth thought it entirely unfair: Charlotte was a lovely woman who had cleverness and a care for others that so many of her peers lacked. Also, thought Elizabeth irritably, it wasn't Charlotte's fault that long, lean figures with little in the way of curves hadn't been in fashion for a while now. With her willowy frame and warm fawn coloring, Charlotte always reminded Elizabeth of the woodland nymphs and naiads from Grecian legends.
"Miss Lucas, would you do me the honor of introducing me to your beautiful friends?"
Elizabeth grimaced. Probably unintended by the beaming Mr. Bingley, who now stood diagonal to herself, his use of the word "beautiful" in reference to the Bennet sisters in the proximity of Charlotte always needled their friend. Indeed, Charlotte's face had drawn in a smidge, but with good humor, she obliged.
"Mr. Bingley, these are the dear friends I was telling you about, Miss Bennet–" Jane curtsied, cheeks coloring prettily, "Miss Elizabeth," Elizabeth gave a shallow curtsy, "Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia" in turn, Elizabeth's three younger sisters bobbed in greeting, Lydia, who was tall and coltish still, a little clumsily.
"A pleasure," Bingley cried, bowing to each sister. "Miss Lydia, Miss Lucas informed me this is your first assembly out–how are you enjoying it?" He spoke to the youngest Bennet, but Elizabeth could see his eyes kept darting back to the oldest.
Lydia blinked owlishly. She sent a furtive glance to Elizabeth, who nodded in encouragement.
"Very good, sir. Although, no one ever says how hot it gets in the ballroom. They'd be better off knocking down the walls and letting us waltz out in the pasture. At least then you could hop in a trough if you got too warm."
"Lydia," Mary Bennet hissed, looking positively aghast, "hold your tongue."
She needn't have worried. Mr. Bingley roared with laughter, startling nearby people on their way to the dance floor.
"Too right you are, Miss Lydia," Mr. Bingley said, grinning. "I've often thought the same." Then, shooting another conspicuous look at the eldest Bennet sister, he said, "I hope to have the privilege of dancing with each of you this evening, as I've rarely seen such an abundance of beauty and good humor. Miss Bennet, are you engaged for the next?"
Only Jane looked surprised at this query. "No, sir, I am not engaged," she replied quietly. Mr. Bingley was smiling so hard that Elizabeth thought it was a miracle they hadn't heard a tooth crack.
With some reluctance she returned the small smile Jane had given her as she was escorted onto the dance floor, standing near one of Bingley's sisters and his tall friend, Darcy.
John Lucas, a younger brother of Charlottes', approached with a toothy grin and his friend, one of the Goulding men.
"There you are, Charlotte. It was a real treat watching you dance with our new neighbor–how did you find him? Father says he is all kindness and cheeriness."
"I liked him well enough," Charlotte murmured, a ghost of a blush dancing across her cheeks.
"More than well enough, I'd rather think, Charlotte," Kitty Bennet said, her voice alight with mirth. "And why not? So handsome and good-humored–"
"Kitty," Elizabeth said, her voice light but full of meaning. She could tell her friend liked this Bingley more than she was inclined to let on and wasn't about to let Charlotte's tender sensitivities be injured by a sister of hers.
"That is to say, I rather hope he keeps his promise to dance with us all. What fun, don't you think?" Kitty finished somewhat awkwardly.
"In the meanwhile, you had better dance with us, Miss Kitty," Mr. Lucas quickly. "Miss Lydia, might I have the next?" He bowed very formally and with a somberness that made Lydia giggle.
"Why, of course, good sir!" Lydia said happily and let herself be whisked onto the dance floor.
"I guess you're stuck with me, Miss Kitty," Mr. Goulding said with a wry smile. Kitty grinned and accepted his proffered arm.
It was all very neatly done, Elizabeth thought: Mr. Lucas, a childhood friend of the Bennet girls, would be an inoffensive dance partner for Lydia, and Kitty, slightly older and out two years longer, had the advantage of dancing with almost whomever she pleased without fearing the wrath of–
"Elizabeth Bennet!"
Charlotte, Mary, and Elizabeth turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Mrs. Bennet was storming towards them. Beside her, Elizabeth felt Mary mutter something very close to "Oh heavens," and back away into the surrounding cluster of onlookers, Charlotte on her heels.
"Mama?"
"What on earth possessed you to permit this?" Mrs. Bennet thundered.
"Permit what, Mama?" Elizabeth asked innocently.
"All…this!" Mrs. Bennet flapped her arms looking very much like an angry bird.
"Mama, I haven't the pleasure of knowing what you are referring to."
"Oh, you do try my nerves, Miss Lizzy. You know very well my specific instructions for the night: Kitty may dance with the Lucas men only, Jane with the Lucases, the Gouldings, and the Purvises, and Lydia with no one!"
"What of Mary and me?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"Mary wouldn't leave the wall if it kicked her," Mrs. Bennet said dismissively, "and you have far too much sense to take a fancy to any of these men."
"Well, Jane could hardly refuse our new neighbor," Elizabeth volleyed back, ignoring the slight against her middle sister. "And we've known John Lucas since we were in leading strings. He's not going to seduce Lydia."
"Watch your tongue, child. You have no idea how far men will go when there is money to be had."
"We are hardly wealthy, Mama. Besides, the men in this neighborhood know very well what you think of them."
"Don't be so contrary, Elizabeth; it's not becoming. You know what I mean."
Elizabeth smiled and did not say anything more.
"Now, about this Bingley fellow," her mother began, her eyes wrinkling in concentration, "They say he has 5000 a year, which is nothing to sneeze at, of course, but no property! No estate to his name! No, no, Jane will do better. Now, about his friend–well. I would be very well pleased if Jane could snag him. They would make a handsome couple, besides.
"Mama, people will hear you," Elizabeth warned, watching as the aforementioned friend of Bingley's swept past them with his partner.
"He has 10,000 a year, and owns half of Derbyshire, they say. Of course, I was rather hoping that Jane would hold out for a titled gentleman, but I wouldn't have your father say nay to offer from him."
"Once you're done charting Jane's future," Elizabeth said irritably, "you might turn your attention to the fact that the friend isn't the one so taken with Jane. I think Mr. Bingley seems quite pleasant."
"Oh, pleasant to be sure, my dear, but you wouldn't want Jane with someone so untethered, would you? Always jumping from one place to the next and all for lack of a proper house."
"He might very well buy one. That does seem to be his intention given that he is currently at Netherfield and not, say, jumping around from place to place." At that moment, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's sister, a Mrs. Hurst, spun past them. Mr. Darcy shot her and her mother a look of the deepest loathing, which Elizabeth returned in kind. Her mother remained painfully oblivious.
"Of course, darling, but Jane would do much better with someone firmly settled. Perhaps I will ask her dance partner to introduce her to his friend at the end of this set."
Knowing there was nothing for it, Elizabeth sighed and walked away, dodging one of the Grant brothers, who considered once a month to be a sufficient amount to bathe.
She sat out the next. Mr. Bingley had swapped partners with Mr. Goulding and was now chatting affably with Kitty, though he never seemed to be very far from Jane and Mr. Goulding. Mr. Darcy had left Mrs. Hurst to her husband and was now stalking almost angrily down the length of the room and came to stand not very far from Elizabeth.
My, but he was a dour man! thought she, looking at him from the corner of her eye. She figured it was his purported wealth that made the other Bingley sister, Miss Bingley, follow him around the room almost as closely as her brother followed Elizabeth's sister. Miss Bingley looked positively affronted when Mr. Grant bowed before her but, to Elizabeth's delight, could not refuse if she wanted to stand up with Mr. Darcy again.
The set ended, and the hapless Mr. Grant led Miss Bingley to the floor while her brother claimed Jane's hand again. Elizabeth watched as he said something to her sister and then moved towards Darcy, who was but a few yards away.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing and stalking about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
Darcy replied: "I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable." He paused, and there was a hint of grim satisfaction as he continued, "Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with."
Elizabeth smiled to herself. There went her mother's great plan to engage Mr. Darcy to Jane.
Bingley looked offended. "I would not be so fastidious as you are," he said with no real bite, "for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and," he said almost as an afterthought, "there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty." His gaze turned toward Jane. Darcy's eyes followed his friend's, narrowing as he replied:
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room."
Elizabeth's smile slipped. Familiar though it was to play second fiddle to Jane's beauty, the bluntness of Mr. Darcy's proclamation still packed a sting.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!" Mr. Bingley cried, which returned part of Elizabeth's good humor. "But there is one of her sisters sitting down behind you, who is very pretty, and, I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?"
Elizabeth hastily withdrew her gaze as both men swiveled to examine her.
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me" said the taller of the two.
Mr. Bingley had a very uncharacteristic frown on his face as he retreated, but, Elizabeth noted, was quickly replaced by a brilliant smile upon his return to Jane's side.
Elizabeth felt a hot anger wash over her briefly but, as she was not made for ill humor, stood and was almost immediately entreated to dance by Mr. Lucas, who had just brought Lydia off the dance floor.
Quickly, the story that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been slighted by Bingley's friend had circulated around the room, and within half an hour, the offender had been given the cut direct by her mother. Not handsome enough, indeed.
