Christine Bennet tapped her foot rapidly, keeping perfect time with the lively, leaping beat. She did not notice the swirling dancers, boisterous laughter, or gay conversations. Music consumed her senses. Something was off, she was sure of it. She strained her ears and stretched her neck in a vain attempt to somehow hear above the carefree guests, but she could not quite distinguish the instrument that so offended her ear.
Suddenly Meg Lucas plopped down beside Christine and clasped her hand, shaking her from her fierce concentration. Pushing away her initial annoyance, Christine turned towards her friend with an expectant smile.
"Look at Lydia's partner!" Meg exclaimed. "He's at least twice her age."
Christine laughed, watching her younger sister giggle flirtatiously, "Twice her age and nearly twice her height! How ridiculous! No matter, she'll be through with him in another dance or so. You know she can't bear less than five partners a ball."
"Of course, silly me. Come now, Chrissy. We mustn't let Lydia have all – oh…"
Meg's voiced trailed off as her eyes shifted from the dance floor to the main door, through which an intriguing party had passed. In fact, these new arrivals had captured the attention of most of the gawking, gaping guests.
Two lovely women headed the noble parade, both attractive and repulsive in their refinement, beauty, and obvious arrogance. Their white necks, fine silks, and stunning jewelry spoke volumes of great wealth just as their pursed lips and harsh eyes told of affected boredom and self-importance. They smirked and exchanged glances, obviously pleased that such commoners found their presence so fascinating.
Three men followed the women, each dressed in equally fine attire. The first, a heavy man with lazy eyelids, appeared to be the oldest and dullest of the group. A handsome young man stood next to him, smiling so broadly and so genuinely that he seemed separate from the rest, a foreigner to pretension. However, it was the final man who truly stood apart.
He possessed the majestic air of nobility and moved his long, thin frame with grace and ease. His neat black hair contrasted sharply with pale skin, which in turn set off the black mask upon his face. The mask, covering all but the stern scowl of his mouth and chin, enhanced the impression of unquestionable power that radiated from this strange gentleman. Unseen, his long white fingers curled into an anxious, trembling fist at his side.
The party moved elegantly to a corner of the room as Mr. Lucas, the host, bustled nervously to greet them. The other guests returned to their merrymaking, gossiping and whispering excitedly as they danced and ate, often casting curious glances at the haughty strangers.
Christine squeezed Meg's hand, "Who on earth are they?"
"They are the incredibly wealthy Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and his brother-in-law. Bingley is the amiable young man who dared to smile. He has just moved from London to the Netherfield estate."
"To that new house on the hill?"
"The very one."
"And the masked man? Who is he?"
"That is Mr. Darcy," Meg paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "He designed Bingley's house, I believe. He's even wealthier than his friend. It's said that he owns half of Derbyshire."
"And the mask, Meg? Surely that's a bit ridiculous. Is he eccentric?" Christine scoffed, "Perhaps he feels himself too important to show his face among us simpletons."
Meg drew Christine closer and whispered, "No one quite knows about that mask, but they say… they say he's a monster."
