Elizabeth Bennet
Meryton, Hertfordshire
"Oh, Lizzy, you mustn't think so poorly on him." Charlotte was at her side, imploring her to see reason and to join the man who had so injured her pride for more conversation. He was standing alone, waiting for something, looking for all the world as out of place at the assembly than a donkey in a lady's bedchambers.
"I shall think poorly on him, for insulting my vanity, and for being a stuffed shirt of a peacock," Elizabeth replied, "let's not discuss it. Instead, what do you think of Mr. Bingley and Jane?" She turned her gaze to her sister, who was dancing again with Mr. Bingley. They made a handsome couple, and she was pleased to see Jane so happy, although a stranger would have thought Jane merely content. Jane, being the eldest and the frequent buffer between the family and their mother's penchant for vapors, had become quite adept at hiding her true feelings although Elizabeth could tell that her sister was having simply the best time. From the way Bingley talked, and Jane smiled in return, it was clear that he was a good enough conversationalist to have captured Jane's attention and kept it, throughout the dance. Usually such men bored her to tears, with their talk of their accomplishments, or with the pretty, empty little compliments they laid upon her.
"Oh will you hold a grudge all night? There are few enough men to be dancing with, and I should think that he would be at least guilted into one set," Charlotte offered.
"I will not dance with a man who is guilted into doing so with me," Elizabeth said, drawing herself up proudly. If he thought her merely tolerable, then she might not be in his presence at all. She did not desire to impinge on his company, when he found her lacking. "I am proud enough, as girls go, and I know that it is my flaw, but I am not so wanting for a dance that I will do so with someone who has made it clear I am not handsome in his eyes."
"He is blind to not see your beauty," Charlotte said, and there was a hint of wistfulness in her tone that made Elizabeth think that Charlotte longed to have some small piece of Elizabeth's beauty for herself. Perhaps society did not find Charlotte handsome, and she might have been on the shelf already at five and twenty, but Elizabeth thought that anyone who did not see Charlotte's perfectly fine personality, nor her economy of person, was a fool. Any man would be lucky to have Charlotte as a wife, especially as age would rob any handsome woman of her beauty, and leave her only with personality and wit as her charms.
Perhaps that was what so greatly stung with regards to Mr. Darcy's dismissal. She was not handsome enough for him, and he had judged her personality entirely without knowing her for more than the life of a matchstick.
"There will be more assemblies, and I heard a rumor that your mother might intend on throwing a ball to celebrate the end of summer," Elizabeth said, leaning back against the wall behind her with a sigh. Charlotte smoothed her fingers over the skirts of her dress and gave a demurring smile.
"Perhaps. Perhaps soon enough to invite the esteemed company, and we might see a further matching between your sister and Mr. Bingley," Charlotte said in a coy manner, and she looked truly pleased at the idea. Well, Charlotte was always generous with her kindness, and was always happy for a local girl when the Banns were read. Elizabeth snuck in close to her best friend and grasped her hand gently in her own, squeezing it.
"Perhaps you as well, who knows, they have brought this small company from London, but Mr. Bingley apparently is quite fond of Netherfield Park and may just send invitations to more of his young, eligible gentlemen friends?" Elizabeth asked. Charlotte's cheeks flushed and she glanced up across the room, her eyes narrowing down on one figure. Elizabeth followed her gaze.
"Oh, the Colonel, is it?" Elizabeth murmured, and Charlotte elbowed her gently.
"Hush," was all Charlotte would say, but she stood a bit straighter as the gentleman in question, noticing their looks, approached them. With a bow, he offered his hand to Charlotte, in deference to her being the older of the two, and asked with the most polite and exacting manners, if Charlotte would take the next set of dances with him.
Elizabeth would not even allow Charlotte to glance at her for permission to abandon her, and she curtsied to them both.
"My mother calls for me," she said, excusing herself and making her way across the room to Mrs. Bennet's side, where she was talking off the ear of Mrs. Hurst, who feigned an interested expression.
"Oh my dearest girl," Mrs. Bennet cried, grabbing Elizabeth's hand and holding it fast. "Mrs. Hurst, you must be anxious to see your younger sister, Miss Bingley, as well settled as your own self. You, more than most, would understand my feelings with so many daughters and a dearth of the kind of men one might feel are appropriate matches for them." Mrs. Bennet turned to Mrs. Hurst with a broad smile on her face. Mrs. Hurst returned it, although in her heart Elizabeth found it to be somewhat forced. Well, her Mama was a different kind of woman altogether, being from trade, and despite her years as Mr. Bennet's wife she had never truly lost the habits of her family. A woman of Mrs. Hurst's birth would not tolerate such behavior for long, even if Elizabeth had heard the woman's family was from trade they were so far elevated as to be out of the realm of Mrs. Bennet's birth family.
Elizabeth only hoped that she was able to quiet her mother well enough so that the other woman would not take too great offense, and embarrassment would not be heaped upon their family.
Especially, she thought as she spied her sister accepting another dance from Mr. Bingley, if things were going the way they seemed to be with the gentleman letting Netherfield. Skirting around the difficulties of the differences in their families status would be even harder if Mrs. Bennet unwittingly made an enemy out of Mrs. Hurst.
"Your dress, Mrs. Hurst, it is the height of fashion," Elizabeth said, with a nod of her head to the other woman's skirts. Mrs. Hurst demurred but there was a pleased smile on her face.
"Yes, I am sure it is a sight for you, given that the trickle of change in dress comes to the countryside so far after it has fallen out of favor in London," Mrs. Hurst said with a snide, unkind smile quirked on her mouth. Elizabeth tried hard not to dislike her, for Jane's sake, and only agreed before taking notice of an invisible hand waving at her.
"Oh Mama, we must say hello to-" Elizabeth let her voice trail off as she forcibly maneuvered her mother away from Mrs. Hurst, who was quite clearly as poisonous as the rest of the Netherfield company. They were best avoided, one and all, perhaps excepting Mr. Bingley, and only him due to his kind regard for her sister.
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