Elizabeth rolled her eyes and adjusted her gloves, casting a sideways glance at Jane, who offered a calm, noncommittal smile in response. The carriage rocked gently beneath them as the grand house loomed closer, its windows glowing with the promise of warmth and festivity. Elizabeth tried to ignore the restless flutter of nerves in her chest. This evening was not about Jane’s impending engagement, nor her mother’s endless matchmaking schemes—it was about winning her wager and, perhaps more pressingly, finding a way to survive Mr. Collins’s attentions unscathed.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the Bennets alighted, their arrival met with the glow of lamplight spilling from the great house and the soft murmur of voices and music beyond the open doors.
“Come, girls,” Mrs. Bennet said, bustling them along. “Do not dawdle.”
Inside, Netherfield’s grand hall was already filling with guests, the air humming with the anticipation of an evening’s revelry. Elizabeth scanned the room quickly, her eyes seeking out familiar faces. Mr. Bingley stood near the entrance to the drawing room, already surrounded by well-wishers, his cheerful disposition drawing people in like a flame. Elizabeth gave her sister a gentle nudge.
“Go on, Jane. I believe your evening has just begun.”
Jane hesitated for a moment, then allowed herself to be guided forward. Elizabeth watched as Bingley’s face lit up at Jane’s approach, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of satisfaction. At least Jane would have a promising night.
Her own satisfaction, however, was short-lived.
“Such a grand house, is it not, Cousin Elizabeth?” Mr. Collins declared as he stepped beside her, effectively cutting off her view of the entrance hall. His gait was brisk, his voice overly loud, and he offered her an arm with an air of importance that made Elizabeth grit her teeth. “Mr. Bingley is to be commended for his fine taste, though, of course, it cannot rival the splendor of Rosings Park.”
Elizabeth kept her expression carefully neutral, though inwardly she sighed. “Yes, it is quite elegant.”
Collins beamed, clearly taking her lukewarm response as wholehearted agreement. “Indeed, indeed! I am sure the guests shall be just as impressed by our entrance. And may I say, Cousin Elizabeth, that you look most radiant tonight. I daresay your appearance shall be the talk of the ball.” He adjusted his cravat as if preparing for an audience.
Elizabeth plastered on a smile. “You are too kind.”
“Not at all, not at all,” he insisted, straightening and offering his arm. “Come, we must find a place near the dance floor. Asyou know, it is my privilege to open the ball with you, and I would not wish to miss the opportunity.”
Elizabeth took his arm reluctantly, casting a quick glance around the room. Her gaze landed on Darcy, standing a short distance away, his eyes already fixed on her. He did not move toward her, nor did he offer any sign of greeting. Instead, he turned slightly, as though deliberately distancing himself from her line of sight.
Elizabeth’s irritation flared. If he was so intent on avoiding her, then why had he been watching her in the first place?
“Shall we take in the room, Cousin?” Collins prompted, his grip tightening slightly on her arm as he began leading her forward. Elizabeth bit back a sigh and allowed herself to be escorted, though her mind was already working furiously. She had planned to approach Darcy early in the evening, hoping to coax a dance from him before anyone else could lay claim to his attention. A smile on the dance floor, perhaps even a second dance to seal the deal beyond any doubt, and that would be sufficient.
Now, however, she found herself shackled to Mr. Collins and at the mercy of his overzealous attentions.
“What a splendid assembly this is! And how grand of Mr. Bingley to host such an event. It is a testament to his fine character, would you not agree, Cousin Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded absently, her eyes once again drifting toward Darcy again. He stood with Bingley now, their heads bent in quiet conversation. Bingley’s face bore its usual open cheerfulness, but Darcy’s was more guarded, his gaze flicking briefly in her direction before returning to his friend.
She could not tell what passed between them, but the sight of Darcy speaking with Bingley only served to heighten her frustration. If only she could find a way to rid herself of Mr. Collins...
“Cousin Elizabeth, are you quite well?” Collins asked, his tone solicitous. “You seem… distracted.”
“I assure you, Mr. Collins, I am perfectly well,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Merely taking in the atmosphere.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding sagely. “Such grandeur can be overwhelming to a young lady. But fear not, dear cousin. I shall remain at your side throughout the evening, ensuring you are never without proper company.”
Elizabeth’s smile stiffened. “How very thoughtful of you.”
As they reached the edge of the dance floor, the music swelled, signaling the start of the first set. Collins turned to face her fully, his chest puffed out with pride. “Shall we?”
Elizabeth had no choice but to nod and allow herself to be led into position. All the while, she could feel Darcy’s eyes on her, watching from the periphery of the room. He remained where he was, a silent observer, yet his presence was as tangible as if he stood beside her.
And so the dance began, with Mr. Collins stepping on her toes at least twice before the first turn was complete.
From where Darcy stood,he could see Elizabeth Bennet entering the room, her eyes flicking about as though taking in every detail at once. He noted, with some satisfaction, the faint crease of concentration on her brow—until Mr. Collins, ever-oblivious and ever-intrusive, shifted his large frame beside her, leaning in too close and speaking too loudly.
Darcy’s jaw clenched as he watched the man hover by Elizabeth’s side, puffed up with importance, no doubt imagining himself her gallant protector for the evening. As much asDarcy somehow loathed the idea of Elizabeth being subjected to Collins’s tiresome company, he could not help but see the man’s usefulness. For all his faults—and they were plentiful—Collins was a convenient barrier. As long as the clergyman remained glued to Elizabeth’s side, Darcy would have little cause to be drawn into closer proximity to her.
“Darcy, there you are.” Bingley’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I am simply beside myself with how grand the room looks tonight. Do you not agree?”
Darcy blinked, refocusing his attention on his friend. He gave a curt nod. “Yes. Your housekeeper has done well.”
