“Heavens, Caroline!” Mr. Bingley said, frowning at his sister. “You are not making your curtsey to the Queen tonight, you know!”
“This is hardly what I would wear to curtsey to the Queen, Charles,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. “I simply think we should make it known at once that we are of a higher class than these country…people.” Her disdain was clear.
Mr. Darcy looked away. The one – the only – good thing to come of Georgiana’s terrible misstep was that Caroline Bingley no longer clung to his arm. She had doubtless decided that becoming Mrs. Darcy was not such a good idea after all.
Chapter Eighteen
The assembly room in Meryton
Miss Bingley strolled into the Meryton assembly room on her brother’s arm, her head held high. The two of them looked very elegant, and she held his arm, forcing him to pause with her for effect. There could be no doubt that she had hoped to make a spectacular entrance and be the center of everyone’s attention, but in this she was to be disappointed, for the music did not stop, nor did the loud hum of conversation. Several curious glances were sent her way, but that was all. She surveyed the scene with evident dissatisfaction on her face.
Sir William Lucas materialised from the crowd and bowed to the Bingleys. “Mr. Bingley! I am so pleased that you were able to come tonight.”
“I am delighted to be here, Sir William,” Mr. Bingley said, smiling. “Caroline, allow me to present Sir William Lucas, who gave us the tickets for tonight’s entertainment. Sir William, this is my youngest sister, Miss Bingley.” He then proceeded to introduce the Hursts and, finally, Mr. Darcy.
“Come in, come in,” Sir William urged them. “Allow me to present some of your neighbours.” He walked around the room with them, introducing everyone he met.
When Sir William made his way to the Bennet family, Mr. Bingley turned to Sir William and said, “Mr. Bennet was kind enough to visit with me when I first arrived.” Turning to Mr. Bennet, he said, “I recall you saying that you have five daughters, Mr. Bennet. I am eager to dance with them.”
“And I suspect they are equally eager,” Mr. Bennet replied, drily. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs. Bennet. And this is Miss Jane Bennet, my eldest; Miss Elizabeth, next in line, then Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.”
Mr. Darcy watched with some amusement as Mr. Bingley’s eyes fastened on the eldest Miss Bennet and then widened in evident appreciation. Mr. Darcy was not surprised; Miss Bennet was a lovely girl and exactly Mr. Bingley’s preferred type – blonde hair, blue eyes, porcelain complexion.
Mr. Bingley acknowledged the other introductions, as courtesy demanded, but asked Miss Bennet to dance straightaway. She agreed, blushing prettily, and they were off at once.
“I suspect I must apologise for my friend’s enthusiasm,” Mr. Darcy said to the next eldest – Elizabeth, was it? She looked nothing like her sister, but she was pretty in her own way, with her mahogany hair, wide brown eyes, and long lashes. Her complexion was just a bit tanned, and there was a smattering of freckles on her nose, testament to time spent outdoors.
“No matter,” she said, laughing. “We are all accustomed to it. Gentlemen take one look at Jane and the rest of us cease to exist.”
“You seem to take it well enough,” he said, brows raised in surprise.
“How could I not? My sister Jane is not only the prettiest girl in the county, but also the kindest. It is impossible to be anything but happy for her.” Her voice rang with sincerity and obvious affection.
This struck Mr. Darcy as remarkable. Not envious? Happy for another lady? How different she was from London ladies, and from the always miserable Miss Bingley!
“Might you care to dance, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, suddenly recalling what was expected of him.
“I am happy to, Mr. Darcy,” she said, smiling up at him and laying her hand lightly upon his proffered arm. “Are you enjoying your stay in Meryton?” she asked.
He could not say that he was not enjoying much of anything at this point in his life, so instead he said, “It is a very pretty area.”
“Yes, it is! I have not traveled a good deal, but from the little I have seen, Hertfordshire is a lovely county. I feel fortunate to live here.”
“You do not wish for Town life?”
She wrinkled up her nose. “Well, I very much like going to the theater and the British Museum is one of my favourite places in the world. And I suppose it would be exciting to go to a ball – a society one, not a country assembly – but I certainly could not live in Town.”
“You surprise me; I thought all young ladies longed for high society.”
She laughed up at him. “You must not know many young ladies.”
“I suppose I do not.”
The dance separated them; when they rejoined, she continued. “A good many of us are even rational creatures.”
He smiled. “I do not doubt it. I have an aunt…” He trailed off, thinking that he should not mention his relationship with the Countess of Matlock, unless he wanted a good deal of attention from the local ladies.
“A rational aunt? Yes, I have one as well, and I love her dearly.”
