Page 72

Book 3 Chapter 4

When it was time for the ladies to exhibit the newest guests were offered the chance first. Mrs. Hurst declined but Miss Bingley stalked over to the piano. The recital that followed was not lengthy, short and appropriate for the occasion, but it was cold and technical. The performance was flawless but at the same time there was not a hint of emotion. Miss Bingley showed off and then returned to her sister with a smug smile on her face. The peasants had been put in their place!

In contrast, the next three performances had their flaws, but there was warmth to each of the pieces. Charlotte had the unenviable task of going first but her applause was generous. Mary followed her and received similar applause. The final act was Elizabeth singing as Mary accompanied her. Everyone, other than the Netherfield party, had heard the song many times. But it did not take away from their pleasure. Again the applause was hearty.

Then Lady Lucas was applied to for permission to roll up the carpet and have some dancing. Mary was at the piano already and soon the four couples were set. Mr. Bingley had gained an advantage and was the first to dance with Kitty. Lydia had been ruthless in despatching her Lieutenant and stood ready to dance with the Militia Captain. The Colonel and his wife, together with John Lucas and Miss Goulding were the remaining dancers. Even four couples were a challenge in the space available.

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you."

Elizabeth imperiously held up her hand, halting Sir William in his tracks. She looked Darcy up and down, disdainfully, bordering on offensively, before turning back to her host.

“It is impossible for me to dance with.”

She waved her hand in Darcy’s direction, not even giving him the courtesy of a name or title.

“As I have not been introduced.”

Another sneering look.

“He is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to this man who thinks himself above his company and skulks around the edge of the room. If he does not wish to be here then he should not have accepted the invitation.”

Mary had stopped playing, there was no way on earth she could concentrate on the music. The dancers had stopped and everyone in the room, locals and guests alike were horrified at Elizabeth’s words. Darcy was speechless, on no other occasion in his whole life had he been treated so rudely. He also realised that this ‘Miss Eliza’ had thrown his own words back in his face. He was a Darcy but he was descended from Fitzwilliams and thus he channeled his aunt, Lady Catherine.

“How dare you speak to me in a such a manner, and in public. I will have you know my uncle is the Earl of Matlock!”

Even as he uttered these two sentences he winced. Lady Catherine as a role model? Really?

“My sister is married to a relative of the Duke of Buccleuch, if we are going to drop the names of our relatives into the conversation. Perhaps you have some Hanoverian blood?”

Sir David was something like a third cousin either once or twice removed from the current Duke. There was no contact with the Duke or any of his immediate family. Not that Darcy needed to know such pertinent details. Darcy’s family had crossed the channel with the Conqueror, he could claim French but not German blood. The harridan had turned away from him.

“I am sorry for the disruption Sir William, you could not know who you had invited.”

By this point Darcy thought his head might explode. She was apologising not for her words but for his presence! It was hardly a dignified retreat but he could not stay another moment.

“Excuse me, Sir William.”

With a curt bow Darcy stalked from the room. It was October, the night was dark and cold, but blessedly dry. He waved away the coachman who was scrambling for the door of the coach. He needed the cool night air to calm his raging anger. He was almost certain of the direction back to Netherfield Park but frankly he did not care.

He must have walked for close to 30 minutes gradually getting himself under good regulation. It was at this point he discovered he was walking in the wrong direction after all. Rather than rage at this further indignity he had to laugh at himself. Darcy was finally able to consider the evening with a clear head.

For once he was grateful for Miss Bingley and her search for gossip. There had been three Bennet sisters present at the Assembly. He winced, he needed to come back to that presently. Miss Bingley had ferreted out that there were two further sisters, one married with the final unmarried one visiting her. He was sure this was the missing sister, based on the closeness of the two during the evening and the fact that one accompanied the other when she sang.

But after that the metaphorical carriage fell off the cliff, flipping and turning until exploding in a storm of wood when it hit the ground. He had been unhappy with himself, and annoyed at Bingley for forcing the issue, when he had spoken disdainfully about the young lady at the Assembly. He had spoken the same words that had just been thrown at him, and in public. But he was Fitzwilliam Darcy. It was not just his thoughts that stopped, Darcy stood still. He had treated everyone at the Assembly, everyone in the whole of the county of Hertfordshire, with disdain. And it had come back to slap him in the face. This Miss Eliza said her sister was married to a relative of the Duke of Buccleuch, which meant that the young lady he had insulted in public was almost certainly also a relative, even if only by marriage.

This was not good. He would never have made such a comment in any ballroom in London, there was just no way to know if the lady was related to someone of importance. Just as in his current situation.

Darcy still had not moved. The more he thought on it, the more concerned he became. If this evening was anything to go by, then he could see the affair being brought to the attention of the Duke. Which meant that it could be brought to the attention of the Earl, his uncle.

He had no idea how long he stood there. Eventually he started walking again, resigned to having to fix this situation and immediately. He was mortified that he would have to debase himself in front of the Bennet family but he could not risk word of his behaviour reaching London, however indirectly. As he walked he thought back to the words actually thrown at him, as opposed to his own comments of a week earlier. She thought him above his company and accused him of skulking round the edge of the room. He understood that it was not just his performance that evening that was being critiqued, it applied to his behaviour at the Assembly as well.

Darcy wanted to argue against her charges, he really was determined, but his honesty prevented him from lying to himself. What this Miss Eliza Bennet accused him of was true, one hundred percent. There was no point in blaming Wickham, no point in trying to rationalise his behaviour because of the whole Ramsgate debacle, although his bad temper the previous Saturday was mostly as a result of the antics of Miss Bingley. If she had gone to the Assembly and not threatened to remain at Netherfield Park with him, he would have recovered his composure and presented better. But her threat, like he was not wise to the ways of compromise, meant that he went to the Assembly with ill grace and a week later found himself walking in the dark, hoping that he was even vaguely heading in the right direction.

Eventually he was. 45 minutes later Netherfield Park came into view, aided by several lanterns around the portico, lighting the way for him. When he finally arrived at the manor he prayed that just Bingley remained awake and he could have a quiet conversation. It was not a night where things were destined to go his way.

“Mr. Darcy, you are back at last. I could not believe the words from that hoyden. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind but Charles led us away before I had the chance.”

Small mercies. He did not think Miss Bingley would have coped with a verbal battle with his tormentor.