Page 35
“To the assemblies, to dinner, and to every call of consequence! She will be a married woman, Elizabeth, not a girl in the schoolroom.”
“Perhaps, Mamma,” offered Elizabeth, “a lavender cambric would do nicely; it is quite elegant, and the difference could be put toward such fine lace and ribbon that it would be more than fit for a wedding.”
Without Lady Lucas there to support her, Mrs. Bennet found herself quite outnumbered by her daughters once Jane and Kitty added their voices to Elizabeth’s. She determined then that Lady Lucas must accompany them when they went to the dressmaker’s. So invested in planning the upcoming nuptials was Mrs. Bennet that she was not cross at all that the rain did not permit them to buy new trimmings to make over their ballgowns for the ball at Netherfield.
∞∞∞
When Elizabeth entered the ballroom at Netherfield, she was struck at once by the number of redcoats in attendance. The Netherfield ballroom, although not so large as the assembly-room in Meryton, was far larger and grander than the ballroom in any house in Meryton, barring perhaps that of the Morgans. Indeed, Mr. Morgan was the first individual she noticed, aside from their host, who was not in a redcoat that evening. He was dressed finely in green, though his cravat and cuffs were already rumpled from his fidgeting. He approached their family cheerfully, offering his warmest felicitations to the Bennets on Mary’s engagement. The Morgans, being themselves on terms of more than ordinary intimacy with both the Lucases and the Bennets, had, ever since they had seen the pair speaking at the Meryton assembly, thought that Mr. Lucas and Miss Mary Bennet would suit very well together.
“Perhaps,” said he, looking to where Miss Bennet stood speaking still with Mr. Bingley in the foyer, “it will not be long before another such event will take place.”
“Benjamin!” exclaimed his wife, giving him a look of fond exasperation.
“You cannot know who I meant,” teased Mr. Morgan. “Perhaps it is Mr. Robinson and Miss Long I speak of.” He nodded to where the other two young people were speaking.
“I do not know what I shall do with you, sir,” Mrs. Morgan said in faux annoyance. “Miss Elizabeth, if I may offer you one piece of advice for your future felicity, do select a spouse who does not enjoy vexing you for his own enjoyment.”
“I shall bear that in mind,” she said with a slight laugh, although she thought to herself that if she could find one who vexed her so pleasantly as Mr. Morgan did his wife, she should be very happy.
Mrs. Morgan and her husband wished Elizabeth a pleasant evening, and Elizabeth, thus released, made her way further into the room.
She paused, taking in the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces of the officers and her acquaintances as if in search of a particular face, though whose, she could not have said.
She noted with some curiosity that Mr. Wickham was nowhere to be seen. The absence was hardly surprising; Mr. Bingley would scarcely extend an invitation to a man caught in such deep animosity with Mr. Darcy. Yet the omission only stoked her curiosity about what had truly passed between them. The mere prospect of broaching such a delicate subject made her uneasy, but Mrs. Ellington’s words that morning lingered in her mind: Mr. Darcy deserves to know what is being said against him.
It was therefore a great comfort when Mr. Darcy approached to claim the dance he had requested when at Longbourn. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, should she not break it.
“The musicians play exceptionally well,” she decided finally to say.
“Miss Bingley requested them from London,” Mr. Darcy replied. “They are very in demand, or so she tells me.”
“I am certain they are. Miss Bingley would wish only for the best.”
After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with, “It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I commented on the musicians. Now you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”
He smiled and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. Do you agree?”
“You must know my preference, for you have now witnessed my level of comfort at both.”
“Perhaps, but one might claim that your discomfort that I witnessed at the Meryton assembly was due to not being acquainted with many in the area, not the type of ball.”
“Ah, but at a private ball, especially one given by a good friend, it is certain that I shall be acquainted with many of those in attendance.”
“I suppose that is true,” Elizabeth said, scanning the other occupants of the room. “Although despite having lived in this area for some time, I cannot say I know all the gentlemen present. The militia has introduced so many new faces into the neighbourhood.”
At the mention of the militia, Darcy’s mind turned in a most unpleasant direction, and his face darkened.
“I have discomforted you in some manner,” Elizabeth observed. “Is it because of Mr. Wickham?”
Darcy missed a step in the dance at the sound of the other man’s name. “You are acquainted with Mr. Wickham,” he said, his voice almost a question.
“Only just,” she replied. “I have only spoken with him twice.”
Mr. Darcy’s jaw tightened. “You found him agreeable, no doubt. Mr. Wickham has such happy manners as to make friends easily.”
“On first meeting, certainly. Yet, his readiness to speak ill of a man I have come to think honourable, and to a near stranger, quite soured my opinion of him.”
