by Beth Poppet
“Madam, I assure you,” Mr Collins said, quickly recovering his good humour, “I would sit out a thousand dances to preserve the untarnished reputation of your beloved daughter, but in this case, I must beg you to allow me to take up at least the first dance, after which point I shall pretend we are as strangers,” his eyes settled on Jane and the affectation of his voice was a lover’s lilt, “forever separated by the length of the assembly hall! Let a humble, lovesick man be allowed this much, at least.”
Mrs Bennet nodded in acquiescence, satisfied that the rich young gentlemen of Netherfield Park might meet Jane on terms distinct from her impending nuptials.
However sweet Jane was, however inclined to think the best of others, her mother’s and sister’s schemes did not slip past her notice. She brought the matter to Lizzy directly, as they dressed together in her room.
“Lizzy, you cannot think me capable of changing my mind. No matter the number of eligible gentlemen that relocate to Hertfordshire, I am promised now to Mr Collins. I could not go back on my word. It would be…”
“Do not say ‘a scandal,’” Lizzy protested, “for the matter is not known at present, and perhaps it need never be.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Jane asked, entirely too artless to guess at what Lizzy was thinking.
“Mr Collins seems more than willing to be led in any direction he believes would honour Lady Catherine de Bourg. Cannot we make him be the one to break it off? A few misquoted scriptures here and there, a smile or two from another woman, and he may just as easily decide you are not for him.”
“You are not being fair,” Jane scolded. “Would you have me jilted by a perfectly respectable man? Though you and Mama might keep your secrets, you cannot imagine Lydia capable of proper discretion. The broken engagement would be known, one way or another.” Lizzy sighed dejectedly, knowing Jane spoke truth, yet unwilling to believe they had exhausted all avenues of supplanting Mr Collins. “And there is still the matter of the entailment. Even if Mr Collins was to be persuaded that I am not a comparable match for him, he will inherit Longbourn.”
“I hardly think Mama would be concerned over Longbourn if you were mistress of Netherfield,” Elizabeth complained.
“Hush,” Jane warned as Lydia bounded in the room, frock in hand, shouting unkindnesses to Kitty over her shoulder. There were several minutes of aggravating debate over which frock suited Lydia best, as Kitty’s opinion was against her own, and Lizzy refused to give fuel to either combatant. The matter was settled by Jane offering a gold chain to complete Kitty’s satisfaction of her own attire, granting her leave to admire Lydia’s gown without endangering the suitability of her own.
Jane returned to Lizzy as the last flowers were pinned into her hair. “It is endearing and equally distressing that you think me worthy of such a man as you describe Mr Bingley to be,” she confessed, “but I cannot go back on my promise to be Mr Collins’s wife. I would hardly be worthy of anyone after such a break of trust.
“Besides, I…” Jane dipped her head, cheeks visibly warming.
“What is it, Jane?” Accruements complete, Lizzy had freedom again to turn her head towards Jane.
“Had I not acted favourably to Mr Collins attentions, he might have offered himself to you.” Her voice was soft, and melancholic. “I know how deeply you dislike him, and I could not risk you turning him out of the house with your rejection.”
“Oh, Jane!” Lizzy grasped both of her hands in a mixture of surprise and pity, “To think that I would have any comfort in being forced to accept him as a brother-in-law!”
“Better that than a husband?” Jane arched a brow in what was almost a cheerful taunt, “No.” She pat Lizzy’s hand, imparting a measure of resignation by the gesture, “It is far better this way. I have never been as romantic as you and was quite prepared to accept Mr Collins should he see fit to ask me. I have long accepted my duty as the eldest to secure a good match for my mother’s sake, and for yours, Lizzy.” Lizzy knew Jane intended to comfort her by such an assertion, and so refrained from exclaiming all the thunderous protests that hung at the tip of her tongue.
“Knowing you will be freer to marry a man you love with the family estate secured is all the happiness I need to sustain me.” Jane smiled sweetly, and were Lizzy not so intimately acquainted with her sister’s subtleties, she might even have believed her to be as happy as she claimed.
Lizzy could not pretend so easily, and it was with pursed lips and a slight furrow between her perceptive eyes that she uttered, “I would be happiest if you would not speak of Mr Collins any more tonight and promise to enjoy as many dances as possible with other partners.”
“I will try, Lizzy.”
The two might have embraced or sealed their understanding with some other form of sisterly affection, but Mrs Bennet swept through in great haste, seeking her daughters out to ensure that each was ready to descend to the carriages decked in attire that would be considered at least tolerably pretty, for if any of them shamed her at the assembly it would be a great strain on her poor nerves which none had compassion for whatsoever.
Chapter Four
Mr Darcy had every intention of finding Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the assembly. He would not seek her out, nor step out of character so far as to invite her to dance if it was not desirable, but since their unplanned meeting at Longbourn he had trouble putting her out of his mind, and he could admit, he wished to see her again. This brazen woman who was not the least bit frightened of being pounced down by a large hound but was rather merry and amiable to his kind and foolish friend was worth pursuing a more intimate acquaintance with. He had first thought it a lack of deportment that prevented her running home at once to hide the muddy prints on her dress but had found himself struck by the ease with which his own conversation burst forth to parry and prod wits with hers despite the soiled skirts. Mr Darcy was not naturally inclined towards much conversation. He preferred to observe in silent judgement, and it was rather a deserved reputation he had of being proud and disagreeable, though his pride was not wholly unwarranted. As a gentleman of means, education, and good breeding, he had little need to recommend himself to obscure strangers. It was generally seen as an honour to be addressed by him at all, and the few betters he had were not amused by idle chatter that had no bearing on business or matters of court. The study of social graces was hardly necessary for his role in society, and therefore he took no pains to learn them.
This evening, however, Mr Darcy was prepared to show civil condescension and make one or two compliments on whatever he might discover within the realm of honest praise. What possessed him to such a predisposition for the sake of Miss Bennet, he could hardly say. Perhaps it was the sharpening of his present company’s spears that excited him at the prospect of seeing their snobbery and disgust put to shame by Miss Bennet’s ready wit. Before making the acquaintance of one Elizabeth Bennet, he might have joined in their prejudices, but the image of her dark eyes taking obvious pleasure in baiting him kept Darcy from taking any pleasure of his own in Mrs Hurst’s and Miss Bingley’s contempt for the country assembly.
As their party entered the hall—Miss Bingley remarking at once how confining the space—Mr Darcy took full advantage of the nearness of the strangers about him to surreptitiously search the lively faces for the one whom he wished most to see there. He did not see her amongst those dancing, though a simple observation made it evident that there were several ladies to every gentleman present, and each dance would see some ladies sitting them out until a partner could be made available.
It was Mr Bingley who first spied her in the crowd, or rather it was he who turned Mr Darcy’s attention to the elegant lady sitting beside her with his exclamation of, “Look, Darcy! Who is that enchanting creature by Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Do you think it her sister of whom we’ve heard so much about? Come. We must be introduced.”
Mr Darcy was all willingness, leaving an astonished Miss Bingley to the cheerless company of her sister and Mr Hurs
t.
Bingley’s supposition proved correct, as the ‘enchanting creature’ with the golden hair seated beside Elizabeth was introduced to them as Miss Jane Bennet, and the other sisters pointed out; one dour-faced young woman sitting alone, and the two youngest mingling with the officers.
Miss Jane Bennet was certainly an elegant young woman, with grace enough in her bearing to accentuate the beauty she naturally possessed. Her voice was gentle and reserved; she was amiable, but not over-eager to interject or amuse. Elizabeth had done her sister justice. Jane Bennet was the pinnacle of delicate charm. A delightful companion for Bingley, he supposed, but not spirited enough to tempt him.
Bingley was engaged in the serious business of asking the elder Miss Bennet for a dance. There was something in her manner that betrayed regret, and Darcy expected her to make her excuses. Before she could reply, however, Elizabeth reminded her that the first dance had done, and she was no longer under obligation to partner with a certain cousin of theirs. Relief passed over Miss Bennet’s features, and she happily accepted Bingley’s invitation.
Considering her purpose fulfilled and hoping to avoid the appearance of begging for a dance herself, Elizabeth stood, preparing to excuse herself. Mr Darcy would not allow such an escape however and questioned her into remaining with him.
“I had thought you would be dancing, Miss Bennet. You confessed a fondness for it when last we met.”
“I am excessively fond of dancing, but I am disinclined to participate in such merriment this evening.” She seemed to be looking her sister’s way as she uttered this, as if her troubles came from that sphere.
Darcy thought she must have been jilted by a would-be lover. Perhaps someone she was fond of had been prevented from attending the assembly, and he wondered who could have captured those bright eyes to the effect that she would pine for him. Some fool of an officer, no doubt. Both her younger sisters were currently surrounded by red uniforms, and their behaviour was rather boisterous and untoward. Such blatant flirtation would never be permitted in the circles Darcy frequented. If those were the sort of fellows Miss Elizabeth Bennet preferred, perhaps it would be unwise to pay her much regard.
He nearly turned heel to quit her company, but instead gave opportunity for an answer. “Certainly, you are not bemoaning the fact that you have been slighted by the men of this assembly,” he tested, frowning at the sight of the youngest Miss Bennet whispering into the ear of the closest officer.
Elizabeth laughed in earnest, and it caused a smile to play at the corner of his own mouth. Curious. “No, certainly not! I am not morose and unpleasant for my own sake. I am merely weary of the follies of mankind altogether and cannot bring myself to enjoy a dance under such circumstances.”
He was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a familiar and loathsome face in the sea of red uniforms, and the relief that Miss Elizabeth was not waiting for a lover to dance with was overshadowed by the profound hatred he had for the mere presence of Mr Wickham in the same room as he.
“We find ourselves similarly disagreeable this evening,” he scowled.
“I do not think you disagreeable,” she said, curiosity piqued at his admission, but not so impolitic as to ask him outright why a company of officers should irk him so.
“That is surprising.”
“Why is it surprising that a man of intelligence and position should be considered agreeable company?”
“As I have previously confessed, I lack the societal niceties that make for a pleasant conversationalist.”
She arched a brow. “I have found no obstacle.”
“No.” An elusive smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Indeed, you have not.”
A rosy-cheeked young gentleman looked about the room, eyes settling on Miss Elizabeth. Fearful that he would persuade her to dance and thereby deprive him of his companion, Mr Darcy abruptly said, “Shall we not take our own turn about the room?”
“Why should we dance after both so vehemently proclaiming such a notion to be insupportable?” she asked, mirth creeping into her tone.
“There are no other ladies with whom I am acquainted enough to ask besides Miss Bingley, who you see is preoccupied with Mr Hurst.” He nodded once in their direction. “Miss Elizabeth, I was advised by a certain young woman that it would benefit my reputation to find something worth admiring at this assembly. Now that I have found it, I mean to continue in our conversation lest I sink into a querulous mood and disturb my good intentions.”
Elizabeth blushed to be recipient of his singular compliment, and he felt a measure of pride in catching her off guard so thoroughly. “I had not… intended… That is… I did not mean to take responsibility for your enjoyment tonight.”
“Then you are quite determined to deny me this dance?” Darcy was unused to rejection of any kind, yet so rarely did he consider anything worth pursuing to the point of risking it.
“I should be ashamed to change my mind so quickly,” Elizabeth admitted, colour still staining her cheeks. “You may think me unprincipled and easily persuaded.”
His severity dissipated at her confession, and he smiled. “If you humour me this once, Miss Bennet, I promise to tell no one of your fickleness. Your reputation shall remain intact.”
The rest of the night was spent in similarly agreeable pursuits. Mr Darcy found himself to be more favourably-minded towards the country assembly than he might have believed, and he knew it had all to do with a pair of fine eyes and a ready wit that kept him eager for the next opportunity to catch those eyes upon him and find the inducement for another slurry of words to pass between her lips. In all his enjoyment of Miss Elizabeth’s banter, he did not forget his friend, nor the company with whom he arrived. There was a keen dislike felt between Elizabeth Bennet and Caroline Bingley at once, and though all outward civility was upheld, there were several underhanded insults which Miss Bennet returned to Miss Bingley with expert deflection. Her brother, in utter contrast, was the happiest being in the room, and made it quite impossible to be anything but amiable and charming in his presence.
At the first, Miss Caroline Bingley was amused with the quaint persons at the assembly. After which, amusement gave way to disdain, and disdain to near contempt. She had not been swayed by any fine eyes or clever wits. She had seen only the lack of decorum, the unfashionable frocks, and the distasteful connexions to tradesman and other lower classes. When they had at last departed the insufferable gathering and collected themselves in the comfortable grandeur of Netherfield Park, she began her criticisms of the entire affair, relying on Mr Darcy to support her goading with his own severe judgements and hearty disapproval, as he was typically wont to engage in.
“And what did you think of the eldest Miss Bennet, now you have seen her yourself?” she put to Mr Darcy.
“She is too forlorn,” was the short reply. To be sure, he had been caught considering Miss Elizabeth’s repressed smiles that had happened once or twice over the course of the evening, no matter the inducement to merriment.
“Forlorn?” Charles protested loudly, startling Mr Hurst from a port-induced doze. “Darcy, she smiled like an angel the entire evening!”
“For you, yes. But there was something in the manner of her expression that bespoke of melancholy. Something in her eyes that was not quite merry. It was clear to me she has some reason for great unhappiness.”
Miss Bingley shared a wicked smile with Mrs Hurst, knowing precisely what that reason was, but wanting the matter revealed upon her own timing.
Surrounded by such persons as he was, Darcy found it all too easy to slip into his usual censure. Despite his developing admiration for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he was not blind to the facts of her situation and family. “Perhaps she knows it unlikely to ever attach herself to a man of your standing with such a family that surrounds her.”
“Was there an attraction, do you think?” Bingley asked hopefully. “Did she seem to take an interest?”
“No more than any other young lady who
was recipient to your attentions,” Darcy replied. “Her mother was more enthused on her behalf than any of the young women who blushed for a dance.”
“But Miss Bennet is a quiet sort. You do not think, perhaps… she was only shy? Not all young ladies are as bold as her sister, you know.”
“Regardless of her coyness, Jane Bennet is already engaged,” Miss Bingley announced with an air of finality that surprised even Darcy.
Bingley was visibly disturbed. “Engaged? To whom?”
“That ridiculous parson who can’t stop speaking of your aunt.” This said to Mr Darcy. “The one who did not wait for an introduction but presumed to take the honour upon himself.”
“Not Mr Collins?” Charles protested. “Sweet Jane Bennet, engaged to Mr Collins? Surely not!”
“Collins is set to inherit their father’s entire estate upon his death,” Caroline said with a nod of confirmation from Mrs Hurst. “I daresay, it’s as grand as any match these country girls could hope to make.”
Caroline was not overly concerned by her brother’s sudden silence. Jane was a sweet girl, but no one to regret. She was certain Charles would soon be over his disappointment.
“You are certain she is engaged?” he persisted, “There is no mistake?”
“No mistake,” Mrs Hurst confirmed with a stifled yawn, finding neither joy nor sorrow in sharing what she thought only uninteresting gossip.
Darcy noted Bingley’s crestfallen features with little sympathy. He was sorry if his friend had formed an attachment over the course of the evening, but as Charles Bingley had liked many a stupider person he could not imagine his grief to be significantly felt.
