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At least this meant she was too busy to think of pressing her daughters upon Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Madison, who would be made excessively uncomfortable by such encroachment.

Mrs. Bennet was pleased to see them chatting with Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, and Charlotte.

Unfortunately, Mr. Collins was hovering about the group.

She dreaded to think what he might be saying.

Thank goodness the music quickly started up again. Jane was now dancing with Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth with Mr. Bingley. Mr. Madison’s second partner of the evening was Charlotte, and it was now Mary’s turn to suffer the ineptitude of Mr. Collins.

With her eyes upon a delicate pair of slippers and the hemline of the French dressmaker’s concoction, Mrs. Bennet felt every bit of Mary’s suffering. But at least it seemed that Mr. Collins had not the ability to talk while dancing. That was a small blessing.

But as the dance was nearing its conclusion, Mrs. Bennet saw that Mary was about to have a greater trial to endure.

A couple of latecomers had just entered the room: Captain Carter and Mr. Fordyce.

Several of the officers nodded to their former comrade, and one stepped out of the dance to clap him on the back.

Shifting her gaze to Mary, Mrs. Bennet waited with some apprehension for the inevitable moment when she realized that her former suitor was in the room.

She wouldn’t faint, which she? Or burst into tears?

Although she wasn’t prone to that sort of behaviour, there was no telling how a great shock might affect her.

It was obvious when Mary spotted him. Her mouth dropped, her countenance turned pale, and she stepped in the wrong direction. But she quickly corrected her course and composed herself. And at the end of the dance, she greeted the former object of her affections without any display of undue emotion.

Unless one counted her happy smiles and evident enthusiasm as the two of them conversed.

When Mr. Fordyce led Mary into the third set, Mrs. Bennet decided that she had no opinion.

None whatsoever. She wasn’t even going to wonder who Mr. Madison might marry instead—No, no opinion at all. And no expectations.

In that spirit, Mrs. Bennet went into supper with the intention of saying nothing about her daughters and their dance partners.

She would have been happy to discuss political economy or household economy or just the weather; however, she was seated next to Lady Lucas, who eagerly began to speak of her expectation that Emily would soon be engaged to Colonel Forster.

Glancing at the colonel, who was attentively hovering about Emily, Mrs. Bennet thought this was a distinct possibility. Something else she had failed to notice. She really had been wrapped up in her own ideas.

Lady Lucas was now explaining the advantages of the match.

Travelling and seeing new places. The officers being such a cheerful company.

Emily already being so friendly with their wives.

And the opportunity for her sisters to be thrown in the way of other officers, some of whom must have sufficient funds to support a wife.

Mrs. Bennet had been about to take a bite, but she froze with her fork in midair. Mr. Darcy was standing just a few feet away. Once again, he would be thinking the worst of her for being a participant in this sort of conversation.

“And I am certain that Emily will gladly have some of your daughters to stay with her as well,” Lady Lucas offered. “She can help them to get husbands too.”

It was all that Mrs. Bennet could do to maintain her composure. She didn’t know how to respond until she noticed her fork hovering in the most unladylike way. Lowering it, she cried, “Would you like some of this chicken? Or a slice of ham?”

The ham and the chicken successfully distracted Lady Lucas for a short time.

When she began to speak again of how easily she should be able to get all her daughters married with access to so many regiments, Mrs. Bennet suggested the sweetbreads.

A mention that of course she hadn’t meant to suggest either Jane or Lizzy would be in need of husbands was hastily silenced by thrusting a jelly her way.

With these diversions, Mrs. Bennet managed to minimize her own embarrassment.

However, after supper was over she saw that much greater mortification was about to begin.

Mr. Collins was bearing down upon Mr. Darcy, and there was a great sense of purpose in his expression. It was time for the compliments.

To her surprise, Mr. Collins began by congratulating Mr. Darcy upon having such an illustrious relative as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a fact which he explained had just come to his notice.

Mrs. Bennet was startled to hear of this connection.

How could a man as agreeable as Mr. Darcy be connected to a lady who had come across, through Mr. Collins’s descriptions, as an overbearing and thoroughly disagreeable person?

But mostly she cringed as Mr. Collins made a speech so pompous and ridiculous that she wanted to sink into the floor. What must Mr. Darcy be thinking now?

When at last allowed to speak, he made a gracious reply, but she suspected that it was only his regard for Elizabeth which kept him from treating her relative with contempt.

Mr. Collins’s ill-conceived performance was followed by some music, which help to soothe Mrs. Bennet’s nerves.

And so did the sight of Lydia sitting quietly throughout the music, just as she ought to do.

Another cause for pride, both in her daughter and herself for having corrected some of her failings as a mother.

And she knew from something that Mr. Darcy had once said that there was nothing wrong with a proper sort of pride like one based upon a well-earned achievement.

He hadn’t elaborated upon improper pride, but she thought that it would be much like boasting of inheritances.

When they returned to the ballroom, Mrs. Bennet was horrified to see that Mr. Collins was threatening to make another speech to Mr. Darcy. He had probably just remembered the compliments.

Hurrying that way, she cut him off by saying the first thing which came into her mind. “You must not detain Mr. Darcy. He will be wanting to dance.”

In the next moment Mrs. Bennet was cringing at her own words. Now Mr. Darcy would be thinking that she would be trying to get him to dance with one of her daughters. Thinking that she was still making matches.

Wanting to correct that impression, she spoke again even as she feared it could only make things worse. “Have you a partner already? If not, perhaps you would like to dance with Miss Lucas. Or Miss Long is sitting just over there.”

This was worse. Now it sounded like she was soliciting partners on her friends’ behalf.

“Perhaps you would rather sit out this dance,” she said in desperation.

“No, indeed,” Mr. Darcy said, not looking at all put out. “I very much want to dance. And to answer your question, I do not yet have a partner. But I know with whom I wish to dance. May I have the honour of standing up for the next dance with you?”