Page 23 of Darcy’s Guarded Heart

Elizabeth

T he evening of the grand ball had arrived, and the house at Longbourn was filled with a bustle of activity that could scarcely be contained within its modest rooms.

“Oh, Jane, hurry up with that hair! We mustn’t be late for Mr Bingley,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, her voice strained with the urgency of the moment. “You are the picture of elegance already, but a little more time spent on your hair and complexion, and he’ll never be able to resist!”

Jane, her face alight with excitement, was seated at the vanity, carefully arranging her hair with the assistance of her sisters. “I hope Mr Bingley takes notice of me,” she said softly, her eyes shining with hope.

“Of course, he’ll take notice of you,” Elizabeth replied with a teasing smile.

“You are the only one who ever looks so perfect without trying. Besides, this ball is not because Lydia wanted it, it is because Mr Bingley wanted to see you again, to dance with you. He’d never have agreed so readily if not for you.

I dare say, you could appear covered head to toe in mud and hay and he would have eyes only for you. ”

“Oh, nonsense, Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet interjected, bustling over with a hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“Do not waste time with such remarks. Jane must appear perfect. If she is perfect, then Mr Bingley will propose without hesitation. Now, we must go down. Please, now,” she rushed them. “I want to see Jane in a better light.”

She rushed Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lydia downstairs while Jane followed. Once the family was settled in the drawing room, she examined Jane and when she deemed her perfectly coiffed, her attention turned to the other sisters.

“Now, Lizzy, you mustn’t be too forward, control your tongue. And you,” she turned towards Mary, “you must simply play the pianoforte, show your skill. Show them how accomplished and sensible you are!”

“Indeed, Mother,” Mary said primly, not even glancing up from her sheet music.

“Oh, Mr Bennet, I do hope Mr Bingley proposes tonight. I’m sure he will. Jane is such a sweet, sensible girl,” Mrs Bennet said, turning towards her husband, who was seated by the fire with a newspaper in hand, completely unconcerned with the frenzy around him.

“Hmm?” Mr Bennet grunted, barely glancing up. “Yes, my dear. I’m certain it will happen.” He sounded, as always, more interested in the quiet of his chair than in his wife’s fervent hopes.

“Well, if you say so, then it must be true,” Mrs Bennet said with a self-satisfied nod before turning to her daughters again. “Now, don’t you dawdle, girls! We must be perfectly on time and perfectly behaved. We must catch them, as you know, and they have to fall in love at first sight.”

“And pray, who is them?” Elizabeth asked.

“Lizzy, do not test my nerves tonight. You know perfectly well. The Bingleys have many connections and I am certain a great number of their London friends will be here, and perhaps some gentlemen from up North. Whomever, we must impress them. Five daughters, and none wed. I will not have it, I declare!”

In the midst of the chaos, Mr Collins arrived.

He strode into the drawing room, looking every bit the picture of self-importance in his voluminous coat and pale stockings.

His hair, though carefully styled, looked as if it had been shaped to resemble a head of overgrown cabbage, perfectly absurd in its attempt at formality.

“Good evening, good evening, my dear Mrs Bennet!” he boomed, addressing her in a manner that almost bordered on reverent.

“How delightful it is to join you and your esteemed daughters in such a pleasant occasion! How well I am already prepared to appear in the most agreeable company tonight—though I must admit, I am rather nervous! But of course, a man of my standing must not shy away from opportunities to improve his social connections.”

Mrs Bennet, who had been hurriedly tying Jane’s sash, now turned with a wide smile, that was as false as her sweet tone.

“Ah, Mr Collins, so kind of you to join us. I trust you will enjoy the ball immensely. But Jane, my dear, please do stop fidgeting with your dress! You simply must wear the ribbon I chose—it will show off your beauty so. Mr Collins, do you not think so? It shall impress Mr Bingley and push him to propose at last.”

Mr Collins puffed out his chest, clearly pleased by the opportunity to offer his opinion. “Ah, yes! Miss Bennet, of course! I can see how her beauty will captivate Mr Bingley!” He beamed at Jane, though his gaze lacked true appreciation and was rather more mechanical than genuine.

He took a step forward, and suddenly aware of the lateness of the hour, added with an air of self-importance, “It is rather late, we must leave. As my esteemed patroness always says, lateness is never acceptable under any circumstances.”

As he spoke, he turned towards Elizabeth, who had been quietly observing her mother and the absurd Mr Collins with some amusement.

“Cousin Elizabeth,” he said, bowing with an exaggerated flourish, “what a charming lady you are. Your modesty, your grace! You will, of course, allow me to offer you a dance tonight?”

Elizabeth, who had long been used to Mr Collins’s over-the-top manner, could not help but smile wryly. “I shall be most happy to join you for a dance, Mr Collins, though I must warn you, I am not a very accomplished dancer.”

“Ah, a modesty that is the mark of a true lady!” he exclaimed. “Do not be concerned! I shall guide you through every step with utmost care and precision. The clumsy feet of some others at this ball shall be no obstacle for us, I assure you.”

Just then, Thomas entered the room and raised his eyebrows at Mr Collins, though said nothing.

“The carriages are ready,” he simply stated. As the entire family and Mr Collins were going, they were forced to make use of Mr Collins’s vehicle, which left them in even more debt to him than before.

“Well, we can’t be late!” Mrs Bennet cried, pulling Jane to her feet. “Do hurry, girls! Let us be on our way—Mr Bingley is waiting!”

As the family hurried to the door, Mr Collins’s loud voice continued to fill the room, though he was left behind, still muttering to himself about his duties and the significance of his arrival.

The younger girls, who had seemingly been forgotten by their mother, rushed out the door, the anticipation of the evening hanging in the air.

And so, with all the excitement and chaos of the evening unfolding around them, the Bennet sisters—Jane, with her quiet hopes of Mr Bingley’s affection, and Elizabeth, ever more aware of the absurdities around her—set off for the ball at Netherfield, the stage set for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

***

The carriages came to a halt outside Netherfield, and Elizabeth looked up.

The house was magnificently illuminated, all the windows on the ground floor shimmering with candlelight.

Music spilled forth, accompanied by laughter and the occasional clinging of glass that emitted from some of the open windows.

Her sisters tumbled out of the carriage, making her way to the door alongside Mr Collins and her parents. Thomas, dressed in his tails, looked splendid, though there was something rather stoic about him.

“Are you quite well?” she asked. “Is Mr Collins vexing you?”

“You know how he is. He is a dreadful man, and if I never see him again, it shall be too soon,” he replied. “I wish I had known he was coming. I would have managed to avoid it. I’d have gone to London.”

“Avoid it? Leave? But then you would have missed this ball, and the chance to dance with Miss Darcy—excuse me, Georgiana. I forget she wishes to be called by her Christian name.”

“Something her brother detests, no doubt,” Thomas remarked, and Elizabeth could not disagree. “I do not know that I ought to dance with her. She is charming, but I fear it may perhaps send Mr Darcy over the edge.”

Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. “It is a ball, dancing is expected, regardless of Mr Darcy’s opinions. I am beginning to think that perhaps he may not be as arrogant and prideful as I first imagined. Indeed, he spoke of some rather alarming things concerning Mr Wickham.”

“Mr Wickham? I am not surprised there are more horrid tales about that man. But pray, what was it?” Thomas asked.

Elizabeth hesitated, then shook her head. “Perhaps I should not divulge. Mr Darcy conveyed it to me in confidence, and it seems wrong to share,” she said, “even with you.”

“I understand. Whatever was told to you in confidence ought to remain as such.”

She nodded, though felt a little unsure. Thomas ought to know at least some of what she’d learned so he would know how to conduct himself. “Suffice it to say it explains in part why Mr Darcy is so protective of his sister.”

Thomas nodded to this, understanding. “I see. Well, I cannot deny that he has been stretching my nerves as of late, but I must remind myself of my own words and give him the benefit of the doubt.”

They climbed the steps to the front door, and Elizabeth reached for her reticule, wishing to apply a bit more perfume on her wrist from the small container she had brought from home, when she realised with a start that she did not have it.

“My reticule!” she exclaimed. “Have you seen it, Thomas? I cannot find it. Did I have it with me in the carriage?”

“You most certainly did,” he assured her. “Shall I fetch it for you?”

“No, I shall get it myself.” She glanced over her shoulder at the carriage they had arrived in, which was just now pulling around to the side, likely to join the other guests.

“I shall be there in a moment. Do not deprive yourself of a moment’s joy on my account,” she said.