Page 40 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

When the night of the Netherfield Ball arrived, Elizabeth was all nerves.

She sat uneasily before the mirror, trying not to fidget as their maid arranged her hair.

To her surprise, Mary had asked if she could get ready with her, and she was pleased with the conversation that had ensued over the slow work of primping.

A tinge of sadness rested over the proceedings, however, as her relationship with Jane continued to be strained.

“You look well, Lizzy,” Mary said in her matter-of-fact way. Elizabeth raised her gaze in the glass and saw her sister in the background. She wore a simple white gown and had refused the flowers that the maid had offered to weave into her hair. Even so, she looked respectable, if not glowing.

“Thank you. You as well, Mary. Are you looking forward to the festivities?”

“I am in that I have learned several new pieces for the event, and I hope to have a chance to share them,” Mary gave a slight smile.

“I sometimes think that there would be better ways of getting to know people than having a ball. For example, sitting around and discussing the written word would be more beneficial.”

“Yes, but it would not be much like a ball, would it? I think people need both forms of entertainment. There is a time to dance and a time to read, one might say.”

“Yes, that puts me in mind of a text in Ecclesiastes. A time to mourn and a time to dance…” Mary quoted.

“See? There you have it. Tonight is a time to dance and celebrate.” Elizabeth nodded as the maid stepped back, having finished her hair. “I am very much looking forward to tonight.”

Thank goodness tonight was a time to dance, for there had been plenty of mourning since returning home.

It felt as if she were in a constant state of grief, knowing that her relationship with Jane might never return to the ease and closeness it had once had.

She wished Jane had simply talked with her about her feelings, rather than allowing resentment to grow between them.

If she had only known what her sister was feeling, she might have been able to change the dark path they were walking.

But it seemed that Jane resented everything she did, and particularly every compliment that Elizabeth was paid.

Perhaps the gaiety of the ball would change things, would show Jane that there need not be any enmity or competition between them.

“Mr Collins was practising a very pretty speech for you earlier today. I think he means to ask you to dance this evening.” Mary sat on the hope chest at the end of Elizabeth’s bed and watched her rise to look at herself in the full-length mirror.

Elizabeth sighed. “Mr Collins is a buffoon. I wish he would have arrived tomorrow instead of last week.”

“He likes you very much, Lizzy. I think you should at least give him a chance.”

Elizabeth intended to ignore that advice, though she did not choose to argue with her sister.

She went to her vanity and lifted the lid of her small jewellery box, bringing out the silver pin that Georgiana had given her in Scotland.

Putting it up to her bodice to test it, she saw that it complemented the white gown perfectly, the amethysts glistening in the light of the setting sun.

“I think I will wear this tonight.” She knew Georgiana would be pleased to hear she had worn it, but in a secret corner of her heart, she hoped that Mr Darcy might be pleased as well.

Though the gift must remain unacknowledged for both their sakes, Elizabeth dared to dream that it was, in truth, a gift from him in the truest sense.

The residents of Longbourn and Netherfield had met often in the past days, calling first at one house, and then at the other.

In each meeting, Mr Darcy seemed solicitous of her, eager to speak with her and show her his unwavering friendship.

Each meeting made her believe a little more that it was even something more than friendship that he wished to express. She only hoped she was right.

When they arrived at Netherfield, it was already dusk. The lights shining in the windows of the great house made it seem as though it were alive and breathing. Music issued from the foyer doors, which were held open so the flow of guests could enter. Elizabeth was awed by the splendour of it all.

“Mr Bingley, how good of you to invite us,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed excitedly as they came to the front of the greeting line.

“This will be a night to remember, to be sure.

‘Twill be the finest ball that has been held in the neighbourhood for many a long month, I have not a doubt of it! We are in your debt, Mr Bingley, indeed we are.”

“You and your family are always welcome, Mrs Bennet. Mr Bennet,” Mr Bingley said, nodding his head in greeting.

He then turned to Jane. “May I have the first dance, Miss Bennet?” he asked.

“You look most radiant tonight. I will be engaged here for the time being, but I wanted to secure the favour before anyone else had the chance to snatch you up.”

Jane was all smiles, something that Elizabeth rarely had the pleasure of seeing anymore. Sadness filled her, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. But Elizabeth quickly blinked them away. Tonight was not a time to mourn, but a time to dance.

A smug smile passed between Jane and Miss Bingley, one that Mr Bingley did not seem to catch. “I would be delighted, Mr Bingley,” Jane said sweetly. Elizabeth looked at her sharply. Had there not been something false in her tone? She hated even to think it, but she was certain it was so.

Elizabeth’s heart raced as they moved down the line and she saw Mr Darcy waiting at the end, right in front of the doors leading into the grand salon.

She bowed to him and took a shaky breath, trying to conceal her nervousness.

“How do you do, Mr Darcy?” she asked, barely able to get the words out above a whisper.

He looked so handsome, she was nearly done in.

“I am well, thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. His eyes looked warmly into hers, and he seemed about to speak again when Miss Bingley broke in.

“Do you not think Miss Elizabeth Bennet looks well tonight, Mr Darcy? She is nearly as pretty as Miss Jane Bennet,” Miss Bingley said sweetly, although Elizabeth easily heard the hint of malice in her tone.

It was all too obvious that Miss Bingley did not truly intend a compliment.

“Is she not?” She turned to Mr Darcy, no doubt trying to draw him out.

Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed to life with a deep blush.

His piercing gaze did not waver from hers. “She is indeed lovely,” he said without hesitation. “May I have the first dance, Miss Elizabeth?”

There was so much contained in his tone that her mouth went dry.

“I would be delighted, sir,” Elizabeth replied.

Though she had nearly forgotten Miss Bingley’s presence in her joy, her attention was called back by the choked sound of surprise she made.

Though rebuking herself for such pettiness, Elizabeth could not help but enjoy the look of appalled shock on Miss Bingley’s face.

“Very good,” Mr Darcy said. Far from offering the dance in a spirit of condescension or wishing to avoid the embarrassing snub that Miss Bingley had obviously intended, he seemed delighted and even relieved that she had accepted.

His eyes travelled down from her face, resting on the Scottish thistle attached to her bodice.

He smiled. “I shall come for you once we are finished with the receiving line.”

“I shall be waiting,” Elizabeth said and walked through the archway leading into the grand salon.

She could not help the butterflies dancing in her stomach, nor her breathlessness.

It was everything delightful that Mr Darcy had asked her for her first dance.

Perhaps all her hopes had been justified.

Perhaps he too saw her as more than just a friend.

Mr Collins came up beside her, having finished going down the line and being introduced to their hosts. “Dear cousin, I had intended to ask you to dance the first with me, but I would not dream of resenting Mr Darcy.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth asked politely. Though even the first moments of her cousin’s acquaintance had shown him to be an odious fool, she had intended to give him as much of friendliness and politeness as she could…

until he had made clear his intentions to choose his bride from among the daughters of Longbourn.

From the moment of that knowledge, Elizabeth had placed still greater importance on discouraging his advances, for she knew nothing could induce her to marry a man she could not respect.

Still, he at least deserved her courtesy, and he obviously wished her to inquire. “Is that so, Mr Collins?”

“He is the nephew of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of whom I have spoken at length.” He cleared his throat and rocked back and forth on his feet.

“You know, she has given me the little cottage at the edge of her estate, and often condescends to drive by in her little phaeton and ponies.” He gave a proud smile, as though he had said something very important.

“A connection with Mr Darcy cannot be stressed enough, as she highly favours her nephew.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said.

“And so, you see, I could not resent Mr Darcy for his amiable condescension in asking you to dance. And although he has secured your first, I wonder —”