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E lizabeth’s heart was beating a mile a minute as she began walking towards the carriage that had been readied for their departure to Longbourn. Beside her, Jane walked with flushed cheeks and blue eyes sparkling in merriment, still euphoric over possessing the honour of being asked for her first set by the host of the ball himself. In front of the carriage, waiting, stood three gentlemen- Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth refused to meet anybody’s eyes. She was sure she would break into a huge, incriminating smile the moment she found anybody looking at her.

Instead, she watched Jane. Slowing her own pace just a little, she let her cousin take the lead. Mr. Bingley seemed to be almost bouncing on his feet as he waited to hand his sweetheart into the carriage. Only, before he could, Mr. Bennet stretched out his hand towards his eldest daughter, shooting the younger man an exasperated look. Jane, her smile dimming only a little, took her father’s hand obediently. Mr. Bingley looked like a puppy that had been denied his treat of the day and Elizabeth almost laughed at the look on his face.

But she could not take too much enjoyment from the scene. After all, it was then her turn to be handed in. Biting her lip, she saw Mr. Bennet stretch his hand for her to take next and decided to not feel too disappointed for having lost out on this opportunity to touch Darcy one last time. Their time together at Netherfield had been almost dreamlike, so improbable that it almost seemed as if it could never happen again. The freedom they had had to get to know each other and fall in love together was not often presented to people in their circles. Sighing internally, she had just resigned herself to place her own hand over her uncle’s when it was seized mid-movement by a larger, much warmer and surprisingly rougher palm.

Elizabeth blinked in surprise, whipping her head to the right to see Darcy had darted forward to reach her instead. He looked embarrassed at his eagerness, but determined nonetheless, and refused to meet her uncle’s eyes as he walked the last few steps with her to the carriage. Elizabeth tilted her head down to hide her growing smile behind the brim of her bergère. It only seldom appeared to the surface, but sometimes she could see glimpses of Mr. Darcy’s rebellious streak. It was an attractive contrast in a man who was most of the time very by the books in both his words and actions.

Settling into the carriage, she carefully smoothed and arranged the folds of her skirts to avoid the eyes of both her uncle and her cousin. Instead, she recalled the discussion she had had with Darcy earlier in the afternoon. After much contemplation, they had both decided to stay in Hertford at least until the ball at Netherfield to avoid aggravating the gossip that was flowing so freely in Meryton. Until then, they would behave very much like acquaintances and new friends in front of people. The secrecy of a clandestine betrothal sent a thrill down to her spine and Elizabeth had to make an effort to not fidget in her seat. As it was, Mr. Bennet was looking at her suspiciously, and she knew that as soon as they reached Longbourn, he would summon her to his book room and interrogate her about every interaction she had ever had with Darcy since the beginning of their acquaintance.

She hated being dishonest, especially with Uncle Bennet who was one of her favourite relatives, but she knew that as soon as she mentioned an engagement, her uncle would write to her grandfather. While Lord Victor Braxton was not by any means an unreasonable man, there were… reasons that made this match which was, on the surface, in all aspects equal and laudable, somewhat difficult to agree to. Elizabeth would much rather prefer to notify her grandpapa of the match in person than let him learn about it through a correspondence sent by a third person.

Bennet held himself back after the family carriage reached Longbourn. He let his two charges enter the house before him and watched as the both of them were surrounded by females as soon as they entered through the threshold. Charlotte Lucas and Mary were both hovering around Elizabeth, looking concerned for her health as they asked her about the incident that had led to all proceeding hubbub while the youngest two and Mrs. Bennet fenced in Jane, interviewing and analysing every interaction she had had with Mr. Bingley in the last few days.

All of these women were unaware of the rumours that were circulating amongst the people of Meryton about Elizabeth. No matter how much their families mingled with the general population of the village, there would always be a divide between the commoners and the genteel. Though there were often pieces of gossip that reached Mrs. Bennet’s ears from the shopkeepers and pieces of gossip that she circulated amongst them, there would always be some discussions amongst the masses that they would be deliberately excluded from. This bit of slander seemed to be one of those seeing as even Charlotte Lucas, whose father used to be a merchant himself not too long ago, was unaware of the stories that were circulating.

Bennet tried to not let it bother him too much. After all, Elizabeth did not seem very concerned, and unlike the females in his family, that girl did have a good head on her shoulders. She had talked with Mr. Darcy on the subject, Bennet knew, though he still had no idea exactly what had been discussed by the two. He decided to wait until after dinner to call her into his study. Any earlier would only catch Mrs. Bennet’s attention, and considering Thomas intended to keep this matter as hushed-up as possible, it would be much better for all if his wife was kept in the dark for as long as possible.

Mrs. Bennet was miffed at her husband, and for very good reason too. Why in the world had he suddenly decided to up and get Jane and Elizabeth back from Netherfield all of a sudden, she would never understand. She would have given him an earful too had not dear Jane relayed her the good news and restored her spirits.

Mr. Bingley was planning to hold a ball at Netherfield! And he would be beginning the dance with her eldest, most beautiful daughter!

It was not at all a surprise, of course. After all, it was only natural for a man to witness Jane’s beauty and gentleness and fall in love. It was a shame that the wealthier and more handsome Mr. Darcy was so stand-offish and grim. If he had been in possession of Mr. Bingley’s openness, Mrs. Bennet would much rather have had him as her son-in-law. As it was, the news of the ball had dissipated any ill will she might have harboured towards her husband, and all throughout dinner, talks of dresses and shoe roses and folding fans were overtaking any other topic Mr. Bennet tried to bring up.

“Mama! Tell Lizzy to let me borrow the blue dress with the peacocks for the ball!” Lydia demanded loudly to Mrs. Bennet who was sitting the furthest away from her. Mrs. Bennet perked up, eyes shining brightly as she was reminded of the dress the youngest was talking about. Each time Elizabeth came to Longbourn, the ladies, with the exception of Mary and sometimes Jane, rummaged through her trunks to catalogue all the dresses and shoes she’d brought with her for the visit. Elizabeth did not mind, after all, they treated the fabrics with enough delicacy to never damage them, and more often than not, the idea of sharing clothes with girls her age was too novel for her to take offence at the crudeness of their actions.

“Lizzy, you shall give the blue dress to Jane. It is much more important for her to look her best than for any of you. After all, Mr. Bingley may very well propose to her at this ball! Why else would he arrange one?”

“But mama!” Lydia protested, but was ignored,

“It is alright with me, of course.” Elizabeth agreed easily, after all, blue looked much better on Jane than it did on her, “But Jane is noticeably taller than me, and her figure is fuller. I’m afraid the dress will not fit.”

Jane and the rest of the Bennet girls were blessed with taller and fuller figures than Elizabeth. At best, Lizzy could trade dresses with Kitty, but that was also only because Kitty was sickly and frail and had a difficult time gaining weight. Exchanging dresses with any other Bennets meant alterations, after which, it was much more convenient to just give the dress away than to unalter and keep it.

Mrs. Bennet waved away Elizabeth’s concern, “Madame Quincy shall take care of it. Lydia may have the yellow dress you wore at the assembly.”

“No, I shan’t!” Lydia shouted. Mrs. Bennet glared at her,

“Oh, do not cause a ruckus, Lyddie. You liked it well enough last month.”

“But Lizzy’s already worn it. If I wear it now, everybody will know I’ve borrowed it! I want the blue one!”

“The blue’s for Jane and that’s the last I shall say about it. If you do not want the yellow, you can just wear one of your own dresses.”

“Mama-!”

“Enough!” The table quietened. Everybody turned to Mr. Bennet. He had put down the paper he had been pretending to read and was glaring at all of the occupants of the room, “Not another word from any one of you until I have eaten and gone to the study, or I swear to God, none of you shall go to the ball!”

The threat was serious enough that neither the ever-defiant Lydia, nor the usually oblivious Mrs. Bennet opened their mouths.

The dinner thus passed in awkward silence. Jane was barely eating, her eyes on the food and her cheeks burning red considering she had been, through no fault of her own, the cause of the conflict. Elizabeth felt a little sorry for her. Jane was not the kind of woman who could stand her own ground, or voice her own opinions easily. As much as Elizabeth liked Mr. Bingley, she wished Jane had chosen to fall in love with a man who was not so similar to her in that respect. She hoped that the two of them would not spend the rest of their lives under Caroline Bingley’s thumb because of their mutual meekness.

As soon as he was done with his meal, Bennet stood up,

“Elizabeth, I shall see you in my study.”

And without another word, he walked out of the dining room. Elizabeth, despite not having finished her own meal, followed him right away. Uncle Bennet was, most of the time, an equable man, but it was best not to test his patience when he got angry. Elizabeth supposed she would be just as irritable if she was constantly surrounded by men with whom she had no common ground whatsoever.

By the time Elizabeth entered the study, Mr. Bennet had already taken his seat behind the desk, but unlike what she had predicted, he did not look ready to cross-examine her. Instead, his attention was on a letter sitting on the side on top of a stack of abandoned ones,

“Oh. I forgot about this.” He said to himself in a mutter,

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked,

“It is a letter from your cousin. A man by the name of Mr. Collins. He is to be the next master of Longbourn after my death.”

“Oh.” It was a sensitive topic in the family, Mr. Bennet’s eventual passing. Not only because of its obvious morbid subject matter, but also because after his death, Longbourn would be taken away from the Bennet family and handed over to a stranger, “I was under the impression that you were not in contact with your heir.”

“I was not until this letter.” Bennet concurred, “The Collinses and the Bennets have a rocky past. Around the time of my great-grandfather, there was a conflict in the family that now nobody remembers and since then, the two branches have been at best, ignorant of each other and at worst, outwardly hostile. Imagine my surprise then, when a member of that same family sent me a rather lengthy and quite odious letter stating his intention to visit and reconcile the generations-long feud.”

Elizabeth raised a brow, “He wants to make amends? Is this not a good thing?”

“I suppose time will tell. He shall be arriving sometime in the afternoon tomorrow. As of right now, all I know is that he sounds quite stupid and that he plans to improve the relations between the two families by marrying one of your cousins.”