Page 3 of Friendship and Forgiveness (Mr. Underwood’s Elizabeth & Darcy Stories #7)
The day he arrived at Netherfield, Darcy was obliged to already be social with the neighborhood. He rather wished that he had not been compelled by politeness to attend the assembly ball with Bingley and his sisters.
However, politeness was a curse that Fitzwilliam Darcy labored under, and there was no conventional escape. He had arrived at Netherfield amply early in the day, and there was no honest basis on which he could plead exhaustion from the journey.
Miss Bingley had proven already to be exactly what he’d expected her to be, a woman devoted to endlessly throwing herself in his path, and who wished to impress him by showing every way that she was dull, ordinary, and the same as every other girl educated in a fashionable seminary.
Ugh.
Fine enough woman, and all: Pretty, well educated, sister of his friend, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. All the right things — but were all the rest of the world but the two of them, to disappear, he’d give serious thought to allowing the extinction of the human race rather than mating with her.
The Meryton assembly hall was not an impressive building, but the rooms were large and spacious and there was ample floor for the large number of couples already taking a turn about.
As soon as Bingley’s party entered, a fine-looking woman of middle years, dressed in first-rate silk, and thickly buttered with more lace than reason accosted them.
She threw her arms around Bingley’s neck and exclaimed, “Charlie! My dear, dear Charlie! You missed the first dance! We were all very disappointed to miss you!” Then more sedately she waved at Mrs. Hurst before also embracing Miss Bingley. “Little Lina! You look more the fine lady every time I see you! — such a handsome hair piece. Lizzy told me how you had schemed upon it — you must be Mr. Darcy.”
This remark rather struck Darcy unpleasantly. He knew his manners to be reserved, and this sort of excess of exuberance in greeting someone, even a close friend, hinted of vulgarity.
Bingley blushed and smiled. “Let me introduce my friend to you — Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Bennet, I’ve told you that she was nearly a mother to me. And Mrs. Bennet, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley — a fine big fancy place in Derbyshire. He was my dearest friend at university.”
He bowed as stiffly as he could.
The woman detected no coldness, and took no reserve from his reserved manner. She laughed and smiled. “Lord! But I am delighted to meet you! Bingley always sung your praises. But heavens! Even so I could not expect you to be so tall. Allow me to introduce my daughters to you — or those of them that are here. Kitty and Jane are at the dance already. Lizzy,” she looked around, and hallooed to a girl who was saying something to Miss Bingley while they both looked at him, “come here, Lizzy.”
Miss Elizabeth was a fine looking woman, with excellent eyes, and a light and pleasing figure. However Darcy, in his critical mood, could not help but notice there was something that struck of hoydenishness, and an excess of mischief in her expression, and that her face and form lacked perfect symmetry.
Only one of the cheeks dimpled with her smile.
She curtsied to him, while he made cold bow in return. But then she extended her hand and said in a perfectly civil and well-bred voice, “It is my delight to meet you, Mr. Darcy. And I hope very much that we shall be friends in time.”
He stiffly inclined his head once more in reply. But her calmness did not grate upon his nerves in the way her mother’s exuberance did.
Mrs. Bennet loudly introduced him to another of her daughters, a Miss Mary, who had a pinched and disapproving expression, and who seemed to be in no way the equal of Miss Elizabeth in either beauty, or interest.
All uncomfortable.
Darcy found himself less and less in the mood to dance as the minutes went on. That rage about Wickham… about what Georgiana had nearly done… about the necessity of protecting the family name from the scandal. How Wickham was now protected from his revenge.
No. He wanted no pleasure.
And in any case, Darcy was quite certain that Mrs. Bennet meant to throw one of her daughters at him as a potential partner in matrimony — every mother did. A woman who had gained such a significant increase in fortune — she had gone from a marriage portion of only five thousand, with her father a modest market town attorney, to being the wife of a man with a substantial estate of two thousand a year, and whose independent fortune was suggested to be in excess of a hundred thousand — such a woman must be of the most grasping, desiring, mercenary, and vulgar nature.
Bingley could not be permitted to impose upon him the friend of his sister. He would accept such no more than he would with the sister herself.
Thus in quite the opposite of a good mood Darcy watched Mr. Bingley ask Miss Elizabeth to dance.
The two of them cheerfully walked to the line, grinning, elbowing each other, and looking like nothing so much as a pair of well-dressed rapscallions.
And Miss Bingley looked at him with that eager hope, and with eyes that were too reminiscent of a puppy he’d once been very fond of, at least until it had peed upon his favorite boots, and then set to chewing up the softened leather.
This placed Darcy in a serious conundrum, as he would rather shoot himself in the foot and have done with dancing forever than encourage Miss Bingley by distinguishing her with the first dance upon his arrival at the ball.
His initial plan for escape had been Mrs. Hurst. However, that undistinguished lady had already been led to the floor by her husband.
Rather unseemly that the two of them danced so much when they were a married couple, but Mr. Hurst did not cut the sort of figure that would make other women crowd about for the chance to dance with him.
Miss Bingley looked at him.
Those wide eyes.
Eager eyes, that said, I’ll enjoy the pin money you’ll give me. Much, much, much.
No choice as to it.
Darcy bowed stiffly and asked the pinch faced Miss Mary if she would dance with him.
The young woman was wholly shocked by the request. Her eyes widened, she blushed, she frowned, she looked at him with a puzzled gaze, and then informed him calmly that she did not dance, and that in fact she had merely come to the ball because Mama would be annoyed with her if she did not.
At which statement Mrs. Bennet turned to her daughter, and said with some asperity, “Not dancing when a gentleman offers? Mary, I raised you to show more politeness than that .”
“Oh, very well.” The young woman sighed, all exaggeration and drama. “But know that I do it with no pleasure.”
And so saying, the astonishing woman stuck out her hand to Mr. Darcy so that he might lead her to the line.
Something about Miss Bingley’s eyes as she watched the two of them walk out to the line made Darcy twinge with guilt. Just like he would have if he’d kicked the helpless puppy who ruined his boots — which he of course had not, though for a brief instant, the thought had crossed his mind.
Oh well.
Such was required by his honor.
He would ask her to dance the next dance — a dance with her was required by the curse of politeness. And then he’d dance with Mrs. Hurst, and then he’d dance with nobody .
Delightful nobody.
His favorite partner!
For a little during the dance with Miss Mary Bennet, Mr. Darcy had a notion that he might find in her an attractive partner — a woman who hated balls. What a perfect companion for his present mood.
Alas, the woman said little at first, but when Darcy did prevail upon her to talk, she started a long learned discourse upon proper behavior in the female sex, with emphasis upon the delicacy of reputation, the importance of education, the value of copying out improving texts every day, and the enormous superiority of reading Fordyce’s sermons to Johnson’s essays. She strongly disapproved of Mrs. Castle, the headmistress of the school that her and all her sisters, along with Miss Bingley, had attended, because she permitted the occupants to read novels in strict moderation, and five minutes conversation with her sister Elizabeth would reveal the harm that had done.
By the end of the dance, Darcy had determined that Miss Mary Bennet was likely the most priggish prig of his acquaintance.
The twenty thousand pounds that was reputed to be the dowry each Bennet sister had was in no way a recompense for that .
After this dance Darcy did ask Miss Bingley to dance with him, and she eagerly — too eagerly — agreed. Light in her eyes, bounce in her step, and a half dozen statements each of which was clearly intended to say that she would be a better wife for him than Helen of Troy.
Mr. Bingley started what Darcy expected would be a proper trip through the Bennet sisters for his second dance, selecting the only one who actually was, in the eyes of a discerning connoisseur, beautiful.
Jane Bennet was, Darcy would admit freely and widely, a lovely creature.
She smiled too much though.
And after that dance, Mrs. Hurst, and then — freedom.
Darcy was able to stand by the portrait of the king and not think terribly much about anything.
He mainly occupied himself in not thinking about Wickham.
A couple of the locals bothered him, but he managed to put them off with short replies, and that haughtiness of manner that politely displayed his disinclination to be pleased with them.
Let Bingley be friendly, it was his neighborhood, not Darcy’s.
So managing, Darcy managed to study his way through several portraits over the course of half the night before a slightly tipsy Bingley stepped out of the line of the dance to intrude upon his reverie. This event came after he’d begun a second turn about the floor with the one actually pretty Bennet sister, whose name Darcy had already forgotten.
“Darcy, can’t stand it! My word, I cannot. You look remarkable stupid standing about here like that.”
The glare that Darcy gave in return to Bingley did nothing to stop his friend's cheerful gabbling.
“Cannot stand it. You will dance. I insist upon it.”
“I surely shall not.”
“Don’t be like that, you had much better dance — aha! Lizzy is sitting over there. She’ll dance with even you.”
Bingley pointed at the girl. Darcy had been aware of her presence near him since she sat a mere handful of feet away from him following her failure to find a partner for this set.
Unable to stop himself Darcy looked over at the woman.
She had looked up also at hearing her name called.
Darcy met her eyes.
Damn, she’d seen him seeing her.
He withdrew his own eyes.
Most likely she had hoped that he would take the hint when she first sat near him and offer to dance with her. To avoid any possibility of politeness requiring him to dance with her, he had studiously avoided letting his eyes go anywhere near her person the whole time, though he had been unable to keep completely out of his awareness the shapely line of a leg that was outlined by the clinging dresses presently in fashion.
A cutting remark rose to mind: “She is tolerable but there is not enough beauty in her to tempt me .” Except it was clear from how they had behaved that Bingley really did see Miss Elizabeth in the nature of an additional sister, and he would offend his friend if he insulted her.
Politeness, my old enemy. I am come to fight with you again.
Darkly sighing Darcy attempted demurral. “Bingley, though Miss Elizabeth would be a worthy partner for a set, I am in no good mood to dance.”
“‘Pon my honor. Of course you want to dance. Everyone loves to dance — Lizzy!”
As the girl started up, Darcy was certain that she looked at him with a sympathetic wince and a glance at Bingley, as though they both understood that Mr. Bingley was not the sort of man who could be gainsaid in pursuing pleasure for his friends.
“Lizzy, even though he is a boring bear, you won’t mind doing the honor with Darcy? No?”
“I am not wholly unwilling.” The lilt in her pretty voice cut through Darcy’s bad mood. “Though the gentleman seems to not be desirous of—”
“Nonsense! Darcy will dance with you, and he’ll enjoy it. Lizzy is the best dancer in the whole county. Well?”
Darcy sighed, bowed, made the request, and was met with assent.
And another one of those sympathetic looks from Miss Elizabeth. Her lips and nose were very mobile and charming, and suddenly Darcy found that he did not mind dancing with her at all.
Bingley rejoined the oldest Miss Bennet while Darcy entered the line with Miss Elizabeth, whose small hand was very sweet and small in his own.
They began in silence, but after the second turn she said to him, “You must not put yourself out on my account. I could see that Charlie pressed you to dance against your will.”
“I am at a ball,” Darcy replied. “On such occasions one ought to dance.”
She smiled at him winsomely. “One wonders from your tone why you are at a ball .”
“Politeness required my attendance. Did it not? — I am Mr. Bingley’s guest.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed.
Darcy added, speaking honestly, “I am not so unhappy now that I am dancing as I expected to be.”
“Not so unhappy?” She giggled as though she’d been shocked by how he said that. “ Such a compliment I’ve never been given before. I am not so very unhappy to dance with you either.”
Darcy frowned.
“Oh do not become offended,” she added. “I hate a gentleman who is too easily perturbed.”
The dance separated them, and Darcy was happy for the opportunity to regain his composure.
When they reunited, she immediately leapt upon a different subject. “You will have a delightful time at Netherfield. Charlie will be the best of hosts, sending you both out on entertaining adventures day after day, and forgetting everything of importance to comfort, while Caroline will ensure the whole house runs smoothly — she is quite skilled at ensuring things run smoothly.”
It was impossible for Darcy to not smile at that impression of his friend. “He promised hunting, billiards, and the occasional chance to read.”
“A chance to read! — not the Charlie I know. But if you must you can always appeal to Caroline to bother him enough to give you a chance for solitude.”
Darcy frowned.
He would not, intentionally, appeal to Caroline for a thousand guineas gold.
Miss Elizabeth added, “Caroline was delighted when Bingley took the estate — she has longed to have a chance to actually use those skills of management and decoration that were drilled into us at school.”
“Were they? I had never noticed schoolgirls to be particularly talented in any such direction.”
“Then they attended the wrong schools,” Miss Elizabeth said decidedly.
Darcy fell quiet, thinking of Georgiana, and the evident defects in her character and education. He had sent her to the most expensive education, to the best recommended school, with the best recommended fellow pupils, and… she had hated it, and promptly allowed herself to be seduced by a practiced rake upon leaving the school.
Miss Elizabeth did not interrupt his reverie.
It was odd to dance with a woman who did not force her nattering on him when he was in no sound mood to receive it, and to Darcy’s surprise, he found himself beginning to like this Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy at last said, “I do not approve of schools. Should I have a daughter, she shall wholly be raised at home where I can observe her closely at all times.”
“I like that notion.” The woman smiled at him. “But I hope you will be a sweet father. The way you look right now, you’d terrify the girl into eternal silence.”
Darcy grunted.
Pursed lips, shaken head, and Darcy gained the impression that, in contrast to his own opinion of her , Miss Elizabeth rather disapproved of him. She then leapt into a story from her school days that took up the next several minutes, the chief point of which seemed to be to provide a chance to put Miss Bingley in a good light as the hero of the story who saved the weeping peasant child from the otherwise preordained consequences of his own stupidity, while not being bothered to an excess by the damage to her own dress.
Novel experience.
Darcy was fairly sure that rather than advancing her own cause with him, this woman seemed to be assiduously promoting the interest of her friend.
He rather approved of that, despite the fact that he approved of Miss Bingley in no way beyond the ordinary.
The story completed, conversation lapsed into silence, except for the music of the inferior local band. Alas, Darcy knew he ought find a further topic of conversation, but nothing rose to thought.
Near the middle of the second dance of the set, she suddenly exclaimed, “And why are Jane and Charlie dancing together again ?” She wrinkled her nose. “I have no notion what they could be thinking.”
“She is the most beautiful woman in the room,” Darcy said offhandedly. “It is Mr. Bingley’s usual habit to dance twice with such a girl.”
“Charlie and Jane? No .” Then she laughed, her eyes lighting up delightfully. “Mr. Darcy, you do not say that to another woman. No, no, no — while I am dancing with you, I am to be the most beautiful in the room. Not anyone else.”
“Ah, my apologies.”
“No, no, no — you must make more effort than that if you wish my forgiveness.”
Even though her delighted eyes did not suggest any actual anger towards him, he felt quite uncomfortable. It was as though he was being laughed at. He had always hated such a sensation — but she was so… interesting. He found it hard to say anything in reply, while looking at the sparkling eyes.
“Well, Mr. Darcy?”
“I meant merely to say that I judged that the general population, and specifically Mr. Bingley, would name her such — I did not mean to imply I prefer her to you.”
“Very good.” She smiled at him.
“I do not at all. She is not to my taste… Miss Bennet smiles too much.”
“Smiles too much!” The woman grinned at him delightedly. “You also are not supposed to tell me that you dislike my sister’s appearance! You are an original. Mr. Darcy, you are not at all what I expected you to be.”
He flushed. “I hope I have not disappointed you.”
“No, no, I like you far more than I had expected.”
“What had you expected?”
Now it was Miss Elizabeth’s turn to flush. “Oh — I assure you that I have only heard good things about you. Caroline and Charlie sing your praises like you were God, or the King, or St Francis. It hardly would be possible for you to be such a paragon as I was promised.”
“However you said that you liked me more than you expected.”
“I do not like paragons . I expected you to be a paragon. But you’ve got odd manners.”
“I do not,” Darcy replied haughtily. “My manners are unobjectionable, and properly bred. I make it a point to not do anything out of order.”
She laughed. “Except you’ve no sense of how to manage a conversation with a woman. I like that in a gentleman.”
“I know exactly how I ought to behave.”
Her smile was bright, and left Darcy yet more convinced that she was laughing at him.
The dance was soon over, and Darcy fell into a silence, as he was not quite sure what to say next, but certain that whatever he would say would have again been not quite right.
However, he simply could not keep his eyes from following Miss Elizabeth Bennet around the room for the rest of the night.