Page 22

Colonel Forster’s ball for the officers was a splendid affair.

The Bennets were among the first to arrive; the party from Netherfield was not there yet, and so the sisters sought out the Lucas girls.

Though Charlotte was civil to Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, she was still frigid toward Jane and Elizabeth.

“You must be eager for Miss Bingley to make an appearance, though I daresay she and her set shall be fashionably late,” Charlotte said with a sniff.

“Not too late, I hope, for two of the gentlemen from Netherfield have claimed our opening dances,” Elizabeth replied, determined to speak to her erstwhile friend as if naught was amiss between them.

Charlotte looked blankly between Jane and Elizabeth, affecting an air of boredom. “Will you introduce me to your cousin?”

Elizabeth dared not imagine what incivility this might provoke once Charlotte came to know the man, but Mr. Collins was already coming toward them, having concluded his congratulations to Mrs. Forster on the elegant arrangements.

“My dear, lovely cousins, I am quite in raptures over the very charming aspect of the assembly rooms, and everyone in their finery - how I long for the music to begin! And who is your friend? I have not had the pleasure.”

Elizabeth grinned, subtly mimicking his pomposity.

“Mr. Collins, it gives me great pleasure to present Miss Charlotte Lucas, who has been my intimate friend for many years. She is the eminently sensible eldest daughter of Sir William Lucas, who was knighted when he was the mayor, and is now the local magistrate. Dearest Charlotte, this is Mr. William Collins, my father’s heir apparent, who presently enjoys the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent, where he humbly serves as her parson. ”

Mr. Collins seemed to think Elizabeth’s grandiloquent tone was just the fanfare he deserved, and he bowed with excessive grace before Charlotte. “It is a rare honor, Miss Lucas, to meet with any lady so highly favored by my fair cousins.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Collins, your conversation may inspire my friend to be more voluble this evening; she has been far too quiet lately.” Elizabeth maintained her even smile; if Charlotte would not take this olive branch, then she was welcome to the incessant chatter of Mr. Collins.

Charlotte returned Elizabeth’s smile with just a trace of cordiality before engaging Mr. Collins in conversation. Elizabeth looked around for Mr. Wickham, and found him speaking with Mrs. Phillips; he caught her eye and nodded, looking very pleased at the sight of her.

The Netherfield party made their entrance to the ball just as the first strains of music began to play.

The colonel hastened to escort Elizabeth to join the dance, and there was little time for introductions, despite the look of curiosity Charlotte betrayed.

Elizabeth supposed she might wait for a little more warmth from her friend before presenting Colonel Fitzwilliam to her.

The colonel was as loquacious as Mr. Collins, though his style of conversation was vastly engaging.

He asked questions about her life and her sisters, and spoke a great deal about his youth, having grown up very near Pemberley.

“I am sure Will and I got into such scrapes and shenanigans as must comfort you, Miss Elizabeth, after your aunt revealed your own childhood antics in London.”

Elizabeth was interested in what the colonel might have to say on the matter, after what she had heard from Mr. Wickham - and whether he would mention the companion of his cousin’s youth.

Deep down, she wished him to paint a happier picture of Mr. Darcy.

“By all means, comfort me as much as you like.”

For the rest of the dance, the colonel happily obliged her by telling tales of his adventures with Mr. Darcy as boys.

Many of his stories might have mortified his cousin, but they were all endearing.

Though the colonel made no mention of Mr. Wickham, the genuine affection in his voice when he spoke of Mr. Darcy was not lost on Elizabeth, who dearly wished to reconcile such a favorable account of the man she had loathed, admired, and then began to despise once more.

“Had you any other companions to join you in hiding frogs in all the wrong places, and jumping out of closets in full suits of armor?”

“My brother Roland was ever our ringleader. He is several years older than Darcy and I, but his wicked streak would have you calling me an angel - as Bingley does your sister.” The colonel’s face turned serious, and he added, “There was another lad, the son of my uncle’s steward, who was often our compatriot in various schemes of amusement - but the less said about that scoundrel on such a happy occasion, the better. ”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at the word scoundrel, but the stony expression on the colonel’s face made her hesitate to press him too directly.

But she had not entirely given up. “My friend Miss Lucas is seven years older than I am; we did not become friends until I was fifteen, but since then she has been involved in a great many of my own antics. Our friendship has cooled recently; it is not a pleasant feeling to lose the intimate friendship of somebody with whom one shares so many fond memories. She is the lady I was speaking with when you arrived - perhaps you shall dance with her after you are introduced, and speak well of me to her, for I cherish some hope of a reconciliation.”

“If that is the case, I am sure there is some hope yet, for she did not look as though she was pondering violence when I approached you. I cannot say the same for Darcy and myself if we were to encounter George Wickham.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened with shock, and she began to scan the ballroom for Mr. Wickham, both surprised and relieved that the colonel had not yet seen him. But Mr. Wickham was nowhere to be found, and she feared that perhaps a challenge had already been exchanged between him and Mr. Darcy.

After her set with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth danced with Mr. Bingley, who was full of excitement for the occasion and praise for her sister.

Beyond his affability, he proved a man of good sense, for he made a point of mentioning more than once that Miss Darcy was like a sister to him, and that it was for the best that Mr. Darcy had asked his sister to remain at Netherfield with the Hursts.

Elizabeth was in such good cheer after this that it carried her through the punishment of standing up with her intolerable cousin Collins, who missed several of the steps, trod on her toes twice, and collided with Charlotte during one turn of the dance.

He then spent so long apologizing, both to Charlotte and Elizabeth, that the couples on either side of them also shambled through the figures of the country dance.

Charlotte and the colonel bore his absurdity with equanimity, but Lydia and Denny openly laughed at the clumsy, fawning parson.

Through all this, Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon her. She seethed at the notion that he was enjoying her humiliation, justifying his own disdain of her relations. And yet, she was relieved that he was not fighting Mr. Wickham, whom she had not seen since before the dancing began.

She had promised Mr. Wickham her fourth dance of the evening, but when the time came, he did not seek her out.

She could only suppose that he had seen Mr. Darcy and the colonel, and chose to avoid meeting with them.

Her sisters were all dancing, and Elizabeth contented herself to meander the periphery of the room, enjoying the sight of their pleasure in the evening.

It was not long before Mr. Darcy approached her. He bowed and offered her his arm. “You must be in want of refreshment, and I promised Bingley I would not stand about as stupidly as I did at the assembly.”

Elizabeth accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her to the refreshment table and offer her a glass of punch.

As she took a long draught to bolster her courage for the questions she meant to put to him, Mr. Darcy only stared at her.

There had been times, in the earliest days of their acquaintance, when she believed that he looked at her only to find fault.

Whether there was any truth to that assumption, she knew better at the present moment.

The sapphire ball gown she had ordered in London was exquisite; even her mother had praised her appearance that evening, so Elizabeth was confident that she was looking better than she ever had at such an occasion.

And she knew that Mr. Darcy could appreciate the sight of her.

But Elizabeth was determined not to let his evident admiration of her person cloud her judgement, however gratifying it was the bask in the thrill of it.

He gave her a perfect opening for what she wished to ask him when he said, “I have heard little else from Miss Bingley but talk of you and your sister since we have returned from London. We called at Longbourn this morning, but we were told you were in the village.”

“Indeed we were - you ought to have sought us out, for you were the subject of a strange conversation that I had with a certain gentleman who came to enlist.”

Mr. Darcy furrowed his brow, and Elizabeth gestured to a pair of empty chairs in a more secluded corner of the assembly room; he led her in that direction, and once they were seated, he prompted her to elaborate.

“I made the acquaintance of George Wickham,” she said simply. His reaction was just what she had imagined - shock and rage that he struggled to control.

“George Wickham is in Meryton?”

“Yes. He was here at the ball when first I arrived, though I have not seen him since. I suppose he did not desire an unhappy reunion.”

“Forgive me.” His countenance more severe than she had ever imagined possible, Mr. Darcy abruptly stood and walked away.

***