Page 12 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, the weather has been quite pleasant for November,” Jane Bennet agreed cheerfully.
“I do believe it might rain soon,” Darcy returned as he stepped gracefully around his partner. It was the second dance of the ball at Netherfield and if nothing else, Miss Bennet was a graceful dancer.
“Yes, but better rain than snow,” Miss Bennet contended, twirling gracefully in time with the music. “I am not ready for snow. I suppose in Derbyshire that the cold and snow come earlier than here in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh yes. The ponds are often frozen enough for ice skating by mid-January, which I daresay is not common here in Hertfordshire.”
“How delightful! Does Miss Darcy enjoy ice skating?”
“We both enjoy it very much.”
The banal conversation continued in desultory fashion as the dance went on, and Darcy found he could devote most of his attention to the couples swirling around him.
Not surprisingly, the ball at Netherfield was the social event of the month, and almost every invitation had been accepted with alacrity.
The ballroom was full with enthusiastic pairs bobbing and turning and smiling at one another.
An oafish man dressed as a clergyman was dancing, very poorly, with Miss Lucas in one corner of the ball room.
The parson had no right to be on a dance floor, but apparently had not the sense to realize it.
Miss Lucas thankfully looked happy enough to be with the man; the lady was a little older and not nearly as beautiful as the Bennet women, so perhaps she was pleased to be anyone’s partner!
The large hall was filled with members of the militia, all of whom, the master of Pemberley admitted, looked quite dashing in their red coats.
Colonel Forster, the middle aged commander of the militia, was gazing down with a sparkling eye and appreciative expression on the fourth Bennet daughter, Miss Kitty.
Farther down the line were Captain Denny and Lieutenant Pratt, and at the very end of the hall Darcy observed his childhood friend, Mr. George Wickham, who was currently dancing with the youngest Miss Bennet.
Given Miss Lydia’s open flirting with officers, Darcy thought the girl was too young to be out in society.
No doubt Miss Lydia was all too ready to listen to the platitudes and compliments of impoverished members of the militia!
Bingley, Darcy observed, was currently dancing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though his friend had, of course, claimed the first dance of the night, a cotillion, with Miss Bennet.
The twosome seemed to be chatting cheerfully, and Darcy was aware of a mild throb of envy.
Miss Jane Bennet was, he acknowledged, exceptionally handsome and gracious, with charming manners, but she was also a dull conversationalist. At least she was speaking to him now, unlike at dinner some days previously, when Miss Bennet had largely been silent.
Did that mean that the lady had thought it over, and was in fact trying to win the master of Pemberley?
That thought consumed him until the end of the song. He had told Bingley that he would dance once more with Miss Bennet before giving Bingley his blessing to court the lady, but ... but ...
The music came to a halt and Darcy escorted his lovely partner off the dance floor to the refreshment table where, almost certainly not by chance, Bingley promptly appeared with Miss Elizabeth at his side.
Miss Bennet, who had been smiling vaguely at Darcy, lit up with excitement at Bingley’s arrival.
It did seem that the woman genuinely cared for his friend.
Very well, Darcy would try one last test and then relinquish any responsibility on the matter.
“Miss Bennet,” he said as he handed the lady a cup of punch. “I did enjoy our dance very much.”
“Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure,” the lady replied graciously.
“Might I also have the honor of dancing the last set of the night with you, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked, his eyes focused intently on the woman’s face.
Jane Bennet stared at him in shock and, he observed clinically, paled slightly before his eyes.
After a stunned moment, she looked first at Bingley, then at Miss Elizabeth, obviously fumbling for a reply.
Darcy then glanced at Miss Bennet’s younger sister, and the glare he received from that quarter quite took him aback.
Miss Elizabeth looked like she would cheerfully murder him!
“I believe that my sister will be quite fatigued by the end of the night, will you not, Jane?” Miss Elizabeth asked sweetly, her tone belying the rage in her eyes.
Darcy turned back to Miss Bennet as she noticeably relaxed. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I regret to say that I am somewhat fatigued today and so must regretfully decline. But thank you.”
Darcy bowed and turned to Miss Elizabeth, intrigued, “Miss Elizabeth, might I claim the final set of the night?”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” the girl bit out. “I would be honored.”
/
Supper was at midnight and proved a most sumptuous affair; Caroline Bingley, for all her faults, was a gifted organizer and hostess.
Mr. Darcy had danced the supper set with Mrs. Hurst, who was safely married and thus could not read anything into his standing up with her.
He escorted his friend’s sister into the great dining hall and guided her to a seat at a small table, then walked to the large buffet to fetch her a plate of food.
That was no great difficulty since they had often eaten together and he knew Mrs. Hurst’s preference for ragout and beef.
The conversation was surprisingly enjoyable, too.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had settled across from Mrs. Hurst before Darcy returned to the table, and the two married ladies were chatting enthusiastically about roses and tulips and daffodils.
Mrs. Hurst, Darcy mused, was a far more pleasant companion when she was not in company with her acerbic and irritable younger sister.
Darcy found himself drawn into a long and complex conversation about William Shakespeare and his fellow playwright, Christopher Marlowe. If nothing else, Mr. Bennet was a thoroughly intelligent man and speaking with him was a pleasure; Darcy merely hoped that Bennet would not prove a French spy.
/
Darcy had deliberately chosen not to dance the sets immediately after dinner.
Once Mrs. Hurst had been escorted back into the ball room, Darcy strode deliberately through one corridor and up a flight of stairs to Bingley’s rather pathetic library.
He opened the library door and stepped in, his eyes fixed on the two individuals standing there – George Wickham and Mrs. Rebecca Younge.