Page 39 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
S aturday morning was rather dull. The Bennet family busied themselves with their usual chores and occupations.
Mary was industriously practising at the pianoforte, whilst Mr Collins listened with infatuated sighs.
Lydia and Kitty attended their mother in the drawing room, busily attaching new lace to their old ball gowns.
Jane was speaking to Hill regarding the menu for the week.
Elizabeth decided she would visit her father in his library.
“This is a rare privilege. What brings you into my undesirable company this morning?” Mr Bennet asked with raised eyebrows.
“You are right, Papa. I have sorely neglected you these past weeks.”
“Why are you not trimming frocks with your sisters, pray tell? You cannot be prepared for a ball a full three days ahead of time.”
“I shall not be attending the ball,” Elizabeth told him with no little sorrow .
“Hmm, I find that rather interesting. My only two daughters of marriageable age and sense shall forgo dancing and flirting and dazzling the crowd to stay home and mope?”
“Two daughters?”
“Indeed. Jane told me the same thing this very morning. It turns out her hopes towards young Bingley have been in vain. Poor Jane. Oh well, a girl likes to be crossed in love once in a while. When is your turn, Lizzy?”
She winced as the barb hit. Her father had a penchant for making jokes that hit the most tender points without realising the pain he was causing. Ordinarily, it was Elizabeth who checked his sharp wit on behalf of others, but today, there was no one to check his tongue at her expense.
Without warning, the door to the book-room flew open, and, before her father could voice the protestation such villainy warranted, Kitty cried, “Lizzy, there is a package arrived for you. Come see.”
Elizabeth followed her sister with intrigue, her brow only becoming more quizzical as she eyed the large, soft parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.
The whole female set gathered round the dining table, where it had been laid.
Elizabeth did not know what to expect as she pulled the string to untie the twine, but what faced her when the paper splayed itself open only wrought more confusion.
There, folded neatly, was her gown—the apricot muslin she had adopted from Jane.
Miss Bingley’s maid must have been able to work a miracle on that ink stain, and she is finally returning it , she thought.
But, no, as she lifted it by the shoulders, the thick, matted black unfurled before her eyes.
“Your gown, what happened?” asked Jane, who knew her sister’s fondness for the garment .
“ Caro happened,” she answered simply, still staring in wonder at the dress as she held it up.
“What is this?” Lydia exclaimed, snatching another parcel from under the first. It, too, was wrapped and tied, but the paper was a delicate tissue infused with lavender blossoms, and it was bound in a pale peach satin ribbon more fit for tying about a bonnet than a bundle.
Laying aside her ruined frock, Elizabeth pulled the parcel from her youngest sister’s grasp just as the ribbon was loosened and the paper fell open.
Before her was, again, her gown. It was nearly the same pattern, but in a paler shade of apricot and a rich silk, delicately embroidered with glittering ivory vines and flowers to match the motif on the muslin of the original.
This was no day dress. This was an exquisite ball gown.
She could not help but run her hands over the opulent, shimmering fabric, feeling the threads of the vines beneath the tips of her fingers. It was so lovely.
“Oh, Lizzy,” was repeated by all five women, along with various tones of “ooh” and “ahh” as they all absorbed the beauty of the work of art before them.
Finally, her mother asked, “Where did this come from? Surely you did not order this?”
“No, Mama, I did not,” she replied breathlessly. “It must have been Caroline Bingley. She must have felt remorse for ruining my muslin and ordered this to replace it. In truth, I am shocked; I did not think she possessed such kindness.”
Elizabeth pulled the gown up completely from the table and walked it over to the window to examine its exquisiteness in the light. Why would Miss Bingley have done this? Why would she wish to favour her with such a lush, resplendent costume for their simple country ball ?
It makes no sense. She so dislikes me.
Elizabeth heard her sisters and mother, almost in a chorus, cry, “There is another package!” She was relieved of the gown by one of its young admirers as she approached the last parcel.
Her heart was racing as she stared at it.
Like the gown, it was wrapped in delicate paper, but this one was much smaller, bound with long white ribbons.
Pulling them loose, she was met with the sight of several delicate sprigs of gold decked with small tufts of white enamel in the style of sallow branches.
She willed her hands to stop shaking as she reached down to pluck one of the shining hairpins from the pillow into which they were stuck.
Goat willows.
“Well, now, Lizzy. I believe you shall be attending the ball at Netherfield after all,” came a male voice from behind her.
“I suppose I must, Papa,” she replied dumbly, twirling the bauble in her fingers, wondering if the package truly had come from Caroline Bingley.
Could it be…?
Her cheeks warmed as she thought of stories she had heard of men who outfitted their mistresses with beautiful gowns and jewels. Indeed, it would be quite improper for Mr Darcy to have sent her anything other than flowers without an understanding having been established between them.
No, it could not be Mr Darcy. He would never do something so improper!
But, the goat willows . Only he knew about both her wrecked muslin and her love of goat willows.
Perhaps that is why there was no evidence of the giver; he simply wished to replace the gown Miss Bingley had ruined—as it was clear that that lady would never think to do so—and had chosen to include a small, anonymous gift he knew would cheer her.
“Indeed, it would be terribly rude to snub them after such a gift,” her mother said, still in ecstasy over the smallness of the stitches and the intricacy of the embroidery.
“You are right, Mama,” answered Elizabeth, then turning to her sister, “but I shall only go if Jane agrees to go as well.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I do not wish to. But, if it means I shall get to see you in this gown with these willows in your hair, captivating every person in attendance, then I will.”
She hugged her sister tightly, knowing that Jane’s presence would help her get through the daunting evening with some composure.
“It will be such felicity to see all the Bennet females in their best looks, though how such natural beauty can be surpassed, I could not say,” Mr Collins put forth.
“Indeed, I entertain the hope of dancing with all my fair cousins during the course of the evening. And may I take this opportunity of securing yours,” he said as he turned to the middle daughter, “for the first set, Miss Mary?”
Mary pinked and accepted prettily, and Elizabeth exchanged a knowing smile with Jane.
“La, I shall have no time to dance with Mr Collins,” Lydia exclaimed as if the man were not in the room. “And neither shall Kitty. We shall be too busy dancing with all the officers.”
“All the officers,” Kitty echoed dreamily.
“I shall dance the first with Mr Wickham,” Lydia proclaimed.
“I would not get my hopes up, Lydia,” Jane cautioned.
“Why should I not hope to dance with the most handsome man in the room? ”
“What Jane means is that he may not be there to dance with,” Elizabeth interjected.
“It is because of that nasty Mr Darcy. After everything he has done to poor Wickham, must he rob him of the enjoyment of a ball, as well?” Lydia whined, stamping her foot.
“Hush, girl. I know for a fact that Mr Wickham’s accusations are completely false.
Why, Mrs Philips heard from Lady Lucas, who heard from Sir William, that Mr Darcy has documented proof that he had compensated Lieutenant Wickham for his inheritance, and that Mr Wickham, in point of fact, has not even been ordained.
He never even went to seminary,” Mrs Bennet stated proudly, as if she were informing all in the room of these developments for the first time.
Never having been one to let the facts get in the way of what she believed, Lydia simply turned her eyes heavenward.