Page 9 of Superior Connections

A lthough dancing was prohibited — both by the apothecary and by her own discomfort — Elizabeth prepared for the ball with extra care. When she asked herself why, her cheeks heated immediately. That answer was prohibited too — especially after Lady Rosseford’s statement about Mr Darcy suiting her. Such thoughts had arisen in her mind, but she had dismissed them. Once her ladyship voiced them aloud, Elizabeth felt like they could not be taken back. How could her aunt reach that conclusion without knowing about Elizabeth’s conversation with Mr Darcy, without knowing his confession about admiring her, without knowing he had offered her more hints in regard to Mr Wickham than to anyone else?

If her ladyship had drawn that conclusion after only a few days of acquaintance with both of them and after seeing them in each other’s company only twice, was there something obvious, something for anyone to see? Or was everything just a mere coincidence, a joke around the subject of marriage that Lady Rosseford had taken in jest and she was so silly as to take seriously? Even her mother — who was always eager to pair her daughters with any eligible man — declared Mr Darcy was high above them. Such a statement was certainly meant to discourage any unreasonable hopes. And still…

She put on a pair of comfortable boots, which she would usually wear on her long walks. They did not suit her elegant dress, but that did not matter to her and probably would not matter to others either, since all the guests were aware of her accident.

She took a few steps, and the lack of pain encouraged her to hope for a pleasant night, even spent on a chair. Would Mr Darcy dance? He had declared that he loathed such activity, but he would probably ask at least Mr Bingley’s sisters, as politeness required. For a moment, she wondered whether he would have asked her to dance if not for the accident. Then she quickly dismissed such a thought as it brought nothing but more distress.

She left the room arm in arm with Jane to join the rest of the family.

“My dear girls, you all look beautiful!” Lady Rosseford said. “I feel privileged to be in your company. And you look quite dashing, Mr Collins.”

The clergyman, surprised by the compliment, seemed confused; his face changed colour, and finally he bowed and mumbled a thank you.

“Girls, look at the dress Aunt Dorothea gave me,” Mrs Bennet said enthusiastically. “I have never worn anything so elegant and expensive!”

“You look beautiful, Mama,” Elizabeth said.

“Come, my dear, let us leave. I worry that you might be the prettiest and most fashionable lady at the ball,” Mr Bennet uttered.

“You are so silly, Mr Bennet,” she replied with a chuckle.

The Bennets’ arrival at Netherfield drew immediate attention due to Lady Rosseford. She had been introduced to a few people, but to most of them she was an intriguing stranger, so the curiosity was understandable.

Mr Bingley immediately arrived to greet them, then offered Jane his arm. Behind him was Mr Darcy, more restrained, offering Lady Rosseford his arm. The lady took it, and then he addressed Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, I know you would usually not require my help, but perhaps you might need a little support tonight?”

“Thank you, sir. Indeed I would,” she answered. Her gloved hand grasped his arm, and recollections returned to trouble her. She knew the feeling of his bare hands on hers, as well as the image of his exposed throat.

Before she could mind her words, she heard herself saying, “Mr Darcy, I am sorry that I forgot to bring your neckcloth. It has been washed and ironed.”

“There is no hurry, Miss Elizabeth. Hopefully there will be other opportunities.”

Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst welcomed them, asking whether the entire family had arrived. The comment was malicious, masked by an insincere smile as they embraced Jane. The introductions to Mr Collins and Lady Rosseford were performed, and the clergyman expressed his admiration for the elegant arrangements. Lady Rosseford exchanged the usual pleasantries, then walked on with the rest of the group.

Mr Bingley led them to the room that had been arranged for dancing, where Elizabeth and her aunt each took a chair and Jane and Mary stood near them. Mr and Mrs Bennet mingled with the guests, Lydia and Kitty ran to Mrs Forster, and Mr Collins joined Sir William. Those already acquainted with Lady Rosseford came to greet her — Mr Wickham and Mr Denny among them — while Mrs Bennet performed several other introductions, including to Colonel Forster, his wife, and a few other officers.

From her sitting position, Elizabeth had a wide view of the entire party. Her glances turned to Mr Darcy more than she wished them to, and more than once her eyes met his. He stood slightly apart, holding a glass. Mr Hurst was lying on a sofa with a drink, whilst Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst whispered to each other at a safe distance from everybody else. They were in complete opposition to their brother, who was in the midst of the party.

The music began, and Mr Bingley took Jane’s hand for the first set. All the other pairs lined up behind them, and Elizabeth noticed Mr Collins dancing with Charlotte, and Lydia and Kitty with two officers. Mr Wickham did not dance; neither did Mr Darcy.

“Jane and Mr Bingley make a lovely pair,” Lady Rosseford whispered to Elizabeth. “She is exceedingly beautiful, and he looks utterly besotted.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied.

“And Mr Collins seems charmed by Miss Lucas. That young man is easily impressed, whether by Lady Catherine, by houses, by windows, or by young women.”

“I would be very sorry if Charlotte agrees to marry him for convenience,” Elizabeth said. “I have always trusted her judgment. I hope she will not disappoint me now.”

“Disappoint you? My dear Lizzy, what do you mean? Why would Miss Lucas consider your feelings when she decides her future?”

Her aunt’s voice was light, but the question was not, and it puzzled Elizabeth.

“I did not mean… It is just that I wish her to be happy, and I do not believe Mr Collins is the right man to make her so.”

“Miss Lucas might have been your friend since you were a young child, but her expectations of marital felicity might differ from yours. She might give Mr Collins more consideration than you have. She does not seem the sort of woman to be forced against her will, and she looks pleased to be dancing with your cousin.”

Elizabeth watched the pair and had to admit the lady was correct.

“Charlotte has no dowry either. She has a younger sister and two brothers, and Sir William has little to give them.”

“I assumed as much. If Miss Lucas is as clever as you said, she must be well aware of her assets and prospects. She has apparently succeeded in winning the admiration of a man capable of providing for her. There is nothing disappointing in that.”

Elizabeth looked at her friend again, uneasy with the notion.

“Aunt Dorothea, speaking of dowries, there is something I must talk to you about. Not now, not here, but soon.”

“Your father warned me you may wish to talk, but that particular subject is not open for debate. There are a few more details to be settled, and then we shall all speak of it.”

“But Aunt, this is not—”

“Lizzy dear, you should tell me — are you romantic?” Lady Rosseford asked, taking her by surprise. “Your father told me you like to read, so I assume you enjoy novels. Do you dream of the man you would like to marry?”

The enquiry was so blunt that Elizabeth felt her cheeks burning and averted her eyes, taking a moment before she responded.

“I suppose I might be called romantic. I would certainly prefer to marry for affection, for genuine love, as well as for the respect you mentioned. I would rather never marry than be tied for life to a man repulsive to me.”

“I agree, my dear. Marriage without affection might become a torment, especially in regard to the marriage bed,” the lady whispered, and Elizabeth stared at her in disbelief.

“Aunt!”

“Forgive me, I should not have mentioned it.” The lady laughed. “But I assumed someone who read as much as you do might know enough even about things she has never experienced.”

“Then what about Charlotte? Would her marriage not be a torment?” Elizabeth asked, disregarding the last statement.

“Not necessarily. Each woman needs a certain type of affection. What is repulsive to you might be quite the opposite for other women. I believe your friend knows very well what she is doing.”

The first set ended; people gathered in groups to chat, and the sound of their conversations filled the room.

Mr Bingley brought Jane to Elizabeth and her aunt, and he remained too. Sir William approached, congratulated Jane and her partner on their exquisite dancing, then exchanged a few words with Lady Rosseford.

Then the second set began, and this time Mr Wickham asked Mary King, while Mr Collins asked Jane. Charlotte came to sit with Elizabeth and Lady Rosseford, and they spoke for a little while.

Even though they were not dancing together, Mr Bingley and Jane exchanged repeated glances across the room. It was a sweet gesture easily noticed and subject to whispers, but no one was happier and more vocal about it than Mrs Bennet.

As pleased as she was watching her sister and her admirer, Elizabeth felt embarrassed by her mother’s lack of restraint in expressing her joy. She hoped that either her father or Lady Rosseford would temper her, but neither of them interjected.

“Mr Bingley’s sisters are annoyingly bitter,” the lady said to Elizabeth. “Look, even Mr Darcy seems vexed. I wonder what they have to say to him that is making him frown.”

“Every time I have seen them they have been displeased by something. Miss Bingley particularly dislikes my company for reasons of her own. What bothers me the most is that they are deceiving Jane, feigning a friendship that is obviously not genuine.”

“If their brother proposes to your sister, they will certainly be miserable, which will be amusing to watch.”

“Unfortunately, Jane is so kind that she sees the best in everyone, and she trusts them.”

“I hope Jane is clever enough to see the truth, despite her sweet nature. If not, we must help her to open her eyes.”

“Mama speaks too loudly about Jane and Mr Bingley, and that certainly irritates his sisters. Would you not ask her to lower her voice a little, Aunt?”

“Why would I, my dear? I am quite entertained by those two shrews.”

Elizabeth tried to keep her composure, but she became more and more anxious. At the beginning of the fourth set, Lady Rosseford suddenly said, “Lizzy, I would like to rest for a moment. Can we go somewhere? I have a terrible headache.”

“Are you unwell, Aunt? Should I fetch help?”

“My dear, do not make a spectacle. Let us leave, discreetly, and rest somewhere with less noise. That is all I need.”

Elizabeth nodded, and they left the room. Their departure went unnoticed, as everyone was engaged in dancing or conversation. With small steps, Elizabeth directed the lady to the library. Inside was darkness and silence, the only light coming from two candles and the fire.

“You should sit here, by the window, Aunt. Would you like to lie down for a while?”

“Yes, I would, thank you.”

“Here is a cushion. Let me arrange it for you. There. Should I close the curtains too?”

“Yes please. You should rest your foot too, Lizzy.”

A few minutes later, Lady Rosseford seemed to be asleep. Through the darkness, Elizabeth tried to look about, searching for a blanket or anything to cover her aunt. She found one on the chair where she had previously seen Mr Darcy sitting. She gently placed it over the lady, then she sat in the armchair by the fire, taking off her boot to rest her foot.

She was soon enveloped by peace and was almost asleep when she was startled by the sound of the door opening and voices arguing. The difference between the strong light in the hall and the darkness inside the library made it difficult for the new arrivals to observe them. Elizabeth was about to make her presence known when she recognised the voices of Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, and his sisters; and their quarrel, carried in low, angry voices, froze her to her chair.