“Oh yes, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Bennet boisterously interrupted, having suddenly remembered her brother’s warning. “Forgive me.” Smiling apologetically, she continued, “I hope I did not cause you discomfort. It is as Lizzy says: anxiety over my poor Thomas’ health. Surely you understand.”
“I understand,” William grimly said, still uncomfortable with the woman’s affront. Elizabeth had attempted to prepare him when they spoke at the Kew Gardens on Tuesday, but he did not expect the onslaught which had just ensued. Nor did he expect Mrs. Bennet to insult Elizabeth when comparing her to her elder sister.
Before another word was spoken, Lydia, with Kitty in tow, joined the group. “Mama, Mama! You will never guess, but Colonel Forster is here. He is a guest of his commander,” she nearly squealed while bouncing up and down.
“Oh, my sweetest child, that is good news, very good news indeed!” Mrs. Bennet said with enthusiasm. “Mr. Darcy, I would like to introduce you to my two youngest, Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia Bennet. Kitty and Lydia, this is Mr. Darcy.”
Before he could properly respond, Mrs. Bennet burst forth again, “Mr. Darcy, Colonel Forster and his militia are lately quartered in Meryton, and the dear colonel has expressed an interest in my youngest here. Surely you understand. It would be such good fortune if another of my daughters were to enter into a courtship.”
“Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia,” William awkwardly responded, unsettled yet again by the impropriety of Mrs. Bennet’s comments.
The two sisters curtsied in return before Lydia unthinkingly blurted out, “La, Lizzy, he certainly is dour. In my opinion, you would have been much better off with one of the officers.
“Mama,” she continued, “Colonel Forster said that the militia would be going to Brighton at the beginning of August. I do wish we could go, for I cannot imagine anything better than a little sea bathing at this time of year.”
“But are you sure?” Mrs. Bennet asked frantically, ignoring the others. “We cannot have that! Why, there would hardly be enough time for a courtship, let alone planning for a wedding,should he ask. My dear, in that case, you will have to secure him as soon as possible.”
“Mama, you are not to worry,” she said winking at her mother. Then turning back to the group she continued, “Pray excuse us. Kitty and I need to find Cousin Eliza and introduce the colonel before the ball begins.”
“Yes, my dears, you go on ahead,” Mrs. Bennet chimed in.
Having waved them off, Mrs. Bennet turned to her sister saying, “You mark my word, before this evening is at an end, Colonel Forster will be asking our Lydia for a courtship. There is nothing like a ball to help a single man fall in love.” The two women linked arms and began to giggle like schoolgirls. Thoughtlessly ignoring everyone else, they rushed away in each other’s confidence.
Elizabeth was mortified. Her Uncle Phillips stood to the side, somewhat dumfounded by what had just taken place, and when she dared to look at William she could see that he was attempting to control his ire. “Mr. Darcy….” She could not seem to form a sentence. What excuse could be given? None.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he abruptly said, trying not to show his exasperation. “I believe Lady Gwendolyn is expecting me. I am to stand up with her for the opening. Pray excuse me.”
“Of course.”
“Mr. Philips, Miss Elizabeth.” He offered a slight bow, turned and left.
Watching him walk away, Elizabeth quickly wiped a tear from her cheek and mumbled defensively beneath her breath, “So, Mr. Darcy, it seems at the first sign of trouble, you take your leave. Perhaps I was mistaken in the assessment of your character.”
“What is that you are saying, Lizzy?” Mr. Phillips asked. “Forgive me, my dear; I did not hear what you were saying.”
“I said nothing, Uncle, nothing at all.”
“Ah, well, Mr. Darcy seems like a nice chap, though perhaps a bit quiet.”
“Yes, Uncle. Pray excuse me; I need to find Jane.”
“Of course, my dear. Enjoy your evening.”
Elizabeth quickly left her uncle’s side, though in truth she had no intention of finding Jane. She needed a few minutes alone to compose herself and exited the ballroom by way of the French doors and walking to the far side of the portico where no one was standing. The ball would be starting soon, and she was determined not to let her disappointment show to anyone, especially Mr. Darcy. Throughout the various sets they would no doubt encounter one another, and there was nothing she could do to erase her embarrassment. How could she not blame him for being affronted? Her mother and Lydia were so very ill-mannered. Worst of all, they had no idea what they had just cost her. How could she face him? She would have no choice but to smile and pretend nothing was amiss.Oh, why did Lady Gwendolyn ever insist that we meet? ‘Twas nothing but pure folly.
Ten minutes later Elizabeth was back in the ballroom, acting as though nothing untoward had happened with her relations. She pleasantly greeted the guests who were in her quadrille and stood proudly next to her first partner, Monsieur François DuPaix, one of Lady Gwendolyn’s literary friends who had recently emigrated from France. Since English did not come easily to the gentleman, Elizabeth made every effort to speak with him in his native tongue. Her father had begun teaching her French at an early age, and she had no trouble conversing and translating various English phrases for the gentleman when he did not quite understand what was being said. If truth were told, she would be happy to spend the evening at his side assisting him rather than pretend the incident with her mother and Lydia did not affect her humour.
Elizabeth was thankful that the opening dance was not a country reel or a gig, for in this more intimate setting it was easier to keep her mind on Monsieur DuPaix and not to be tempted to look two rows over where William and Lady Gwendolyn were partnered. Pleasantly, the first set went off very well. The same could not be said for the second set, however, as it was disrupted by a woman’s scream and the shrill sound of Lydia’s laughter in the background. In fact, the incident was so startling that the musicians suddenly stopped playing and the dancing ceased.
Apparently, someone had turned the wrong way in Lydia’s group, thus causing another dancer to misstep and a woman to lose her balance, stumbling to the floor. Elizabeth could not imagine what Lydia found so amusing about another’s misfortune in this case, but it was just one more thing to cause her further embarrassment. The woman was escorted from the ballroom, and it was several minutes before Lady Eleanor made an announcement that all was well and for the ball to continue.
When the dancing resumed, Elizabeth was never in the same groupings with Mr. Darcy. Surreptitiously observing him from time to time, not once did she see him shed his mask of indifference. From what she could tell, he made little effort to carry on a conversation with any of his partners. The anticipation of their set had been unnerving and when the two of them finally came together for their dance, he was polite, but said very little. Even so, his look was intent and he rarely took his eyes from her. As she gazed back and studied his face, she did not need words to tell her what he was feeling. His turmoil had been caused because of her and her family. If William had not come to care for her, perhaps he would not have been so deeply affected. Still, she inherently knew he did care, just as she cared for him.
How could a man such as Mr. Darcy, one who was everything that was proper and adhering to the mandates of thetonmake his way with her when there were so many obstacles to overcome? Would he even try, after meeting her mother and Lydia? Possibly not, and with that realisation Elizabeth remained just as sombre as he did for the duration of their half an hour together on the dance floor.
Thankfully, dinner proved to be a little less stressful since she and William were seated opposite of Mr. Bingley and Jane. Apparently the horrors of the evening had not touched Bingley, for he was attentive as ever to her dear sister. Jane was everything good and it warmed Elizabeth’s heart to see him thus. She deserved to be loved by a man who was devoted to her well-being and not affected to a great degree by the impropriety of her mother and Lydia or the neglect of her father, who was now in very poor health.
Miss Bingley, however, seated but a few seats away, was not of the same mind. She had yet to have her set with Mr. Darcy and was determined to gain his attention. When he gave no more than a one-syllable answer in reply to her repeated questions, her demeanour turned sour.
