The music started up again, and the people around them were beginning to return to the floor. Elizabeth still looked pale. Her father approached. He looked at his daughter and then at Collins.
“Lizzy, drink a little more wine, dear. You look a little green.”
Elizabeth took another swallow.
“Shall I send you home in the carriage, my girl?”
Elizabeth stood. “No, Papa, I will be myself again, just give me a moment.”
He took her hand and threaded it into his arm. “Come, my dear. Come sit with me for a few minutes while your color returns.”
They moved toward the ballroom. “Who is your next partner?”
She looked at her card. “Jamie.”
“He is a good dancer and a childhood friend. You will do well enough with him, my dear.”
With each step away from Mr. Collins, Elizabeth felt stronger. They reached the ballroom and stood just inside against the wall. James Goulding approached her. Compared to Mr. Collins, Jamie looked like an innocent boy. She felt safe with him, relaxed, happy. By the end of the dance, she was herself again.
It was midnight, and the ball would soon draw to a close. Mr. Robinson returned Elizabeth to her sister’s side and then left to find his next partner.
“You look like you are enjoying yourself, Lizzy.”
“Oh Jane, it has been marvelous. Mr. Bingley’s friends are such fine gentlemen.”
Both sisters turned when Miss Bingley uttered a shrill cackle. Elizabeth wondered if the woman had had too much punch. Caroline shot her a sly look.
“Mr. Darcy, you really must watch your tongue, sir. I know a certain young Hertfordshire woman would take offense if she knew what you thought about her reputed beauty.”
Jane took Elizabeth’s hand and whispered, “Just ignore her, Lizzy. I believe she is in her cups.”
Elizabeth squeezed her hand in reply while looking at Miss Bingley in mortification. The woman looked slyly at Mr. Darcy again and then at Elizabeth. Three of Mr. Bingley’s London guests were present and waiting curiously to hear the quip.
Caroline sniggered. “Mr. Darcy said, ‘Elizabeth, a beauty? I should as soon call her mother a wit.’”
The jest fell flat. None of the gentlemen laughed. Before anyone could speak, Elizabeth stepped forward. She was angry. Angrier than she had ever been in a public setting. Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. She shot Caroline a feral grin that did not reach her eyes, then looked deliberately at Mr. Darcy, her eyes glittering.
“So true, Miss Bingley. I fear Mr. Darcy’s tongue failed him once again. My mother is the reputed beauty, and I am the wit.” She forced a giggle, then laughed with genuine amusement when she saw Caroline’s face deflate.
The men laughed with her. Mr. Grayson stepped up. “Miss Elizabeth, our first dance was so delightful, I hope you will honor me again. May I have this dance?”
She smiled brightly at him, grateful for the escape. He was dazzled. She placed her hand on his arm, and they bantered all the way to the floor. She kept him amused and chuckling throughout the set, though it cost her dearly to maintain the pretense.
When the dance finally ended, she asked to be escorted to her father, then stood quietly next to Mr. Bennet while he chatted with Mr. Goulding and Mr. Watson. She struggled to holdherself poised and smiling, while deep inside, she felt shattered and broken. She told herself she must not think of Caroline’s words or she would lose the battle against the tears that threatened.
Several minutes later, still rattled, she decided to step out to find a private place in which to compose herself. She left the ballroom and wandered down the hall, then entered the library. Card tables were set up, but the room was empty. She walked to the nearest table, picked up an unopened box of cards, and stared at it without comprehension. Caroline had humiliated her again, but this insult cut deeper. She had begun to think well of Mr. Darcy, even trust him, yet this proved how mistaken she had been. He must hold her and her mother in contempt, or why else speak so slightingly of them? To be weighed and measured like a piece of merchandise in a shop. What must his elegant London acquaintances think? And on how many other occasions had he laughed at her behind her back?
Tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks. Why was her life so difficult? Mamma had habitually belittled her, no matter who was present. Nicholas had abandoned her. She remembered how broken he had been, how they both had wept. And then he had bidden her goodbye. She was certain he had loved her, yet he had left her behind. Mr. Collins had treated her as if she were a mistress, and now Mr. Darcy had mocked her appearance, her very self. She covered her face with both hands and wept. There must be something so fundamentally wrong with her that no decent man would choose her.
She did not hear the footsteps approach her from behind until it was too late. A pair of hands settled gently on her upper arms.
“Elizabeth, that woman is a cat. You must not believe anything she says. She is jealous, and her only wish is to hurt you.”
More footsteps sounded. “Lizzy, what are you doing alone in the arms of a man?”
Blood drained from her face. She reached out to the table to steady herself. Sir William Lucas stood at the door.
“What is the meaning of this, young lady?”
