Thus, Elizabeth found herself sitting with Miss de Bourgh, Mrs Jenkinson, Charlotte, and thankfully, Jane as they waited for the room to fill and the dancing to begin. There were glances aplenty directed at them as whispers of Miss de Bourgh’s wealth and rank rippled around the gathered company. Elizabeth fancied there may have been more than one appraisal of her person as well, for Miss de Bourgh was very elegantly turned out in an exquisitely embroidered gown and with her hair dressed in a most becoming style. If not for the pallor of her cheeks and the heavy shawl across her knees, she might have looked every bit the young beauty. As it was, she appeared older even than the seven-and-twenty years that Mr Collins reported to be her true age.
“What do you make of our assembly rooms, Miss de Bourgh?” Jane enquired. It was her third attempt at beginning a conversation. Elizabeth had given up after her first.
“They are hot and crowded,” Miss de Bourgh replied.
Elizabeth felt Jane give her a surreptitious nudge with her elbow, forcing a giggle into her throat which she disguised by saying, “Full of people enjoying themselves.” She received no response.
“Are you engaged for the first dance, Eliza?” Charlotte enquired.
“Yes, I am dancing with Mr Douglas.”
“I suppose you must have a lot of admirers in the neighbourhood, Miss Elizabeth,” said Miss de Bourgh.
“I am flattered that you should think so, madam, but Mr Douglas is merely a friend. I do not have any admirers of whom I am aware.”
Mr Wickham, with whom she had enjoyed so many gratifying walks and conversations, flitted across her mind, but even before humility prevented her mentioning his name, some other, unaccountable reluctance decided her against it.
“Why not?” Miss de Bourgh replied, sounding almost angry. “Are they put off by your unclassical looks?”
Elizabeth regarded her incredulously, but she seemed perfectly sincere, without any meanness in her expression, as though stating a fact. “Perhaps they are,” she replied coolly.
“It must be difficult, having a sister who is handsomer than you,” Miss de Bourgh continued. “Though not as difficult as it must have been for Miss Lucas, suffering thepairof you as such close neighbours.” Nobody responded, but she was not deterred. “You must wish to find a husband in the vicinity, though, Miss Elizabeth. You cannot wish to be settled too far from your family.”
“I cannot say that I have ever been particularly troubled by the prospect,” Elizabeth replied, beginning to be diverted by the flagrancy of her offensiveness.
“Someone as uninterested in venturing out into high society as you purport to be,mustbe satisfied with a husband from the area in which she grew up.”
“Perhaps. Though, if I were going to love any of the gentlemen with whom I grew up, I should think I might know by now.”
Miss de Bourgh looked at her aghast. “I was speaking of marriage, not love.”
Jane and Charlotte’s gazes weighed heavily upon Elizabeth, the one’s entirely unromantic engagement and the other’s thoroughly romantic heartbreak persuading her against any grand declarations in favour of marrying for affection.
“Of course. We must not confuse the two.”
“Good evening, ladies,” said Mr Wickham, appearing out of the crowd and bowing low. “You all look in excellent health this evening.”
They each thanked him perfunctorily, for no compliment shared between four women could ever truly please any of them.
“I hope you will not be angry when I tell you that I overheard some of your conversation just now, and I feel obliged to speak up in favour of romance. Though I risk appearing foolish, I confess I have been used to thinking of real affection as essential to a successful union. I do not mean to say that contentment must elude those who marry for convenience, but there is no harm in aspiring to true felicity—the sort of deep and lasting admiration that is not always possible when one marries where one is expected.”
He addressed this to Elizabeth, and anybody who knew she had refused her cousin would think it perfectly natural that he did so. Except, to the best of her knowledge, Mr Wickham didnotknow, and his sly glance at Miss de Bourgh at the end of his speech made her suspect it had not been meant for her.
“You hope to marry for love, do you, sir?” Elizabeth enquired.
His mouth lifted in a smile so casual it might have been an incidental consequence of the shrug he gave. “But of course, should my situation allow. Though, as you know, I am limited by circumstance.”
“Indeed,” said Charlotte. “A modest situation often requires a less romantic resolution.”
“Ah, but it is not only those of modest means who are thus constrained. Is it, Miss de Bourgh? We all have our crosses to bear, our duties to uphold.” He waited a moment while that lady frowned at him in puzzlement, then said, “But enough of such serious matters. I hear the musicians warming up. Come, madam. You have promised me the first two dances, and I am all anticipation. I beg you would not keep me waiting any longer.”
Miss de Bourgh, her cheeks flushed either by flattery or trepidation, pulled the shawl from her lap and passed it to her companion. She, in turn, began pleading with her charge to take care, not to dance too quickly, to stop should she feel faint, to?—
She was silenced when Mr Wickham took Miss de Bourgh’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “She will be perfectly well, madam. I shall take good care of her.” He promptly whisked her away to join the set.
“I hope you are not too put out that Mr Wickham has overlooked you for the first dance, Lizzy,” Jane said.
“I am happy to report I am not,” she replied, pleased that it was true. She had expected to be at least a little vexed, watching him pay his attentions to another—particularly given that theotherin question was Miss de Bourgh, who had been nothing but quarrelsome towards her since she arrived in Meryton. But there was something in Mr Wickham’s air this evening which, though she could not explain it, made her grateful to avoid the obligation of dancing with him.
