Finally, on New Year’s Day, a winded messenger delivered an invitation to a ball at Netherfield on Twelfth Night, to which all the residents of Longbourn were invited. This sent the ladies into a frenzy and the two gentlemen to the safety and quietude of Mr Bennet’s study.
Twelfth Night Ball
Netherfield was bedecked with torches and lamps as a steady stream of carriages drew up to its front doors. To the youngest Bennet sisters’ delight, all the officers in Colonel Forster’s militia had been invited, which should ensure every lady had a partner once the dancing commenced. Their enthusiasm could hardly be contained, as the inclement weather had prevented the sisters from venturing into town toinspectthe troop.
Jane emitted a harsh breath of air and clutched her heart. Elizabeth regarded her impressible sister and wondered whether the tears welling in her eyes would spill. The reason for her sister’s current predicament was easily determined: in the entrance hall stood Mr Charles Bingley, erect and looking exceptionally well in his light-blue coat and white pantaloons, though his elaborately tied cravat was in a style that Elizabeth found on the gaudy side of her more simple taste.
Beside him stood his sister, wearing an expression of civil disdain as the Bennets approached them in the receiving line. It was a blessing that their grandmother had gifted all the Bennet ladies a ball gown in the latest style for Christmas.
Mr Darcy hovered in the background, looking ill at ease, judging by the disquiet betrayed by his flitting eyes. Perhapsbecause he had foregone his usual all-black attire for a deep blue coat and tan breeches. He looked almost approachable in his much less gloomy attire, especially when accompanied by such an endearingly uncomfortable countenance. Elizabeth almost pitied him before she remembered how easily he spouted insults, and she hardened her wayward heart.
“Mr Bingley, I am delighted to see you so well recovered,” Jane gushed.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I am quite well and have suffered no…um…”—Mr Bingley flushed bright red—“permanent injuries.”
Jane sensed his discomfiture and expertly changed the subject. “The house looks splendid!”
Miss Bingley elbowed her brother in the ribs and gestured for him to hurry the Bennets. The queue had come to an abrupt halt while they tarried.
“Thank you, but I had no part in it. I left the preparations to Caroline and Louisa, but I intend to fully enjoy their efforts. Will you save the first set for me, if it has not been taken?”
“Certainly, Mr Bingley. It is free.”
Whisked away by the arriving throng and hailed by Colonel Forster and his plethora of soldiers eager for introductions, Elizabeth was fortunate enough to be engaged by the most handsome of them all, even if he had asked Jane first. She was five times prettier than all of her sisters, so the lieutenant was easily forgiven. Mr Bingley and Jane formed the top of the line. Elizabeth and the officer joined much farther down, whilst Mr Darcy was without a partner and scowled at her from below a lowered brow—confirmation, surely, that his temper was equally marked by resentment and implacability. The lieutenant had notnoticed her distraction; his eyes were firmly set on Mr Bingley and her sister.
“Have you known Mr Bingley for long?”
“No, not very long. He took possession of Netherfield about a month ago.”
“You must excuse my forwardness, but I am new to the area and know nothing about what has occurred. Do he and Miss Bennet have an understanding?”
Elizabeth knew not what to answer without breaking her sister’s confidence. It was, however, clear that the lieutenant was determined to acquaint himself with Jane.
“I cannot say,” she stuttered before he stepped on her toes whilst leaning in to hear her reply.
Elizabeth winced and was relieved when the set ended. She left Lieutenant Denny with a swift curtsey and sought out Charlotte to rest her smarting foot, begrudgingly acknowledging that there were certain advantages to sitting out now and again, especially when her partner lacked light feet.
Complaining to Charlotte about her injury relieved her vexation, but the appeal of dancing with officers had been significantly diminished by her ordeal. She was expounding upon the subject when she was suddenly addressed by Mr Darcy, who took her so much by surprise that she accepted the request for her hand without thought. The set began immediately and left her with no time to fret over her want of presence of mind before she stood opposite the man she had sworn never to dance with. They stood for some time without speaking a word; the ghost of her resentment towards him hung over her still, though she was compensated a little by the amazed looks upon her neighbours’ faces at her having been singled out by the illustrious gentleman.
“Do you and your family often go to London?”
“Yes, in fact, we are leaving in less than a week. We are to reside with the marquis at Limerick House in Grosvenor Street.”
“That is an easy distance from Darcy House,” he remarked thoughtfully.
Elizabeth tried to conceal her bewilderment. What could he mean by it?
“Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to you during your stay?”
Her surprise at such an application was great indeed. A compliment, surely, and it was gratifying to know that despite her lack of beauty, he did not think so terribly ill of her.
“I would be delighted,” she acceded.
The dance separated them, and she had a respite from his unsettling presence, which allowed her to study his performance. He was an excellent dancer, despite his pronounced dislike of the diversion.
When the dance brought them back together, he wore a mischievous smile.
“I believe we must continue our conversation,” Mr Darcy suggested. “An anecdote from your childhood would suffice.”
