The clock struck a mournful chime at half past ten as if to belabour the fact: the ball was an ignominious catastrophe. Yet, to call it off now was impossible. Four guests who were not a part of their family were waiting in the ballroom, an excess of food was being prepared in the kitchen, and they would probably have enough champagne left to sustain them for the next decade. Elizabeth did not even like champagne, and she sighed in defeat. Those present must not be in on this scheme to humiliate the Darcys, and Elizabeth was not going to ruin their night.
“Let us join our guests and commence the dancing.”
Elizabeth conserved what was left of her pride, straightened her back, and walked calmly in the direction of the ballroom.Thank God my limbs still work.The space looked abandoned with so few occupants. With all eyes turned expectantly towards her, she might as well have been pilloried in the square. Her entire face burnt in shame. How she must have disappointed Lady Matlock, her mother, and her sisters. But most of all her husband, who must be as embarrassed as she, or worse… He was, after all, accustomed to being sought after and revered amongst thebeau monde, whilst she was completely indifferent to their opinion. She had made every effort, though her best had been thoroughly rejected. It mattered not as she had friends and family who were far more important to her than haughty London society. No, it was Darcy’s equilibrium that made her heart ache with concern. The rebuff must be savage. These werehisacquaintances.
To escape the heavy scrutiny, she called the Morgiana in Ireland. Georgiana formed the top of the line with Captain Warrender, a younger brother of the fourth baronet of Lochend. He was, most likely, attending her ball to forward a connection between Lord Matlock and his older brother, who had just become the MP for Truro. But it was either him or the sixty-three-year-old Colonel Greville…
Darcy quaffed his flute of champagne and offered Elizabeth his hand. She accepted with a light squeeze and joined Miss Darcy as the second pair. Kitty was engaged by the young Mr Augustus Darcy, which left Mary to dance with Judge Darcy. When none of the remaining guests moved, Elizabeth signalled the musicians and the dance commenced.
The first set ended with the arrival of Miss Bingley, three feet of peacock feathers waving atop her head.
The sight was as ridiculous as her disastrous ball, and Elizabeth fought to comport herself. She lost and laughed merrily. All heads turned in her direction, and Lady Matlock looked at her as if she were the one who had just crouched to enter the ballroom to save her feathers from molestation. Mr and Mrs Hurst followed and looked about the room.
“Where is everybody?” Miss Bingley whispered, confounded.
“I dare say you are looking at them,” Elizabeth said, reining in her humour to reply flatly.
“What a disaster!” Miss Bingley cried, having regained her usual nasal penetrating volume.
“Who are you?” Lady Catherine shouted.
Elizabeth wondered whether the lady was hard of hearing because her voice was always loud.
“Miss Caroline Bingley of London, Lady Catherine. Town is vastly superior to the country, I should say. How unfortunate that some have not had the opportunity to partake in the education a metropolitan city can provide but have been brought up amongst rural pastures.”
Miss Bingley looked at Elizabeth with much pity.
“Where do you believe I was raised, Miss Bingley?” Lady Catherine boomed.
The lady shifted uncomfortably.
“Have you ever seen a grand estate in the middle of London? This may come as a surprise to you, but the nobility and the gentry are all raised in the country. Do not feel uneasy, however. I am certain it is a difficult concept to understand for a tradesman’s daughter.”
“Finally someone speaks sense. Let us all go home and be done with this comical tragedy of a ball,” Judge Darcy suggested.
“I was having a splendid time!” Captain Warrender protested. “The company is excellent, there is no crush, and the champagne is flowing freely.”
“Please do not leave yet.” Elizabeth grimaced at the pleading note in her voice. “Cook has prepared a feast, and it would be abominable for it all to go to waste.”
“When is this fete to be served?”
Thank the Lord for Mr Hurst’s insatiable appetite!
“At twelve o’clock. We have time for one more dance before we adjourn to the dining room,” Elizabeth informed her guests. “The Persian Dance,” she called before Miss Bingley regained her wherewithal.
Darcy released her and engaged Mary for the next set. It warmed her heart to see the effort he made to avoid the harridan in their midst, even on the night she had disappointed him the most…
Whom was she trying to fool? Censored, rebuked, and abandoned as she was by the whole elite, she had no right to disparage Miss Bingley, whose success surpassed her own.
As the night progressed, she would have sacrificed a limb for the comforting presence of Jane. She longed for a rainy day at Longbourn with nothing to do. Not that she would ever forgo the wedded bliss of being married to Darcy; she just needed a respite from trying to please those who were unworthy of being pleased.
The meal met with everyone’s approval; even Miss Bingley complimented her fellow peacocks. Her behaviour had improved significantly after being rebuked by Lady Catherine.
After the second course, the guests bade their hosts a hasty farewell. Elizabeth would have laughed at their eagerness had she not been the reason for their abrupt departure. Were they concerned she would force them to remain and dance the final sets? The only reason she had called the second set was to allow the kitchen enough time to finish preparing the food. None of them were more desirous for the night to conclude than she!
“It was clearly a mistake to throw a ball so soon after Mrs Darcy’s introduction to society, and for that blunder you must pardon me,” Lady Matlock informed Darcy. “I underestimated the disapprobation she has garnered and society’s disinclination to be introduced to anyone they deem of inferior birth. In retrospect, we should have waited until, at least, the animosity had lessened.”
“You are not to blame,” Darcy assured his aunt.
