CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Once again, I stood in front of the mirror and winced a little at theexquisite, as dandies are sometimes labelled, looking back at me. It was the night of Bingley’s ball, and Carsten was aglow with pride after a spell of disappointing mornings spent helping me put on dog-eared boots and the necessarily humble coat that must be paired with such footwear.
“Splendid,” I said, as convincingly as I could, and then I began to make my way to the parlour. As I walked down the hall, Bingley came out of his room.
“Darcy,” he said, glancing surreptitiously behind him and causing me to pause. “Would you open the ball with Caroline?”
“If she wishes it, certainly.”
He visibly relaxed, and I tried to ignore my slightly oppressed feelings on the matter. We gathered in theparlour before the ball and drank a little wine. Miss Bingley swept into the room in a dress of coral satin and a feathered turban pinned with a diamond brooch. I bowed and asked for the pleasure of leading her out for the opening set.
“I do not plan to dance,” she said, turning from me to fuss with Mrs Hurst’s puffed sleeve.
I bowed in acquiescence, but my friend became irate. “Not dance! What are you talking of? You shall dance, Caroline. I insist.”
I took my glass of wine and went to the ballroom to come to terms with the gaucherie on display. It was there, under a strange contraption of blue and green gauze at the entrance of the room, that a footman found me.
“Mr Reese has sent a message that all is underway as requested, sir.”
I politely thanked him and went to the window to stare out at the gathering night. I cannot say I rejoiced that my people had succeeded in abducting Wickham and taking him to Scotland. In all truth, I was bewildered by the devilry which had lately arisen in me that enabled me to perpetrate such a horrible trick on a fellow. I was at risk of sinking into guilty feelings and longed to speak of my misgivings to the plan’s mastermind, if only to hear her reassure me.
Bingley, who must have finished his quarrelwith his sister, interrupted my reflections, and with forced cheerfulness, he bounded past the clustered palms that lined the room.
“Is this not a cheerful sight, Darcy?”
“You shall be the talk of Hertfordshire for the next year at least.”
We began walking towards the hall, where the sounds of guests arriving could just now be heard.
Bingley lowered his voice. “Caroline asked me to say she would be happy to open the ball with you.”
I did not feel equal to commenting on such an awkward business. I smiled pleasantly at Bingley to convey my complacency even as I expected a miserable half an hour in his sister’s company.
We met the guests, and when Mr Bennet arrived, I went directly to him and warmly shook his hand. I bowed to his daughters, casually bespoke a set with each lady, and took the old gentleman forward to greet their host and his family. Bingley was delighted, claimed the supper set with Miss Bennet, and before I knew it, the evening was underway.
Miss Bingley’scountenance was a little ravaged, but she managed to pretend to enjoy herself as we opened the ball and gave perfectly acceptable though minimal responses to my attempts at polite conversation.Whatever Bingley had threatened her with must have been brutal indeed to merit such a show of obedience.
Good manners would never allow me to ask what stick was held over her head, and in fact, I did not care to know. I was much more interested in the third set of the evening.
Jane Bennet, beautiful as a painting and placid as an angel, partnered me for the second set. Bandit, she said, had been restrained for the evening in the groom’s quarters, since he had twice attempted to run after their coach as they made for Netherfield Park.
“How old is he now?” I asked, though I knew he must just now be one year of age. They would suffer from his tyranny for another five years at least, or perhaps even longer, if he were one of those dogs who did not mellow with time and come to prefer a rug by the fire to sprinting after any turning wheel. I bit my lip lest I express my condolences and turned the subject to dancing.
The ladies were, she said, a bit apprehensive of going out in full feathers after so long a spell of circumspection. I then made her laugh by pretending to stifle a sneeze when a lady’s feathered headdress passed under my nose. We talked of Mary, searched out Mr Bennet’s whereabouts to assure ourselves he was comfortable, and smiled at one another for the rest of the set.
At last I could put my hand out to Miss Elizabeth.She looked at my gold waistcoat, velvet coat, sapphire pin, and swept her eyes down my shining satin knee breeches, silk stockings, and to my gleaming black shoes.
“By all means, scoff if you will.”
“I would not dare. But I will say, it was perhaps unkind of you to outshine your hostess.”
“Did I? I did not mean to.”
“She was thrown completely into the shade. No lady in the room could make out the elegant details of Miss Bingley’s dress, such was the glare of her partner. I could not, even now, tell you what colour she is wearing.”
“Were you indeed mesmerised by myensemble?” For the sole sake of being droll, I pronounced the word in French.
Miss Elizabeth eyed me appreciatively. “Other ladies certainly were, butIwas not. I was dancing with a young officer who blushed every time he spoke to me. Perhapsheis the reason I did not pay proper attention to Miss Bingley.”
