“Perhaps, Mr. Goulding, you will excuse my forwardness,” she replied gently. “My second set is free…”
He looked at her with gratitude. “Oh, of course, so silly of me. Miss Elizabeth, may I have the pleasure of the second set?”
She smiled. “Certainly, I look forward to it.”
He bowed, then made his way back to his family. Mrs. Goulding spoke a few words with him, then nodded to Elizabeth in acknowledgement. She hung back, watching Mrs. Bennet and her younger sisters excitedly enter the ballroom.
“Ah, Lizzy, already in demand I see,” said Mr. Bennet, who had come to stand next to her. “If you wish, I could put out the word that you only wish to dance occasionally. Then youcould refuse without giving offence, and still dance later in the evening.”
“Thank you, Papa.” She leant up and gave him a light kiss on his cheek. “But this is my place in the world. They are good people, and make few demands on me. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Before the rains, I visited Mr. Malleson, who holds the forty by the river. His cow, Hyacinth, dropped a fine bull calf. ‘Twas lucky I came by, for the cow had gone off, nowhere to be found. I saw her, if you take my meaning, by the pollarded copse. She was in great distress, though the calf was not her first—Mr. Malleson pulled it without difficulty.”
“Excellent, Lizzy, you always bring good fortune,” said Mr. Bennet. “There will be great interest in the calf—we paid five and twenty guineas for servicing Hyacinth with that prize Suffolk bull from Cashiobury Park. I must write to Lord Essex with the good news. Now, off you go and enjoy yourself. I know your first two sets are taken, but would you reserve a later one for your ageing father?”
The drawing-room began to fill up, and she felt the pressure of people clustered in close proximity push against her. Elizabeth made her way into the ballroom and sought some space by the refreshment table. Perhaps a half hour later, the musicians began to tune their instruments, signalling that the first set was about to begin.
“Miss Elizabeth, I believe this is our dance.” Mr. Collins held out his hand and led her onto the dance floor. As she walked with him, her eyes sought Charlotte Lucas, her good friend from Lucas Lodge, just a mile from Longbourn. Charlotte was a sensible, intelligent, but plain-looking woman, deserving of a good husband; but with the ongoing war against the tyrant, there was a dearth of eligible gentlemen in the vicinity. Her father, Sir William, was a wealthy former merchant who had been raised to a knighthood after an address to the King whenmayor of Meryton. Having formed a high opinion of himself, he sold his former business and moved to Lucas Lodge to occupy himself with being civil to everyone. The estate was small and, having a large family, he could ill-afford any dowry for his daughters. Unreasonably, in Elizabeth’s view, Charlotte was destined for genteel spinsterhood.
The two dances with Mr. Collins could not be spoilt by his lack of skill, for his enthusiasm and attention to her more than compensated Elizabeth for what otherwise would have been dances of mortification. Being of heavy build and the dances rather energetic, he was quite overheated when Elizabeth let him lead her to the refreshment table where Charlotte was standing with Lady Lucas. She introduced Mr. Collins to the ladies. As she did so, she caught Charlotte’s eye. Her friend stared at her for a moment; then, eyes wide, appraised Mr. Collins as though she were purchasing a suckling pig at the market.
“Lady Lucas,” said Elizabeth. “My cousin, Mr. Collins, holds a fine living at Hunsford, in Kent. But all good fortune is his, for he is also heir to Longbourn under the entail.”
“Indeed, madam. Of course, I wish Mr. Bennet a long life.” He looked at Elizabeth with some puzzlement, glancing between her and Charlotte. The moment Elizabeth had hoped for arrived.
“Miss Lucas, would you honour me with the next set?”
Charlotte blushed demurely. “Certainly, Mr. Collins, it would be my pleasure.”
Both Lady Lucas and Elizabeth watched as he led Charlotte to the line which was beginning to form.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said the lady, still gazing at her daughter. “Is it possible…”
“It is not up to me, Lady Lucas. But they have as good a chance of felicity as any couple. Mr. Collins is a good man, though he will require much guidance from a strong woman, such as Charlotte. He venerates his patroness, a Lady Catherinede Bourgh of Rosings in Kent, perhaps a little too much. But I believe your Charlotte will manage both the lady and, if they were to wed, her husband very well.”
Lady Lucas took Elizabeth’s hands. “Oh, bless you, Miss Elizabeth… I must find Sir William.”
“Please, a little circumspection if you will. Let them become acquainted with each other. It would be unwise to speak to anyone other than your husband, until Mr. Collins makes his offer.”
“Yes, I was carried away. Perhaps I need display a little less enthusiasm than Fanny would. Thank you, thank you again!”
Fanny. Mrs. Bennet. Her mother, talking nearby, in too loud a voice, of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth sighed. There was nought she could do to quieten her. Mrs. Bennet would be incapable of fatigue or other distraction while enumerating the advantages of the match. Fortunately, William Goulding approached, and she was led out to join the second set of the evening.
* * *
“William, we have known each other since childhood and are nearly of an age,” said Elizabeth, as she and William Goulding stood together awaiting the start of the dance. “Let us set aside all this formality—no more Miss Bennet and Mr. Goulding, if you please. I think we may simply be Elizabeth and William tonight.”
He blinked in mild surprise, hesitating as he pondered the shift. Of course, in their younger days they had scampered freely, pretending to hunt tigers in the woods, climbing trees, entirely ignorant of those fine distinctions between man and woman, boy and girl. Now she was grown into a very attractive woman, andhe—no longer quite a boy—seemed only half comfortable with his growing maturity.
“If you wish it, Eliz—Elizabeth,” he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar liberty. He looked away, suddenly conscious of the many faces turned their way. The idea of William Goulding dancing with Elizabeth Bennet was evidently an object of interest.
“Now, do not be nervous on my account,” said Elizabeth, smiling lightly. “Remember, we have danced together quite often—many a time in the assembly room as little children struggling to learn the steps. Was it ‘04, or perhaps ‘05?”
“You are too generous,” William replied, slightly abashed. “I only remember the humiliation of treading on your toes—clumsy as I was.”
“If my gown survives your feet tonight, all will be forgiven,” she said, laughing. His shoulders loosened, and a little of their old comfort was restored. She felt those memories wash over her, mingling with a dawning sense of some future yet to be determined. As the musicians struck up the country dance, he took her hand and they fell into the familiar rhythm.
For a while they danced without speaking. Elizabeth, knowing that some matter weighed on William’s mind, broached the silence.
“William, there is something you wish to say.”
