Page 27

Staring at her reflection as though oblivious of place and time, Elizabeth recalled the discussion she and Mr. Darcy had had on the subject of the ball a while ago, before he left:

“I am told your youngest sister prevailed on Charles and Mrs. Bingley to give a ball.”

“How do you feel about that, Mr. Darcy?”

“How do I feel?”

“You must think it impertinent.”

“I think it has nothing to do with me.”

“Are you planning to attend the ball?”

“That depends. Will you dance the first set with me and then the next and then the next?” Darcy asked, flooding her senses with sweet kisses.

“No.” Elizabeth began. “Despite the inherent mortification, I think we know who retains that privilege.”

“I doubt I will be available to attend the ball,” Darcy had said, pulling away. “I am certain I would not be in the mood to see you on the arm of another man.”

* * *

Feeling a tinge of regret over the way their conversation had ended that day, Elizabeth resolved the next time she was presented with such an opportunity, she would be more mindful of Mr. Darcy’s wishes. She knew the annoyance he had suffered whenever she bought up the subject of her engagement, but he had assured her he did not fault her—not knowing how much he cherished Pemberley, his own home and his own father’s legacy.

Even if it means refusing to stand opposite Mr. Collins for the opening sets, I shall do so if Mr. Darcy will but return.

A knock at her bedroom door drew her from her musings.

“Come in.”

A young maid entered. “Pardon me, madam,” she said as she bobbed a curtsey. “Mr. Collins told me to come here and ask if you are ready to leave for Netherfield. He says you are to arrive at the ball with him.”

Elizabeth winced inside. Mr. Collins had grown quite officious of late. Being pompous and puffed up with pride was one thing. That, she could easily ignore, even scoff at his ridiculousness. But being overbearing and domineering was altogether different. Elizabeth did not like this new version of him one bit.

“Pray, inform Mr. Collins I will be down shortly. I must finish dressing first.”

“Very well, madam,” said the servant, curtsying and quitting the room.

Elizabeth took one last look at the beautiful gown that she had ordered as part of her trousseau when she married Mr. Tilman. The gown was simple and elegant, a lovely shade of ivory, adorned with white lace and embroidery. The bodice was laced and with tiny pearl buttons, a white satin ribbon threaded through. The sleeves and cuffs were the matching color and perfectly trimmed at the ends with the same tiny pearls.

She had not so much as looked at it in the wake of her late husband’s death. More than a year had since passed. Elizabeth had not decided to wear the gown until the last minute. It was too pretty to stay tucked away in her trunk, and she really wanted to look wonderful for Mr. Darcy, even if she was relegated to the sidelines for having refused to stand opposite Mr. Collins on the dance floor. Such a penance surely would not prohibit her should she and Mr. Darcy escape the ballroom, in which case she would dance with him to her heart’s content in some secluded place.

After a while, Elizabeth had just finished arranging her hair when another knock came at her door. “Come in.”

“Pardon me, madam,” the servant said as she entered. “Mr. Collins has asked me to speak to you again and remind you of the hour.”

Elizabeth continued admiring her reflection in the mirror. The thought of Mr. Darcy seeing her wearing such a beautiful gown in the midst of a crowded ballroom filled Elizabeth with such eager anticipation that she sent the servant away with the instruction that she would be ready to leave for Netherfield in five minutes.

The closer the carriage drew to the manor house entrance, the more nervous Elizabeth grew. Mr. Darcy had to be there. He had to have returned by now. Elizabeth’s body quivered, her heart began to pound, she felt flushed, and she thought she was going to faint. She had never felt this way before. She ached for Mr. Darcy. She wanted to see him, to feel him, and lose herself in his arms again.

Mr. Darcy must certainly come.

“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said when she arrived at the ball, resolved to get rid of him as soon as possible. “I am afraid I must tell you something. You see, sir, I am not feeling well. I understand that you may be disappointed, but I find I cannot dance this evening. In fact, I may have to excuse myself from the festivities altogether to allow for my recovery.”

“Oh, but I had fully intended for us to enjoy the two first dances especially, a preference that is no less my duty than it is my pleasure. Thereafter, I have planned to remain close by your side all evening, that is to say, when I am not engaged on the dance floor by one of my other cousins who will no doubt be expecting the attention.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I am sorry to disrupt your plans, Mr. Collins, but I am not of a mind to dance tonight. My present constitution will not permit such exertion.”

“Very well, Elizabeth,” he said, resting his hand atop hers.