Darcy tugged irritably at his jacket, needlessly straightening it. He stuck his finger behind his neckerchief, thinking that Bingley’s manservant had tied it too tight. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his leather shoes pinching his toes. He heaved a great sigh.
“What is the matter, Darcy?”
Darcy turned to look at the questioner. Charles Bingley was his greatest friend, and his opposite in almost every way. In appearance, where Darcy was dark, Bingley had light hair and blue eyes. In personality, where Darcy was silent and brooding, Bingley easily conversed and smiled for any, and every, reason. Darcy would have rather stayed home reading than go to the Meryton Assembly, while Bingley was itching to go.
“My neckerchief is too tight and my shoes too small,” he answered irritably.
“Your shoes are fine,” Bingley said easily. “And you ordered my man to retie the neckerchief tighter. If it chokes you now, you have only yourself to blame.”
Darcy sighed, knowing his friend was correct.
“Please tell me you did not bid me to hurry and visit with the sole intention of making me attend this… ball,” Darcy said, putting as much displeasure into the word “ball” as he possibly could.
“Would you really believe such a thing of me?” Bingley asked, feigning offence.
“Yes,” Darcy replied tightly. He knew his friend all too well and Bingley was constantly pushing him to be more social. It had been his idea to get that ridiculous phaeton in the first place.
“Since you have already decided upon my guilt, there is no point in me defending my innocence,” Bingley said loftily. “So, I will just say this: It will do you much good.”
“You possess no innocence,” Darcy mumbled darkly.
“Quite right,” Bingley said with a mischievous grin. When Darcy’s expression did not clear, Bingley sighed. “Please, will you try to have a good time?”
Darcy said nothing.
“Come now, these are to be my neighbours,” Bingley continued. “I want to make a good impression.”
“A pointless exercise if ever there was one,” Caroline Bingley’s voice entered the conversation.
Darcy turned and saw Bingley’s sisters, Caroline and Mrs. Hurst, sweeping into the room. Both, he noted, were appropriately dressed to meet the king. It seemed that the women wished to ensure the residents of Meryton knew their status.
“Charles,” Caroline continued, “there is no reason to stoop to their level.”
Darcy’s mouth tightened at the comment, and he saw Bingley look displeased as well.
“Come now, Caroline,” Bingley said. “There is no need to say such things.”
“What?” Caroline asked in mock innocence. “Is there something wrong with stating the truth?” She looked at Darcy. “You, Mr. Darcy, have always known the importance of staying within one’s social circle. Surely, you do not agree with this exercise into… quaint, country living?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
Darcy did not know what to say. Though he disliked Caroline’s imperious attitude and bearing, he could not deny that she had a point about staying within one’s social circle. It was a mark of their station to know such things. However, it seemed Caroline had forgotten that the taint of trade was not gone from her family. Darcy desperately wanted to remind her of this fact, but decided it was not worth the effort.
“I believe one of the marks of good breeding is how one behaves in the society in which they are placed,” Darcy said, somewhat coldly. “Since Bingley has decided to make Netherfield his home, it is only right for him to be kind and friendly with his neighbours.”
“Well said, Darcy,” Bingley said with approval.
Caroline’s eyes flashed, but Darcy did not care if her anger was directed at him. He only put up with both of Bingley’s sisters because of Bingley.
“Well, I think Caroline is right,” Mrs. Hurst put in. “Charles, neither of us quite understand why you have quit London for this place.”
“If you cannot appreciate the clean air, wide open spaces, and beauty that surrounds us, then I can hardly hope that you would understand,” Bingley retorted. Darcy got the impression that this was a conversation the three had already had several times. Caroline and Mrs. Hurst both looked displeased.
“Please,” Bingley begged. “Please, make an effort tonight. You may not understand this place, but you can understand that I am happy here. And to remain happy here, I must be on good terms with everyone.”
Caroline and Mrs. Hurst stared at him for several long moments before Caroline sighed. “We do want you to be happy,” she conceded. “So, we shall try. Though I still think we have no place in an assembly such as this. There will be none of our people there.”
Darcy found himself again agreeing with Caroline’s assessment. He did not like agreeing with her, but she was right. There would be nothing there that would match that which all four of them were accustomed to. Darcy was going for Bingley’s sake, but he did not belong.
“But we shall try,” Mrs. Hurst agreed, and Bingley’s face broke into a smile once again.
“You shall see, there will be something there that is worth your effort, I’m certain of it!” Bingley rubbed his hands together. “Now, let us call the carriage and be on our way. We are late already!”
Mrs. Hurst and Caroline walked ahead of the men, their heads close together in conversation.
Bingley turned to Darcy with a worried look. “You will try, too?”
“Of course,” Darcy sighed, stepping into the gathering darkness. “As you said, there will probably be something worth the effort.” Bingley clapped him hard on the shoulder in thanks, then hurried forward to help his sisters into the carriage.
Perhaps Bingley was correct, Darcy thought as he followed the others into the coach. Perhaps there would be something there that would be enjoyable. Someone.
Darcy turned red at the thought, but the woman he had rescued several days before had rarely left his mind since. If she were an example of the sort of women that lived in this place, then the Assembly would be very enjoyable. However, he doubted that was the case. Miss Elizabeth Bennet struck him as being entirely unique.
He had not told Bingley or his sisters of the excitement on the road. He had ridden into Meryton the day before to speak with the magistrate, but Bingley had not accompanied him on that trip. He was not quite certain why, other than he wanted to keep the story to himself for now. Besides, he hated being the centre of attention, even in a small company such as those that lived at Netherfield.
But he had not forgotten Miss Elizabeth. The prospect at seeing her once more made him forget his too tight shoes and neckerchief, and instead filled him with an unfamiliar sensation: excitement.