| |
––––––––
Elizabeth joined her sisters on the other side of the ballroom and looked around in admiration. The entire room was bathed in a golden glow, with candles blazing in the chandeliers above and gilt-edged mirrors reflecting the light across the room. Cut glass drops and swags tinkled as they swung from the chandeliers, and similar pendants could be seen suspended from several candle branches of the girandoles—ornately carved wall scones—around the room. The cumulative effect of all this was a dazzling brilliance that lit the room and glowed on the faces of all present, bringing out the glittering jewels at the ladies’ throats and ears, and the gleaming ribbons in their coiffures.
Elizabeth was much impressed by the variety of costumes around her. It appeared that every guest had made a great effort to fashion a disguise worthy of a masquerade. There were figures from folklore and legends, famous historical personalities, literary icons, and musical talents. Several of the costumes were very fine and many of the ladies sported dazzling baubles and ornaments on their persons. One rotund lady, in particular, displayed a lavish hairstyle, artfully designed to cascade down one side of her head and crowned by a diamond tiara which sparkled in the candlelight with her every move.
Though everyone wore their masks, Elizabeth found it easy to guess the identities of several guests from their well-known figures and familiar mannerisms. Sir William Lucas, for instance, was easily recognised by his hefty paunch and his loud booming voice, in spite of the outlandish Roman toga he wore, combined with the wreath of bay leaves around his head.
Kitty’s Oriental princess costume drew much attention, with many coming to surround her and admire her attire. She enjoyed the refreshing sensation of gaining more attention than Lydia and smiled happily as she received the compliments. Mrs Bennet too was the object of much admiration and she was gratified to see that her Queen of Sheba costume far outranked Lady Lucas’s attempt at Cleopatra.
It was not long before Bingley came to seek Jane’s hand for the first dance. As her sister smiled and talked with her favourite, Elizabeth looked around for her own amusement. She was pleased to discern Charlotte Lucas in the crowd and hurried over to greet her old friend. She had been hoping to delude Charlotte with her disguise and was greatly vexed when her friend turned around and immediately greeted her with easy familiarity.
“You look charming tonight, Eliza,” said Charlotte.
“Is there no one who is fooled by my disguise?” said Elizabeth wryly. “I had not thought it so easy to guess my identity.”
“I have known you for nigh on a decade,” said Charlotte with an indulgent smile. “I am well acquainted with your mannerisms. Though in this case, I own, I had help from another quarter. I saw your sisters Kitty and Lydia earlier and they informed me of your costume choice.”
“Is Mr Collins not present tonight?” asked Elizabeth, looking around. Her cousin had left Longbourn a week ago, but had promised a swift return to continue the delights of courtship with his amiable Charlotte. To the relief of all concerned, however, he had proposed to make his lodgings at Lucas Lodge on his return, rather than trespassing on the Bennet hospitality any further. Elizabeth had expected to see him at the ball that night and was surprised by his absence.
“No, he has not managed to return from Hunsford yet,” said Charlotte with cheerful indifference. “I believe Lady Catherine de Bourgh has had need of him and he is most eager to please her. In any event, I am not sure that Mr Collins would care for a masquerade. Indeed, I am uncertain as to whether he would consider such an event acceptable and whether attendance would be likely to draw a rebuke from either the Archbishop or Lady Catherine.”
“But I have heard from Mr Bingley that Lady Catherine herself attended a masquerade ball in London,” said Elizabeth. “Surely she could not disapprove of such an event if this were the case?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Perhaps her expectations for a clergyman are different.”
They were interrupted in this moment by Kitty and Lydia arriving with a group of officers. Though they had chosen uniform over costume, they all wore the masks that Bingley had provided. Elizabeth’s familiarity with the officers was not sufficient for her to identify them, though she fancied that the shorter gentleman beside Lydia was Captain Denny. There was much laughter and teasing amongst the redcoats as they vied with each other to solicit Lydia and Kitty’s hands for the first dance.
Elizabeth was surprised when an officer at the back of the group approached her and bowed gallantly. As he straightened, she caught sight of his eyes behind the mask and recognised the laughing blue gaze.
It was Wickham.
“May I have the honour of the first dance, my lady?” he asked.
Elizabeth demurred. She was very conscious of Charlotte standing beside her, and her sisters and the officers a few feet beyond. The chance of any of them turning around and recognising Wickham for what he was made her heart pound in her chest. She could not believe his daring in approaching her thus in the middle of the ballroom. Though he had exchanged his highwayman’s outfit for regimentals and his face was well concealed by a Bauta mask, surely there was still the risk of one of the other officers discovering him in their midst?
Elizabeth realised that Charlotte had turned to look at her expectantly, no doubt curious as to why she had yet to make an answer. To refuse Wickham now would not only curtail her ability to dance again for the rest of the evening, but would also draw attention to his presence. Elizabeth felt like a fox caught in a snare.
“With pleasure, sir,” she said at last and placed her hand reluctantly in his.
The strains of the orchestra filled the room and couples began taking their places on the dance floor. Elizabeth allowed Wickham to lead her into the set. She was stiff with tension and her mind was whirling with a thousand thoughts. She felt as if all the eyes in the room were upon her, and that someone would recognise Wickham in an instant and her role as a sympathiser revealed. Then the music began and Elizabeth found some comfort in moving through the familiar steps of the dance.
“You do not seem pleased to see me, Miss Bennet,” said Wickham with a teasing smile.
“I did not think you so bold, sir, as to risk discovery by coming to the ball,” hissed Elizabeth. “Are you aware that Bingley has employed additional security for the night and that there are constables ready to make an arrest at the slightest suspicion?”
Wickham laughed with cheerful insolence. “The greater the risk, the greater the thrill. Moreover, I would dare anything for the chance of a dance with you, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth could not help feeling slightly flattered by his words, though she attempted to retain her stern countenance. “It is not sound, sir, and you would be wise to take such risks seriously. I urge you to leave the ball immediately.”
“Leave?” said Wickham, as they spun through the steps. “But I have only just arrived! There are still so many ladies to dance with, cards to play, and supper to consume. Surely you would not deprive me of such pleasures?”
Elizabeth eyed him impatiently. “I beg you do not speak in jest. This is a highly serious matter we are discussing.”
“Ah, your concern for my welfare is most touching,” said Wickham. “I had not known that I figured so largely in your affections.”
“Nay, you mistake me, sir,” said Elizabeth quickly. “This is the same counsel I would give to any friend—”
“Friend?” said Wickham, delighted. “So you consider me a friend, do you? That is an even greater honour.”
“No, that is not my meaning...” Elizabeth bit her lip in vexation. “You tease me, sir, and I do not appreciate it.”
They paused in their conversation as they concentrated on passing another couple in the set without collision. Elizabeth noticed that it was the rotund lady and her partner, and her dazzling tiara eclipsed every other head ornament with its brilliance. Even Wickham seemed entranced by the jewelled headpiece—it was a full moment before he returned his attention to Elizabeth.
“I shall be forever indebted to Bingley for this notion of a masquerade ball. It is the perfect opportunity to enable me to enjoy society, without fear of revealing my identity.” He smiled complacently.
“Have you no fear that I would expose you?” asked Elizabeth.
“Ah... but you would not send me to the gallows, would you, Miss Bennet?”
They spun around another couple again and Elizabeth happened to glance sideways. She was caught by a dark gaze from the side of the room. It was Darcy standing beside the mantelpiece, watching her intently. She was too far away to see the expression in his dark eyes but she felt a shiver of dread as she wondered if he would recognise her dancing companion. Surely, with their old familiarity, Darcy would be well placed to see through Wickham’s disguise? Her distracted thoughts nearly caused Elizabeth to stumble and she had to grasp Wickham’s arm for support as they took a final turn through the steps and returned to their places in the line.
Wickham was a good dancer but the constant anxieties playing on her mind prevented Elizabeth from enjoying the dance and she was relieved when the set ended. He conducted her back to her sisters and then, with a gallant bow and another insolent smile, turned and vanished into the crowd.
“Lizzy, who was that you were dancing with?” asked Jane.
“Um... One of the officers, I believe,” said Elizabeth.
“He does not look like any of the officers we know,” said Kitty thoughtfully.
“Officer? Which officer are you speaking of?” asked Lydia as she joined them.
“Oh, one dances with so many gentlemen at a large ball like this, it is quite easy to forget all their names,” said Elizabeth, trying to brush it off.
“I am sure I should know him if you tell me more about him—for I know all the officers!” boasted Lydia. “What did you speak of while dancing?”
“I hardly remember,” said Elizabeth. “The music was loud and I was concentrating on my steps. We... we talked of the ball and remarked on the other dancers.”
“Perhaps you can point him out to me in the crowd,” said Lydia.
“Well... as a matter of fact, I—”
“Look, Lydia! There’s Colonel Foster and his new wife!” cried Kitty, pointing to a couple across the room.
“Oh, she is remarkably pretty,” said Lydia.
“Look, they are speaking to Mama and Papa,” said Kitty. “If we hurry, we may join them and be introduced.”
The two youngest Bennet girls hurried off and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for Kitty’s timely interruption. She was not certain she could have withstood Lydia’s continuous questioning. Before she could think on it further, however, she was approached by another gentleman eager for a dance, and then another and another—and she was thus occupied for quite some time. Though she normally enjoyed dancing, tonight Elizabeth found herself strangely distracted, and she was grateful when there appeared to be a lull in the constant stream of gentlemen seeking her hand for a dance. She had just spied a secluded seat and was contemplating a brief moment of solitude when she heard a familiar deep voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Darcy standing before her.
“If you’re not engaged for the next dance, Miss Bennet, I should be honoured if you would stand up with me,” he said.
Elizabeth hesitated, then said at last, “I am not engaged, sir.”
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. As they took their position amongst the other dancers, Elizabeth felt once more that all eyes were upon her, but this time she knew this to be true. In spite of his disguise, his tall, handsome figure made Mr Darcy easily recognised by all present, and with his disinclination to dance and his minimal participation to date, his singling her out was an item of great interest. Elizabeth could see eyebrows rising and tongues wagging as speculation circled the room.
The music began and Elizabeth was surprised to discover that despite his protests about his lack of enthusiasm for this activity, Darcy was an excellent dancer. Whereas Wickham’s style had been showy and flamboyant, Darcy danced with a quiet dignity and fluid grace, moving with ease through the steps and leading her expertly between the other dancers so as to shelter her from any collisions.
“I had hoped to secure you for the first two dances and was regretful when you were speedily engaged,” said Darcy. “May I ask who the gentleman was who was granted that honour?”
Elizabeth stiffened. “Are not all identities hidden in a masquerade?” she prevaricated.
“Perhaps... but it appeared that you knew him well. You talked with much ease.”
“Oh... Well, one must speak a little, you know. It would look odd, would it not, to be entirely silent for half an hour together?”
“No doubt—though it appears that you are better qualified to recommend yourself to strangers. I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before.”
“Perhaps you would find it easier to converse with others if you were not so quick to judge based on first impressions. Indeed, such a tendency to find fault and condemn without reason can lead to the unjustified mistreatment of others,” said Elizabeth before she could stop herself.
Darcy’s mouth tightened. “I take it you are referring to the story your younger sister was repeating in Meryton the other day, concerning myself and George Wickham?”
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Yes, I confess I did have Mr Wickham in mind. Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”
“His misfortunes...!” Darcy said with an expression of bitter contempt. He seemed to be struggling for control for a long moment. At last, he said, “Miss Bennet, I would urge you to follow your own advice and not judge on first impressions nor attempt to guess the reasoning behind my actions, particularly where George Wickham is concerned. I fear that the exercise would reflect no credit on either of us.”
An angry retort sprang to Elizabeth’s lips, but she restrained herself and they lapsed into silence. They completed the rest of the dance without further conversation, though Elizabeth could feel Darcy’s eyes on her. She could not decide on her own feelings towards him. She felt at once enraged and confused and animated and disconcerted. There was no other man who stirred her emotions so violently and she was almost frightened of his effect on her.
Elizabeth was glad when the dance ended, though—as it was the last dance before supper—Darcy followed custom by remaining her escort and leading her into the dining room when the music ended. As soon as they entered, Elizabeth spied Wickham sitting at the far end, between an elderly gentleman in an officer’s uniform and a pair of ladies, one of them the lady with the dazzling tiara. She turned quickly and chose a seat at the opposite end of the table, keen to direct Darcy’s attention away from Wickham and keep him out of the highwayman’s presence. Happily, she found Jane seated with Bingley nearby and the latter welcomed his friend enthusiastically.
Elizabeth turned her attention to the feast laid out on the table. Mr Bingley had certainly spared no expense in his preparation for the ball. There was a magnificent array of dishes, all served on the finest china and silver. Aside from the impressive tureen of white soup, there were assorted cold meats and pies, poached salmon, glazed seasonal vegetables, several different cheeses, platters of salads and fresh fruits, and a delightful variety of cakes, biscuits, ice-cream, and trifles. Elizabeth was looking forward to sampling the gourmet delights in front of her, but she had scarcely begun to make her choices when she was brought short by the sound of a shrill scream.
“No! It is gone!”
