November 26, 1811, the night of the Netherfield Ball
Elizabeth Bennet lived in a battlefield of sensitivities for three days leading up to the ball at Netherfield. Even though the evening was meant to be all for Jane, her mother had insisted Elizabeth have a new gown, new slippers, and a new spencer for the evening. This caused Kitty and Lydia exceeding jealousy as no amount of whining or crying could convince their mother to spend excessively on them.
“But we’ve tried and tried! And all of the officers are most keen for our company.” Lydia whined at breakfast, attempting once more to gain permission to shop on the very day of the ball.
“You have spent an excessive amount of time flirting and fanning over the red coats in town. I have spied the two of you, many times, carrying on exceedingly animated conversations with no less than three or four men around you.” Mr. Collins reported to the table at large. For the last three days, he had proven a rare sight at Longbourn and had taken it upon himself to meet the remaining citizens of Meryton. Charlotte Lucas had warned Elizabeth that her father, Sir William Lucas, a former mayor of Meryton, had taken a great liking to the parson from Kent, inviting him two nights in a row for dinner.
“And why should not the girls speak to the officers, Mr. Collins? They are cheerful young ladies with an ability to lift the spirits of our soldiers who are serving the greater good.” Mrs. Bennet went on to add it was a mighty convenience the clergy were not required to serve the country, producing a mild embarrassed blush from Mr. Collins as he sat between Mary and Elizabeth at the table.
A servant walked in with what appeared to be two letters from Netherfield. Both were delivered to Mr. Bennet at the head of the table and he handed Jane’s letter to her, straight away. Elizabeth’s father opened and read the contents silently right there at the table.
“Papa!” Elizabeth cried.
“Mr. Darcy writes to you, Lizzie, but as you are not yet engaged, I’m afraid I must see the contents of the letter before you might read it. It may not be suitable for a young lady.”
As Mr. Collins began to agree with his cousin Bennet about the merits of filtering all content available to young ladies, including novels, Mr. Bennet interrupted the man with a rare shout.
“Confound it man! Whatever were you thinking to take it upon yourself to invite someone to another man’s home?” Mr. Bennet’s full strength intimidated many at the table as they had never seen the mostly indolent, well-read man as anything but harmlessly sarcastic.
“I-I-I listened to the request of Miss Bingley. She suggested I should write to my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, straight away and she even paid for the express.”
Elizabeth groaned as she accepted the letter from her father, who handed it over without delay. “May I be excused?”
“Yes, you may.” Mr. Bennet remained glowering at Mr. Collins.
While Elizabeth wished to see the set down about to fall upon the table, she more adamantly desired to read a letter from Mr. Darcy in private. Jane followed her with her own letter, and the two went to their bedroom.
“Mr. Bingley writes that Mr. Darcy’s aunt is very disagreeable, and has put Caroline to tears! She is angry about Mr. Darcy’s match with you.” Jane prepared her sister for the contents of her own letter as she had read hers while their father read Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth shuddered. So he really was engaged to his cousin after all! She had been correct and stupid to listen to the games and tricks he employed on her father. She set her letter aside, not reading it.
“Lizzie, you must read it. Mr. Darcy sent it to you!” Jane picked up the letter, but Elizabeth refused, laying on their bed and rolling over to her side. Jane could hear Elizabeth beginning to cry and decided to take matters into her own hands. She unfolded the letter and used a false, baritone voice, to mimic what she thought Mr. Darcy sounded like.
My Dearest Elizabeth,
We are safely returned from London, all papers in hand, but I am afraid to say I will not be able to visit Longbourn this afternoon before the ball as I had planned. My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has descended upon Bingley’s house, informed of our courtship it would appear by her parson, your cousin.
Elizabeth rolled over and began to argue with Jane, as if she were the real Mr. Darcy and not an imitation.
“My cousin! What about Bingley’s sister!”
Jane shook her head and handed the letter to Elizabeth. “You need to know where you stand, it gets better at the end.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and took the letter, quickly finding where Jane left off.
Before you think the worst, please know I have never been engaged to my cousin, Anne de Bourgh. Never. When my mother died shortly after the birth of Georgiana, my aunt began to make claims it was my mother’s greatest desire to unite the two families. But she was incorrect. My father made it clear my mother only wished for me to marry well—to marry a woman who made me happy and who would be a good mistress of Pemberley. My cousin is neither of those things, though she is a very sweet woman. She is sickly and has no desire to marry at all.
I am apologizing in advance for the insults and rudeness my Aunt Catherine will undoubtedly cast against you, your family, and everyone else this evening. I have not been successful in persuading her to leave, and I dare not risk coming to Longbourn and having her follow. This evening is to be Bingley’s and Miss Bennet’s triumph, and my relations are set upon ruining it.
I am most anxious to see you again, Elizabeth, to hear your voice even if it is to yell and point out my faults. Hearing my aunt decimate Bingley’s sister gave me great pause to reflect on the behaviors in me you find so abhorrent. I confess I felt pity for Miss Bingley at times during my aunt’s set down.
This evening I wish nothing more than to dance two sets with you and hope you will be so kind as to dance the first with me?
Your Obedient Servant,
Fitzwilliam Alistair Marcus Darcy
Elizabeth blinked back tears to read how cruel the universe appeared to be in teaching Mr. Darcy a painful lesson. She began to realize now that just as she was a reflection of mostly her father, but at times vexed by behaviors similar to her mother’s nerve, Mr. Darcy, being orphaned in his early adulthood, might have similar influences as to his personality. What was society but its follies and foibles? And she was not without fault, as he had pointed out to her the day she fell at Netherfield.
“Oh Jane, poor Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth wallowed in the emotions of care and worry that were new additions to her complex understanding of Mr. Darcy in her heart.
Jane hugged her sister and smiled, laughing to see Elizabeth so upset and moved by Mr. Darcy’s plight. “See? You do love him, and the two of you will have a long and happy life together, just like me and Charles!”
“But, oh no, his aunt! She despises my status and thinks I am not good enough to marry him! What if the rest of his family feels the same way?” Elizabeth began to panic, finally asking Jane what she would do.
Jane winked at her younger sister. “Marry him anyway, that is what I am doing. I am not an idiot where it comes to the prejudices of Louisa and Caroline. But I make Charles happy, and he makes me doubly so. A marriage is never done without the ruffling a few family feathers. Remember how much Grandma Bennet disliked Mama?”
Elizabeth furrowed her brows, trying to remember what Jane was referencing, but she was only six when their grandmother died and Jane was eight.
“I suppose so. But I am so . . .” Elizabeth struggled to find the words to explain that one thousand flutters and heartaches plagued her system all at once. But Jane nodded in understanding.
“It feels so dangerous, and then when you see him, or hear his voice, the danger becomes exhilarating. We will make you the beauty of the ball and his aunt will HAVE to accept you.”
“And if she does not?” Elizabeth genuinely worried for the first time she might lose Mr. Darcy’s regard, and it was not an outcome she could accept.
“Then we shall introduce her to Sir Lucas and Mrs. Long and she shall never get another word out!”
Elizabeth laughed at her sister’s plan, feeling with dread that Lady Catherine de Bourgh sounded like a bully of a degree they had never encountered. If Mr. Darcy was not able to manage his aunt, how on earth were two Bennets supposed to meet the challenge?