Eleven

November 26, 1811, the Netherfield Ball

Delayed by what seemed to be concerted efforts on the part of Kitty and Lydia to make the entire family late, the Bennets and Mr. Collins did not arrive at the Netherfield Ball until they were nearly forming the end of the receiving line. The Hursts joined Mr. and Miss Bingley in welcoming the surrounding countryside to the family’s first major social event at the leased estate. For some families, it was still a novelty to meet and greet the Netherfield residents, but for the Bennet family the friendships and rivalries were already quite firm.

“My, that is a lovely gown Miss Eliza. The neckline was a favorite of mine two seasons ago, wasn’t it, Louisa?” Miss Bingley wasted not a moment before engaging in open hostilities with Elizabeth. Unfortunately for Caroline, Elizabeth Bennet already knew the best way to get under Miss Bingley’s skin. She simply had to be nice.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. I fear the latest fashions do not always satisfy my tastes. But were I called upon to perform for London society, I should be content  to wear the unflattering waistlines and cuts you must endure. Now that you live in the countryside, you can follow my example and wear only the pieces you find absolutely divine.” Elizabeth Bennet forced a bubbly demeanor during her brief conversation with the Bingley sisters, finding it fiercely difficult to keep her anxiety at the idea of  being introduced to Mr. Darcy’s aunt.

The ballroom was draped in the rich colors of autumn as gold and brick red buntings were fixed to every surface in the room. It appeared every chair, settee, and sofa of the downstairs floors lined the walls of the enormous room, and the musicians had begun to warm up by the time Elizabeth stepped into the crowded room. Despite the din, Mr. Darcy spotted Elizabeth in her delicately trimmed white lace dress, finding her understated beauty the perfect match for the teardrop pearl accents in her hair.

“Is that her? I can see Mr. Collins in the doorway there, is that woman the shrew who has her clutches upon you, Fitzwillam?” An elderly lady hunched over and possessing rings of fat making up her shoulders, thick neck, and double chin, stood next to Fitzwilliam Darcy in nothing short of nearly full court dress, complete with a tiara in her hair. As Elizabeth zeroed in on Mr. Darcy’s handsome, tall frame, she spied the squat, overdressed woman next to him covered head to toe in gold and deep burgundy brocade, and giggled. In her mind’s eye, Lady Catherine de Bourgh could be no other than the woman possessing quivering jowls and pointing in her direction with a finger shaking about in a manner most unbecoming to one of her station.

Feeling mischievous, Elizabeth did not wait for Mr. Darcy to approach. Instead, the young woman put one slippered foot in front of the other and effortlessly cut through the crowds anxiously awaiting the start of the first set. To Darcy, he finally understood Bingley for calling Jane Bennet an angel. From his position nothing less than one of the highest choir was gliding toward him with the enigmatic smile he cherished in his dreams.

As soon as Elizabeth reached Mr. Darcy, she dipped into a deep curtsy, and rose anticipating an introduction. But Mr. Darcy’s behavior took an unexpected turn. Grasping Miss Elizabeth’s hand, he bent over it and kissed the top.

“May I have the honor of the first set, my dear?”

Elizabeth held her breath as her eyes flitted from Mr. Darcy to his aunt and then back to him, catching a slight wink from the man. Trusting him and playing along, she accepted the set and laughed heartily once they were a few steps from his aunt. As Lady Catherine began to shout Fitzwilliam’s name, he led Elizabeth away entirely refusing to make the introduction of the grand lady to his intended.

“Before you mistakenly decide I find you beneath introduction to my aunt, I wish to assure you it is quite the opposite. She has not proven herself worthy of meeting you, my dear Elizabeth.”

Mr. Darcy’s romantic sentiments were for Elizabeth’s ears only as he led her to take their places next to Jane and Mr. Bingley. The strained and struggled first note smoothly glided into a familiar tune for a lively reel. Elizabeth and Darcy danced to the first steps with Jane and Bingley before they took the turn. Gaily dancing, Elizabeth Bennet felt a joy previously unknown in the laughter and smiles of her sister and the two friends to whom their hearts belonged. After the first set, Elizabeth and Jane exchanged partners so the foursome might remain on the dance floor without interruption. Elizabeth made pleasant conversation with Mr. Bingley, offering her sympathy for the unwelcome visit by a family member.

“Darcy’s aunt has been a surprise, but I shall always take comfort in the fact that she is not my aunt.” Mr. Bingley laughed at his jest before stopping when he realized before too long, Elizabeth would not be able to say the same.

“Do not fear my offense, sir. I am convinced there is something in the Kent waters which causes the residents to be utterly unbearable should they travel outside their home county.”

Mr. Bingley appeared confused with Elizabeth’s proclamation, until he remembered her own cousin was the parson of Lady Catherine and therefore a resident of Kent. Suddenly her jest appeared to be much more comical than his own, and Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth finished the set with a jolly laugh that raised the spirits of those observing. To the local gentry, the perfect coupling of the two eldest Bennet sisters to the London visitors at Netherfield satisfied a romantic sentimentalism that rippled through the gossip mongering tongues of Meryton’s elite.

Elizabeth danced the third set with John Lucas, Charlotte Lucas’s eldest brother, while Charlotte danced next to them with Mr. Collins. She appreciated that her cousin fulfilled his promise of the first two sets with Mary, but found Charlotte dancing with Mr. Collins rather odd. She wished her friend a happy time as any at the ball, but it was not Charlotte’s nature to stand up with gentlemen she was not so very familiar with. Most annoyingly, Mr. Collins attempted to talk to Elizabeth the entire time and chastise her for wanton behavior with Mr. Darcy.

“He is engaged to another!” Mr. Collins’ proclamations began to turn the heads of not just the Lucas’ siblings, but also another couple next to them in line.

“Mr. Collins, this is none of your concern.” Elizabeth smiled at John. “How did your family fare with the deluge of rain we lately had? Have you made any new carvings?” Elizabeth took a turn with Charlotte ending  in line with her cousin again for the second part of the step.

“You are making a mockery of the family. Lady Catherine is an illustrious and titled person, her word is more than sufficient to ruin the good name of Bennet. You must desist in your charms and allurements.”

Elizabeth could not respond before the dance readjusted the pairs back to their original partners.

“I have crafted a vine on the miniature house you last saw when you visited Charlotte.” John Lucas happily discussed his carvings with an interested party as his father considered his talent a waste of time.

“Oh, a charming addition!” Elizabeth started to feel the effects of dancing three sets in a row, developing a desperate thirst for punch. During her last spin, she caught Mr. Darcy sitting the set out, watching her with John, but then noticed he was approaching her sister, Mary, who was also sitting out the third set. Now paired with an officer who was partnered with Lydia for the second step of the dance, as Charlotte and Collins were thankfully heading back down the line, she could not recall the poor man’s greeting as she craned her neck to find her Mr. Darcy asking Mary to dance.

“Miss Elizabeth?” the officer asked again as Elizabeth realized she had spun the wrong way and created a momentary confusion for the partners.

“Silly me,” she jumped to her correct position on the ladies’ side of the line and waited as Lydia and John Lucas performed, clapping her hands in time with the beat.

When the set ended, John Lucas kindly led her off the dance floor and asked Miss Bingley to dance. She could not decline without the consequence of sitting out the entire rest of the evening. Having not danced with Mr. Darcy yet, that was not a move Caroline would make, but she did lead John Lucas to stand next to Mary and Mr. Darcy in the line for the fourth set.

“Cousin Elizabeth, I believe you owe me a dance.” Mr. Collins suddenly appeared, covered in perspiration from the effort of dancing the first three sets.

“Mayhap we stand up for the fifth set? I so desperately need a rest.” Elizabeth began to walk away from her cousin who to her surprise, grabbed her upper arm to halt her progress, ripping the sleeve of her gown in the process. Elizabeth gawked at the damage, swiftly covering the torn sleeve with one hand. Mr. Collins stood there, smug and apparently pleased with himself.

“How dreadful, I suppose you shall not be able to dance again this evening. Your gown is ripped. You should take more care, those are such delicate garments.”

Elizabeth’s anger flared, but she took a calming breath. Marching over to the table of refreshments, she accepted a glass from a happy Mrs. Pilkington who found it peculiar Elizabeth was holding the sleeve of her gown. Following Elizabeth to see if she needed assistance, she had a clear place to witness Elizabeth Bennet, long known as the feisty Bennet daughter, tip her full glass of punch purposely upon her cousin!

When Mr. Collins shouted as a child from the shock of Elizabeth’s actions, the dancing ceased and more than just Mrs. Pilkington’s attentions were on the dueling cousins. Elizabeth apologized and handed Mrs. Pilkington the cup before turning around and storming from of the ballroom.

“Shocking! I told you the woman was wild and beneath your notice, Mr. Darcy.” Caroline Bingley antagonized the man who had only seen Elizabeth dump punch on her oaf of a cousin. But where Caroline suspected Elizabeth acted unprovoked, Darcy knew from personal experience something very grievous had to have happened for Elizabeth to retaliate in such a manner. Apologizing to Mary, Darcy attempted to move through the throngs surrounding Mr. Collins, trying to find what happened as they pretended to offer him aid.

“She is unstable! I have witnessed her moods many a time in my visit at Longbourn, from utterly content to violent with rage. Why, she poured that punch on me without provocation! She is unstable, I tell you.”

Few bobbed their heads in agreement, but Mr. Collins’s assertions flew in the face of experience for the guests who had known Elizabeth Bennet her entire life, or theirs. Darcy did not stop to address the nonsense Collins spouted for fear he might do the man a violence far worse if he continued to speak against Elizabeth.

Exiting the ballroom, Mr. Bennet was already attempting to calm Elizabeth.

“But Papa, he ripped my gown! On purpose! All because I asked to sit a set out and would dance the fifth with him!”

“Think, Lizzie. He did not truly intend for you to dance with him at all.” Mr. Bennet hated to see his daughter defeated and in tears over any man, least of all his pompous ass of a cousin. Mr. Darcy arrived at Elizabeth’s side and took her hand gently in his own.

“Your father is right. My aunt more than likely has a hand in this assault. I am only sorry it was my family that pained you.”

“Your family? He is MY cousin. And he did not mention your aunt. Only announced loudly during my set with John Lucas you were engaged to another and that her word was enough to ruin me.”

Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy exchanged looks and nodded. The plump, Mrs. Pilkington poked her head into their small grouping.

“Come, my dear, this tiny tear?” She pulled a small kit from her bag and Elizabeth began to cry fresh tears in appreciation. Darcy looked around and realized soon his friend’s guests who witnessed the ‘punching’ might wander out into the main hallway to find Elizabeth.

“Perhaps the library would be a more private place to repair your sleeve? And I will return to the ballroom and see to Collins—”

“Perhaps you should go to the library, eh?” Mr. Bennet was so bold as to direct Mr. Darcy to follow Mrs. Pilkington and Elizabeth. “The ballroom has suffered enough violence this night. Calm your heels son and reassure my daughter. When she realizes how poorly she behaved, she will begin feeling guilty and upset anew.”

Mr. Darcy argued with Mr. Bennet who merely crossed his arms and waited for the young man to finish his tirade.

“And a man of your caliber need not beat a member of the clergy. Go! I shall handle my cousin.”

Darcy relented when he reflected that the arrangement meant he would be alone with Elizabeth. He opened the library door to see Mrs. Pilkington well into stitching the sleeve back into its proper place on Elizabeth’s gown.

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, I was awful!” Elizabeth covered her face with her free hand. Darcy, on the other hand, was delighted that for once she spoke his given name and she was not angry with him.

“No, Collins was awful. I wanted to go back to the ballroom and make him answer for his transgression but your father advised me to come here.” Mr. Darcy’s delight took a lower priority to his remembered anger and then feebleness for listening to Mr. Bennet’s advice. If he had only known why Elizabeth threw the punch in the first place, he would have trounced that toad of a man before leaving the ballroom to find her.

“There you are! I see she has convinced you to privately take her services even with a house full of people.” Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood in the doorway of the library, ablaze in fury just as Mrs. Pilkington finished snipping the thread.

“Please. Fetch my father,” Elizabeth whispered. Mrs. Pilkington nodded and dashed out of the library around Lady Catherine’s person. The grand woman did not notice a shopkeeper’s wife scurrying out of a room like an errant servant, keeping her gaze firmly on Elizabeth standing very close to her nephew.

“You are a crafty one, Elizabeth Bennet. I shall warrant you that. I have heard all about how you have wrapped my nephew around your little finger, confusing him as to what he needs in life.”

“Aunt Catherine, your opinions are not welcome here. I have told you I was never engaged to Anne, and she does not wish to marry me.”

“Was I speaking to you, Fitzwilliam? No. And I believe Elizabeth Bennet would like to hear my opinions, before she takes on the task of ruining your life, nephew.” Lady Catherine moved closer to Elizabeth who bravely held her tongue to keep herself from losing her emotions once more.

“See? A little ballroom mishap and you are weak. Quivering over a small tear in a gown. The ballrooms of London are the most vicious, most dangerous. The full power of Parliament, powers that can make or break the Darcy and Fitzwilliam family fortunes and one misstep, one tantrum, can ruin the lives of many. You are not ready to take on such an exalted position. You are a simple, country girl who will embarrass my nephew at your earliest opportunity.”

“No, she cannot embarrass me. That parson was put up to his outrageous claims and you are the instigator. I know he could not have such an original thought as that disgusting display of parlor tricks. A ripped sleeve was your favorite ploy against my mother when she received too much attention and you not enough.”

“Hush, boy, you know nothing. This is not about ripped sleeves. This is about substance. This is about progeny. Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted by this pitiful girl? She cannot rise to the task and she knows it. And I am willing to wager she loves you enough to avoid through such rejection and fall from grace. And this family? The youngest ignores church on a weekly basis and the second one closest in age was caught alone with an officer!”

“No, she was not. That is a lie!” Elizabeth grew defensive as the insulting woman attacked her family.

“I suppose your mother’s effusions about another of her daughters to be matched with a Denny something or other person was false? Add a lying mother to the list of wonderful examples the Bennet family might boast.”

“Careful, madam, you speak of my wife in that viper’s tongue of yours.” Mr. Bennet arrived and Elizabeth suddenly felt relieved, rushing to her father’s side for comfort. Mr. Bennet cradled his favorite daughter and squeezed her arm. “Mr. Collins shall pack his things come morning and remove himself from our household. It was inexcusable for him to harm the person of one of my daughters.”

“Papa, I wish to go home.”

“Yes, run away Elizabeth Bennet. A delicate rose such as yourself will never survive the thorns of London. Before you can call for a father’s protection, your petals will all be plucked, leaving your true self bare and found lacking.”

“You are a cruel old woman who will die alone and unloved.” Elizabeth finally allowed her temper free as her father ushered her from of the library and toward the carriage he already called, anticipating Elizabeth would not be able to return to the ballroom without causing an even greater scene. Despite wishing to congratulate her for defending her own honor, the realities of her display were not removed, and the ball was for Jane. He could not sacrifice one daughter for another’s perceived misdeeds.

Elizabeth remained quiet as she allowed her father to the carriage that would take her home and return to Netherfield Park later for the remainder of her family. To her surprise, Mary was waiting in the carriage.

“You are leaving the ball as well? But I thought—” Elizabeth was interrupted by Mary pulling her into a tight embrace.

“He bragged about ruining your gown! That man is evil and should not be a servant of our Lord. When I heard father was calling you a carriage, I asked him if I might accompany you.”

Elizabeth began to cry as she relived the horrid scene that utterly ruined her perfectly planned evening. But for her sister Mary to support her once more, Elizabeth was eternally grateful.

“Thank you, Mary. You are the very best.”

As Mr. Bennet watched the carriage roll away, Mr. Darcy called after him.

“Please, my aunt, I cannot excuse her behavior. But she is wrong. Elizabeth will make me a fine wife. I must speak to her!”

While Mr. Bennet appreciated the desperate young man’s position, there was nothing he could do. “Son, you are not in a position to say anything she will want to hear after tonight’s events, and if you push the issue, even should she accept you, it will not be a pleasant memory for either of you.”

“You do not understand! She must hate me, I did nothing! I barely spoke against my aunt before you arrived though I did attempt to stop her.”

Mr. Bennet laughed. “Mr. Darcy, you may not be accustomed to hearing this expressed in such a blunt fashion, but the world does not rest upon your shoulders. Trust my years of extensive dealings with women. You allow them their say, their sulk, and then you reason with them. Consider the modes of control you wield against your aunt and deploy them. Then worry about how you will convince Elizabeth to disagree with your aunt’s sentiments. Now, excuse me as I have three other daughters I must see to.” Mr. Bennet patted Mr. Darcy’s upper arm in solidarity, but left the man to his thoughts.

As the Bennet carriage could scarcely be seen far off in the distance under the moonlight, Fitzwilliam Darcy reflected on Mr. Bennet’s words and once again found the man to be more of a deliberate actor than a lazy misanthrope. Glancing up at the moon’s brightness, he sighed as his heart ached to be with Elizabeth. But as he decided he would return to the ball he was so loath to participate in for Bingley’s sake, his aunt would soon find she forgot her nephew held the ability to freeze her accounts when she appointed him, the executor of the Rosings estate.