The Bennet family arrived at Netherfield the following evening for dinner with Mr. Darcy and Lydia, though angry over her complete banishment from Meryton, made ready for their outing with great enthusiasm. The frock she chose was one that seemed a bit much for dinner but Mrs. Bennet had allowed it as a concession. Even she was weary of Lydia’s tantrums.
Elizabeth had settled upon a light blue silk dress after trying and discarding three others. Her nerves were on edge for the occasion and she wondered whether Mr. Darcy might propose to her that night.
The way he protected Lydia in Meryton and his words later in the garden of Longbourn had fanned the flame of hope flickering in her heart. That he still cared for her company after the embarrassment of Mr. Collins’s outburst showed her again there was much more to the character of the man than she first thought.
Mr. Darcy was standing at the front door of Netherfield looking his most dashing when they arrived and Elizabeth wished Jane were present to help settle her nerves. Lydia, in spite of her ire with Mr. Darcy’s interference into her fledgling romantic notions, was unable to hold the gasp of surprise as the family exited the carriage to find footmen with bouquets of fragrant flowers for each Bennet lady.
“La, Mr. Darcy has gone to some expense and trouble to find such blooms this time of year with the greenhouses of Netherfield not yet filled.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face beamed her approval and her effusions of surprise even moved the dejected Mary to smile. Elizabeth thought how very young her mother looked when she was truly pleased. The woman she’d always thought fussy and difficult had not always been unhappy. Knowing the small but thoughtful and certainly expensive offering came from the man she hoped to wed, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to admire Mr. Darcy as he stood ready to greet them in the waning light of the day.
He was the perfect height for his chin would find its home naturally against the top of her head. Such thoughts stirred strong, thrilling emotions as she followed behind her parents to be received at Netherfield.
When Mr. Darcy took her hand and placed a chaste kiss against the fabric of her glove, Elizabeth breathed deeply to remain steady on her feet. Did he know the storm of emotions he stirred in her breast?
“Mr. Darcy, you surely know that ladies of every age do love exotic blooms. I believe Mother shall have the best time regaling her friends with tales of extravagance and such gallantry.”
He leaned close and whispered as Mary and Lydia approached. “Tis my plan, Miss Elizabeth. I would win the heart of your mother so that I might conquer your own.”
The admission of his aim so boldly given weakened her knees further and Elizabeth could only gaze into his eyes, words failing her. Mary and Lydia joined them and thanked Mr. Darcy for their perfect bouquets.
Mrs. Bennet had been given the largest and the girls had been given matching smaller arrangements. Elizabeth’s was the loveliest. A bouquet of hothouse flowers with greenery that resembled the fields of Hertfordshire in summer.
As the party settled in the parlor before dinner was served, Mr. Darcy engaged Mr. and Mrs. Bennet in pleasant conversation while Elizabeth listened intently. Lydia and Mary drifted to the pianoforte and soon the strains of Mary’s practiced hand filled the room. Elizabeth thought to discourage the younger girls but Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet stood and bowed to her and her mother.
Moving about the room in Mr. Darcy’s arms seemed a dream to Elizabeth. He truly might ask for her hand that very night! Forcing her excitement down, she gazed into his eyes as he skillfully moved her around the room.
Mr. Darcy gazed intently upon her face before speaking low, his tone sending shivers through his partner. “To be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love, Miss Elizabeth. I was never fond of it until now.”
Elizabeth knew then her hopes were to become reality. “Till this moment, I never knew myself, sir, the joy of moving as one without thought for where my feet are placed. What could it mean?”
Mr. Darcy halted their steps as the music faded. He held her gaze as time slowed. “Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the great honor…”
His words were drowned by the noise of an arrival in the entryway and Elizabeth turned as Lady Catherine swept in with Mr. Collins scrambling behind her.
Mr. Darcy moved quickly across the room leaving a worried Elizabeth glancing nervously to her father. The appearance of Lady Catherine could only mean Mr. Collins had carried the tale of her refusal back to Rosings.
“Aunt Catherine, why have you come? Is my cousin well?”
The Bennet family fell silent with even the noisy Lydia having the good sense to mind her manners. Perhaps it was the curiosity over the arrival of the lady and the parson that stayed her tongue. Elizabeth was grateful no matter the reason but it was Mary’s small whimper that drew her eyes away from Mr. Darcy’s aunt.
Her expression was one of great pain and embarrassment and Elizabeth went to her where she still sat before the pianoforte. Mr. Collins took a step forward but Lady Catherine pinned him with an imperious gaze and he halted, his head cast down to avoid causing Mary further pain.
“Fitzwilliam, I cannot think you are concerned for my Anne if what my parson reports is indeed the truth. Send your guests away at once, there is much to be discussed.”
The grand lady proceeded to make her way to the sofa fully expecting her nephew to do as she ordered. Instead, Mr. Darcy advanced on Mr. Collins. As his hands went to the man’s lapels, Mary jumped from her seat beside Elizabeth and dashed to the parson’s side. “Mr. Darcy, you must not hurt him!”
Chaos descended in the parlor of Netherfield as Mr. Bennet retrieved Mary and Mrs. Bennet’s voice joined Lydia’s in excited exclamations over the thrilling tension and certain violence.
Elizabeth hung her head in shame and wished she might slip quietly from the room. Looking about for an exit, she was brought up short by the booming voice of Lady Catherine. “Which young lady is Miss Elizabeth?”
Mr. Darcy forgot his anger with Mr. Collins and turned on his aunt. “It matters not Aunt Catherine, as you will not be staying downstairs. I will have dinner sent up and in the morning you will leave Netherfield. If the hour were not so late, I would have you removed.”
The lady rose and looked around the room, her eyes assessing each Bennet daughter. When she fixed Lydia with a reproving stare, the young lady gave away the identity of her sister in her unease. “That is Lizzy there at the pianoforte, your ladyship. She would not marry your parson for she is in love with Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet whirled around and descended on his youngest daughter taking her in hand. “Come along, Lydia. You have just lost your seat at Mr. Darcy’s dinner table. Mother,” he called to Mrs. Bennet, “we are to home.”
Mrs. Bennet stomped a foot and began to fuss at her husband when Lady Catherine made a most terrible shrieking noise. “This is not to be borne! However might my nephew have considered a young woman from such a crass and low family? The shades of Pemberley shall not be thus polluted!”
Mr. Darcy bit back the anger he held for his aunt and spoke only to Mr. Bennet. “Please, sir, see your family into the dining room and I shall join you after I have seen my aunt settled above stairs. I wish to speak to you and ask for Miss Elizabeth’s hand this night.”
Lady Catherine lunged at her nephew, her cries piercing the ears of all present. The Bennets hurried from the room and only Elizabeth remained frozen to her seat at the pianoforte.
Mr. Darcy held her gaze, his eyes pleading with her to join her family but her body would not obey his wishes. He had just told her father of his wish to marry her and the terrible sight before her of Lady Catherine crashing into Mr. Darcy did not signify.
Mr. Collins dashed across the room and took her by the arm pulling her to her feet. Elizabeth tried to resist but he hissed at her, his words piercing her brain. “Come, Cousin Elizabeth, you must not anger Lady Catherine further.”
As Mr. Darcy held his aunt firmly, she continued to screech at him and the vile words issuing forth shocked Elizabeth to her core. As Mr. Collins pulled her past the pair, Lady Catherine twisted in her nephew’s grasp and lunged at Elizabeth.
Mr. Collins was quicker and kept his cousin clear of his patroness and her white hot anger. He knew she would punish him later for his part in removing the object of her vitriol but he cared not at that moment.
Before Mr. Darcy might control his aunt once more, she stumbled and fell upon the floor, her cries becoming garbled as her body went limp at Elizabeth’s feet.