Chapter 6

E lizabeth stood abruptly, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She felt a tightness in her chest, her thoughts swirling with disbelief and indignation at Darcy's cruel words. How could he say such things? Even after all the kindness Papa showed him? What kind of man was he to speak so disdainfully about people he barely knew? The assembly suddenly felt uncomfortable, as tight as a noose. Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe, the need to get out of the room overwhelming her as she struggled for breath. It was as if the mere thought of being in the same room with Mr. Darcy was a death sentence.

Without a word, she moved quickly towards her father, who was standing near the entrance, engaged in conversation with Sir William Lucas.

Mr. Bennet noticed her approach and, seeing her distress, immediately asked, "What is the matter, Lizzy?"

"I need to leave, Papa. I cannot stay here any longer," she replied, her voice strained.

"Tired? Perhaps Charlotte can show you to a room where you can rest till the end of the ball," Sir William suggested.

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary, Sir William. I believe going home would be better," Elizabeth replied calmly.

Mrs. Bennet, overhearing the exchange, soon joined the bunch and interjected, "Oh dear, Lizzy! Are you feeling unwell? Is it your courses?"

"No, Mama. It is not that. I just feel tired and overwhelmed." Elizabeth shook her head, forcing a smile.

Mr. Bennet, sensing his daughter's distress beneath her words, drew her close and looked her squarely in the face. "Lizzy, are you quite sure? What has happened?"

"I am quite sure, Papa. I just need to leave," Elizabeth reassured him, determined not to burden her father with the details.

Knowing his daughter had a mind of her own and trusting her judgment, Mr. Bennet decided not to probe further. "Very well, Lizzy," he said. "I shall have someone fetch the coachman immediately."

"But we don't want to leave yet!" Lydia and Kitty, who had come to join the little gathering, exclaimed, their voices filled with dismay.

Mary, who had just joined them too, overheard and turned to Lydia and Kitty. "If there is a need to leave, then we must leave."

"Lizzy, are you all right? Shall I come with you?" Jane approached with worry etched on her face.

"No, Jane," Elizabeth replied, her voice softening. "You must stay and enjoy the evening. Mr. Bingley still looks like he may dance with you again or even talk to you afterwards. I do not want to ruin your night. And if you look behind, you'll see him coming towards us."

Mr. Bingley, following Jane in tow, soon caught up with the party. Noticing the commotion, he approached with sympathy. "Is there anything I can do to help, Miss Bennet?"

"There is no need to end anyone's merry. I will leave with the coachman to rest at home. Once I arrive, I will send the coachman back for the rest of you. I am sure I will be fine after a cup of tea and some sleep," Elizabeth replied, determined not to spoil anyone else's evening.

Mr. Darcy, standing by the door, observed the scene with an unreadable expression, while the Bingley sisters exchanged amused glances, their faces pretending concern when Elizabeth looked their way. But Elizabeth could tell it was mere pretence. A couple of the family friends familiar with the Bennets also came to check on the company, but Elizabeth insisted that she was fine and only needed to go home. Mr. Collins offered to escort Elizabeth home, making a remark on how Lady Catherine de Bourgh always said young women should not be left alone as it was unladylike. Mr. Bennet told him there was no need, as he apparently sensed Elizabeth just needed to be alone, and Elizabeth told Mr. Collins to enjoy the evening and socialize since he would not be in Meryton for very long.

"Please inform the coachman that Miss Elizabeth requires the carriage." Mr. Bennet signalled to a servant.

The servant nodded and quickly left to carry out the request. Mr. Bennet turned back to Elizabeth. "Very well, Lizzy. Be safe."

"Thank you, Papa," Elizabeth curtsied, her eyes filled with gratitude.

As Elizabeth made her way to the door, her mind was a whirl of emotions. Mr. Darcy merely shifted as she walked past him. How can he just stand there as if oblivious to the fact that he is the cause of my discomfort? What kind of man acts so cruelly? She had only one answer: Mr. Darcy.

Stepping outside into the cool night air, Elizabeth could still hear the distant murmur of the ball behind her. The coachman was soon at the ready, and she climbed into the carriage, eager to escape the painful memories of the evening. In that moment, she would have done anything to put some distance between herself and the insufferable Mr. Darcy. As the carriage began to glide away from the scene, Elizabeth felt a sense of relief wash over her, her breath coming easier once again.

****

Darcy stood by the door, his eyes following Elizabeth's retreating figure. The chatter and laughter of the assembly blurred into a distant hum. His earlier remarks echoed in his mind, each word a barb of regret.

He turned away, his hand gripping the door frame. The weight of his pride now felt like a shackle. He had seen the flash of pain in Elizabeth's eyes, a look that haunted him even though the room around him buzzed with life.

Miss Bingley's voice cut through his thoughts, dripping with feigned concern. "Mr. Darcy, it seems Miss Elizabeth Bennet is quite delicate. Such a dramatic exit."

His grip tightened, knuckles whitening. "It appears so," he said curtly.

"One would think she could handle a bit of social discourse without fleeing."

"I believe the fault lies with me, not her." Darcy's jaw clenched.

Surprise flickered across Miss Bingley's face. "Oh? How so?"

"I spoke without thought, and it caused her distress." He turned his gaze back to the now-closed door.

Miss Bingley pursed her lips, clearly displeased with his self-reproach. "Well, it is of no consequence. These country girls are easily flustered."

Darcy barely heard her, his mind replaying the scene. He had admired Elizabeth's spirited nature and wit the night he arrived in Meryton, and now, he had driven her away from the assembly because he didn't like the way everyone was talking about him. The assembly hall which he once considered lively although he didn't feel like joining its activities, now felt stifling.

As he watched the carriage carrying Elizabeth away through the window, he longed to follow, to offer some form of apology. But propriety and pride held him back. Instead, he remained rooted in place, the memory of Elizabeth's hurt expression gnawing at him like a caterpillar on a dying fruit.