Chapter Two

E lizabeth's skin tingled when she arrived at Netherfield. She noted the sensation with no little amount of amusement. Signs of a budding tenderness of heart could not be more apparent. Though she was mostly unfamiliar with the accompanying symptoms of a violent, passionate love, Elizabeth imagined the prickling of the tips of her fingers must surely be included among them as the earliest manifestations.

The particular care in her hair, dress, and those minute accoutrements that were typical of her giddy youngest sisters were noticeable in her own toilette that evening. Never before had she so assiduously tended to those outward signs of a young girl looking to have her affections returned by a handsome man of her acquaintance. Elizabeth smiled softly, knowing that soon she would see Wickham and then he could begin to fall in love with her in the way that was expected and proper.

Elizabeth had been shocked by how absorbed her attentions had become by the charming officer who had so recently joined the militia in Meryton. His hazel eyes, strong bearing, easy laugh, and rapid wit had charmed her into a state of mild… She frowned. Had she abandoned her reading, studies, and walks? No, she had not. Had she been gazing out of the windows of Longbourn sighing loudly? No. Was she beginning to be in love? Was she constantly in a state of dazed, simpering happiness? Not really.

Elizabeth shook her head to dispel these confusing thoughts as she climbed the steps of Netherfield. Something compelled her to lift her gaze. Mr Darcy was staring down at her from a second-story window. His countenance was stony and steady.

With a flip of her head, she tore her focus from his dark eyes and propelled herself up the stairs rapidly, anger giving her step zeal.

"Lizzy!" Lydia cried as she sprinted up past her. " You should not be the first to enter. I am the reason this ball is occurring! Do you not recall that if I had not been the one to press Mr Bingley about his promise of a ball, then he would never have given it. If I had not been particularly singled out as the one who named the very day of the ball, it would not have happened at all. All of you should follow me ."

Lydia strode out in front of the entire Longbourn party to enter Netherfield first. Elizabeth had made a discreet grab at her youngest sister's elbow, but in vain. She and Jane glanced at each other, each knowing full well that Mr Bingley's sisters would note this breach of etiquette. It should have been their parents, then Jane and the rest of the family in descending order of their age, to go in the front door and be received by Mr Bingley and his sisters, Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley.

"Lydia," Elizabeth hissed in an unheeded attempt to check her, "Papa and Mama should be the first ones to—"

It was too late. Lydia was standing before the Netherfield party, practically demanding attention and compliments to her gown and the style of her hair. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—this was short-lived. For as soon as she spotted several of her favourite officers, Miss Lydia Bennet was off like a hound to the horn when a fox is declared to be the object most dear to their master.

Elizabeth felt the heat in her cheeks and knew it was not from the warmth of the hall alone. With her best attempt at composure, she exchanged chilled pleasantries with the sisters and then truly warm ones with Mr Bingley.

After tending to these necessities, Elizabeth was free to wander and observe, hoping that at any moment her objective would come into view. After a thorough walk-through, and then a more methodical search of the ballroom, it was apparent that Wickham was nowhere within. One of his brother officers, Mr Denny, informed her that he had been prevented from attending by his wish to prevent any discomfort for Mr Bingley. Though Mr Denny disguised the excuse as a pressing need for his friend to visit London in order to attend to business, Elizabeth was capable of perceiving the true cause of his absence. Her opinion of Wickham remained high, knowing that his desire to spare Mr Bingley any undue embarrassment that might arise from awkward moments between himself and Mr Darcy was the true cause of his absence. The tale of the officer's mistreatment at the hands of Mr Darcy had been exhaustively discussed by everyone in the neighbourhood.

Elizabeth was deeply incensed at this bit of news when she spied her cousin, Mr Collins. That gentleman had been staying at Longbourn for several weeks and seemed to be intent on capturing most of Elizabeth's time and attention. She negotiated light-footed manoeuvres in order to escape the notice of her cousin. Already engaged to dance the first two sets with him, the idea of also sacrificing her free time to his dull, interminable conversation was unthinkable.

In a fury of disappointed anticipation, Elizabeth pulled her friend Charlotte Lucas into a small recess and spoke. "Mr Wickham is not here! It is all Mr Darcy's doing. He is the cause of the absence of Wickham; I am so vexed. Charlotte, I can hardly keep my composure in a tolerable sort of order. He is a wicked man, and I do not care how great his fortune is! Nothing can excuse the deplorable manner in which he has treated Wickham."

"That is a very bold accusation, Eliza, if I understand you. Was Mr Wickham singled out by Mr Darcy? Were there explicit instructions to Colonel Forster to exclude Mr Wickham from the open invitation for all of the militia officers? If there was no instance of a specification on the part of the Netherfield party, you can hardly be justified in laying that charge at the doorstep of Mr Darcy."

Elizabeth's feet shifted her weight uncomfortably. It was not her nature to exaggerate the truth, and it was awkward to have the fallacies of her statement pointed out by a friend. "To my knowledge, he was not singled out in any expressed manner, but…"

"And did not Mr Wickham make a declarative statement, heard by several people, that he would indeed be attending, even if it subjected him to the condemnation of Mr Darcy?"

"And just what exactly are you suggesting?" Elizabeth asked.

"I am suggesting that you are choosing the wrong target for your wrath. If Mr Wickham chose to take himself away after very clearly indicating that he would be attending no matter the consequence, I think it displays a tendency towards a mercurial temperament. I know you have a fondness for Wickham, but there are aspects to his nature that you would find exasperating in any other gentleman."

"But Mr Darcy is the villain! Not Wickham."

"Mr Darcy is a man of ten times Mr Wickham's consequence. And Mr Darcy has the interesting habit of observing you a great deal when you are both in society together."

"No more punch for you, Charlotte. Delusions are overtaking your sense, and I will begin to become annoyed at you. You ruin my petulant mood most terribly by noting the flaws in my reasoning."

Charlotte smiled benevolently at her younger friend. "I apologise for hoping to temper your anger. You know that what I say is the unvarnished truth. We have always spoken freely with each other. I only point out these incongruities in the behaviour of Mr Wickham because I would expect nothing less from you. If you were to examine his words in comparison to his actions, I believe you would begin to see some slight irregularities."

"Are you implying that I have become too warm in my feelings for Mr Wickham?"

Charlotte shook her head gently. "I know you too well to think that you would become so swept up in such a short amount of time by your feelings. However, as you are certainly well aware, we know very little of Mr Wickham beyond what he himself has told us."

Elizabeth looked away, for she did not want Charlotte to witness any blush on her face as the truth of her words sank in. But young ladies who had recently ridden high on the back of excited expectations were not always the most rational of creatures. Returning her gaze to Charlotte, she declared, "And as for your other hint, if Mr Darcy was staring too long in my direction, it was due to the fact that my faults are too numerous to list and he becomes puzzled by the effort."

"Oh, Eliza, I do not think that is the case at all. Even if there are not as many pleasing gentlemen here as we had hoped, we may at least enjoy witnessing the pleasure of those who are dear to us."

Both Elizabeth and Charlotte turned their gazes towards the figures of Jane and Mr Bingley. Their heads were leaning in to be quite near to each other as Mr Bingley proffered a bowl of punch to the radiant Jane. She blushed pleasingly, though her face remained calm in expression.

With a mildly conspiratorial air, Charlotte whispered, "Have you spoken to Jane about allowing more of what she feels to be seen by the world? Mr Bingley is so apparently in love, but, as I mentioned before, it would be difficult for one not as well acquainted as we are with Jane to recognise the symptoms of her regard."

"I am certain that he must be able to observe the return of his good opinion." Elizabeth was annoyed that a sliver of doubt could be heard in her voice. There was sound wisdom in what Charlotte said, but it smacked too much of subterfuge for her to be entirely comfortable recommending it to Jane as a way to more firmly secure Mr Bingley's affections.

"Are you? It is not always a simple matter to know when you have caused a violent love in another. Some of a more taciturn nature are not as likely to display their inclinations for all to see."

"Jane is not being overly reserved. That is her nature, and no one who truly loves her would wish her to change. I think her interest is clear to observe. She is not too discreet for a sensible man not to recognise when her heart is moved."

"Not by your estimation, for you are intimately familiar with her moods. There is something to be learnt, I think, from the flowers of the fields. They display their interest in the passing bees by an open and welcoming display of colour and vibrancy."

Elizabeth laughed aloud at this comparison. It tickled her to no end for all the ladies and gentlemen present in this grand ballroom to be likened to bees and flowers. "Charlotte! What a scandalous thing to say."

She glanced slyly at Miss Caroline Bingley, who was endeavouring to captivate Mr Darcy with some smiling whispers, batting eyelashes, and a gentle yet deliberate sway of her head that caused the tall feathers of her headdress to undulate back and forth in a hypnotic manner. He appeared unmoved by the attempts at allurement by Miss Bingley. Elizabeth could only speculate as to how outraged the lady would be if she knew that she bore a striking resemblance to a wild bird hoping to bewitch a potential mate.

With a slight shake of her own head, Elizabeth dismissed the idea and said, "I think your advice is not very sound. One should act true to one's nature with no attempt to inflame the passions of another through artificial means."

At that very moment, Mr Darcy's gaze locked with her own. Elizabeth turned her head rapidly, wishing to give the impression that her attention had been a mere matter of chance and had not been fixed upon him.

"If a man like Mr Bingley cannot fall irretrievably in love with Jane as she is, then there is little hope for the rest of us to make a love match, is there?" Elizabeth said with a lilt of a laugh.

Charlotte shook her head in a maternally indulgent manner. "I, for one, have never expected to make a match for love. If it occurs, so much the better. My highest ideal of felicity in matrimony is to be well and peacefully settled and have a future before me in which I shall be a burden to none. I hope for respect between myself and my partner. I will be pleased with that. Respect and, perhaps if I am truly fortunate, intelligent conversation. But I am willing to bear up with less."

Elizabeth could only look away in confusion with a smile. She knew her own desires to be very different from her friend's. Only the very deepest love would lure Elizabeth into marriage. However, that was a subject which she had discussed with Jane only. She could not match the level of practicality and equanimity that Charlotte displayed when it came to marriage and love. Elizabeth's scientific mind was too swayed by a passionate heart that quietly displayed its colours in the hopes of attracting a partner whom she could love deeply and truly esteem.

Mr Darcy suddenly stepped up and asked Elizabeth to dance. Whether it was from her anxiety at the approaching dance with Mr Collins or her fury at the man for scaring away Mr Wickham, Elizabeth found herself flustered and unable to fabricate an excuse in such a short amount of time. Her cool assent for the third set was given. Mr Darcy turned and left them just as abruptly.

Charlotte glanced at her with high brows, astonishment at her answer clearly written across her features.

Furious, Elizabeth spat out, "Do not deduce anything romantic from Mr Darcy asking to stand up with me. I am sure it is all part of some scheme to craft a criticism of me that he may later share with Miss Bingley."

Charlotte pressed her lips together and refused to tease her friend further.

In an effort to derive some semblance of enjoyment from the evening, Elizabeth thought of any other topic they could speak of. "Has your brother received the latest edition of A Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts ? I am most anxious to hear more about the Great Comet that lights up our night sky."

"Henry told me that the edition is being delayed so that more observations of the comet can be obtained from around the world. It is too bad the clouds are so thick tonight, for that would have been striking to see it blazing above Netherfield."

"The clouds are indeed too thick for a glimpse of it. I have to sneak out at night to catch sight of it."

"You must sneak? Why is that?"

"Mr Jones has advised my mother that he believes there may be some chance of damage to the eyes when one gazes at the comet. And Mama has taken that to mean the beauty of our eyes may be lessened, so we are forbidden to view it…especially Jane."

The two ladies laughed over this, for they were both gifted with silly mothers and frequently found it a source of merriment to share family stories with each other.

Elizabeth's laughter died as she observed the approach of her visiting cousin, Mr Collins. She had not noticed the start of the music through the din of happy noise in the ballroom. Her heart became leaden. Two dances with stiff, awkward Mr Collins and then the third with Mr Darcy. Other than her chat with Charlotte and witnessing how delighted Mr Bingley was when in company with Jane, Elizabeth had little to look forward to for the duration of the ball.

She dutifully introduced Mr Collins to Charlotte before being led by him to the dance floor. Elizabeth speculated that this was the way a sacrificial lamb must feel whilst being led to the altar.

The half an hour was wearisome indeed. Her partner was an uninterrupted train of missteps, overly loud attempts at conversation, and indiscreet glances at her décolletage . Elizabeth's heart fairly leapt with joy as the last notes of the second dance faded into the heavily warm air of the room.

She wrenched her hand from the paw of Mr Collins as soon as they had left the boundaries of the dance floor. With warm cheeks, she turned to make a dash for the balcony before Mr Darcy could claim her hand for the third dance. There was a chance that if she was too difficult to find, the gentleman would give up and not mourn the loss of a prize that held so little value to him. But fate was determined to counter Elizabeth's every effort towards pleasure that evening.

The expansive chest of Mr Darcy blocked her path. He bowed solemnly.

"I believe we have the next dance, Miss Elizabeth."

"I… Well…"

Mr Darcy's haughty disdain wavered. He glanced over his shoulder at the doors that led to the terrace. "Were you in need of some air? It can become quite close in a ballroom. I understand if your health demands a turn on the terrace."

Elizabeth's brows raised in mild astonishment. That Mr Darcy would take into consideration her comfort and well-being was no small surprise for her, especially as she openly considered him one of the most selfish beings she had ever encountered. For a moment, she was conflicted. She genuinely did want to take a turn outside and try to catch a glimpse of the comet through the clouds.

As if discerning her thoughts, Mr Darcy continued, "I am always pleased to step outside, especially when such an unusual phenomenon as the Great Comet is to be observed."

With some mortification, Elizabeth realised her mouth was slightly open. With a snap, she shut it and shook her head. To be alone outside with such a difficult, wilfully obdurate man was more than her already disappointed feelings could bear.

"No, I have taken many opportunities to observe the Great Comet in the past few weeks. Besides, the clouds are thick and do not seem to be passing. I would prefer to remain inside and dance. That way, we may have the advantage of saying as little as possible."

Mr Darcy extended his elbow with a small frown. Elizabeth took it, and he led her to the floor.

"But I thought speaking with your partner was one of the advantages of a ball," he stated dryly as the music began.

Before they parted momentarily, Elizabeth observed, "Speaking and conversing are wildly different. Talk can be empty and dull indeed. Real conversation between two equals in mind and spirit is a rare occurrence."

Elizabeth was pleased that this observation left Mr Darcy silent for the time when the steps of the dance separated them. During this pause, his gaze went to observe Mr Bingley and her sister Jane. As the couple danced, they only had eyes for each other.

Worried, Elizabeth glanced back at Mr Darcy. She was well aware of what the Bingley sisters thought of the possibility of their brother marrying Jane Bennet and would not put it past them to interfere in order to prevent their brother from making an offer of marriage. But what his close friend thought of the union was still a bit of a mystery to Elizabeth. She was therefore enormously gratified to see that Mr Darcy's only response was the slightest hint of a smile and shake of his head. Elizabeth felt such a wave of genuine relief and gratitude that she could almost forgive the man for causing the absence of Mr Wickham this evening.

Warming to Mr Darcy in a fashion that did not include anger, Elizabeth ventured, "Have you been much intrigued by the passing of the comet? I have read that such an event is unlikely to occur again for one, maybe two centuries."

"Yes, I have been following it with great interest. In fact, the air here in Hertfordshire is so very clear when compared to London that it has been much more pleasant to watch its progression."

"But you have an estate in the north, do you not? Pemberley, is it? I should have thought you would be there if you wanted a truly good view of the comet."

"Yes, I…" Mr Darcy paused as a shadow of concern raced across his face. Elizabeth thought there was some shade of deeper worry there that made the man hesitate for a scant moment before his next step.

"I have been in London attending to some rather involved matters of business. My visit here in Hertfordshire has been a pleasant respite. More so than I had previously imagined it would be."

Confused, Elizabeth observed his eyes watch her with the sort of hard earnestness that she had witnessed many times before. Dropping her gaze and attempting to sound sincere with no hint of tease in her tone, she replied, "I am very gratified to hear that our confined society has not been too shocking for you. I remember well your boast that your good opinion, once lost, is not likely to be regained. Your good opinion would be forever lost."

"You remember the very words I used. Yes. But this may be one of the few instances that I can recollect when a poor initial impression is overcome by a deeper familiarity. It is true that I find a confined society—such as is in Hertfordshire—not generally to my tastes. But the quality of what is found here more than compensates for the lack of quantity. I am not at all opposed to what Hertfordshire has to offer. I am of quite the reverse opinion now. Certain places and certain people are far superior to what I first believed."

Every good and happy feeling a sister can have for the bright future of a beloved sister passed through Elizabeth's heart at that moment. For it was a certainty, in her mind at least, that Mr Darcy must be referring to Mr Bingley and Jane. He had many opportunities to hear and judge Jane's goodness, beauty, and sense. Any fear that Elizabeth had of Mr Darcy interfering in a negative way to slow or halt the natural course of a love match for Mr Bingley and Jane disappeared. Here was all the proof she needed. Mr Darcy just openly, and possibly even warmly, told her of his much-improved opinion of Hertfordshire and its confined and unvarying society. Such an opinion from one who held such sway over the amenable Mr Bingley! The ductile Mr Bingley would surely hold fast with such a steadying ally. With a heart full of love and the formidable Mr Darcy to add steel to his blood, Mr Bingley could surely withstand any assault from his sisters. Her chest surged with hopeful joy. Mr Darcy approved of Jane! Nothing else could explain the alteration.

The dance caused them to separate. As they came to face each other again, Elizabeth—all thought of the sad fate of Mr Wickham banished temporarily from her thoughts—smiled warmly, openly, and broadly at Mr Darcy. He blinked rapidly.

"I cannot tell you, sir, how gratifying it is for me to hear you express yourself so clearly on this matter. The good opinion of a man such as yourself, after making it well known that you found somewhere or—" She paused, breathless and grasping for the courage to press onward. "—or someone less than pleasing—intolerable even—well! I hardly know what to say. I am pleased to hear it. So very pleased and gratified with all my heart."

Elizabeth took advantage of a slow moment in the dance to crane her neck and steal a quick glance at Jane. It took all of her fortitude to refrain from rushing over and hugging her sister's neck with all the exuberance of sisterly love.

When her gaze returned to Mr Darcy, her brows furrowed in puzzled concern. His neck and cheeks seemed unaccountably red. It was warm in the ballroom, but the flush on the gentleman's skin was irregular in a manner that might indicate some sort of inner turmoil.

"I am so gratified that our minds are as one on this matter, Miss Elizabeth. It has caused me some discomfort to be in ignorance of your inclination."

Elizabeth parted from him as they circled the next couple. His words startled her momentarily. Why he should care what her opinion was on any matter, small or large, made no rational sense to her. Was it not obvious that she wished the best for Jane? Especially after she had bravely endured the company of the ladies of Netherfield to nurse Jane through a cold? There had been no instances of sniping and malice between herself and Jane to cause the world to doubt how close they were. Elizabeth was well aware of Mr Darcy's disdain for her own appearance, and he seemed to occasionally delight in vexing her in conversation as well. How her view on a possible match between Mr Bingley and Jane could be of any importance to him was a mystery.

"I am comfortable that I will be able to leave for London now, secure in the knowledge that we are in sympathy," Mr Darcy added in a low tone as he leaned in closer to her.

"Well, yes! Of course we are. How could you possibly think otherwise?"

Mr Darcy seemed to grow an inch in stature at this. His haughty forbearance returned in full strength. "Indeed. Yes. It was wrong of me to even entertain the possibility that we were not in accord. As unlikely as that would seem, there was a remote chance that you felt differently."

"Not at all! I am delighted and radiantly happy for all of the developments since Netherfield was let."

"I may be away for some time. But I will return, of course. There are matters that need sorting. Mr Bennet may be uneasy on some points if I approach him."

Elizabeth sighed with impatience. She could not fathom why Mr Darcy should approach Mr Bennet. If Mr Bingley could not be bothered to ask her father for Jane's hand by himself, then he was hardly ready to marry. Elizabeth thought it an overreach of his role as Mr Bingley's friend and adviser to believe that he must be there for such a delicate, private moment. Elizabeth was impressed yet again by Mr Darcy's shockingly good opinion of himself and his stature. All of the sour sensations that Mr Darcy typically roused in her began to regain their former strength.

"You take too much upon yourself, sir. I am certain that things will take a natural course from here on out."

Mr Darcy smiled warmly at her. That small act had the effect of transforming his entire countenance from dour to pleasing and perhaps even handsome.

For a brief moment, when they had been celebrating the likely union between Jane and Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy had seemed a very different sort of man. Had it not been for his sneering opinion of herself and his reprehensible treatment of Wickham, Elizabeth had the quickly passing revelation that Mr Darcy would not be a bad-looking sort of fellow.

After they parted, it took her several moments of reflection on the circumstances of poor Mr Wickham to rebuild all of her former dislike of Mr Darcy.