Chapter Five

Elizabeth

T he ballroom at Netherfield was resplendent with light and elegance. Chandeliers cast a soft glow over the assembled guests, and the lively strains of the musicians filled the air. Elizabeth stood near one of the windows, scanning the scene before her. Despite her best efforts to remain composed, a slight tension nagged at her. It wasn’t the idea of seeing Georgiana Darcy again that unsettled her—on the contrary, Georgiana’s quiet grace had left a pleasant impression. Rather, it was Mr Darcy’s looming presence that made her uneasy.

Elizabeth glanced towards the far end of the room where Georgiana stood, looking as shy and reserved as ever. She had found her conversation with Mr Darcy’s sister the day before surprisingly pleasant and her kindness towards Maggie had struck her as lovely. Georgiana had a retiring sweetness about her, quite unlike what Mr Wickham had suggested.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana said softly, her hands clasped nervously before her, “it is very good to see you again. I had the pleasure of being introduced to your sister Jane earlier. She is truly delightful.”

“I thank you,” Elizabeth replied warmly. “Jane is my dearest companion.”

Georgiana’s expression softened. “I do envy you, Miss Elizabeth. I have often wondered how different life would be with sisters. It must be lively at Longbourn.”

Elizabeth smiled at the thought, but before she could answer, she noticed people gathering at the pianoforte across the room. Mary was stationed at it, enthusiastically monopolising the instrument while ignoring the polite hints of those waiting to take their turn. Elizabeth felt a pang of mortification at her sister’s lack of self-awareness, but she said nothing, refocusing on Georgiana.

“Lively, yes,” Elizabeth agreed, her smile wry. There is no end of liveliness at Longbourn.”

Georgiana returned a shy smile but did not quite meet her eyes. “I would like to visit such a place. My own home is often rather quiet.”

“Quiet can be peaceful,” Elizabeth said kindly, though she sensed that Georgiana’s bashfulness made even simple conversation a challenge. “But I’m sure you have interests that occupy your time.”

“Oh, yes,” Georgiana said, her tone brightening with relief. “I play the pianoforte often. My brother has always encouraged me to practise.”

Elizabeth smiled again, feeling a certain fondness for the girl. “I would be most delighted to hear you play.”

Georgiana hesitated, her eyes flitting nervously towards Mr Darcy before she said, “Perhaps… one day I will have the courage to play for you.”

Elizabeth noted how much Georgiana seemed to rely on her brother’s approval. The timid girl before her was so far removed from the picture Mr Wickham had painted that she began to wonder—was Mr Wickham truly the trustworthy source she had believed him to be?

Just as the thought crossed her mind, her attention was abruptly pulled away by the unmistakable sound of her mother’s voice rising above the chatter and music.

“Oh, Miss Bingley, I assure you, Maggie is not some stray we picked up on the road!” Mrs Bennet’s tone was sharp, her face flushed with offence.

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped as she glanced towards the refreshment table, where her mother stood facing Caroline Bingley, who was all too ready to escalate the situation. Several nearby guests had already turned their heads towards the altercation, curiosity bright in their eyes.

“Of course, Mrs Bennet,” Caroline replied with feigned sweetness, her eyes gleaming with malice. “I merely meant that Maggie must feel somewhat out of place. Perhaps an orphanage or some such arrangement would be more suited to her circumstances.”

Elizabeth winced. She saw her mother’s face grow redder, and the other guests began whispering among themselves. It would not be long before the scene became even more of a spectacle.

“An orphanage!” Mrs Bennet gasped. “How dare you suggest such a thing! Maggie is as much a part of our family as any child of good breeding, and I will not have her insulted in such a manner.”

Elizabeth hurriedly excused herself from Georgiana and made her way to her mother’s side, trying to intervene before the situation grew worse.

“Mama,” she said, her voice low but firm as she gently touched her mother’s arm, “I believe Lydia and Kitty are in need of your assistance.”

Mrs Bennet, still fuming, looked ready to argue, but Elizabeth gave her a pointed glance in the direction of her younger sisters. Kitty had just stumbled into a chair in her eagerness to join the dance, while Lydia was draped over an officer from the militia, laughing far too loudly.

With a huff, Mrs Bennet allowed herself to be led away, though she cast one last indignant glare at Caroline before turning to deal with her younger daughters.

Caroline turned back to her brother and sister, Elizabeth couldn’t not help but notice the triumphant expression on her face. She made her way towards the edge of the ballroom distancing herself from the Bingleys. She had scarcely recovered from the mortifying scene when Mr Darcy’s voice startled her.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, his tone polite but formal, “would you do me the honour of this next dance?”

Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things she had expected that evening, dancing with Mr Darcy had not been one of them. The memory of their previous strained encounters weighed on her, yet his request was delivered with such civility that she could hardly refuse.

“Certainly, Mr Darcy,” she replied, taking his offered hand as they moved towards the dance floor.

As they took their places in the set, Elizabeth could hear Lydia’s voice ringing out once more, louder and more unruly than before. Lydia was now calling to Kitty across the room, laughing loudly as she jostled another officer in the process. The other guests looked on, some with amusement, others with clear disapproval. Nearby, Mrs Bennet’s voice could be heard chastising Lydia for her behaviour, though in a tone far too loud to be considered ladylike.

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned, and though she tried to focus on the dance, she couldn’t shake the feeling of utter humiliation. Mr Darcy, too, seemed acutely aware of the scene unfolding around them.

“Your sisters are quite spirited this evening,” he remarked, his voice neutral, though his eyes flickered towards Lydia.

Elizabeth forced a smile. “They are always full of spirit, though I fear it does not always lend itself to grace.”

Mr Darcy’s expression softened slightly as he looked at her. “It must be exhausting at times, to have so many young minds to manage.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hint of humour in his tone. “I manage them very little, Mr Darcy. My mother takes most of that upon herself, with varying degrees of success.”

Mr Darcy’s lips twitched slightly. “I could not help but overhear her conversation with Miss Bingley earlier.”

Elizabeth bit back a sigh. “Yes, Mama is ever vigilant over those she holds dear.” She tried to keep her tone light, though the embarrassment of the evening was taking its toll.

They continued the dance in silence, both acutely aware of the chaos surrounding them. Lydia’s laughter, Kitty’s clumsiness, Mary’s insistent monopolising of the pianoforte—all of it painted the Bennets as thoroughly out of place among the more refined company at Netherfield.

Yet as the music swelled and Mr Darcy’s hand briefly brushed hers in the dance, Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder—despite everything, despite her family’s glaring faults—what was it that Mr Darcy truly thought of her?