Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The Harvest Ball

Maria entered the ballroom tentatively, but full of hope. She greeted Darcy, Elizabeth, and Georgiana, while furtively searching for the one dear, familiar face that would put her mind at ease.

"He has not come down yet." Elizabeth leaned forward and whispered in Maria's ear. Maria gasped slightly and pulled back to look at Elizabeth, who wore a conspiratorial smile. Maria blushed and smiled tightly.

She knows?

Thankfully, another guest pulled Elizabeth's attention and Maria escaped any further embarrassment.

She wandered through the ballroom, nervously smoothing her hands over her skirt. When a seamstress was brought in to make the alterations to the simple, ivory coloured gown, Elizabeth said that it looked so much better on Maria than it ever did on her, and Maria must keep it.

Maria had embroidered some embellishments on the gown, but now that she was actually wearing it, she wondered if it had been the right thing to do. Impulsively, perhaps foolishly, she had done it all for him , and was eager for his opinion .

Maria felt him enter the room before she saw him; her body thrummed with a breathless awareness. She welcomed the warm, fluttery dizziness at the sight of him, and her nerves melted into excitement as he crossed the room towards her.

"Miss Lucas." He bowed formally.

She followed with a curtsey in an equally formal fashion. "Colonel Fitzwilliam." She had looked forward so much to seeing him again, speaking with him, but now couldn't seem to find the words to say.

"You are looking very well this evening, Miss Lucas. Absolute perfection." His eyes gazed admiringly at her carefully styled hair, then travelled to her gown. He started, and looked more intently at it. Maria felt heat rising to her cheeks and held her breath, waiting for what he might say.

When he finished studying the gown, Maria couldn't help asking hopefully, "Do you like it?"

After she'd embroidered his handkerchief, she felt empowered to be even more creative, and added a garden of flowers to Elizabeth's gown, mostly the same design of clematis in various shades of purple, but also vines, leaves, and roses. It was bold and colourful against the light fabric of the dress, and whimsical in design. It had taken every spare minute of detailed, focused work to finish the needlework in time for this evening.

"Maria," he said reverently, "this is exquisite. It seems I had just a small sample of your talent on my handkerchief. But this…I have no other word but stunning."

Maria smiled widely, delighting in his admiration. "Thank you. I hoped you would like it."

"Like it! I am honoured to be standing with the most beautiful, original, and talented woman in the room." He seemed transfixed, until the sound of stringed instruments snapped him back to the present. "The musicians are taking up their instruments," he said gently, and held out his hand.

"Wait, Colonel," Maria had been brooding about how to address that night in the library and didn't want to waste a sudden rush of confidence brought about by his praise. "About that night, before you left for London?—"

"Yes, there is much to say, but for now I think we must dance." He leaned in close and said softly, "We will speak tonight, you have my word."

They joined a set and soon the dance began. The figures had partners spinning in intimate holds, and Maria basked in the intensity of Arthur's expression whenever their faces were brought close together.

When they reached the bottom of the set, they both tripped over their words in a rush to speak.

"I was so sorry to have been called away?—"

"It is so good to see you again—you were?"

"It is?"

They both laughed self-consciously, then he said in a more serious tone, "I meant what I said earlier. You are by far the most beautiful woman in the room."

Maria was not conceited, but she glowed with pleasure at his compliment. Then their respite was over, and the dance demanded they join the set again. Maria loved to dance, but this evening was going to be interminable, if it meant at the end of the night, they might finally be able to speak freely.

When they made their final bow and curtsey on the last chord of the song, Maria felt something like actual pain in her chest, having to part from him. But the affectionate glint in his eyes gave her hope and strength to continue dancing throughout the evening. Occasionally she caught him watching her from across the room, even while he was dancing with his own partner.

She'd had no reprieve, and after many energetic country reels, she was in need of refreshment. And to catch her breath. Or perhaps even to speak to Elizabeth about what might be happening with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but before she could attain any of these, a young man interrupted her path, and her thoughts. He looked familiar, someone the Darcys had introduced her to perhaps an hour before, but her mind had been too preoccupied to remember his name. He solicited her for the next dance, and since she had just been dancing, she could not refuse.

As the gentleman led her into the set, he reminded her, "This is the supper dance, Miss Lucas. I am thankful of the honour you bestow upon me."

Maria smiled slightly, but she hoped not encouragingly. The dance began, and at every opportunity, the gentleman made a comment about the ball, someone in the room, or Maria herself. He reminded her of her odious brother-in-law, Mr. Collins. Maria tried to keep her replies non-verbal and noncommittal: a small nod, a raised eyebrow.

Will this song ever end?

She wished Arthur had asked instead then she would be enjoying supper with him , and not…whoever this man was. Her skin fairly itched from his over-zealous compliments and biting social commentary.

Finally, the dance was over, and they headed towards the supper room. But before they could join the throng of other guests, he placed her hand on his arm and pulled her in a different direction. Maria felt a shiver of apprehension, but before she could ask what he was doing, he had dragged them around the corner and into an empty hallway.

She tripped with the sudden change of direction, to his advantage; she was trapped between him and the wall. Not until she could smell the wine on his hot breath did she realize the man was about to kiss her. Shock turned to burning anger, and she shoved at his chest with all her might, hissing, "What do you think you are doing ?"

He stumbled backwards just enough for her to put some distance between them. He seemed unconcerned with her reluctance. "Come now, Miss Lucas, I've seen the interest in your eyes all evening."

"Sir, I assure you, you most certainly have not! Anything you think you saw in my eyes for the past hour has been only concealed boredom! I thank you for the dance, now please excuse me!" She turned to leave but he caught her wrist, determined.

She quickly remembered something her brothers had taught her, and as he twisted her around to face him again, she brought up a knee and hit him, hard. His grunt of pain was perversely satisfying. "Let me make myself absolutely clear: do not follow me and never speak to me again."

Maria left him crouched over, alone in the hall. She had been possessed with a righteous strength while defending herself, but now her hands trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes.

She headed towards the safety of the ballroom, but its candlelight shimmered unsteadily ahead of her. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, and tears fell down her cheeks. I can't be seen like this! She turned and followed a different hallway, nearly running in her attempt to shake off the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.