Chapter Sixteen

November 26, 1811

Netherfield Ball

Elizabeth

Elizabeth eagerly anticipated being in Mr. Darcy's presence again. Their mutual regard had grown steadily since entering a formal courtship, and she looked forward to an evening in his company, even though they had to hide their affection from the local populace.

The day before the ball brought a stream of visitors to Longbourn. Everyone felt glad to be out and about once more after days of confinement because of the inclement weather. Among those were several militia officers. Mr. Wickham, included among them, quickly took a seat near Lydia, and lavished her with pretty compliments and much attention.

In due course, he approached Elizabeth and inquired after her health. She replied cordially, hoping her manner was not overly encouraging. She half expected him to request a set for the ball the next day and was relieved when he did not.

The officers took tea with the Bennets, and Elizabeth could not help but notice Mr. Wickham discreetly pilfering several scones and pastries in his coat pocket. His behavior was impolite, but if it encouraged him to depart expeditiously to avoid discovery, she would not call attention to his misdemeanor.

The day of the ball meant hours of preparation for the ladies of Longbourn. Mary appeared in Elizabeth's room, frantically requesting help in readying herself for the evening. Mr. Collins's attentions to the middle Bennet daughter had not ceased, and she wished to secure an offer from him as soon as possible.

Elizabeth was happy to aid her sister, and together they selected a suitable gown from her wardrobe. Mary rarely cared for such things—her own attire was often drab and sober, lacking in adornment and fashion. The poor dear had not considered the need for an attractive gown for the night. Thankfully, Elizabeth could easily make over one of hers to suit Mary.

With only Sally and their mother's maid Martha to assist, the Bennet sisters had to help each other with their toilette. Kitty and Lydia quickly banded together, styling their hair fashionably and fastening stays and buttons.

Jane and Elizabeth first helped Mary prepare before aiding each other. Elizabeth began by curling Mary's front locks into soft ringlets with heated tongs. She then gathered them back into a smooth chignon at the nape of Mary's neck, securing it with pins. To complete the look, Jane adorned the style with pearl hairpins, adding a touch of elegance. Finally, they both helped Mary into a newly fashioned pale-yellow gown, which gave her complexion a healthy glow. When she glimpsed herself in the looking glass, she beamed.

Elizabeth took advantage of the incessant rains to alter the embellishments on her favorite ballgown. It was a champagne-colored creation, featuring a gauzy overlay on the skirt and a matching satin ribbon at the waist. The sleeves bore pearl buttons, and the neckline dipped daringly low, yet remained modest. Jane styled her hair in a high pile atop her head, leaving a few curls to kiss her neck. Elizabeth adorned herself with a string of pearls and her garnet cross, pairing the necklaces with matching eardrops.

Jane had never looked lovelier in a gown of rose-colored silk. The color highlighted the natural blush in her cheeks, making her appear radiant. Mama requested Martha to style Jane's hair, hoping that if her daughter presented herself at her finest, Mr. Bingley would finally tender his proposals that night.

The carriage felt cramped as it traveled to Netherfield Park. It was always snug with just Mr. Bennet and his ladies, but the addition of Mr. Collins made the journey very uncomfortable. Thankfully, it was a quick ride to their destination. The full moon illuminated the road adequately, and when they turned into Netherfield's drive, they saw that Mr. Bingley had arranged for lanterns to line the way. The entire front of the building was brightly lit, looking warm and inviting.

The receiving line stretched for some distance, and Mrs. Bennet fretted at the slow pace. Elizabeth was content to wait; she would see Mr. Darcy soon enough. At long last, they reached Mr. Bingley, who greeted them enthusiastically, lingering with Jane as long as he could before being compelled to release her in favor of greeting the next in line.

Elizabeth watched with amusement as Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley greeted the Bennets with noses in the air. Miss Bingley was barely civil, glancing at the line behind them as if searching for someone. Who was she looking for?

Once in the ballroom, Elizabeth glanced around in search of Mr. Darcy. She spotted him across the room, conversing with a group of gentlemen she had known since childhood. His expression was interested and engaging, then he suddenly looked in her direction and met her gaze. The corners of his mouth quirked up, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Strains of music sounded, signaling the dancers to prepare for the first set, and Elizabeth watched as those around her moved to the center of the floor. Jane partnered with Mr. Bingley to open the ball. Mary and Mr. Collins joined them, along with Miss Bingley and Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Hurst. The rest of the set was almost formed when John Lucas requested Elizabeth's hand. She accepted gratefully, glad that she was not obliged to sit out the first dances of the evening.

The dance moved at a fast pace, making conversation difficult. Instead, Elizabeth observed the others in the set and those in the room. Mr. Collins and Mary were further down the line, and the gentleman bumbled the dance steps horribly. Mary patiently attempted to assist him, but his blunders turned what should have been an elegant dance into a tragedy.

Amused, Elizabeth turned her gaze toward the rest of the ballroom. On one wall, she thought she saw Mr. Wickham, but the steps of the dance prevented her from seeing more clearly. When she returned to a position where she might look for him again, the man she had seen was gone.

The first set concluded, and another gentleman secured Elizabeth's hand for the next set. This time, Mr. Darcy stood up with Miss Bingley—she had never witnessed a more unhappy pairing. After the set ended, Miss Bingley hurried away toward her sister, and the musicians paused for a time so that one player could fix a broken string.

"I have dispatched my duty to Bingley," a deep voice said behind her. She turned and found Mr. Darcy at her elbow. "I am sorry I could not greet you before now. Bingley tells me the next set is slower; we shall be able to speak at length."

"Wickham is here," she said. "I do not see him now, but I swear I noted his presence during the second set."

"I have seen him, though I have pretended otherwise," he said, nodding. "Wickham believes himself to be clever and thinks he has avoided detection. His arrogance will be his undoing."

"Dare we risk standing up together?" She dreaded his answer. The third set would be their only opportunity to partner for a set. Others had claimed all of Elizabeth's dances. They would have supper together, she reminded herself.

"As long as I show no outward preference for you, I think we may consider ourselves safe." Darcy smiled gently, and Elizabeth wished she could convey the depth of her feelings for him. He was an honorable man, so intent on protecting her!

The orchestra struck a chord, and he extended his hand to her. She accepted, masking the profound emotions forming within her with a placid smile.

Their dance felt like a magical dream, and Elizabeth's gaze remained fixed on his handsome face. She paid no heed to the other dancers whirling around her, so captivated was she by her Mr. Darcy. His expression was solemn, yet the feelings of his heart were plainly visible in his eyes for anyone perceptive enough to notice. Elizabeth struggled to conceal her overwhelming delight from the entire ballroom and to prevent herself from swooning on the dance floor.

At the end of the set, she took his arm, and as he led her from the floor, she knew in that moment she loved him. On the cusp of this realization, she saw Mr. Wickham, and instantly replaced her tender feelings for Mr. Darcy with resentment for the man who could destroy her happiness. I will not let him succeed , she vowed silently. Mr. Darcy, with regret, took his leave after their set, since Mr. Wickham's presence was now confirmed. She thanked him politely, and he drifted away to secure another dance partner. Elizabeth felt a measure of relief when she saw him standing up with Charlotte during the fourth set.

The fifth set took place just before supper. Mr. Bingley came to claim Elizabeth's hand while Darcy claimed Jane's. Elizabeth bore it without jealousy, knowing that she and her beloved would have the duration of supper to converse. The plethora of guests meant a general cacophony around the table, thus ensuring some privacy in conversation.

The set seemed to stretch on endlessly, given her anticipation of the meal to follow, but she bore it with surprising patience. At long last, the music concluded, and a pair of large double doors opened off the ballroom, revealing a long dining table covered in an array of delicacies.

Mr. Bingley led Elizabeth to the dining room with Mr. Darcy and Jane close on his heels. The seating was informal, with no seats at the head and foot of the table, an arrangement undoubtably by design. This ensured that Elizabeth and Darcy could sit together, their proximity allowing their glances to meet and hands to brush against each other under the table, sending a thrill through Elizabeth's heart. The chairs quickly filled, and Elizabeth glanced around the room, wishing to ascertain the location of Mr. Wickham so that she might guard her expressions if necessary. Mr. Darcy, noticing her concern, gently squeezed her hand in reassurance, his eyes conveying a promise of protection and unwavering support.

"I do not see him," Mr. Darcy murmured in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

"Neither do I. Did he leave?"

"He danced the third with Miss Bingley. After that, I do not recall seeing him."

Elizabeth nodded. "I was much engaged after the third set; I lost sight of him after he returned Miss Bingley to her sister."

"Then let us be cautious whilst we enjoy our meal." Mr. Darcy picked up his spoon and dipped it into his bowl. "I have it on good authority that the white soup is prepared perfectly."

Elizabeth followed suit and sampled her dish. "It is delicious, " she said. "How does Pemberley's rendition of the same dish compare?"

"I prefer Mrs. Lambson's, though you must not tell Bingley's cook."

She chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling. "You have my word, Mr. Darcy. I will never reveal your preference," she said teasingly. "As I cannot form an opinion, given my lack of experience, I shall bow to your greater knowledge."

Darcy leaned in closer until his breath tickled her ear. "We will have to amend your lack as soon as may be," he said huskily. Elizabeth flushed from head to toe and distractedly took another spoonful of soup, fighting to regain her equanimity.

When she could speak again without her voice wavering, she turned her gaze to him. "Have you plans to host a house party at Pemberley, sir?" she asked coyly, adopting feigned innocence. "I cannot account for any other way you might afford me the opportunity to sample your cook's fare."

He chuckled, a warm, rich, and deep sound. "No, I do not imagine a house party is close at hand," he replied, attempting to suppress a grin.

"Then mayhap you mean to invite your cook to Netherfield Park," she said casually, scooping more soup into her spoon and bringing it to her lips.

"Indeed, I had no such notion," he replied.

Elizabeth shrugged one shoulder. "I am at a loss, then, on how you mean to grant me such a considerable honor."

"I thought I might abscond with you in my carriage, Miss Elizabeth," he said seriously. "I shall smuggle you away in the dead of night."

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest. "How scandalous, Mr. Darcy!" she cried in affected surprise. "And what if I do not wish to be absconded with ?"

"Your willingness is your choice," Mr. Darcy smirked. "If you are resistant, I might bind your hands and feet and place you on the floor of my coach until we are too far away to be overtaken by pursuers."

"And if I come willingly?"

He leaned closer once more, his eyes boring into her. "Then you will have a seat next to me on the forward-facing bench. We will share a rug or two and have hot bricks at our feet. I am certain a basket full of delicacies will accompany us so that we might satiate our appetites." Mr. Darcy paused, and Elizabeth felt herself drowning in his gaze. She licked her lips as he continued. "I have high hopes that you will come willingly."

Her breath quickened, and she could feel her heart thumping ferociously against her breast. "You need not fear my resistance," she said breathily. "You had best be careful, sir, lest the other guests overhear you and declare you to be a rogue!"

He leaned away, his grin crooked. "I have been called worse, madam. If fortune favors us, we will not need to abscond at all."

The second course was served, and Elizabeth was grateful for the time to compose herself while she spoke to Mr. Bingley, who sat on her other side. Mr. Darcy was fortunate enough to be seated next to Mr. Hurst. That gentleman did little conversing, choosing instead to imbibe freely and partake heartily of all the fare that was offered.

Elizabeth was discussing the merits of estate ownership with Mr. Bingley when she felt a light pressure on her foot. Startled, she moved her foot away, only to feel the same pressure moments later. She glanced toward Mr. Darcy, suspicion in her eyes, and he grinned cheekily at her. Heat suffused her cheeks, and she scowled playfully at him before returning her attention to Mr. Bingley. Once more, she felt his foot nudge hers. This time, instead of pulling away, she lifted her slipper and put it atop his boot, pressing lightly. His quick intake of breath assured Elizabeth that he found her attention pleasing, and she tossed him a triumphant glance. The heat in his gaze did not match the neutral expression on his face, and she glanced around to ensure no one had observed their intimate exchange.

Such was their communication throughout the rest of the meal, and it was with extreme reluctance that Elizabeth joined the ladies as they left the table for the drawing room. Miss Bingley had arranged for some entertainment before the dancing resumed, and Elizabeth looked forward to the time to gather her wits once more.

The ladies conversed lightly while they awaited the gentlemen. Mama was in the corner with Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding, and Elizabeth could hear her boasting of the inevitable matches her daughters were to make.

"If Mr. Bingley does not propose to Jane within a fortnight, I shall eat my favorite bonnet," Mrs. Bennet cried.

"He seems enamored with her," Lady Lucas agreed. "I wonder why he has delayed so long in tendering his offer."

"Gentlemen need encouragement," Mrs. Goulding said. "Miss Bennet has shown her regard this evening. If he does not see it, he must be blind."

Elizabeth bit her lip, struggling to hide her mirth. Mr. Bingley was in no doubt of Jane's affections; they had been far more open with each other during those morning meetings than when in company. What others thought hardly mattered.

"What of your Mary, Mrs. Bennet?" Mrs. Goulding asked. "She has been the recipient of Mr. Collins's attentions these past days. Will he make her an offer?"

"I am certain of it!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Such an arrangement will ensure Longbourn's future."

"That must be a relief." Lady Lucas's voice oozed false sympathy.

"Oh, it is!" Mrs. Bennet agreed. "You have but two daughters to marry off, my dear friend. I cannot tell you how hard it is on my poor nerves to find husbands for five !"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as Charlotte slid into the seat next to her. "Eavesdropping, dear Eliza?" she asked.

"A little," Elizabeth admitted.

"And do you agree with your mother's suppositions?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Jane has made her preference for our neighbor clear, and he is hardly less circumspect. We might expect a proposal shortly."

"Jane is so composed. Can Mr. Bingley be certain of her regard?"

Elizabeth nodded again. "I assure you, Charlotte, that Mr. Bingley is very aware of my sister's feelings." With a cheerful smile, Elizabeth gave her friend a knowing look.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "I sense some mischief afoot," she said. "Am I to be denied an explanation?"

"At present, I am not at liberty to disclose the particulars," Elizabeth hedged. She was well-aware of the tenuous ground upon which she trod. One misplaced word and all their careful secrecy would be for naught.

"When you are permitted to do so, I shall expect a full accounting," Charlotte said in mock displeasure.

"And you shall have it," Elizabeth promised.

Lady Lucas beckoned her daughter, and Charlotte stood and excused herself to see to her mother's needs. The gentlemen appeared then, and Miss Bingley called for the pianoforte to be opened. It was no surprise when Mary stood and rushed to the instrument before their hostess extended any invitations. Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed.

"That will tweak Miss Bingley's nose," Mr. Darcy whispered as he came around the settee and took a seat next to her.

"I hope Mary does not embarrass us," Elizabeth whispered.

"I see no harm in a lady displaying her talent."

"Mary's playing is often pedantic," Elizabeth hedged. "She overstays her welcome at the instrument, too."

He smiled in amusement. "Miss Bingley will be fit to be tied."

Elizabeth regarded him in astonishment. "Surely, you cannot approve of such a lack of propriety."

"I find that society's dictates have little hold on me of late," Mr. Darcy replied. "If your sister seeks to demonstrate her talents, I shall listen without judgment, just as I would any lady here tonight. I confess, the behavior I displayed when in company not that long ago was vastly different, but I am resolved not to let such trivial matters beleaguer me any longer."

Elizabeth nodded and returned her attention to her sister's performance. Gratefully, Mary left the instrument after one song, returning to Mr. Collins's side. That gentleman regaled his lady with loud compliments, not bothering to moderate his volume. Another lady went to the instrument, turning attention away from Mary and back to the performances.

Mr. Darcy did not speak as they listened. His proximity made Elizabeth aware of his every move, making it impossible for her to keep her attention on the music. After what seemed an eternity, they heard the call for dancing to resume and the guests filtered back to the ballroom. When the drawing room was all but empty, Mr. Darcy stood and offered Elizabeth his hand.

"I would dance with you again, if circumstances allowed," he said, his intense eyes meeting hers.

"And I would accept with alacrity," she replied, returning his ardent look with equal fervor.

Noticing the room had now completely emptied, Mr. Darcy drew closer to Elizabeth. Before anyone discovered them, he took her hands, placing one on his shoulder and resting his other hand on her waist. He took her remaining hand in his and started humming a waltz. Stepping forward until there were but a few inches between them, they began the dance.

Elizabeth knew the steps; she and her sisters had practiced the illicit and scandalous waltz in the privacy of their home. Yet, she was completely unprepared for the feelings that being so physically close to a man could arouse in her—especially the one she loved. She now understood why the denizens of the ton refused to have it danced at assemblies and balls.

Breathless, she lost herself in the dance, looking into the depth of Darcy's dark eyes. His hand tightened gently on her waist, pulling her just a fraction closer, and his eyes softened with a warmth that mirrored her own. His expression conveyed every emotion they were driven to hide that evening, and the realization that she loved him flared brighter within her. That he loved her too, she did not doubt. His slight smile and the tender way he held her told her all she needed to know.

With his deep baritone, Darcy hummed one more strain before concluding their impromptu dance and stepping away from her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, his eyes still refusing to leave hers. "Soon," he whispered, his voice filled with promise. He then looped her arm through his and together they returned to the ballroom.

Elizabeth could not recall the rest of the evening, so full were her thoughts of Mr. Darcy, her beloved Fitzwilliam. As she lay abed in the wee hours of the morning, she prayed fervently that the business of his misfortunes would soon reach its conclusion, allowing their hearts to unite without hindrance.