Page 3

During a period of two days when no news was heard from Netherfield, the Bennets’ cousin, Mr Collins—a clergyman—arrived at Longbourn from Kent. He was a distant relative who they had never met before; but due to the entail on the estate, he now stood in line to inherit Longbourn on Mr Bennet’s death, as their nearest male relation.

On hearing of Mr Collins’ proposed visit, Mrs Bennet had been quite adamant that their cousin would step into the house over her …dead …body. But on Mr Bennet’s quietly explaining the likely meaning of the olive branch metaphor in Mr Collins’ letter, she underwent an astounding change of attitude and was quite cordial to Mr Collins on his advent.

The Bennet sisters were less impressed with their cousin. Although tall, at thirty, he was already rotund and balding. His physical deficiencies might have been overlooked if his manner was nice, but unfortunately, he succeeded in being both pompous and oily at once. Mr Bennet had not been in the room with him for half an hour before he started slaying his character with various erudite comments that went completely over the clergyman’s head.

Finally, on the third day of anticipation of some news from Netherfield, Mr Bingley arrived at Longbourn to visit with his sister, Louisa. He declared Mr Darcy quite recovered, although his physicians would not yet permit him to ride, or even get in a carriage, for another week. It transpired that, in addition to the local physician who had originally attended him, the Darcy family’s personal physician had been summoned from London. Charles also conveyed his sister Caroline’s apologies. She had stayed behind at Netherfield to ensure Mr Darcy came to no harm in their absence. Mr Bingley was pleased to deliver the long-awaited invitation to the Netherfield ball, generously extending it to include their visitor, Mr Collins, but eyeing the clergyman’s proprietary manner askance. Charles had then pointedly asked Jane to partner him for the first set in front of their cousin, thus staking his claim on her affections.

Not to be outdone, Mr Collins promptly asked for Elizabeth’s hand for the same set, a request that seriously alarmed her. There was no way she could politely decline.

Mr Bingley continued to call regularly up to the day before the ball, giving a daily update on Mr Darcy, who was providing Mr Bingley advice on running his leased estate from his bed, surrounded by ledgers—Mr Bingley had no experience as a landholder. During Mr Bingley’s most recent visit, Elizabeth also learned that Mr Darcy’s dog was named Cromwell, after The Lord Protector. She had laughed with Mr Bingley at that and agreed the animal was aptly named.

Unbeknownst to himself, the mysterious Mr Darcy had begun to intrigue Elizabeth. The night after she learned the moniker of his canine companion, Lizzy dreamed of his accident. With a sense of déjà vu, she had arrived on the scene to find Mr Darcy stretched out on the turf; but when she leant over him to check his eyes, he opened them and grinned wolfishly at her. Mesmerised by his smile, she was unable to escape when his arms snaked round her and drew her into a kiss.

“Lizzy, Lizzy! Wake up!”

Elizabeth opened her eyes to see her sister Jane hovering anxiously.

“What is the matter?” Lizzy asked blearily.

“Were you having a bad dream?” asked Jane. “You were groaning!”

Lizzy remembered her improper dream quite well, but she was not about to divulge it. “What day is it?” she asked instead.

“The day of the Netherfield ball!” replied Jane excitedly.

Ten hours and one failed marriage proposal later, the eldest Bennet sisters were almost ready to depart for the ball.

Jane was looking as beautiful as ever in her golden silk with her mother’s pearls around her neck. Lizzy, however, was also looking stunning. She had pulled her best dress from her wardrobe: a brown silk with a lace net overdress in cream and brown, which she had fashioned from materials selected from her Uncle Gardiner’s warehouse on her last trip to London. Working with her Aunt Madeleine, she had stitched the garment during her stay with them and worn it once to the theatre before her departure. Elizabeth had deemed it too fine for the Meryton Assemblies, but for the ball, she was pulling out all stops.

Of course, she knew Mr Darcy would never seriously entertain marrying someone like herself. Elizabeth Bennet had next to no dowry. While her father had preserved their mother’s dowry of five thousand pounds, he had not been able to add to it over the years; the estate had barely covered the growing family’s expenses—five daughters to feed and clothe as ladies, all conceived in pursuit of the elusive son who had never eventuated. When Jane made her come out, it was decided that the money would be gambled on dowries for the girls, for it would not be sufficient to cover their living expenses as a nest egg once their father was gone. They must marry well, or as well as their charms and a small dowry could entice. But a one-thousand-pound dowry was beneath the touch of the likes of Mr Darcy. Charlotte had even intimated that Miss Bingley was dreaming if she thought to ensnare Mr Darcy with her thirty-thousand-pound dowry. Apparently, that was a pittance to Mr Darcy of Pemberley who was worth more than ten thousand pounds a year.

Nonetheless, Lizzy was not daunted. She had detected Mr Darcy was not indifferent to her. It was her object to make him feel a twinge of regret that he had been so hasty in his dismissal of her at the assembly. She would show him that beauty and wit could be found everywhere, yes, even Hertfordshire! If she could make him look twice at her during the evening, then poetic justice would be served.

“Could you help me with this, Jane?” Elizabeth asked as she drew a cameo from a box and slid it onto the brown ribbon she had purchased yesterday in Meryton.

The cameo was an owl carved from a bi-coloured stone, given to her by her Uncle Gardiner. They had spotted it in a shop window the day after he had smuggled her into a meeting of the Royal Society, fake whiskers and all. Her uncle had thought it the perfect birthday gift for his bluestocking niece, and Lizzy had immediately realized that it would match the dress she was making admirably.

“It looks wonderful on your graceful neck, Lizzy,” said Jane, as she tied it on; “but do you not think it is a little unusual, particularly for a ball? I do wish Uncle Gardiner would not encourage you to be eccentric.”

“Pooh!” replied Lizzy. “No one will notice what it is, beyond noting it is a necklace; and if they do, I shall merely say it was a gift from my Great Aunt Celestina—old women are allowed to be eccentric.”

Jane reluctantly agreed but forbore to point out that their Aunt Celestina was a spinster, which was what she feared her sister would wind up as, if she was not more conformable. Together, they drew on their wraps, picked up their reticules, and exited to the upstairs hall.

They were both taken by surprise when Mary emerged from her chamber with their mother, dressed in pale pink muslin and festooned in ribbons. Lizzy recognized the dress as one of Kitty’s. As with all Mrs Bennet’s efforts, Mary’s garb was ridiculously over the top, but Lizzy had to admit that the pink looked quite well with Mary’s very dark hair that, of all the sisters, most closely resembled the colour of Mr Bennet’s black mop before it had turned grey. Elizabeth realized that Mary had been hiding her light under a bushel by wearing those greys and blues that she favoured. But if Mrs Bennet had got one thing right by changing the colour of Mary’s dress, she had got another wrong with the quantity of ribbons. She had had Hill stitch a number of them on the dress and Mary was wearing nigh on a dozen more in her hair. Lizzy supposed such a quantity of bows might have been passable with one of Mama’s robes à la polonaise and a wig, but they looked frankly ridiculous combined with the more austere latest fashions. Lizzy quietly resolved to help Mary look a little less ludicrous if she could manage it.

The four of them then descended to find Kitty and Lydia bouncing up and down at the bottom of the stairs. Lydia had stuffed her oversized bust into a daringly low-cut gown. Kitty was sporting an off-the-shoulder affair with tiny cap sleeves, which might be considered a bit racy for a damsel making her debut at her first private ball.

Lizzy frowned. “Does that dress not need a little lace tucked into the top?” she asked her mother, indicating Lydia’s décolletage.

“Nonsense!” said her mother. “Why are you wearing that owl cameo? Who wears jewellery of barnyard animals to a ball?”

“It was a present from Uncle Gardiner,” replied Lizzy calmly, but mentally rolling her eyes; clearly the symbolism escaped her mother.

“I will have to speak to my brother! You are not ten! The least he could do is to give you something becoming to help you get a husband!” she scolded, before turning to her eldest daughter and smiling approvingly. “You look very well, Jane!”

“The carriage is ready, ma’am,” said Mr Hill, coming in from the outside.

“Where is Mr Collins!?” demanded Mrs Bennet, eager to show off Mary.