Six Inches Deep in Mud

Chapter 17

I cannot remember ever waiting for a ball with such a mixture of anxiety and eagerness. Or for any other event in my life. I am counting the hours; I cannot rest or read or do anything, especially with the rain still pouring. And I have very little patience with Miss Bingley and her endless protests, which are grating on my last nerve.

“I cannot understand why you invited the Bennet family earlier than the others!” Miss Bingley says to her brother. “I am shaking with distress only imagining the seven people invading the little peace we have before all of Hertfordshire descends upon us. And all the noise and shrieks from the mother and the younger daughters.”

“They will not be seven but eight people, Caroline. You forgot to count their cousin Mr Collins,” Bingley responds with a calmness rarely seen before. Now that the decision is made, the forthcoming marriage proposal has given him an inner strength that suits him very well.

“I assume you will ask Jane Bennet for the first set?” Mrs Hurst enquires.

“Of course. Indeed, I have already done so.”

“Well, you have few choices, in any case. If we were in a larger society and had many young accomplished ladies to choose from, the situation would be different.”

“Louisa, I would have asked Jane Bennet for the first set had I been at Almack’s or at St James’s Palace.”

“Charles, I hope you will not do anything hasty and foolish,” Mrs Hurst continues. “I am looking forward to returning to town. We shall have plenty of time to discuss important matters at length, and I am sure Mr Darcy will help us with meaningful advice. Will you not, sir?”

“I shall gladly help when I am able to and when my opinion is required, Mrs Hurst.”

I know too well what she wants, just as I know that, for once, her opinion or mine matter little to Bingley.

“Rest assured I shall not do anything hasty or foolish, Louisa. All my decisions are well and carefully thought out. Let us get through this day and night first. I am thrilled about it, but I admit it will not be easy to entertain and please so many people.”

“And you, Mr Darcy?” Miss Bingley asks coyly. “Will you dance?”

“I intend to. It depends on my disposition. But if I do, I shall certainly ask for the favour of a set from both of you ladies. Now please excuse me, I must write to Georgiana and my cousin before the ball.” I remove myself from their company before she has time to mention a particular set. My entire disposition and plans for the night depend on Elizabeth, but I shall not mention this aloud. I have learnt my lesson.

I finish preparing for the evening and go in search of Bingley. Thankfully, the rain seems to have stopped, and my mood has slightly improved. Knowing Elizabeth’s family will arrive sooner than the rest of the guests gives me hope that I might catch a few minutes of private conversation with her and secure my set. Or sets, depending.

The ballroom looks elegant and inviting; the musicians have already arrived and tuned their instruments. The servants are speeding around seeing to the last-minute arrangements in the dining room, where several additional tables have been brought in to accommodate all the guests. If not for Elizabeth, I would probably withdraw to my chamber with a good book and avoid the bustle.

As it is, I am employing my time pacing the entrance hall and clenching my jaw, until finally I spot the Bennets’ carriage. Bingley hurries to the door, and I follow him at a slower pace.

“Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet, welcome, all of you,” Bingley says as the servants are taking their coats. Pleasantries and compliments are exchanged, but my only concern is Elizabeth, who seems unusually occupied with removing her pelisse and determined to avoid my eyes.

I greet the Bennets, and Bingley offers his arm to his favourite miss. Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughters are already inside, admiring the arrangements.

“Mr Darcy, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Collins,” Mr Bennet says. I look at the man who is bowing to me so deeply that I can hardly see his face.

“My Darcy, I cannot express how grateful I am for the extraordinary moment that has offered me the chance to be introduced to you. From the moment I heard about your unexpected presence in Hertfordshire, in my cousin’s proximity, I wished for nothing else but to make your acquaintance. It is truly one of the most exalted days of my life, almost the same as the day I met your aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Life-changing, indeed.”

I glance at Elizabeth, and her embarrassment is as discernible as Mr Bennet’s amusement. Bingley and Miss Bennet are talking to each other, paying no attention to us. In order to put Elizabeth at ease, I smile and use a friendly voice when I reply, “Mr Collins, I am glad to meet you, sir. There is no need for such formality, I assure you. I am told you are a clergyman, the parson of Hunsford parish, near Rosings. A lovely village with lovely people.”

“You are very kind and generous, Mr Darcy! I cannot thank you enough,” the man repeats. “Yes, yes, I have had the good fortune to be the beneficiary of your aunt’s generosity. She bestowed upon me the honour of the living in Hunsford.”

“I congratulate you on the living, Mr Collins. But let us not use such big words at a ball. There is nothing life-changing about a party and certainly nothing to thank me for.”

“We should go inside where it is warmer,” Bingley suggests, with Miss Bennet clinging to his arm and smiling charmingly.

“Yes, we should,” Mr Bennet agrees. “I shall take advantage of my early arrival and find the best spot on a comfortable chair in the far corner with a good view of the room.”

Our little group is moving, so I boldly address the object of all my torments directly.

“Miss Elizabeth, may I accompany you inside?”

She finally looks at me, and her eyes seemed clouded, with no trace of joy, as I remember seeing them not long ago. She does take my arm, tentatively, barely touching, not putting any weight on it, as she did at the beginning of our relationship at Netherfield. Her fingers timidly lie on my arm; it is far from the touch I know too well and I crave. I cannot bear it any longer.

“Miss Elizabeth, there is something I have to ask you, if you do not mind. You received the book I sent you, I hope?”

Her eyes rise to my face, and I notice a glimpse of surprise and interest.

“I did. I still need to return the one I have finished,” she whispers.

Mr Bennet is a few steps away, behind Bingley and Miss Bennet, and Mr Collins is still moving around me and Elizabeth. I hear the voices of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, as well as of the other Bennet ladies, and I know I only have a couple of minutes left if I want to speak to her. Despair pushes me towards bold actions.

“Mr Collins, would you mind allowing me a minute to talk to Miss Elizabeth? We shall be with you in a moment.”

The man looks dumbfounded, and he mumbles something and glances at me, then at Mr Bennet, so I insist, “Will you do so now?” The last word seems to convince him, and he walks a few steps away. Maybe he senses my despair. Or it is my master’s voice. Whatever it is, it works. Only then do I stop and look at Elizabeth.

“I beg your forgiveness if I sounded rude. And if you would like me to, I shall apologise to Mr Collins later. I only wished to ask you for the favour of a set…if you are still desirous to dance with me. In fact, I was hoping for the first set, if it is not too much to ask and you are not otherwise engaged.”

She averts her gaze, then returns it to me. “I am engaged for several sets…” she says, and I hold my breath. “But not for the first one. And I did promise to dance with you the next time you asked me. I do not make false promises.”

There is reproach in her acceptance, and I cannot help frowning.

“I thank you for the honour, Miss Elizabeth. I never suspected that you might not keep your promise or that anything you say might be false.”

“Neither did I suspect that about you, Mr Darcy,” she replies, increasing my confusion. Now I know with certainty she is upset; I remember her tone, her avoidance of my eyes, her lips pressed together, from our last misunderstanding in the Netherfield library.

“Lizzy, is something wrong?” I hear Jane Bennet asking.

“No, all is well, Jane. I was talking to Mr Darcy,” she replies. Then she looks at me again; her countenance is different from a few minutes earlier, but nothing reminds me of the sweet tenderness that I savoured when we last met.

“I shall dance the first set with you, Mr Darcy,” she repeats as though she is doing me a favour. So I push my luck with the daring of a desperate man.

“And perhaps the supper set too? Or the last?”

Surprise widens her eyes, a slight frown marring the perfection of her countenance.

“Mr Collins has already asked for the supper set,” she answers hesitantly. “Would it be wise to dance two sets?” she then enquires, puzzling me even further.

“Do you doubt the wisdom of my request, Miss Elizabeth? The only valid question is whether the request would give you as much pleasure as it would give me. As I have told you on previous occasions, the decision is entirely yours, and your desire is what matters.”

“I remember you saying that, Mr Darcy, but I have reason to believe your statement was not entirely accurate. My decision and my desire might have some importance, but there are certainly many other aspects that matter more at present.”

“Miss Elizabeth, I fail to understand your meaning. I can see you are upset with me, and I am lost as to why. However, this is neither the place nor the time for such a conversation.”

“I agree, Mr Darcy. And to end this discussion, yes, I shall dance the first and the last set with you, as you requested. Now we should enter. I am sure we are expected.”

We resume walking, and my mind briefly notices that, despite the perplexing exchange and her apparent anger towards me, she has not withdrawn her hand from my arm. Strangely enough, I feel her gasp growing firmer, more confident.

Once we join the others, Elizabeth leaves my side and goes to her sisters and her mother. Bingley is there too, and I stand near Mr Bennet. As I feared, Mr Collins stands next to me and continues to speak, while I hardly listen.

Hurst enters too, bows to us, and immediately serves himself a glass of brandy; Bingley’s sisters are nowhere in sight, and I assume they are trying to avoid the Bennets after the perfunctory greetings.

With Mr Collins’s annoying chatter, I can hardly hear myself think. Then, the first guests arrive, followed by another small group, and soon there is a large gathering and an unbearable din. I keep looking at Elizabeth, and she glances at me at times, still refusing to meet my eyes. My head is aching as I try to understand why she is upset with me.

Of course, my first guess is Wickham. He must have told her something about me; I cannot deny I am disappointed that, regardless of what he has told her, Elizabeth would so easily believe a claim against me without even discussing it with me first.

She might have feelings for me, but her opinion of me must still be very poor and her trust in me very low. This is a deeply hurtful blow.

Among the last of the guests, the very subject of my angry musings arrives. Wickham is here, together with his fellow officers and his disgraceful impertinence. His audacity to appear here enrages me. He even dares to nod at me while the group of officers make their entrance. I shall not ruin Bingley’s ball by causing a scandal with Wickham, but I feel at the edge of my tolerance with this reprobate. There he is, talking and laughing carelessly, with all the women tittering at his stupid, witless jokes. Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty Bennet are really silly girls, but Colonel Forster’s wife? What is she doing so close to Wickham and touching his arm as she laughs? The colonel is far away in a corner, paying no attention to the scene. How can he be so ignorant of the danger of such a rake near his new wife? What quality does Wickham possess to allow him to deceive so many people so easily and trick them effortlessly into trusting him?

I am relieved that Elizabeth is not in the group around Wickham. She is standing with her sisters Jane and Mary, as well as with Miss Lucas. I am a little annoyed when Sir William approaches us, and while he talks to Mr Bennet, I go to fill my glass with brandy.

“Mr Darcy, there is something of great importance that I would like to discuss with you, if you would kindly grant me the benefit of your opinion,” I hear Mr Collins whine. He really is following me like a puppy, except that a puppy would be pleasant company.

“Of great importance, Mr Collins? What could it be? We have only just met, so I doubt my opinion on any subject could have such value to you.”

“Oh no, I beg to differ, sir. The matter I am referring to is also related to Lady Catherine, your estimable aunt. I am about to make a choice, and I wish to be sure it will please her ladyship and will meet with her approval. That is why your opinion is of the greatest importance.”

I have a slight suspicion about what this poor pathetic man wishes to ask my opinion on, and I need more time to prepare for such a ridiculous conversation.

“Mr Collins, the music is about to begin, and I must collect my partner for the first set. However, I am not engaged for the second set, so we might find a moment to speak then if that is agreeable to you.”

The delay is reasonable, as the musicians have picked up their instruments already. Mr Collins looks satisfied with my answer; his face shows so much joy that I cannot but pity him. But then he repeatedly bows to me, which turns my pity into vexation.

This is the man who wishes to marry Elizabeth? Who believes himself worthy of her?

I do not have much time for reflection, as the music begins in earnest and the pairs take their places on the floor. I approach Elizabeth with a strange emotion, realising it is our first dance together. One we shall remember, one way or another. She waits, looking at me. I stretch my hand out to her, and she places her palm in mine, a sensation I know too well and I vividly recollect, even if now both our hands are gloved.

We take our places in the set, next to Bingley and his partner. I notice some people’s curious gazes upon us — including those of Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet. I turn my full attention towards Elizabeth and say, rather loudly, “I am glad you find me tolerable enough to dance with, Miss Bennet.” For the first time since my return, I see a glimpse of mirth in her eyes. A moment later, the dance requires us to move, but even in motion, our eyes remain locked until we begin to speak.