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  As soon as she finished, Elizabeth regretted mentioning the hasty end of their journey. Jane had informed Mr. Bingley of all the details of Lydia’s elopement as soon as they became engaged, but it was still a painful subject, better left behind.

  “We were also saddened by your unexpected departure,” Mr. Bingley intervened. “I was disappointed that I did not have a chance to take my farewell of any of you. I am glad it was not long before I met you again, Miss Elizabeth. And I look forward to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner soon.”

  “My uncle and aunt will come to visit us next week. They look forward to seeing you again too,” Jane replied gently.

  “Excellent! I know Darcy encountered them in London recently, even had dinner with them several times, but I have not had the pleasure since August.”

  “Truly? My brother Gardiner wrote to me quite often in the last months but never mentioned having dinner with Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet responded with obvious puzzlement. “I wonder what could possibly take Mr. Darcy to Gracechurch Street.”

  “It seems he had some business with Mr. Gardiner. I would have joined him, but it seemed a private matter, and I did not want to intrude,” Mr. Bingley explained.

  “That is rather strange,” Mr. Bennet concluded, glancing at his second daughter, who still avoided his eyes.

  “But, Papa, Lydia also saw Mr. Darcy a few times in London. And he was at her wedding; she told us that!” Kitty intervened.

  “Of course, Lydia told us, but you pay attention to nothing but your books, my dear Mr. Bennet,” said his wife.

  “I might have my lack of attention to blame, indeed. But still, Mr. Darcy is surely a man of surprises. I have long wondered how the two of you became friends, Mr. Bingley. That is—if my question is not inappropriate.”

  “Not at all,” Bingley replied readily. “My mother’s family is connected with some members of the ton. My father had some business with Lord Matlock and with the late Mr. Darcy many years ago. When our parents passed away, Darcy took the responsibility of watching over me. I was fortunate to be granted his friendship and care, and I am not sure I deserve it. I wondered many times why Darcy would spent so much time in my company when he could employ his time much better.”

  “I am sure Mr. Darcy benefits from your friendship too,” Jane intervened.

  “You are too kind, my dear Jane. I have few other merits except that I gained your affection. And this I am not sure I deserve either.”

  Jane watched him, tearful and silent, while Elizabeth smiled with affection at the couple and responded, “You are too modest, Mr. Bingley. Your traits are well known and admired by all your acquaintance. We are grateful that you will be part of our family, just as I am sure Mr. Darcy is grateful for having such a loyal friend. You must know as well as I do that Mr. Darcy is not the kind of man to keep a friendship he does not truly value.”

  “I hope you are right, Miss Elizabeth. I shall do everything in my power to prove worthy of my wonderful wife and also my friends.”

  Mrs. Bennet returned the conversation to the point of her interest. “My dear Mr. Bingley, you said your mother’s family is connected with members of the ton? I was not aware of that! You never said a word! This is quite extraordinary.”

  “Yes. Forgive me for not mentioning it before; I did not consider it important. There are distant relatives, and I rarely see them. Mostly during the Season…”

  “Not important? How could you say that? Are you usually in Town for the Season? How fortunate this will be for my Jane! I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing…”

  “Mama, please! This conversation might become uncomfortable for Charles. Let us discuss the upcoming ball,” Jane shyly interrupted.

  “Yes, yes, you are right, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet continued. “Mr. Bingley, will you invite some members of the ton to the ball? Do you think they will come? Dear Lord, this has never happened in Meryton before! Sir William’s stories about St. James’s are nothing to this.”

  “I am not certain. As I said, I shall invite several friends and relatives…” Mr. Bingley answered reluctantly. “My only purpose is to see Jane pleased, so I shall invite whomever she wishes to as long as there are not too many people for the Netherfield ballroom.”

  “My dear Mr. Bingley, the ballroom is just as handsome as you are,” Mrs. Bennet declared, much to Jane’s embarrassment. “And it will be even more so when it is properly decorated for the ball. So you should not hesitate to invite all your relatives and friends.”

  Mr. Bingley glanced at his intended to see whether she agreed with that statement about his handsome countenance. She appeared to do so. Therefore, he continued with confidence. “I want nothing but to know Jane is happy.”

  “I would be perfectly happy even without a ball,” the future Mrs. Bingley whispered to her husband-to-be.

  “But you deserve a perfect ball to celebrate our engagement,” the gentleman insisted, and Jane lowered her eyes, blushing most becomingly.

  Elizabeth smiled; Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes and shook his head. “This does not bode well. There will be a maddening din. Perhaps, Mr. Darcy’s advice was not as excellent as we believed. He might not be as wise as we thought.”

  Mr. Bingley appeared disconcerted and uncertain how to reply, but his host rose from the table and saved him with an invitation.

  “Since we have finished dinner, would you care to join me in the library for a peaceful, quiet drink? The room is not as large and handsome as the one you have at Netherfield and certainly not like the one at Pemberley, but it is comfortable enough. And silent.”

  “I would like that very much, Mr. Bennet,” Bingley responded, glancing at Jane with regret.

  “Have no fear; Jane is not going anywhere. You already secured her hand in marriage, so she has to wait for you. We shall return soon.”

  Mr. Bingley was at a loss for words again, and he followed his future father obediently, wondering whether he would ever learn to distinguish between Mr. Bennet’s serious remarks and his jests.

  ***

  It was close to midnight when silence fell over Longbourn. Sleep hastily overcame Jane but did not touch Elizabeth. She paced the room, stopping by the window and staring outside from time to time.

  The dinner conversation, which was mostly around Mr. Darcy, was one more reason for Elizabeth’s distress.

  Even more, Mr. Bingley’s surprising revelation about Mr. Darcy’s interactions with the Gardiners had aroused her father’s curiosity, and Elizabeth knew she would hear more about it—just as she knew that, no matter how strongly her father might insist, she would not share the secret she had learnt from Mrs. Gardiner.

  She could not tell anybody about his involvement in Wickham’s situation, nor could she betray her hopes to anyone. And all were about Mr. Darcy. His absence stirred as much interest as his presence, and she felt troubled whether he was near or far away

  While she finally lay down on the bed and pulled the cover around her, Elizabeth recollected that a little over a year had passed since Mr. Darcy called her only “tolerable” and “not handsome enough” to tempt him.

  And it was only six months since he confessed that he ardently admired and loved her.

  Chapter 2

  The following morning, the entire Bennet family began to fall under the tumult of ball preparations—even Mr. Bennet, who found that his usual defence, locking his library door, was unable to restore his peace.

  The engaged couple decided the ball would take place on November 26. It was a date with great meaning for them both as it marked the beginning of a time filled with disappointment and sorrow. That time, fortunately, led to a happy outcome, but painful recollections remained and needed to be obliterated by new, heartfelt memories. Mr. Bingley’s remorse and shame for his thoughtless behaviour was a heavy burden for the amiable gentleman, and h
e did not miss any opportunity to apologise to his betrothed and to thank her for kindly and undeservedly forgiving him.

  To Elizabeth, the date was no less agonising. A year earlier, she never would have imagined that the departure of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy would bring so much turmoil to her dear sister and such an extraordinary outcome for herself. The night of that ball she was sure Mr. Darcy despised her as much as she loathed him. She was confident—and relieved—that she would never see him again. She blamed him for the separation of her sister and Mr. Bingley. She blamed him for his mistreatment of Mr. Wickham. She blamed Mr. Darcy for everything! And now she wondered whether she would have a chance to admit her past errors and to thank him for the extraordinary generosity that saved her family.

  Every discussion about the ball made Elizabeth think of Darcy. As soon as she realised he might not come, she understood how much she hoped for his presence—only to fear that he might come and show her nothing but amiable friendship.

  His last visit to Longbourn had been distressful for Elizabeth. She searched for a sign of preference in his countenance but found none. She wished he would at least speak to her directly, but they exchanged only polite greetings. The only moment of intimacy occurred when she offered him a cup of tea and their fingers touched briefly. That mere touch was as vivid to her senses as was the thought that she gave too much importance to a simple gesture. She had offered so many cups of tea that day, and so many others had touched her fingers in taking them. How was it possible that her skin remembered only his touch?

  Disturbing musings forbade Elizabeth from being as keen as her sister needed her to be. She struggled to keep her mind attentive to all around her, or else it would wander away, together with her heart. Fortunately, with everyone so busy and preoccupied, her strange state of mind went unnoticed, so she could carry on with her distress for several more days.

  As soon as details were settled, invitations to the ball were sent by express to Mr. Bingley’s friends and acquaintances in London and to all the neighbours who met with Mrs. Bennet’s approval. The news spread quickly, and the upcoming party immediately became the centre of Meryton’s attention. It was declared the most important ball ever hosted in the neighbourhood.

  For Mr. Bingley, the event quickly turned from pleasure to torment. His desire to have everything perfect in honour of his beautiful intended made him distressed, impatient, and worried. He had never hosted such a party by himself, and now he was forced to do so. His sisters—Caroline and Louisa—were angrily opposed to the notion of his marrying Jane Bennet, so they refused their support. Eventually, they agreed to attend the ball, together with the other guests from Town, but not arrive beforehand. Consequently, the weight of taking care of everything fell on Mr. Bingley’s shoulders, which were unused to carrying such a responsibility.

  Jane happily shared her betrothed’s burden, and Mr. Bingley had even more reasons to admire her character. With calmness, kindness, and elegance, Jane fulfilled the duties of the Netherfield mistress. The staff was happy to listen to her, and her smiles were as rewarding as the generous payment offered by the master.

  Shortly, all the families from Meryton confirmed their attendance at the ball, much to Mrs. Bennet’s joy.

  “I also received a letter from Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said one evening at dinner. “He will come for the ball with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is the youngest son of Lord Matlock.”

  “A colonel? And the son of an earl? What excellent news for the ball, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet replied.

  “Is he handsome too?” Kitty asked as she avoided her father’s censuring look.

  “Well, I cannot say whether a man is handsome or not,” Mr. Bingley responded. “But Miss Elizabeth might answer you. I know she met the colonel before.”

  “Have you, Lizzy? When? Oh, I hope you did not scare him with your sharp tongue! You always—”

  “Mama!” Jane said in embarrassment. “What do you mean? Everybody who knows Lizzy comes to admire her!”

  “Of that, I can testify,” Mr. Bingley immediately agreed.

  Elizabeth smiled and thanked them with an amused glance before replying. “I met Colonel Fitzwilliam when I was in Kent. He and Mr. Darcy were visiting their aunt, Lady Catherine. He is an amiable gentleman with pleasant manners. And yes—handsome enough, just as a colonel should be. And you must not worry, Mama. I dare say the colonel is not a man easily scared by the sharp tongue of any woman.”

  “Hopefully, he will enjoy dancing more than his cousin. It is little use to have a handsome man at a ball if he cannot entertain young ladies in need of a partner,” Mrs. Bennet concluded.

  Mr. Bennet intervened. “Upon my word, what comes of our world if we judge a man’s worthiness by how many young ladies he entertains? Every time I hear of a ball, I am tempted to fall ill. Not that anyone would expect me to entertain any woman. But the mere idea of spending a night trying to please people of whose pleasure you do not care is tiresome and ridiculous.”

  “Papa, you are too harsh on balls,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.

  “Well deserved, my dear, as balls are too harsh on me too.” Mr. Bennet then turned his attention to his glass of brandy.

  The news of Mr. Darcy’s certain arrival brought Elizabeth equal delight and torment. But, at least, now she knew what to expect. He did not seem reluctant to be in her proximity. He did not wish to keep a great distance between them—which could mean he desired to see her again, or he had no special desire regarding her, and the notion of seeing her was of no consequence to him.

  The tumult of conflicting thoughts gave Elizabeth little peace. Although she knew she was silly and irrational, she could not bring herself to use wit and reason against her fears and speculations. The novelty and power of these feelings made them impossible to command. As never before, Elizabeth’s wit and strength seemed to betray her.

  Her usual inclination to find amusement in human follies was only helpful for laughing at her own nonsense and whims. She had believed herself to be the last woman in the world who would ever suffer because of a gentleman, but she was again proved wrong. Since she had never been in love before, everything she imagined she knew about feelings and affection was a pale imitation of the reality. And what about Mr. Darcy? Had he loved other women? Admired them? Ardently? Would he do so again? If so, would she be able to watch him share happiness with another woman?

  Such questions—and countless others—Elizabeth failed to answer before abandoning the attempt and deciding to merely wait for his return. There was nothing else she could do.

  With restless nights and bustling days, another fortnight passed. Preparations for the ball were almost finished; only the list of attendees was incomplete. Responses from London arrived one by one—some accepting, others refusing.

  “Here are the last letters from Town,” Mr. Bingley announced, handing a number of letters to Jane. They were in Netherfield’s drawing room with Elizabeth, who served as the couple’s chaperone.

  “So, my cousins Laura and Julia Kendall will come—which is quite strange as they were never good friends with Caroline and Louisa. You know, their uncle is married to a cousin of Lady Matlock, Darcy’s aunt. I confess I only sent the invitation to them out of politeness, never expecting to see them in Hertfordshire. Oh, and the Millers accepted. And David and Hugh Wilson. They are both attorneys; their father made an impressive fortune trading spices from India to England. Oh, and Louisa says Adam and Emma Godwin will come too. Their great-grandfather was an earl, did you know? They are related to Mr. Hurst. Dear Lord, what shall I do with all these people?”

  Mr. Bingley spoke with obvious astonishment and worry, folding the papers in his hand while Jane listened to him dumbfounded, turning slightly pale.

  “But, my dear Charles, who are all these ladies and gentlemen? I never heard of them before.”

  “They
are friends…or relatives…or acquaintances…I…dear Lord, shall we have rooms for all of them? This is madness!”

  He began to pace, holding the papers tightly, and frowned in such despair that Elizabeth could hardly restrain her laughter. To Mr. Bingley, the prospect of such a large ball seemed more of a torture when he was the one to organise it. And Jane looked little better, sharing her betrothed’s concern atop her own fears.

  “Mr. Bingley, I think you should be happy that your private ball is so well received,” Elizabeth said, smiling and trying to calm her companions. “Let us count the chambers carefully and then the guests who will stay overnight. If needed, you may also rent the inn in Meryton, just in case. You may need it, if not for the guests at least for some of the servants.

  “The inn? Yes indeed, that is an excellent idea! The inn, yes…let us count the rooms.” He continued to pace, looking for paper and pen, then abandoned the search and took a chair, asking for a glass of wine. Jane watched him with such deep concern that Elizabeth covered her laughter with her napkin.

  “So, there is my apartment, then Caroline and Louisa’s—she will have to share it with her husband—then Darcy’s room, and another one for the colonel, and…”

  As he spoke, Bingley slowly became more at ease as he realised the tragedy was not as great as he feared. With Elizabeth’s help, the two betrotheds—the main characters of the upcoming event—went through the guest list again, discussing the best accommodations for each. Of some of them, Bingley knew exactly their preferences and habits; for the others, he could only guess and struggle to be prepared. It also became obvious that the Netherfield staff needed extra help, especially in the kitchen.

  New plans were made, and from that moment, Elizabeth’s involvement increased as she was forced to provide stability, ideas, and comfort to the couple. She did everything wholeheartedly, grateful to be part of her sister’s first steps toward a new life. Even more so, the uproar, thrill, and utter fatigue allowed Elizabeth less time for affliction and tormenting thoughts.