Rose and Lavender Water 08

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Eighth

Bingley and Louisa Hurst came personally to issue the invitation to the Netherfield Ball that Friday, displacing Mr. Collins’s plans to propose to Mary before Sunday.

“A Ball!” Elizabeth breathed, clearly thinking.  “Are the Militia invited?”

“Indeed,” Bingley agreed.  “I have issued a general invitation to the officers.”

Elizabeth was clearly pleased.

“We do, of course, include you in the invitation, Mr. Collins,” Louisa Hurst told the cleric, nodding to him.  “You are, of course, a member of the Bennet household.”

He bowed to her respectfully.  “Thank you, Mrs. Hurst.  Lady Catherine has often complimented me on my lightness of foot.”

“But shall you accept?” Elizabeth asked suddenly.  “Should your bishop approve?”

Mary looked at her, clearly startled.

Bella thought this was going a bit too far.

Mr. Collins looked thoughtful.  “A sober event, given by a man of sound reputation, can cause no concern,” he replied.  “Thank you for considering my reputation.  I shall hope, before the night has ended, I shall dance with all my fair cousins.”

Now Mary looked worried.

Bella glanced at her.  “Mary does not dance, Mr. Collins,” she informed him carefully.

“Indeed?” he asked, looking at Mary who was sitting beside him.

“I am afraid that is indeed the case.”  She paused.  “I will, however, be in attendance.”

Mr. Collins looked distressed.

“Will you come for a walk with me, Isabella?” Louisa asked, standing.  “I am sure we can leave the others to their tea.”

Startled, Bella immediately stood.  “Of course, Louisa.”  She led the way out of the room, glancing back at Mary who looked uncomfortable.  Putting her sister out of her mind, she fetched her pelisse and ushered Louisa out into the garden.

“I need to speak to you,” Bella immediately said to her friend.  “It regards Mr. Darcy.”

Louisa looked surprised.  “He has written to me and asked for your first two dances.”

Bella looked up, a little surprised.  “I was not certain he would want them.”

“He does, and the supper dance.  Mr. Bridgerton asks for your second two dances and the final set.”

Bella breathed out of her nose.  Mr. Bridgerton was coming to judge her then.  She hoped he did not find her wanting.  “Write back in the affirmative,” she instructed.  “That is not what I need to speak to you about.  It is Wickham.”

“That officer who spoke to us at Mrs. Phillips’ card party?” Louisa asked, a little worried.  “He did seem to be focused on you.”

“I believe he knows of my intimacy with Mr. Darcy,” Bella told her, “either through my sister Elizabeth or through local Meryton gossip.  He told Elizabeth, and Elizabeth told me, I believe through his design, that Old Mr. Darcy left him a living at Kympton in his will and Mr. Darcy, for reasons unknown, refused him the living.  Mr. Wickham claims to have been left destitute by these actions.”  She paused and looked over at her friend.  “I do not know whom else he has told.”

Louisa paused.  “Oh dear.”

“Mr. Darcy should be made aware of these false allegations immediately.”

“Of course, Isabella,” Louisa agreed.  “I shall write as soon as I return to Netherfield and send it express.” 

“Is Wickham,” Bella asked delicately, “some distant relation of Mr. Darcy’s?”  Her violet eyes flitted up to Louisa’s pale green gaze.

“I did notice the resemblance,” Louisa told her carefully.  “I do not know the situation.”

Bella breathed out.  “I believe Wickham acts out of sheer maliciousness.  He has attached himself to Elizabeth although I did hear a rumor he has recently become engaged to Miss King.”

“Miss King?” Louisa asked.  “I do not believe I know her.”

“Her uncle is in trade although she herself has a fortune of ten thousand pounds.”

“I take it that you and your sisters do not have such a fortune,” Louisa asked carefully.

“No,” Bella returned carefully.  “Nothing like it.  Miss King’s fortune is unmatched in Meryton.”

“Indeed.”

Louisa turned toward a bench and led Bella toward it.  They sat down and looked out over the garden.  It seemed as if the rest of the party had stayed inside to partake of tea. 

“It has indeed become muddled,” Louisa noted, smoothing her green silk skirts.  “I have never seen Mr. Darcy so transformed as when we arrived at Netherfield Park and he had met you.  I had thought his heart quite incapable of being untouched.  None of the London mamas could catch him for their daughters.  Not even his duty to Lady Catherine De Bourg could compel him to marry his cousin Anne.”

“Was there such a scheme?” Bella asked carefully.

“There was,” Louisa shared.  “Caroline, when she was a girl of sixteen, had a notion to catch him, but she soon gave it up when she saw how implacable and unsociable he was.  Mr. Darcy is quite another person in your company.”

“When does he return to Netherfield?” Bella asked carefully.  “No,” she decided.  “I should not know.  It would only torture me.”

Louisa looked at her knowingly.  “I am certain you would find a nosegay of bluebells outside of your window ere long.”

Bella looked up at her sharply.  “Would he still think to do that?”

“Do you think him so changeable?” Louisa asked in return.  “He loves you.”

“He will not give himself permission to love me any longer.”

“Bringing Mr. Bridgerton is the permission he seeks,” Louisa clarifies.  “He might seek Colonel Fitzwilliam’s permission as well.”

Bella lifted up her gaze to the heavens and sighed.  “Must I be tested as if I were a schoolgirl?  Is not his judgment enough?”

“He does not trust his judgment, it seems,” Louisa responded, “though I do not know why this would be so.”

Bella wondered at it.  She would have to ask him if she ever became his wife.  What had happened in his life for him to doubt his own judgment?  It was most curious.  It bore further study if she ever got the opportunity.

The two friends stayed in contemplation for several minutes before they returned to the house.  Mr. Bingley immediately asked for her third set, which she readily agreed to, and Mr. Collins asked for her fourth, seemingly informed that her first two were taken, and she happily granted it to him as well.  She would have to write this down for Mama.

The days to the Netherfield Ball approached and on the morning of the dance, Bella opened the drapes to find a bouquet of bluebells.  She smiled and opened the window, fetching the flowers, and turned to show Mary who was washing her face in the basin.

“Mr. Darcy has returned then,” Mary remarked with a smile, drying her face.  “That is most excellent.”

“He shall have my first dance, and Mr. Collins will sit with you for yours,” Bella murmured in happiness.

“And we shall meet the mysterious Mr. Benedict Bridgerton,” Mary continued as she came up to Bella and hugged her from behind, tucking her chin on Bella’s shoulder.  “I wonder if he is as handsome as Mr. Darcy.”

“No one is as handsome as Mr. Darcy,” Bella assured her, “except, perhaps, your Mr. Collins,” she added with a tease.

“It is most certainly true,” Mary conceded, “no one is as handsome as my Mr. Collins.”  Her words fell flat.  They both knew Mary did not believe her own words.

“Oh,” she sighed, grasping onto what she could, “so he is your Mr. Collins now, is he?”

“Of course, he is my Mr. Collins,” Mary said in exaggeration.  “He has been mine since you stole him for me.”

Smiling to herself, Bella admitted.  “I did rather steal him for you, did I not?—I must confess I overheard him speaking to Mama on the subject of the four of us and his desire to marry one of us, and I arranged for us to walk into Meryton and opened it quite nicely for him to ask you to accompany him.”

“Did you?” Mary gasped.  “How did you know that he should ask me?”

“Because Mama had just informed him that Jane and I had suitors and was trying to guide him toward Elizabeth, the most senior sister, but he had just stated his preference for you, the young lady who read Fordyce’s sermons.”  She waggled her eyebrows.  “I knew my plan the night before had worked and knew I just needed to push Mr. Collins’ already apparent interest in you a step further before Mama could persuade him otherwise.”

“Oh, Bells!” Mary whispered, “you are wicked!”

“I am not!” Bella declared.  “I am simply a good sister.”

“To think,” Mary said, her voice suddenly pragmatic.  “I shall be in Kent, and you shall visit me every Easter.”

Bella hoped it would be so.  If the officer Mary had met in the rain three years earlier would not come back for her, then this was the second best option.

The sisters got ready for the day and went down to the breakfast table. 

Mr. Collins, however, was the last to enter the dining room, all four sisters having already taken their seats.  Jane, as the eldest, sat at Papa’s right, Elizabeth beside her.  Mary sat to his left with Bella on her other side.  Mama sat at the bottom of the table.  With Mr. Collins there, Jane was shifted one chair down, with Mr. Collins taking her place.  This afforded Mr. Collins to sit directly opposite Mary, which was just as Bella liked it.

Bella was buttering a scone when Mr. Collins came in, his curls carefully brushed away from his face, his dark blue eyes shining, and he cleared his throat. 

Everyone looked up at him, even Papa who never paid attention to anyone.  Elizabeth licked butter off her thumb in a most unladylike way.

“Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Collins asked.  “Through the course of the morning, may I have a private audience with Miss Mary Bennet?”

It was happening now, the morning of the Netherfield Ball.  Bella had been mostly right, but instead of waiting until the Ball itself, Mr. Collins intended to secure his bride before the event instead of at the event itself.

Mama’s sky blue eyes widened.  She stood, taking command of the situation.  “Everyone to the kitchen,” she ordered. 

Jane immediately got up and curtseyed and then, when Elizabeth remained seated, took her hand and pulled her out of the room.  Bella remained seated for a long moment, squeezed Mary’s hand and kissed the side of her head, whispering in her ear, “You know your answer.  Stay calm.”

Papa, disgruntled, got up with his paper and went out the door.

Mama herded everyone out like a mother hen herds her chicks. 

Bella was the one to close the door, giving Mary one last encouraging look.

Everyone did not go to the kitchen but instead went into the sitting room.  Bella, however, took a chair and set it to the side of the door, waiting for Mary to exit the room.  She tried to listen as best she could from her position, but all she heard was muffled voices.

“Isabella,” Mama called.  “Come, work on your cushion.”

Bella ignored her.  Still, she waited.

After several agonizing minutes which must have counted to a quarter of an hour, the door opened to reveal Mr. Collins, all enthusiasm.

“Ah, Cousin Isabella,” he greeted.  “Where is your excellent father?”

Bella stood.  “I believe he is in his study.” 

“Excellent,” he said. He peered behind him into the dining room.  “I believe you should like to wish your sister joy.”

A smile sprang onto her face.  “Thank you, Mr. Collins.”

She immediately rushed past Mr. Collins into the dining room to see Mary still sitting in her seat, her hands folded onto the table.  “Well?” she asked.

“Well,” Mary agreed, looking up at her with her wide blue eyes.  “It seems I am to be the happiest of women—or the most contented,” she amended.

“Oh, Mary!” Bella cried, leaning down to hug her dearest sister.  They laughed into each other’s arms and soon the room was full of much excitement as Mama along with Jane and Elizabeth came into the room (although Elizabeth just leaned against the doorframe and looked into the room, not partaking of the general good mood). 

Soon everyone was back at breakfast, discussions of the wedding taking place, when it would happen, who should call on Mr. Avery, how much lace should the wedding dress employ.  Mary immediately stated her preference for Bella to be bridesmaid, which went without saying as the two were twins and the closest of sisters. 

The wedding, they decided, would take place the third week of Advent so that the newly married couple could be back in Kent for Christmastide.

Mrs. Bennet would call on Lady Lucas to ask if Mr. Collins could stay the two nights before the wedding so that he would not see the bride.  It would not do to have the groom stay at the local Meryton Arms. 

The morning was likewise spent making plans, but in the afternoon Mary and Bella withdrew to their room to prepare for the evening.

“Tonight will seem anticlimactic,” Mary professed as she took out her white gown with cap sleeves, “compared to this morning.”

“Do you wish that Mr. Collins would have waited for the supper set?” Bella asked worriedly.

“No,” Mary told her.  “He did exactly right.  Now I will be the belle of the ball and will be able to tell everyone that I am to marry.—Now, where is your dress?”

Bella went to the closet and pulled hers out.  She did not have cap sleeves, hers being a little longer and made out of a sheer material.  “Do you think Mr. Darcy will like it?” she asked a little insecurely.

“He would be a fool not to,” Mary answered back.  “Come, let me do your hair.”

Setting down her dress, Bella went to the looking glass and allowed Mary to arrange her hair.  It took but a few moments, though the ribbon was slightly more ornate than usual. 

When they were prepared, each placing their scent at their wrists and necks, rose and lavender water respectively, they went downstairs to await their carriage. 

Netherfield Park was all lit up with lights when the carriage pulled up.  Mr. Collins jumped down from his seat beside the driver and was certain to hand all the ladies down.  When it was Bella’s turn to descend (last, as per usual, and after Mary), she heard a bit of a commotion outside of the carriage.

“Matthew,” Mary was saying.  “This is all quite expected.  Mr. Darcy always helps Isabella out of the carriage.  He simply was absent for Aunt Phillips’ card party so was unable to do it then.  Mama shall tell you.—Mama! Please inform Mr. Collins that Mr. Darcy is always most pleased to help our Isabella out of the carriage.”

There were a few moments of hushed murmurings and then Bella, quite uncertain what was happening, carefully lifted her hand out of the carriage and took a step down.

The gloved hand of Mr. Darcy was waiting for her.

She looked at him carefully, her face deceptively blank, and she saw worry in his eyes.

“Mr. Darcy,” she greeted.

“Miss Bennet.”  He carefully took her arm and placed it in his.  “I hope you have been well this past fortnight.”

Bella glanced over at Mary who was standing to the side with a confused Mr. Collins.

“Quite well,” she answered with a small smile toward Mary.  “My sister became engaged this morning.”

Darcy looked, quite alarmed, toward where Jane and Elizabeth were entering Netherfield.

“Not Jane,” she told him quietly.  “Mary.”

His attention turned back toward Mary and Mr. Collins.

“Shall we go inside?” Bella asked the assembled group with false gaiety in her voice.

“Quite, Cousin Isabella,” Mr. Collins agreed, ushering Mary indoors. 

Darcy paused and looked down at Bella.  “I have missed you,” he told her.

“I did not ask you to leave,” she reminded him carefully.  “Thank you for the bluebells.  I would have carried them, but I could not explain them to Mama.”

“No, of course not,” he agreed, now leading her inside.  “I got your message about Wickham.”

“They are all lies,” she told him.  “I do not know how far the report has traveled.”

“It is unfortunate enough that you have heard them,” he told her.  “If you will allow me to explain during supper, I would be most grateful.”

“You do not need to explain,” Bella told him truthfully.  “It is enough that I know they are false.  If you would like me to counteract them to Elizabeth, however, I would be more than happy to act as your agent.”

“I do not care what your sister thinks of me,” he told her roughly.

“No,” Bella agreed as he took her wrap.  “You have never cared for her good opinion.”

They were now entering the ballroom when he asked, “Who is Mr. Collins?”

“Our cousin from Kent,” she told him with a small smile.  “He is to inherit the estate.  He came to make amends and marry one of my father’s daughters as he is to injure us upon his inheritance.  It is most fortunate that he and Mary have an affinity for one another.”

“I am most pleased to hear of your sister’s good fortune,” he told her, only a slight warmth in his tone as he led her toward a well looking gentleman.  The gentleman was tall with dark hair and blue eyes.  “I know you care deeply for your sister, Mary.—Ah, Benedict.”

Ah, so this was the mysterious Benedict Bridgerton.

Bridgerton turned toward them and bowed.

“Miss Bennet, this is my closest friend from Harrow, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.  Benedict, Miss Isabella Bennet.”

Bridgerton took her free hand and bowed again over it.  “I understand I am to have your second and then final set.”

There seemed to be a natural cheerfulness to Bridgerton which Bella liked.

She smiled at him.  “I hope I prove a more than adequate dance partner.”

Bridgerton and Darcy shared a look.  “I am certain that you could never prove a disappointment,” Bridgerton assured her.

The strings were now warming up and Darcy and Bridgerton shared another look.

“I see I must release you,” Bridgerton told her with a cheerful smile.  “I must have someone introduce me to some more young ladies so that I do not find myself without a dance partner.”

“Become introduced to Sir William Lucas,” she suggested.  “He is always happy to suggest a dance partner to any young man or young lady who finds themselves sitting out a set.  He believes it his life’s work as a host, even if he is not holding the gathering himself.”  She shared a pointed look with him.

“I see you were right, Darcy,” Bridgerton complimented.  “Miss Bennet is indeed the best guide to Hertfordshire society.  If you could point me in the direction of Sir William?”

Bella looked over her shoulder then glanced around before spotting him.  She tilted her head in the correct direction and saw Bridgerton following her line of sight.

“Ah.  Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

“Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton.”

The line was now forming and Darcy claimed her hand.  Her heart beat faster in her chest, but Bella forced herself to stay focused as she took her place in the dance across from Darcy.  Jane was standing up with Bingley, which was not at all a surprise, and Elizabeth was unfortunately dancing with Wickham.

Darcy seemed to notice her gaze.  “Wickham singles out your sister.”

“It is odd,” she admitted.  “He is to marry Miss King.  He should be standing up with her.”

“Is Miss King present?”

“I saw her come in with her uncle,” Bella admitted before refocusing on Darcy.

The downbeat sounded.

Darcy’s hand came up and cupped her ear, Bella’s hand likewise came up and cupped his ear, their other hands placed on the other’s opposite shoulder, and they danced around each other, before returning to their spaces.

“How did you find Aubrey Hall?” she asked solicitously.

“The Dowager Viscountess is always an excellent hostess,” he informed her.

The couple to their left was now dancing around each other.

“I am quite certain Caroline has already inquired of the Viscount.”

“You will not find him in attendance tonight.”

“No,” Bella agreed, “or Louisa would have already told me of it.”  She waited for the beat and then cupped Darcy’s ear, her other hand on his shoulder again, before circling around him once more.  Darcy allowed his index finger to caress her ear intimately and run down her neck before they again separated in the dance.

They traded places with the couple on their left and waited.

“Is Mr. Bridgerton here to give or rescind his approval?” Bella asked perceptively.

They approached each other and cupped one another’s ears again, turning in place before releasing each other once again.  This dance was going to make Bella dizzy if she did not choose to find a place over Darcy’s shoulder and focus on it instead of looking in his verdant gaze.  However, she could not look away.  He was regarding her so lovingly that it shook her.

“Not his approval,” Darcy admitted.  “His opinion.  Bingley, for instance, would never marry without my positive opinion.”

This startled Bella then.  “You do not approve of Jane, then,” she checked.

“Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked in confusion.

Bella looked at him oddly.  “You must know expectations have been raised.  It is obvious.”

Darcy looked thunderous.  “Expectations.”

“Expectations,” Bella repeated.  “He has not been so attentive to Jane as you have been to me, but—”

“No,” Darcy agreed, as they moved toward each other and cupped each other’s ears once again and spun around one another, his hand caressing the material on her shoulder.  “I quite take your point.”  He paused.  “Bingley often falls in love, but it never comes to anything.”

“Do you not think his honor is engaged?” she asked, perplexed, looking down the row at Jane and Bingley, “just as your honor is engaged?”

“An engagement need not occur although an affinity for another’s company may exist.”

“No?” Bella asked, stunned.  “Perhaps society is different in London, but in Hertfordshire it is quite another matter.”

“You need not lecture me on society,” Darcy interrupted harshly, the final notes of the dance being sounded out by the strings.  “I know the rules of good society.”

“Do you?” Bella asked in bewilderment.  “Sometimes I wonder.”

She turned and clapped to the orchestra, ignoring Darcy.  She could feel his eyes on her, heavy and foreboding, but still she did not look at him.  Bella could tell he was in an ill humor that night.  Perhaps she was in an ill humor as well.

They waited in place for the second dance and Bella looked over his shoulder.  She knew he was regarding her, but it felt heavy and oppressive.  It was not admiring as it had so often been in the past. 

She heard Elizabeth laugh down the set and saw her giggling with her gloved hand covering her mouth.  Elizabeth had certainly forgotten the rules of propriety.  She was certainly making a spectacle of herself. Wickham was smiling smugly.

Bella was once again struck by how similar Wickham and Darcy looked to one another.  It was really quite surprising.  If she did not know better, she would have said they were brothers or close cousins.  However, Wickham (if he were to be believed) was only the godson of Old Mr. Darcy and no relation at all.  Why did they look so similar then?  They had the same curling dark hair, the same verdant green eyes, the same well appointed noses.  It was only the look of their faces, Wickham’s far too thin unlike Darcy’s.  It was truly perplexing.

“I am sorry,” Darcy murmured, recalling Bella’s attention, “that I am so out of sorts.  I do not like that Wickham is here at Netherfield.”

“Did you not go to Cambridge together?” she asked.

“Yes,” he told her.  “My father paid for his education.  It is true that Wickham was his godson.  He is the son of my father’s late steward.”

Bella nodded.  It would make sense then that perhaps Old Mr. Darcy might have left Wickham a living then.  That did not explain what happened to the living, however.

The strings picked up and the dance began.  Bella curtseyed and Darcy bowed.  Then Bella picked up her arms and placed her left hand Darcy’s shoulder as he slid his on her waist.  The waltz began.