Onto the Netherfield Ball

Title: Onto the Netherfield Ball
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Owestry, Darcy/Elizabeth, Jane/Bingley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: Bella may have been born in the 1800s, there may or may not be gambling, this is from Owestry’s pov, we do not like Elizabeth Bennet, illegitimate children, Georgiana is shy, no Wickham, no vampires
Summary: Darcy came to fetch Colonel Fitzwilliam for the Netherfield Ball.  Owestry intends to come along too…

Onto the Netherfield Ball

Owestry would not be gainsaid.  “Who is this girl, man?” he demanded as he came around the carriage.  “You will not even say!”

Darcy stared at him angrily.  “Miss Bennet is a woman of quality—”

“You mean she is a woman with relations in trade.”  Owestry could not believe his ears.  He had heard all about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.  Darcy had stayed up all night with Owestry’s younger brother, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, two nights earlier and told him all about the lady with the “fine eyes.”

Darcy confided in Fitzwilliam.  He always had. The two were natural brothers.  Darcy had specifically come up to London to invite Fitzwilliam to the Netherfield Ball so he could meet Elizabeth Bennet.  Owestry had only gotten wind of the plan because he had walked into the barracks on his own matter of the heart.

Owestry ran a hand over his face.   

“I shall come down,” he insisted.

Darcy looked at him.  “You are not invited.”

“You cannot not invite me,” he insisted, looking at his much taller cousin.  “I am a man of four times your consequence.  I shall simply go find this Bingley and impose myself on him.”

“Bingley is not in London.”

“Then I shall show up in Hertfordshire!”  He looked over the carriage.  “Are you bringing along Georgiana?”

“So it would appear,” Darcy answered darkly.

“You shall delay four hours,” Owestry demanded before he called for his horse.  Owestry had a fiancée to acquire.

The glacier was small and tucked into Bond Street but eminently fashionable.  Owestry was a full half hour early, but he was hoping Miss Swan was punctual.  She always was, but today would be the day she was not if Providence was being unkind.

He was, dash it all, helplessly in love with the elusive Miss Swan.  Not even Lady Whistledown could learn her identity.  Owestry did not even know her parentage outside of the fact that he was certain she was minor gentry from the way she carried herself and the way she dressed.  She always had a maid in attendance and her own horse and carriage, emblazoned with the Wrexham Swan coat of arms.

There was a tinkling of the bell and Miss Swan walked into the glacier in resplendent dove grey.  Just a fortnight earlier she had gone into half mourning.  Her father had died in “unfortunate circumstances” that she only hazily referenced, her mother in the Americas.  He knew of one past attachment, but that was long gone since.

Owestry looked up eagerly.

She smiled at him.  “No Annabelle?” she inquired as she offered her hand.

“Not today,” he apologized.  Signaling to the shopkeeper, he offered her a seat.

He waited patiently for their ices, just soaking her in.

Isabella Swan was a tall young woman with pale skin, violet eyes, and dark brown hair.  Her straight brows were darker than her hair, her lips full against her luminous skin in a heart shaped face.  She was rather beautiful and Owestry was astonished that she was unmarried as it must at least be her second if not third season, not that he had ever seen Miss Swan in a ballroom.  He had tried to find her but to no avail.

She smiled at him.

He smiled goofily back.

“I have a confession to make, Miss Swan,” he admitted as he took up his spoon.

“Oh?” she inquired.

“I have a dual purpose of seeing you this morning.”  He took out his time piece.  He had three hours and fifteen minutes.  He really had to hop on it.  Looking up at her, Owestry gazed into her eyes.  “Miss Swan, Isabella—”

Her breath caught.

“You must know that I mean to marry you.”

She set aside her ices.  “Yes, Owestry, I know.”  She was smiling to herself.

“The problem is,” he told her outright, “I caught my cousin Darcy trying to abscond to Hertfordshire with his carriage to propose to an unsuitable young lady.  I delayed him for,” he checked, “three hours and twelve minutes.  I mean to be among the party and I mean to take you.”

Miss Swan paused at this pronouncement.  She clearly considered.  “How long do I have?”

“Three hours and,” he checked, “ten minutes.”

“My three evening dresses are in black,” she told him.  “I take it we are going to a house party.”

“There will be a ball,” he informed her. 

She looked up and called her servant.  “Carrie,” she instructed.  “Did you hear Lord Owestry?”

The servant dithered.  “I am afraid I was listening, mum.”

“Good.  Take the carriage and pack a trunk.  Be back here in two hours,” Miss Swan instructed.  “Bring the feathers and the diamonds.”

“What of the pearls?” the servant inquired.

“I do so hate the pearls,” Miss Swan admitted, now eyeing Owestry, before she nodded.  “Bring them as well.”

The servant curtseyed and quickly left. 

Bella smiled and turned back to Owestry.  “There.  That is done.  We shall be ready to leave at the appointed hour.”

“You are a wonder, m’dear,” Owestry complimented, grinning to himself.

“Now,” she told him, picking back up her spoon, “you must tell me everything about this cousin, this young woman, and Hertfordshire.”

Owestry appeared not two and a half hours later with Bella—for Miss Swan was now ‘Bella’—proudly on his arm.  They had dismissed her carriage and were now traveling in the marked Matlock carriage, her two trunks tied to the top, her servant Charlotte sitting with the driver. His trunks and manservant would join the caravan at Hanover Square.

Darcy’s servants were packing up trunks, clearly getting ready to leave.

Escorting Bella into Darcy House, they were shown into the music room where everyone usually congregated.

Fitzwilliam looked up from his place on the couches, tall and imperious, and looking every inch a Darcy.  There was a knowing look in his eye.  Upon seeing Owestry with a woman on his arm, he stood up and came to greet them.  “Ah,” he said, taking Bella’s hand and lifting it to his lips, “this must be my new sister.”

“Colonel,” she greeted with a small smile, seeming to recognize him from more than his red coat.  “Good morning.  I understand we have you to thank for our intelligence.”

“Yes,” he answered carefully.  “Darcy told me about the ball.”

“I am afraid I don’t dance,” Bella told him.  She had already admitted this weeks ago to Owestry.  She claimed she had two left feet and stepped on everyone’s toes to such an extent she was a hazard to the dance, but Owestry hoped to change her mind.

“We shall have to entertain you some other way,” Fitzwilliam promised, a gleam in his eye.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Bella agreed.

At this moment, Georgiana flitted into the room, instructing her companion that she needed her shawl.

“You can see the Darcy looks,” Owestry murmured to Bella as he brought her further into the room and sat her down on the couches.

Georgiana, like Darcy and Fitzwilliam, was tall with broad shoulders, a broad forehead, dark eyes, and curly brown hair.  Unlike the two natural brothers, her looks made her rather mannish and thus an unhandsome young woman.  Her dowry is what would catch her a husband, not the turn of her face.

When Georgiana turned and saw them, she startled and instantly quieted at Bella’s presence.

“Cousin, dear,” Owestry greeted, “may I introduce my intended, Miss Isabella Swan?  Bella is to be a member of our party to Hertfordshire.”

Georgiana’s verdant eyes went wide in fear.  She turned to Mrs. Ainsley quickly, who put a hand carefully over her charge’s. 

“Shall Miss Swan be sharing a carriage with Miss Darcy?” Mrs. Ainsley asked carefully.

Owestry understood the question.  Georgiana was afraid of sharing a carriage with a person she did not know or trust.  In the past year she had withdrawn into herself and become fearful of any new face.  It was most peculiar.  He had tried to speak to Fitzwilliam about it, but his brother had refused to answer his concerns.

“No,” he returned.  “Bella will be riding with me in the Matlock carriage.”

Georgiana visibly relaxed.

Bella turned her head a fraction toward him at Georgiana’s reaction.  She had clearly noticed.

Owestry placed his hand over hers in a silent message.  He would do his best to explain later.

It was another twenty minutes before Darcy appeared in the music room.

“Owestry,” he came in, “why are you bringing a carriage?”  He paused, looking between Owestry and Bella.  Then he looked over at Fitzwilliam, clearly seeking an explanation. 

It was Fitzwilliam who spoke.

“It is not only you who finds yourself in love, old man,” Fitzwilliam told him. “Owestry is engaged to be married and is bringing Miss Swan to the ball as he wishes to—well, Miss Swan does not dance—so, he cannot wish to dance with her.”  He was clearly floundering.

Bella laughed quietly behind her hand at Fitzwilliam’s dismal explanation. 

Darcy’s eyes widened.

No one in the family thought Owestry would ever take a second wife. His marriage to Sophie had been such a dismal failure that everyone assumed he would remain a widower for the rest of his days, Annabelle being his only issue, that the Matlock title would go to Fitzwilliam and his heirs.

“Do not try to explain what cannot be explained, Colonel,” Bella chided.  “You shall speak yourself into circles.”

“Yes,” Fitzwilliam agreed, clearly having done just that.  Turning to Darcy, he gestured to Bella.  “This is Miss Swan.  She requires a carriage.”

Darcy was staring at her openly.  Then he turned his attention to Owestry, looking betrayed.

“I am sure you have heard of the Swans of Wrexham,” Owestry carefully mentioned to Darcy, to demonstrate that is engagement to Bella was nothing like Darcy’s intended connection to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Fitzwilliam looked up.

Bella breathed out.  “Yes, Uncle Stephen,” she agreed.  “He invites me every Easter to Wrexham Castle.  Drafty place.  He and father were not always fond of each other, but Uncle Stephen remembers me—when it suits him.”

There was certainly a story there.  Owestry would have to learn it later.

“Uncle Stephen” must be Lord Wrexham, a Baron of little distinction but an ancient Welsh line that was still listed in Debrett’s and certainly presented to the Queen.  Bella must have been presented to the Queen, Owestry realized.  It would certainly be listed in the court circular.

When the carriages were ready, Owestry handed Bella in.  Georgiana and Mrs. Ainsley went in the Darcy carriage.  Darcy and Fitzwilliam were riding.  A wagon was carrying the extra Darcy trunks.

The journey was four hours by carriage and was a pleasant afternoon.  They were setting out before lunch with packed baskets.  They were arriving well before dinner.

The ball was on the next evening.

The Bingleys were gracious hosts and although Netherfield was in a state of contained chaos, all was made comfortable.

What Owestry was surprised to learn from his manservant was that although an engagement was expected between Bingley and a Bennet daughter, no one in the house was aware of any attachment between Darcy and anyone in the neighborhood.

“Are you sure?” Owestry asked his man.

“Quite sure,” Everett agreed.

“Did Miss Swan’s maid get this same story?”

Everett paused.

Owestry looked at him, expecting an answer.

“Miss Carrie, while she speaks with the other maidservants, does not associate with the menservants.  She is very careful, that one.”  He took Owestry’s stockings and went to go lay them out for washing.

Owestry supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by Bella’s maid’s mannerisms.  Charlotte didn’t know Everett.  They had never met before that evening.  He and Bella had also not made a plan to share information between their servants. 

Still, he wondered at it.

He went to sleep knowing that Bella was in the same house.  He hoped they would have a short engagement and would be married by Christmas, so he could take her back to Matlock.  He would love to see her there in spring among the roses.

Owestry rushed down to the Breakfast Room the next morning in order to see Bella and was rewarded when she came down not fifteen minutes later in silvers. 

They walked in the winter gardens in the morning and in the afternoon played Piquet with the Bingleys.  Darcy stared out the windows as was his habit.  Bella did not seem at all affected.  She listened to the Bingleys gossip about their neighbors and after dinner she sent him a full list of Meryton’s inhabitants including a detailed description of all five Bennet daughters.  It seemed Jane, the eldest, was to be Bingley’s bride.  She smiled too much according to Bella.  Elizabeth with the “fine eyes” was the next eldest.  She had stayed at Netherfield when Jane had fallen ill.  Mary was plain and played the pianoforte.  Kitty and Lydia were next and were flighty.  They preferred the company of officers.

Owestry had convinced Bella to dance the first set and supper set with him, but only on the promise that they not hold a ball the first or indeed the second years of their marriage.  Fitzwilliam, of course, secured her second and final set, and then Darcy and Bingley likewise secured sets.  Even Hurst asked for a dance.

Georgiana was allowed to stay up only until Supper and then must go to bed.  She had a lovely white gown for the occasion, but she was quiet and fearful in the presence of the Bingleys.

Owestry and Bella placed themselves at a window to watch as the carriages arrived.

“Yes, that’s them,” Bella agreed as a carriage arrived with five young ladies, all with honey blonde hair and dark eyes.  The mother was likewise of the same coloring.  “Who is that?”

“That must be the cousin Bingley mentioned,” Owestry surmised.  “He told me he thought he was meant to marry one of the daughters.”

“Good Lord, which one?” Bella wondered.

Owestry offered his hand and led Bella into the hallway so they could watch as the Bennet daughters arrived.

Darcy stayed far away from them.  In fact, he seemed to pay them little attention.  He danced with Caroline Bingley and then with Bella before prowling the edges of the dance.  The one Owestry thought was Elizabeth danced with her cousin and then spoke to a plain young woman.

When Owestry finally caught Bella alone, she had been dancing all evening, he wondered at it.

“He is not dancing?” Bella wondered.

“No.  He is decidedly not.”

Bella hummed.  “It does not do to show her any attention,” she thought aloud.  “I would not approach her.”

“No,” Owestry agreed, glancing over at the girl.  “And she has barely danced with anyone at all.”

“Odd.  The eldest has been taken up with Bingley all night.”

“Do you think he is going to propose?” Owestry wondered.

“Who cares?”  Bella bit her lip.  What an odd turn of phrase.  “We are not here to prevent his engagement.”

“No, no you are quite correct.”

“Ah,” Bella sighed, looking over Owestry’s shoulder.  “Here is Hurst for his dance.  Perhaps I can step on his toes on purpose.”  Her eyes gleamed in mischief. 

As she was led away, Owestry looked around and it was then that he noticed Darcy approach Elizabeth Bennet.  He watched as they entered the dance.  He shouldn’t have worried, however.  Halfway through the dance, Bella—who had claimed she couldn’t dance—expertly twisted her hand and switched partners with Elizabeth Bennet so she was now dancing with Hurst and Bella was now dancing with Darcy.  Miss Bennet looked startled, Hurst didn’t seem to notice, and Darcy—Darcy.  He looked impressed.

When he led Bella over to Owestry for the Supper Set, he seemed… enchanted.  Darcy couldn’t take his eyes off Bella.

“Darcy,” Owestry tried.

He wasn’t listening.  He was just staring at Bella.

“—Darcy.”

Bella stepped on Darcy’s foot.

Darcy came to himself.

“You need to give my hand to Owestry,” Bella told him carefully.

Darcy looked like he didn’t understand.

“The music is starting up,” Owestry told him testily.

Darcy turned his attention to him.  “Beg pardon?”

“The music.  Changing.”  Owestry reached out and just took Bella’s hand.  Then he led her onto the dancefloor.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Darcy was standing dumbly where he had left him.  “What did you do to the poor man?”

“I seem to have bewitched him,” Bella laughed as she took her place into the dance.  “Don’t worry, darling, one problem is solved.”

“Another has been created,” Owestry grumbled.

“Yes, of course,” Bella agreed, not even glancing at Darcy as she moved to the downbeat, “but we shall dance tonight.”

“Yes,” Owestry agreed with a smile.  “Yes, we shall.”

The End.