Omens
by Abigail K.
Rating: PG
Summary: Fate gives both Darcy and Elizabeth plenty of warning that the Meryton Assembly will be a momentous day for them both.
Author's Note: My great thanks to Leah for being my editor, giving me the support to actually post this story while still being firm enough to correct my errors. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault. I wish to dedicate this story to the memory of Winnie, a wonderful dancing fish, and I hope that Leah does not mind me taking such a liberty. I hope you all enjoy the story.
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. - Mr. Darcy
"Tonight's the night!" Bingley declared. "Tonight we make our formal introduction into Meryton society." He grinned, wiping some imaginary dust from the tabletop, and looking satisfied at the result.
He looked at his companions around the breakfast table. Caroline, his sister, smiled indulgently, but the warmth did not quite reach her eyes. She then turned her attention back to the food on her plate. A similar smile was present on the face of Mrs. Hurst, his other sister, though she failed to look up in the first place. Both seemed to imply that it was too early in the morning for such enthusiasm. Mr. Hurst was busy picking through the remnants of his breakfast, but as he rarely paid much attention to anyone anyway, this was hardly a surprise. Darcy, the final occupant of the breakfast table, seemed more concerned with drinking his tea than attending to his friend.
Failing to have received the response for which he was hoping, Bingley tried a different tactic.
"New faces, new people, surely it shall be a most stimulating experience." He said brightly. The response around the table was no better. Unfailing, he tried a more directed approach "What do you think, Caroline, shall we be the highlight of the ball?"
Caroline's smile was more genuine this time, if perhaps also a little more predatory. "I'm certain we shall, brother. Meryton has not our equal." She directed her smile at Mr. Darcy. "What do you think the evening may hold in store for us, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice was warm and familiar.
He frowned a little at her tone and shifted away from her a little. "It will be a dance, like most any other."
Caroline's smile dimmed a little.
"I do not see the point in spending so much time speculating on what is a fairly common gathering." He emphasized the word common, causing Caroline's smile to brighten again at the implied judgment. He drank the last of his tea. "Beside, no matter the manner of our speculation, the truth shall be known soon enough."
He brought the cup to the table, where it broke into two parts, leaving the severed handle in his hand. The halves made a small clink at they hit the table and wobbled for a second.
"I say, Darcy! There's no need to go breaking my china because you disapprove of a little gossip!" Bingley said in alarm.
Darcy released the handle of the cup from his grip, and it fell to the table beside the broken cup. In a startled and somewhat defensive tone he said, "I do not know what happened Charles. I assure you I used no undue force in handling it." He pushed against the upturned edge of one piece, and the half circle of china rocked back and forth. "It seems to have simply broken."
Caroline reached an elegant hand over and picked up one broken piece of the cup. "How very strange." She turned it around in her hand several times, and ran the tip of one finger along the edge. "It is a clean break, Charles. I'm sure if Mr. Darcy had used any force it would have shattered." She handed it to her brother. "I tell you Charles, this is what comes of buying inferior china. I warned you that this stuff will simply accumulate flaws, never betraying a thing, until it breaks entirely."
Her brother took the piece of china from her and had a look at it as well. "Your description makes me feel quite sorry for it, Caroline."
She sniffed in annoyance at his frivolous comment.
"Still", he continued, "I suppose we should be thankful that it at least decided to break when empty. Had it still held the tea as hot as you drink it, Darcy, you might have had an injury. Truly, it was stoic in hiding its injuries and valiant in sacrificing itself at this moment." His voice was heavy with emotion, but his eyes glittered with humor.
He handed the broken piece back to Mr. Darcy, who raised an eyebrow at Bingley. In a flat and serious tone, he said "Well then, the only proper tribute to such a noble, though poor-- " and this with a nod to Miss Bingley that brought a smile to her face, "hero is to lay it once again beside its partner." With that he placed the half down on the countertop next to the other. It rocked back and forth gently for a moment before coming to rest again.
"It is a pity that we cannot discover the hero's tale. Perhaps there was some omen written in the tea leaves?" Miss Bingley almost purred as she spoke, enjoying the game that brought her in such conversation with Mr. Darcy. She raised en eyebrow in inquiry.
Charles smiled in return, not seeing that his sister's charms were not directed at himself. "I dare say the strange manner of its destruction was ominous enough." His tone was light, delighting in the rare good mood of his sister.
Caroline smiled "Perhaps, but an omen of what?"
Bingley shrugged. "Doesn't have to be an omen of anything, just generally ominous."*
Caroline frowned as the joking moved beyond her capabilities. She glanced at the cup halves again, studying them for a moment. Picking them up, she tried for a moment to fit them together again. When the match was right, the break between the two pieces was imperceptible. She gave a small "ah!" of accomplishment. "Louisa," she asked, "what do you think it means?"
Louisa, who barely attended any conversation not about fashion or balls, looked at her sister, trying to determine the reason for her application. After a moment's thought she smiled. "I'd say it has to do with finding one's other half."
Caroline darted a quick look at Darcy before smiling in return.
Darcy started to rise from the table. As he rose, he interjected in a calm tone of voice "Perhaps instead it is about the realization of the inevitability of separation." He dropped his napkin on the floor as he left the room.
* - With apologies to Terry Pratchett for stealing this line.
Three miles away, Elizabeth Bennet and her sister wandered the garden behind their family estate of Longbourn. Inside the house, their mother had been fussing all morning about the possibilities of the Meryton assembly; who would be in the Netherfield party, how many would be single men, what their fortunes would be, and which imaginary bachelor would be paired with which of her daughters. By the time the sun was much up in the sky, Jane and Elizabeth, the two eldest, had escaped outside to avoid the feeling that their own mother was pricing them.
"Honestly Jane, if Mother goes on much longer, I shall go to the dance wearing a price around my neck as a necklace!" Elizabeth vented.
Jane smiled "Lizzy, you know she only says such things out of concern for us. She would not want us to marry unhappily, but knows we must marry well."
"I heard a good deal about how rich she would like these strangers to be, but not a word about how kind. I believe she is more interested in goods than goodness." Lizzy smiled to take the edge off of her words. Grinning at her sister, she continued "And before you say such things in her defense, for I know you will, Mother does not believe all people to be kind. That grace is yours alone."
Jane shook her head at her sister. "Tease me as you will, Lizzy, but I have every expectation of finding the Netherfield party agreeable, and not simply for their fortune. Father has met Mr. Bingley and has said no ill of him. His assessments are nearly as acerbic as your own, so that must speak well for our new neighbor's character."
"Be that as it may, for all of the fuss that Mother has raised it will be hard to greet them without thinking of Mother's plans for them. We may as well strew their path with flowers, to show them the path to the kingdom they are encouraged to conquer."
So saying, Lizzy reached out to a nearby rose bush for the fully opened white blossom nearest her, one of several that graced the bush. No sooner had the tip of her finger brushed against the stem of one flower than every petal fell off all of the blossoms and drifted down to the ground at her feet.
Lizzy drew back her hand in alarm, and Jane gave a small gasp of surprise. "I did not think I had touched it so hard." Elizabeth said in a small voice. She shook a few petals off of the tip of her shoes. She bit her lower lip in concern, and then asked her sister hopefully, "Do you think mother would take it as a bad sign, and I may therefore stay home?"
Jane laughed, and linking arms with her sister, started to walk further into the garden. She patted her sister's hand and said, "No matter what occurs tonight, I know I shall be well with you at my side, Lizzy."
Elizabeth leaned her head against Jane's shoulder. "Yes, sister, you may be sure I shall be at your side, if only to keep you between Mother and myself."
Jane laughed again.
As they walked on, Elizabeth turned her head to look behind her at the rose bush and the petals on the ground. For a moment her brow furrowed, she frowned, and then turned back to her sister, trying to ignore the feeling that the rose bush's leaves shook not with the breeze, but with laughter.
At Netherfield, Darcy had retired to the library to read for a while before preparing for that night's assembly. He hoped that by selecting a sufficiently edifying book he might build up a reserve of peace and thoughtfulness, as he expected to find little of either at the gathering that night. He pulled one book after another from the meager selection, and replaced them one after another as well, rejecting each as either too frivolous or too familiar.
When he finally found a book that answered to his tastes, he took it to the large armchair that sat near the empty fireplace. Settling himself down, he opened the book, found a comfortable position, and began to read.
The sounds of the house, already distant beyond the solid walls of the library, faded entirely out of Darcy's awareness. Instead, the new ideas and notions of the book absorbed him. The information entered his mind and moved around, changing the shape of his notions and thoughts. It was like an architect building a new wing, making a place where the new information might live. Soon, Darcy was barely aware of his own movements required to turn the pages. The little part of his mind that was not engrossed in the book hoped that he might be forgotten when it was time to go to the assembly, and he could be left in the library to read in peace.
As engrossed as he was in the book, it took him several moments to filter out the distinctive sound of whining from the other background noises, and to assign a meaning to it.
He looked around for a moment, and then rose to stand. There was nothing in the library that accounted for the noise. Opening the library door, he looked down to find a young but large-pawed pup of browns and blacks sitting at his feet. The adolescent dog squirmed, rose, and gave a halted leap, betraying the struggle between the impulses of the pup to jump on his master in greeting and the adult dog to display control and restraint. The dog sat again, and whined, communicating his conflict to his master.
"Cerberus, how did you get into this part of the house?" Darcy tried his best to sound severe.
The young dog tilted his head downward in shame, aided by the large ears he had not yet grown into.
"Come hound, your master is not displeased to see you. I only wonder how you came here." Darcy's voice was gentle, gentler than most of his friends would have expected to hear from him.
This was encouragement enough for the dog. The hound stood on all fours, and lolled his tongue in happiness. His puppyish impulses seemed in charge of his back end, which wagged furiously and tried to push forward, but the adult was equally in control of the front half, and stood firm. As a result, the dog moved side to side in a ridiculous fashion.
Darcy laughed, and laid a kind hand on the dog's head." Come, you foolish beast, you may sit with me in the library if you agree to behave like a gentleman."
The dog almost leapt into the library at the command, gave the chair a quick sniff, and then quietly settled himself on the floor with as much dignity as a dog whose bones were growing faster than his manners could muster. He watched intently as Darcy closed the door and returned to the chair. He thumped the ground with his tail once as Darcy sat down.
Darcy thumbed through the book for a moment in search of his place in the book. Finding it, he stretched out his legs and sighed. The dog moved his head near enough Darcy's boot to be aware if his master should stir, and fell asleep.
Though it took a few moments, Darcy was soon once again lost in the thoughts and patterns of the book.
For a long time there was little sound in the room other than pages being turned at intervals, and as little movement from the man or the dog as in the dust motes in the sunbeam cutting in from the window. Whatever activities occupied the rest of the household, the library was silent and unaffected, concerned with holding tight the information in its volumes. There was little more motion evident from the man and the dog than from the dust motes tumbling in the beams of sunlight at the windows.
After a while though, Darcy found his mind wandering from the topic of the book, ahead to the assembly to come. Darcy felt rather conflicted about the entire matter. Bingley had chosen to lease Netherfield on impulse, and while Bingley was not an unwise man, the results of his impulse were mixed at best. For a man such as Bingley, whose family fortune was new, the society of Hertfordshire would be a small enough one that he could easily rank himself near the highest in the county. Whether it was a society worth ruling was another question.
We may as well make the best of it. He is too affable and kind, Darcy thought, to make much of a name for himself in the fastest circles of London society based purely upon his charm, for they prefer men of brash boldness. He would be seen as a rich descendant of tradesman if he has no home to call his own. This way he may introduce himself as a residence of Netherfield, and at least has some color of a country lord of long standing. Perhaps he is truly better off starting small, with the society of this country town.
Still, what society! Darcy thought, scowling. There is not grand house in the area to lend the place a sense of unity, as Pemberley does to Derbyshire, or even Rosings in Kent. Netherfield might be suited to the task, He mused more gently, and if all goes well here, we may take it as training for integrating Bingley into the better circles of London next season. Darcy mulled over the possibilities of this approach some more. True, it will not be as good as a first introduction on that basis; he has been in London enough that more than a few have met him. Darcy sighed. Those he has not met, though, those are the most important, and they will think very little of him until the shine of new money is off of him. Hopefully he can carry himself with some dignity. Darcy grimaced to himself with ill humor. With his sisters spending habits and the Hurst's continued disinterest in managing life for themselves, he will end up with the debts worthy of old money is he is not careful. He may as well try for the rest of the appearance.
Having settled on a plan for the stay in Hertfordshire, Darcy began to speculate on what circumstances might hinder its completion. Though he had no great expectations for the society, he hoped that it would be found respectable enough not to be a detriment to Bingley's reputation, either. Bingley is too forgiving; it will fall to Caroline and myself to see what dangers needed to be avoided. The smiling faces of a number of the visitors they had already had came to his mind. The folks were genteel enough, for country folk, but few of them were acquaintances worth continuing in higher society. It was doubtful many of them spent much time in London, though, or at least within the same society in London. They were none of them remarkable, either in their faults or their virtues. There did seem to be rumors of a number of eligible young women, but while Bingley was one to fall half in love every other week, it was unlikely he'd find anyone here of a situation worthy to earn his whole heart. Hertfordshire is no place to be falling in love.
Hardly had Darcy finished musing on the thought than the dog at his feet launched into wakefulness and activity. With a voice meant to carryover the hills when in chase, the dog barked loudly, clearly in anxiety. He sprang to his feet and ran about the room, hackles up, racing from shadows to sunlight, as if a burglar had entered the house. His flews were pulled up and his teeth were showing. Somehow, the contortions of his face made his eyes seem to enlarge and glow. There was no longer anything puppyish in his demeanor in the least. His attitude said clearly that when he found whatever it was that had disturbed him, he would kill it.
Shocked and half fearful, Darcy stood, dropping his book, and looked for the source of commotion. "Cerberus!" he yelled, but the dog ignored him and continued the mad pursuit around the room. The dog ran round the room with such fury that his claws could be heard against the carpet, and with every body-shaking bark he flung froth and slobber about.
The resonance of his cry was all but shaking the windows, but seemingly without a focus to his anger. The dog ran first to one window, then to another, ran the perimeter of the room, and finally circled around Darcy's chair, growling. Darcy controlled the urge to step back away from him, half afraid that a movement on his part would set the dog chasing him.
Nose to the ground, Cerberus sniffed the rug, letting out menacing rumbles that sounded too great to have come from his half-grown chest. Although he had lowered his flews enough that his teeth were not fully bared, his muzzle still quivered, threatening to show them again when the object of his interest was located. Darcy watched the dog carefully as it inspected his feet. He considered gripping the dog by the scruff of the neck and shaking it to regain control, but fear of a bite from the suddenly unpredictable creature staid his hand.
Finally, the dog finished whatever inspection he had been making. He shook, ears flapping around his head from the motion, and sat. He blinked, looking calm and attentive as a beggar at the table, and wagged his tail. He looked to Darcy as if expecting praise for having captured his first prey in the hunt.
Before Darcy could relax, the library door was flung open as Bingley and several menservants spilled into the room, a tangle of fear and readiness. Several were brandishing what weapons could be found in a pinch: candlesticks, a cane, and a shovel.
"What has occurred? What is that barking about?" Bingley demanded.
Darcy, nearly as startled by the mobbish look of the servants as his dog's odd behavior a moment before, decided to dismiss his own concerns about the dog's activity for fear of the consequences to the hound. "Cerberus seems to have had a disturbing dream, and woke fearing burglars. I'm afraid he is too young to display much control over such impulses." He tried to sound casual.
He dropped one hand to rest on the dog's head, and if he hesitated for a moment before making contact, no one seemed to note it. The dog took the pat with good humor.
Bingley and the servants all looked at the dog, which simply looked back with innocent brown eyes. The brandished weapons were slowly lowered, with some reluctance. Embarrassment went back and forth on the faces of both Darcy and Bingley, for owning the beast that caused such a ruckus on one hand, and for responding so strongly on the other.
Bingley rubbed the back of his neck. "If you say that is all there is to it, Darcy, I will take your word for it, but I swear the beast was sounding an alarm as if a demon was loose in the house."
Darcy chuckled a little. "He's a bit young to be taking on demons yet, Bingley. He hasn't yet learned to not chase the squirrels in the wood."
Bingley smiled in response, and a little more of the tension left the room. "Perhaps it was a squirrel in the windows, and he thought it to be a demon?"
Even the menservants smiled at this and the room relaxed fully. The dog in question looked from man to man, wondering at the laughter and hoping it was praise. He wagged his tail, and looked as harmless as any dog ever had.
"Well, we'll let you return to your reading, Darcy, but please, put the hound outside. I fear being in the library has given him too many ideas."
Darcy nodded and gave the dog a push towards the servants. "He has not so much as chewed a book, let alone read one, but your point is taken." The nearest servant took the dog by the collar and led it from the room.
"Don't stay in here reading too long, we do have the assembly tonight."
As Bingley spoke the words, the dog looked back at his master once more and let out a whine, but the door was already closing behind him, and the sound was lost in the creaking of the door.
Elizabeth Bennet and her sister were trying to decide which dresses to wear to the assembly. Jane had chosen her dress several days before, as had Elizabeth. However, after their walk in the gardens that morning, Elizabeth was overcome with the urge to reconsider. She had laid several gowns out on the bed, and stood in her bedroom, staring at them each in turn, feeling the fabric, and biting her lower lip in confused thought.
"Jane, do you think the blue and white is too plain? It is not so showy as the green, but I think that perhaps it is more practical for dancing. I cannot decide between them."
Jane, who was content with her own decision but sat with her sister out of desire to lend support, looked at both dresses. "Lizzy, whatever you choose to wear shall become you quite well. Both dresses are good choices."
Elizabeth smiled at her sister. "If I had your good looks, Jane, that might be true." The words were warm with affection, and no hint of jealousy. "I did ask you for your opinion though dear, and not a compliment."
Jane blushed. "Lizzy, you do yourself no justice. Besides, dear sister, you have not usually been one to care overmuch about your appearance. Do you have any special expectations for this assembly, that you take such care to dress?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No Jane, at least, none compared to those of Mother or Lydia and Kitty." Their youngest sisters had been in raptures all day, speaking of the cut of their gowns and their shoe-roses, in such a frenzy in preparing for the dance that it would be a wonder if they had any energy left for dancing itself.
Elizabeth rubbed her arms as if cold. "I just feel as if I've chosen the wrong outfit. I know it's trivial, but I just can't quite picture myself properly at the assembly tonight. I may not be as match-mad as Mamma, but I do want to make a good impression."
"Perhaps an older dress you might mend a little before tonight? There is still time."
Nodding at the suggestion, Elizabeth went to the closet at the corner of the room. She opened it, and gave a little gasp of surprise. Jane turned her head to look. Elizabeth swung the door open further, and smiled at what she was able to reveal.
In the closet, several of the gowns had fallen from their hangers, and lay in a pile on the floor. On top of the pile, curled up in evident satisfaction, was a black cat. It opened one feline eye just far enough to make it clear that while it was aware of the scrutiny, it had no intention of moving.
"I was going to look for my pale yellow dress, but I suspect now that it would be flecked with black." Elizabeth said with a laugh. "What are you doing in here, cat?"
The cat gave no answer, but twitched the tip of its tail to show that it did not appreciate being addresses in such an impertinent manner.
"It has probably tired itself out chasing mice in the attic." Jane said "It is certainly a sleek and healthy enough looking cat."
Elizabeth raised one eyebrow at the cat, who merely blinked back slowly in response. "Hmmm. I should hope it is such fine fur from eating mice enough to earn its keep. It had better not be planning on having kittens atop my dresses."
As if understanding the subject of their discourse, the cat rose and stretched, first arching and then stretching its spine, making it quite clear that it was in fine form and not fat of belly at all. It then yawned, sticking out a pink tongue in a rude manner, and showing many fine white teeth. Once properly on its paws, it regarded the two ladies with an evaluating gaze.
Elizabeth, who was not one to back down easily to such an assessment, knelt down to the cat's level and said "Well, my fine feline, have you decided if we are worthy of having our paths crossed by you for luck?"
"I thought black cats were bad luck, Lizzy." Jane said.
Lizzy extended her hand to the cat, which advanced and sniffed it. As the cat began rubbing against her hand, she said to her sister "Nonsense. Any creature with an ability to survive as well as a black cat must be good luck. They are wise creatures." Elizabeth scratched the cat behind the ears. The cat arched its neck and leaned into the contact." Have you not heard the saying that good luck comes to those who can make friends with strange cats?"*
"Maybe the wise cat might help you decide on a dress then, if you feel your own wisdom to be insufficient."
The cat stopped rubbing against Elizabeth's hand. It looked at her sharply, and she saw its yellow eyes dilate for a second. It flicked its tail sharply, moved around her with a sinuous grace, and with one leap landed on the bed. The cat then went to inspect the dresses, moving in a way that suggested that it knew full well how elegant it appeared. It gave each dress a delicate sniff, settled down beside the green dress, and began purring.
The two sisters stood silently for a moment. "Lizzy, were I differently minded I'd say that animal is a witch's familiar, right out of fable." Jane's voice was tinged with humor.
Elizabeth nodded. She gingerly reached out and picked up the green dress. "Who am I to ignore the advice of such a wise soul, though?"
Jane shook her head in wonder.
In the hall, Lydia Bennet could be heard screeching. "Kitty, you MUST lend me those ribbons. No others will do for my hair." There was a pause. "They'll look wrong on YOU, Kitty. They'd be much better for my complexion. Yours is too sallow."
The sisters turned to listen to the noise as it came closer.
The bedroom door burst open. "Lizzy, you MUST give me your pink ribbons, Kitty won't give me hers!" Lydia wailed. She was half-dressed, and her hair was in tangles. The maid stood in the hall behind her, holding a fistful of ribbons and a hairbrush, looking frazzled. Further back, Kitty stood in the hallway, and her splotched face indicated that Lydia had said something rather cruel in addition to the more audible comments already noted.
"Lydia, you may borrow my pink ribbons if you ask politely." Elizabeth answered steadily.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "May I PLEASE borrow your pink ribbons, dearest sister Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth frowned, and appeared to be on the verge of refusing the request. Jane reached over to her own drawer, and pulled out some colored ribbons. "Here Lydia, you may borrow any of mine."
Lydia grabbed the entire handful and raced down the hallway towards her own room, shouting "Thank you!" behind her. The forlorn maid trailed behind her. Kitty wandered off towards the room she shared with Mary.
Elizabeth sighed hugely, and shut the door.
Smiling, Jane said, "At least she said thank you."
When Elizabeth turned around to smile at her sister, she saw that the cat was gone.
* - The saying was actually from colonial America, but we'll assume the Bennets might have heard it.
The Netherfield Party had dressed and gathered in preparation to depart for the assembly. That is, most of them had gathered, in some fashion.
Mr. Darcy waited, groomed and prepared, doing his best to ignore the tick of the hall clock.
Mr. Hurst had slumped in a chair to conserve energy, and was nearly asleep.
Bingley had arrived several times, but kept wandering off again in search of "one or two things still forgotten."
His sisters kept appearing in the hallway at the top of the stairs, traveling back and forth between each other's rooms.
Bingley, in one of the few periods longer than a breath that he stood in the hallway to wait upon them, scolded them for delaying their departure. They had replied that there was no use in making an early appearance as "no one of importance would be waiting for them." When Bingley stressed that he was waiting on them, they hushed him with a "Brother, we would make a worse impression appearing on time but unprepared than to arrive fashionably late but impeccably dressed!"
Bingley had huffed and nearly lost his temper, but then decided to take the opportunity to change his fob again. Darcy might have been quite put out by these delays, but he had known the family for some time, and had brought a book with him.
Charles returned soon, having changed his shoes instead of his fob, but fearing further delays, Darcy forbore to comment on it. Bingley looked around, walked over to Hurst, and kicked his feet in a friendly fashion. "We're nearly ready to go, Hurst! Should be a good bit of fun, won't it?"
Hurst shifted in the chair, grumbled, and sat up. "I say Charles, there's no need to yell."
"I wasn't yelling." Charles looked at Darcy "Darcy, I wasn't yelling, was I?"
Darcy didn't look up from his book. "No Charles, you were not."
"If I was yelling, I should say it was purely from anticipation of the evening," Charles said smartly. Grinning, he said, "Almost makes me wish I had yelled, just to make my feelings on the matter clear!"
Hurst looked at him for a moment, and put his head back down.
Bingley might have had no one with whom to share his anticipation had not his sisters come down the stairs. Fully aware of the elegance of their entrance, Caroline and Louisa fairly glided down, heads held high. Evidently the idea of their presumed social status at the assembly had finally reached their minds, and they managed to appear almost regal. Darcy even put down his book to watch them descend, and Caroline managed to hold her head even higher when she saw that she had his regard. Even Hurst managed to stand to greet his wife, who went to his side.
"You do look breath taking, Caroline," said her brother. Caroline smiled warmly.
He offered her his arm, which she took. Mr. Darcy came to stand near them.
"Mr. Darcy, what a charming jacket you wear tonight. I have not seen it before." Her sister leaned over to her, to whisper in an insufficiently quiet voice, "It is a good match for your dress."
Darcy tugged on his jacket self-consciously.
Having finally gathered the entire party together, Bingley was impatient to get them out the door. He flung the door open himself, and cried, "Come now, destiny awaits!"
A gust of wind blew in from the opened door, raced around the hall, and blew out every light.
Bingley managed a laugh at the odd drama of it, but in the darkness, Darcy was glad for the cover to hide his expression of apprehension and unease.
At the Meryton assembly, the revelers paused at the end of a set. Good-natured young ladies turned to bow to the musicians in thanks, and then to rush to take their place for the next pattern. Along the walls, those disinclined or unable to dance talk in loud conversations. A knot of gentleman stood swapping stories that seemed to involve a great deal of drink and wide arm movements, and nearby, young ladies giggled and whispered together like a gaggle of chickens searching for morsels in the ground. After the dancers had gathered and the musicians found their places and their breath, the music resumed and the evening progressed.
The two eldest Bennet sisters, with their friend Charlotte Lucas, occupied the small corner of the assembly room where the music could not manage to invade their quiet. Elizabeth seemed to have some trouble finding a place of comfort though. One moment she stood, and another she sat, and between she merely paced. When the musicians had ended the last set of music with a loud flourish, she had almost jumped out of her s...
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