Page 1 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
CHAPTER ONE
“IT WAS BUTthis morning,” Mrs. Fanny Bennet was saying in a loud, clear voice, something that was characteristic of her speech, for she was not one who felt embarrassment easily. “Poor, dear Jane was simply stepping off the front step for a morning walk when she twisted her ankle.”
“My,” commented Mrs. Bennet’s companion, “what misfortune for her, on the day of the ball. I wonder that she did not stay at home this evening.”
The two women were speaking inside the entryway at an assembly in Meryton, located at a public house. In the midst of the room, there were a line of dancers, and all around the outskirts were a number of other members of the community here, engaged in speaking or sipping at glasses of punch. The place was lively and crowded, and Mrs. Bennet would not have missed the event for the world.
“Oh, no, her ankle does not pain her overmuch,” said Mrs. Bennet to her companion. “Jane would not have missed this event for the world.”
In fact, though Mrs. Bennet was convinced her daughter and she were aligned in this statement, the truth was that Jane was quite miserable and would have rather passed the evening at home, perhaps with a bit of willow bark to chew and a dram of stiff drink to help her sleep.
However, Jane had not even thought to contradict her mother, having done so often enough in the past to havelearned that it was a pointless activity. Her mother would have her way, and there was little use in arguing with her.
Even now, Jane sat only a short distance away, able to hear her mother’s entire conversation, because her mother did tend to speak with such volume, and winced at the pain that was radiating from her twisted ankle.
“Well, if it does not pain her too much, that is a mercy,” said her mother’s companion.
“Indeed, it is, and I thank the good Lord for it,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Furthermore, I have told her that there is nothing in the way of her taking to the dance floor, but she insists on sitting.” At this, Mrs. Bennet turned and glared at Jane.
Who winced deeper and bowed her head. In truth, there was no dancing for Jane Bennet, not even if her mother wished it strenuously, which Mrs. Bennet did. Jane could barely walk. She was hobbling about, limping all the time. Dancing was out of the question, not that her mother was willing to believe such a thing.
“Ah, she must know herself how much pain she is in,” said her mother’s companion.
“I doubt she is in any pain at all,” said Mrs. Bennet. “And look, over there, Mr. Bingley is dancing with Charlotte Lucas. If Jane were on her feet, I am positive Mr. Bingley would only be dancing with her.”
Jane’s wince deepened even further, for her mother’s voice carried, and Jane was frightened everyone in the room was going to hear her. She worried because her mother sometimes said things about the Lucas family that were not entirely complimentary, and Jane did not want to be present when the Lucases themselves heard these things projected across a public ballroom.
“You did hear the news about Mr. Bingley, did you not?” Mrs. Bennet continued. “That he is newly here in the neighborhood and looking for a wife? That he has a perfectly adequate income and is settled so agreeably? I have been convinced now that he would take one look at Jane and fall in love with her, and yet, there she is, sitting.” Mrs. Bennet glared again.
Jane grimaced. But her attention was pulled from her mother in the doorway by the arrival of her sister Elizabeth right next to her. Elizabeth smiled, a little breathless, and said, “I’m back now, having walked around the entire perimeter and made inventory of everything even remotely interesting.”
Jane looked up at her. “Lizzy, you needn’t worry over me, you know.”
“Mrs. Jones has an awful cough. The housekeeper of the Hughes family has run off with the footman of the Wright family. And Charlotte is dancing with that Mr. Bingley, as you can probably see. Other than that, all continues as usual in Meryton, with little variation.” Elizabeth smiled, because she was being jocular, trying to raise Jane’s spirits. She had promised, when Jane had been consigned to coming to the ball by their mother, to come check on her elder sister regularly.
“I mean it, Lizzy, off with you. You mustn’t waste your whole evening fretting over me.”
“I promised that I would not abandon you,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps I shall fetch you some refreshment? You must tell me whether you would prefer lemonade or the wine punch.”
“No, you needn’t run errands for me.”
“Well, the truth is, if I weren’t with you, I’d likely be with Charlotte, and she is busy, isn’t she?” said Elizabeth. “So, what else am I to do?”
“Go dance with someone.”
Elizabeth scoffed.
“The Mr. Darcy person isn’t dancing,” said Jane, turning to look at the man, who was across the room, standing behind a chair, clutching the back of it and staring out into the midst of the floor. He had an expression on his face that bespoke some level of either pain or boredom, Jane could not say which. “He looks lonely, Elizabeth. I think he may be shy. Would you not go to him and strike up a conversation?”
“We’ve hardly been introduced to him.”
“We were,” said Jane. When they had come in, their father had been introduced to Mr. Darcy by Mr. Bingley, who had then waved out at all of them and presented them to Mr. Darcy as ‘the Bennet family.’ It counted as an introduction, surely. “Mostly, anyway.”
“He does not look like the sort of person I should even like to speak with, let alone dance with,” said Elizabeth, looking the man over.
Jane tilted her head to one side. “You don’t think he’s handsome?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth. “Quite tall and with a noble mien and all of that. However, most conversations I have ever had with handsome men have been exceedingly boring. Do you not think that people who are fair in appearance have no inducement to develop their minds?”
