Page 26 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
THE NETHERFIELD BALL
Jane tracedher finger over the faint lines embossed on the journal’s cover. “You see? On the journal, the chest is open, not closed.”
We had borrowed one of my father’s custom-bound books for reference. It showed the Longbourn crest: a wyvern rearing, clutching a chest in its claws.
On both the book and the journal, the chest was a strongbox with straps and a keyhole. But the Longbourn chest was closed and held tight to the wyvern’s body, as if precious. On the journal, not only was the chest open, it was tipped upside down.
“It is as if the artist wished to show the chest is empty,” I said. “Perhaps the ancient Bennets were poor.”
“An impoverished family that chose penury for their symbol?” Even Jane, polite to a fault, sounded dubious.
“Well, said like that, it seems unlikely.”
“I think it indicates discarding the contents. Charity?”
“Does it matter? If this is the only difference, I do not think it is a different crest. Just a variation, after many years and many copies.”
“But look…” Jane touched the letters that spelled Longbourn. “There is a gap as if it is two words, ‘Long bourn.’ And I am unconvinced the first word is ‘Long’ at all.”
The script was elaborate and almost illegible from age, with the ‘g’ in particularextending both high and low. I squinted, unsure. “It must be Longbourn. This is a journal of the Bennet family and the Longbourn estate.”
“Yes…” Jane seemed unwilling to give up her argument. She placed a sheet of paper on the cover and rubbed it with a bit of charcoal. Rubbings of leaves and bark were in fashion, so we had supplies. She held it in the light but looked more puzzled.
The dayof the long-awaited Netherfield ball arrived. Really, we waited only three days, but every one was excruciating. Mr. Collins could stretch a minute into an hour. I had gone so far as to ask what times he recommended for exercise, then reversed that for my own walks.
But Mr. Bingley had asked Jane when she would be able to dance comfortably, then scheduled the ball for that date, so I had no complaint about his method.
The ball would be a grand affair. Even my father was attending, although he would sit most of the evening. This made a party of eight, for Mr. Collins would come also, and we had hired a second carriage to carry us all.
Evening fell, and the carriages pulled up. Wary eyes assessed Mr. Collins. When he walked to the first carriage, there was a scramble for the second. I was fast, so I should have won a seat, but Mamma barred the way with a stern expression. Despondent, Jane, Mary, and I turned to ride with Mr. Collins.
My mother patted my arm. “Do not be vexed, Lizzy. I have explained to Mr. Collins that Jane is soon to be engaged.”
I did not see why Jane’s engagement should matter to Mr. Collins, but that was the least of my concerns. “Mamma, promise me you will not speak like that at the ball. Discussion of Jane’s engagement is premature and improper.”
“Nonsense! It is common knowledge.”
“What?” I said as she vanished into her carriage.
“Society’s gossip is a wicked thing,” Mary said. “The search for anonymous approval by the ill-informed is a great waste of the creative spirit.”
“I agree,” I said, then added, “You look nice, Mary.” Her gown was dark velvet. Although that was an odd color for a ball, it was accented with bright blue, and her hair was done up with a ribbon embroidered in musical notes. The ribbon was beautiful; she must have saved to afford it. She held her musicsatchel, and I knew she was excited to perform. With luck, I could surrender my opportunity to her as well.
I had also dressed carefully, imagining dances with Mr. Wickham in his scarlet uniform. I wore ivory muslin with silk trim, and my hair up with ribbons and a pearled comb.
We arrived, and I circulated twice through the rooms without seeing Mr. Wickham. Finally, his friend Lieutenant Denny nodded to me.
“Wickham is on another of his mysterious woodland excursions,” he said, and added with a significant smile, “Although he might have attended had he not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman.”
Lydia swept Denny away to explore the food, and I was left irritated and alone. But Netherfield was a grand setting for a ball, so I resolved to admire it and enjoy the evening.
I heard an obsequious cough and turned, smiling, before recognizing the source.
“I hope to be honored, fair cousin,” Mr. Collins said, heaving into an exaggerated bow, “when I take this opportunity to solicit your hand for the two first dances.”
I had avoided other inquisitive glances already, thinking that clever while looking for Mr. Wickham, so I had no excuse to decline. Fuming at myself, I accepted. But two dances was a cruel commitment, so I found Charlotte and demanded sympathy.
“Ask me again,” she said, “when I have been asked. Then I shall be more sympathetic.”
