NOVEL HOPPING IN HERTFORDSHIRE

Part One:

There is a universal truth which Mrs Bennet lives by which goes something like this: A single man of good fortune is the rightful property of the mother of five daughters who will gladly oblige him with the wife he so patently must desire. She had been visiting her neighbour, Mrs Long, and had found that just such a gentleman had rented Netherfield Park. She rushed home to urge Mr Bennet to pay him a visit, but Mr Bennet felt he had better things to do.

"If he wants to marry one of our daughters, why doesn’t he just drop over and pick one out. I don’t see why I should have to visit him. It’s not me he’s wanting to marry, after all."

"Oh Mr Bennet! You are such a tease! You know it’s just not done that way. He doesn’t yet even know our daughters exist."

"Then I will gladly write him a note informing him of their existence and put a good word in for my Lizzie. Wait, on second thought maybe I won’t. He might turn out to be a twit and I don’t want Lizzie stuck with a twit."

"Oh Mr Bennet! How you do go on about Lizzie. Jane is prettier, and Lydia more good-humoured."

"The word is actually flirtatious."

"Oh, never mind! Will you not visit him? You are driving me to distraction!"

"Why don’t you just take them up, and tell him to choose?"

"Mr Bennet! Have compassion on my nerves!"

"I have the utmost respect for your nerves. They have come to your aid many times and can truly be depended upon."

"You don’t know how I suffer!"

"I could well say the same. However I feel you shall survive this bout and see many more rich young gentleman move into the neighbourhood."

"What good would it do if twenty were to move in if you won’t get out of your precious study and visit them?"

"I promise you my dear that when there are twenty, I shall visit them all."

The next evening, Mrs Bennet was visited by her sister, Mrs Phillips, with some truly amazing news. She rushed into Mr Bennet’s study without even knocking and excitedly announced, "Mr Bennet, Mr Bennet!! You will not believe our good fortune. Every house of any note in the neighbourhood has been let! At last count there were twenty eligible young gentlemen newly moved into our neighbourhood. The carriers have been up and down the streets all day moving them in. Here is a list my sister has compiled so that you can visit them all tomorrow. Oh, be still my heart! I shall indeed go distracted. Oh where are my salts!"

She raced out of the room, fanning herself, in search of her salts.

Mr Bennet sat down at his desk and stared at the list dumbfounded. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He started to read:

Ashworth: Captain Frederick Wentworth and his friend Captain Benwick. ‘Naval men, used to travelling, would not mind the distance.’

Purvis Lodge: Edward Ferrars. ‘Must be gullible, did not check the attics’

The Great House at Stoke: Mr Henry Crawford and the two Mr Bertrams, Tom and Edmund. ‘Not planning on entertaining with that drawing room.’

Haye Park: Mr George Knightly. ‘Must be a persuasive man if he managed to get the Gouldings to quit the place.’

Woodston Lodge: Mr Henry Tilney and his brother Captain Tilney. ‘Never heard of the place.’

Delaford Manor: Colonel Brandon and Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Didn’t know there were so many houses in the neighbourhood. I guess I’ve been cooped up in my study too long.’

Lyme Hall: Mr W Elliot, Mr Frank Churchill. ‘There must have been a building spurt.’

Meryton Rectory: Mr Elton. ‘Ah, a new man of the cloth!’

Stanton Park: Lord Osborne, Mr Howard. ‘A peer? Am I to just blithely call on a peer?’

Trafalgar House: Mr Sidney Parker. ‘Who’s this fellow. We must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel here.’

The Red Lion: Mr George Wickham, Mr Willoughby, Mr John Thorpe. ‘Does staying at an Inn really count?’

He stormed out of his study and into the drawing room where all five of his daughters were assisting his wife with smelling salts, burnt feathers, lavender water, mustard pilasters, and Lizzie’s last ditch offering, laudanum.

"Three of them are only staying at the inn, and that makes them transients, not residents!"

All his daughters looked at him beseechingly. This outburst of their usually docile father was not helping them in the least.

"Oh fie! They are only awaiting accommodations. There are two more houses just now being erected. And if you count Mr Bingley there are twenty-one gentlemen. You can’t back out now!"

Mrs Bennet’s voice raised to full pitch. She was waving her arms around. When she opened her mouth to say more, Lizzie took the opportunity to pour the laudanum down her throat. She was out in three seconds.

"Lizzie, I always did say you were the most intelligent of my daughters."

"But what shall we do with mama, papa?" wailed Kitty.

"Get Hill to bring some blankets. We will let her sleep here and take turns sitting with her through the night," said Lizzie.

"I see you girls have the situation under control," said Mr Bennet. "I have to return to my study. There is a small matter I must attend to before I turn in. I shall need to get all the sleep I can for I fear I shall be unreasonably busy tomorrow. I only hope the coachman knows where theses places are, for I surely don’t. Have a pleasant night."

He hurried back to his study, not realising that he had left the list behind. Lydia and Kitty pounced on it.

"Ooooh look, so many officers!!!"

"This shall be fun!"

Mr Bennet sat at his desk and pulled forward a piece of writing paper. He dipped a quill into the inkstand and began to write:

My Dear Mr Collins,

I appreciate your offer of reconciliation, however now is not a good time to visit. I take it from your letter that you have intentions to marry one of my daughters. Think again. There is such an influx of young eligible gentlemen in the neighbourhood at present that I fear your suit would be hopeless. I suggest a trip to Bath. I understand that there is a young heiress by name of Augusta Hawkins with 10,000 pounds who is in need of a husband of taste, position and discrimination. I believe you would fit the bill. Be sure to tell her of the entail and my poor health, and do not hold back in your raptures about my estate. Use as much hyperbole as you see fit. Moreover it is a must to mention Lady Catherine. She will be your ace in the hole. Miss Hawkins will not be able to resist your suit. Oh yes, when she talks of the Sucklings, agree with her every word, although in retrospect, I doubt that I needed to tell you that.

My best wishes for your future happiness.

There is no need to respond,

Mr Bennet

Lizzie finally managed to wrestle the list away from her drooling sisters. She read it slowly as she went to her father’s study to return it to him. Something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong.

 

Part 2

Mr Bennet dragged himself through his front door at 7:00 the next evening calling for tea, as hot and strong as possible. He threw himself on the settle without even removing his greatcoat. He grabbed the proffered cup and drained it in one go.

"They just don’t make teacups large enough," he said as he handed it to Jane for a refill. "Silly sissy things. They should serve tea in tankards."

"Oh papa, how was your day?" asked Jane in soothing accents.

"I have been out of the house for twelve hours! I have been served nothing but sherry and cucumber sandwiches. Are there a few roast chickens or a haunch of beef anywhere on the premises?"

"I will check with cook," said Jane, rushing from the room.

"Don’t ever go out visiting if you are to rely on Thomas coachman to know the way. I was never up more steep lanes or down more winding trails, and usually all for naught. He got muddled between Woodtson and Woolston and I found myself at a sheep farm. We went first to Ashworth as it was the furthest, and I swear I could smell the sea. I was sure we had come to the coast of Essex, it was that distant. As it was, it was just a load of driftwood that one of the captains was employed in carving."

"Poor father," said Jane who had returned as hurriedly as possible so as to miss nothing. "Cook is preparing a cold collation and it will be ready in no time."

Lydia and Kitty were squirming with anxiety. "Tell us about the gentlemen! Especially the captains and colonels!!"

"I do not want to talk about the gentlemen. There were far too many of them. Just be happy that I was fool enough to visit them all. Somebody help me out of these boots."

Mrs Bennet rushed into the room. "Dear Mr Bennet, you are too good to us!" she exclaimed.

"Tell me something I don’t know!"

"Oh, you are so droll! Well, which of the gentlemen shall suit our five daughters?"

"For starters, you can forget about the ones staying at the Inn, though I’m sure Lydia would like them well enough. I do not really think they came into town with matrimony on their minds, unless of course there is a sizeable fortune attached. As for the rest, one seems as good as the other. They are a fine collection of dolts, twits and dullards."

"I am sure they are all charming and handsome," cried Mrs Bennet. "How soon should we expect them to call?"

"I would like to say never, but I am afraid that at least one of them will feel it his duty."

Lizzie had just finished extricating her father’s feet from his boots. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Thank you, my dear, I’m sure that was not a pleasant task."

"No, and I hope I shall not have the occasion to do it again," she said as she popped a cushion under her father’s swollen feet and tossed the offending boots into a corner. "Were all the gentlemen really so very uninteresting?"

"I am afraid so, although it has all become such a big blur that I find I am quite unable to distinguish between them. There was one that smiled too much, I do remember that. I hope he does not court one of you. I don’t know that I could stomach all that cheerful geniality."

Jane looked up. "He sounds very pleasant."

"I do have some other information that you may not be so well pleased to hear," continued Mr Bennet, addressing his wife.

"Then by all means tell me at once before I faint!" cried Mrs Bennet. "You know how I hate being on tenterhooks."

"You certainly manage to get on them rapidly and frequently," Mr Bennet observed. "You must learn to be more appreciative of the sensation."

"Mr Bennet!!!!"

"Very well, I shall desist in teasing you. Not all the gentlemen are alone. That is to say there are young ladies of marriageable age that they have brought along with them."

Mrs Bennet grabbed hold of Mary for support. Jane and Lizzie quickly ran to Mary’s aid and they soon had Mrs Bennet draped on the nearest couch, her hartshorn at the ready. "They are not all . . . betrothed?!!"

"Oh no, they have brought sisters and cousins and the like, but they are sure to be competition for our girls."

"How many, how many?" Mrs Bennet gasped. "We only need five of the gentlemen. Surely there are more than enough to go ‘round."

"But ours are not the only original residents."

"Oh, you can’t count Charlotte and Maria Lucas, or any of those other insipid girls." Said Mrs Bennet, reviving. "No-one of any sense will look at them with our girls around."

"I am not sure how much collective sense has moved in," said Mr Bennet, between mouthfuls of cold roast beef. "I am in such a daze that I can’t remember who is who, and I’m so worn out I’m snoring as I chew. I believe I will have to bid you all goodnight."

Amid pleas to stay and tell all, Mr Bennet lifted his weary self from the settee and trudged off to his nice cosy bed. Mrs Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia were quite put out that they had managed to pry so little information out of the man.

The next morning Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs Bennet were off to Meryton to discover all they could about these most interesting gentlemen. Mr Bennet slept late and spent a quiet morning in his study. Mary took a stack of volumes of improving lectures from the library and looked through them for useful quotes. Jane and Lizzie attended to numerous household matters that their mother could not be bothered with and then repaired to the parlour for tea. Mr Bennet and Mary soon joined them and they were all having a peaceful and relaxing time when a loud bustle was heard in the hall, and the other three members of the family burst in on their serenity.

"It is much worse than we had supposed!" said Lydia without preamble.

"Ever so many more people have come into the neighbourhood! Young single women! How dare they!" cried Mrs Bennet. "This is our girl’s territory!"

Kitty and Lydia nodded in agreement. Mr Bennet tried to hide behind a newspaper. Mary grabbed a volume and very quickly flipped through it to try to find a reproving reproach for her sisters. Lizzie and Jane just looked at each other and sighed.

"The list, the list!" shouted Lydia.

Kitty pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her reticule and began to read.

"The two navy captains are on their own. What are these stars beside their names?"

"I put stars by all the men in uniform!" said Lydia.

"But there are three young ladies visiting the old squire. Miss Louisa Musgrove, and two Miss Elliots, Elizabeth and Anne. Distant relatives so I was told."

"That they had stayed distant!" interjected Mrs Bennet.

"And then the Bertram brothers have two sisters and a cousin staying with them."

"My goodness that’s six already!"

"Then there is that family at the Grange. The old gentleman apparently came on the recommendation of his doctor, Mr Perry. Something to do with the fine quality of the gruel in these parts."

"How many young ladies there?"

"Let’s see: Miss Emma Woodhouse, Miss Harriet Smith, Miss Jane Fairfax, Miss Bates, and Mrs Bates, although I believe both the Bates’ to be quite old, so we have no need to count them."

"Then I make it nine."

"At Burton Cottage we have a Mrs Dashwood and her two daughters, Elinor and Marianne."

"Marianne, that sounds a little too pretty and romantic for my liking."

"Mr Tilney has his sister, Eleanor staying with him and his brother."

"Can’t all the girls have different names?"

"Apparently not. There are three Watson sisters staying in Meryton, Elizabeth, Margaret, and . . . Emma."

"Enough, enough!" cried Mrs Bennet.

"There are more yet. Let’s see, Miss Charlotte Heywood, Miss Catherine Moreland, and a widowed lady, Mrs Clay."

"Don’t forget, Mr Henry Crawford’s sister is here as well."

"Oh yes, and that Mr Thorpe’s sister, Isabella."

"Is that all of them?"

"I certainly hope so! I make it twenty."

"It can’t be!" cried Mrs Bennet falling to a faint again.

Lydia studied the list. "Mother you are right! Oh is she fainted completely away? Well that is for the best for I have just realised that of course we have forgotten one. Mr Bingley’s sister, Caroline. And that makes twenty-one!" she wailed.

"What is it that has brought this influx of gentry?" questioned Mr Bennet to nobody in particular. "Is it the air? The water? I hardly think everyone has come for the gruel."

"Let me see the list!" Lizzie reached over and grabbed it from her sister. "Are you certain this is correct? Was not Mr Bingley to have another guest?"

"Not at all. I pride myself at my list making and this list is completely complete," said Lydia as she snatched the list back. "Kitty do you remember when we saw Mr Wickham and Mr Willoughby in high street? Have you ever seen such perfect specimens?"

"I am sure they both noticed us too," said Kitty.

"Ooohhh, I’ll say! Let’s give them each five stars!"

Mr Bennet lay back in his armchair, twenty- one gentlemen and twenty-one ladies newly come to the neighbourhood! He wondered whether it was serendipity or the forces of chaos at work. Well, there was nothing to do but sit back and watch.

 

Part Three

The next two weeks were incredibly busy for everyone in Meryton. The Assembly had to be held on the full moon, but the old hall was just not big enough to fit so many couples. Squeezes may have been fashionable in London, with young ladies fainting left and right, but in the country the gentry still wanted to be able to have room to comfortably make up a set. Thus walls had to be knocked out. Two private parlours and the card room were completely eliminated to enlarge the ballroom, and a tent was borrowed from the Militia and set up in the gardens to serve as a card room.

Mr Bennet was besieged by visitors. Every morning the girls were sent out into the shrubbery so that they would not be seen by the gentlemen callers. Mrs Bennet wanted to stun everyone with their beauty when they were presented to them at the assembly. Lydia and Kitty were very put out by this treatment, and kept peering from between the hedges to get a glimpse of all the visitors.

On one such morning, the three gentlemen from the inn came to call. Mr Bennet was not impressed by any of them and made short work of the visit. As they came down the front steps, Willoughby noticed that the bushes were wiggling and giggling.

"I say, Wickham old boy," he said with a mischievous grin, "what have we here?"

"We had best investigate!" said Wickham slyly, and they left John Thorpe staring around himself confusedly, wondering what had become of his companions. It always seemed to be happening.

Lydia was so excited that she fell through the hedge and landed at Willoughby’s feet. She looked up and beheld a wonder of male perfection, exquisitely dressed in gleaming Hessians, tight breeches, a form fitting topcoat, elaborate neck-cloth, high shirt points, and an array of gold fobs and chains upon his elegant waistcoat. His companion wasn’t too bad either. She batted her eyelashes at him and stared up alluringly.

He knelt beside her and said in mock concern, "Is she alive or dead? Oh, alive I trust, so much beauty cannot be wasted on death." Then he looked up at Wickham and added, "An angel has dropped from heaven."

"Do you suppose there is another one?" he asked hopefully looking at the hedge, and Kitty fell through right on queue.

"I believe I have twisted my ankle," said Lydia in her most sultry voice.

"I have some experience in these matters," said Willoughby, taking her foot upon his lap and stroking it. "It seems a perfect ankle to me," he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Then perhaps it is the other one," said Lydia, giggling and offering her other foot for stroking.

Kitty wished she had Lydia’s style. She looked up at Wickham, who, though not quite as dashing as Willoughby, was still a very attractive man.

"I too may have suffered some injury," she said in a plaintive tone.

"I am at your service, ma’am," said Wickham immediately dropping on his knees beside her. He gently felt both her ankles and announced them quite fine. Then the two gentlemen helped the girls to their feet, and the girls found that their ankles had indeed been speedily mended.

"It is just as well that you are both uninjured," said Willoughby, "for I have a splendid idea. How would you goddesses like to meet us on a stroll, perhaps on the way to Oakham Mount? An accidental meeting, of course."

"Oh, la! We were about to walk that way to be sure!" said Lydia. "In about half an hour. But not too very far up the trail," she added hopefully, for she really was not much of a walker.

"Oh no. Just at the point where it begins to become secluded," said Wickham. " The sun is so hot, I would like nothing better than sit in some shade."

"Oh yes, shade," said Kitty. "There is nothing I like more than some shade!" She tried fluttering her eyelashes as she had seen Lydia do and was mortified when Lydia asked her quite loudly if she had something in her eye.

"Maybe one of your other sisters could join us too," suggested Willoughby. "You see, we have this companion who we just can’t seem to rid ourselves of."

Lydia looked over at Mr Thorpe. He was short and stout and sloppily dressed. She thought rapidly. She would never invite Lizzie or Jane, even if they would want to come, who needed the competition? Men always stopped looking at her and Kitty when they were around. And Mary would just cramp their style, and most assuredly tell their mama. "We will invite Maria Lucas to come with us!" she announced.

The two gentlemen hid their disappointment very well and took leave of the girls with a few expressive winks and flirtatious sallies. When they were out of sight, Lydia and Kitty began jumping up and down and squealing at their good fortune, and then ran indoors and demurely announced that they were going for a walk.

"A very good idea indeed!" cried Mrs Bennet. "Why don’t all you girls head out?"

"Oh, we shall not want our sisters," said Lydia hurriedly. "We are taking Maria Lucas. We will have private girl things to discuss."

"I shall certainly not want to listen to your silly giggling!" said Mary. "You would do well to stay home and read. I have found an excellent passage in Fordyce’s sermons which would be of great benefit to you."

"Quick, Kitty, your bonnet! We must make haste," cried Lydia and they quit the room before Mary could produce the tome.

Jane and Lizzie looked after them suspiciously, but they had a deal of needlework to do if they were to have all the new gowns trimmed in time for the assembly. Lurking in the shrubbery all morning did not help them to get on with their work.

Their father came into the parlour and threw himself on the settee with a sigh.

"I take it you were not that well pleased with your visitors today?" asked Lizzie, with some sympathy.

"A plague on all the gentlemen! Had I just visited that Bingley fellow right off this may never have befallen me. May this be a lesson to me not to tempt the fates!"

"Were they so very awful today?" asked Jane in a tone that seemed to imply that they must have had some redeeming qualities.

"Two rakes and a groom! Well he wasn’t precisely a groom, but he was dressed for the stables. And the rakes! A fine pair of gentlemen to be sure. I defy anybody to produce finer. If you girls had but 10,000 pounds apiece, they would be on their knees to you tomorrow! As it is your poverty has saved you from the three of them!"

"Well your improvidence appears to be beneficial indeed!" said Lizzie dryly.

"I knew my indolence would pay off!" he retorted smugly.

In the days that followed, Kitty and Lydia went for many more walks, returning home all flushed and excited. Their mother remarked at how beneficial to their health and bloom these walks were becoming.

"Why, by the time of the assembly you two girls will surpass your older sisters in looks!" she announced with some glee. "You will be sure to have your choice of all the fine new gentlemen!"

Lydia and Kitty just looked at each other and giggled. They were indeed enjoying themselves, and couldn’t wait to meet the rest of the gentlemen. If they were anything like these two (the third did not count at all, they just left him with Maria Lucas who now knew more about horses than she had ever wanted to know, and all of the information erroneous) the assembly would prove to be a very memorable event!

The day of the assembly finally arrived. The plasterers had finished, the paint was dry, the draperies were hung, and all the potted palms were in place. At the last minute, Hill had been sent to town to procure shoe roses. Lizzie was looking in the mirror, putting the final touches to her simple coiffure. She wondered what the evening would bring. It is true that marriage was not the uppermost thing in her mind, but she couldn’t help but contemplate whether that illusive Mr Perfect who she was holding out for would miraculously happen to be one of the twenty-one. Deep inside she felt the tenuous twistings of doubt.

 

Part Four

Even with all the renovations to the ballroom, the assembly turned out to be a squeeze. Not only had all the new inhabitants of the environs shown up, with the exception of Mr Woodhouse and his trusty companion, Mrs Bates, but everybody who was anybody, and even a few who weren’t, had come to catch a glimpse of all the fascinating strangers in their finery. Sir William Lucas, as the master of ceremonies, was in a panic. It was his duty to make the introductions. He was of a very sociable nature, and during the preceding two weeks he had made the acquaintance of every new man and woman in the place, which was about twice as much visiting as Mr Bennet had performed, but to make all the various combinations of introductions necessary for the assembly to be a success was a more than daunting task. It would take him more than the whole evening to do it in the conventional manner. He threw up his hands in despair. His daughter, Charlotte, ran up and whispered in his ear, and handed him a page of sheet music that she had borrowed from one of the musicians. He rolled it into a cone, held it up to his mouth, and coughed perfunctorily.

"Testing, one two . . . May I have your attention please," he bellowed. The entire company quieted and stared in the direction of the unusually loud announcement. "It is my duty, as a knight of the realm, and the first citizen of Meryton to welcome everyone to our assembly and to perform all introductions. Due to most unusual circumstances, I find it necessary to perform a mass introduction. Therefore, all you most handsome, distinguished, and eligible gentlemen allow me to present all these beautiful and charming ladies as most desirable dance partners. I look forward with delight to watch your performances on the dance floor. Let the festivities begin."

As soon as he finished talking, and returned the music sheet to the second violin, the music started up and there was a general stampede as all the gentlemen tried to be the first to request a dance from the most beautiful women in the room. There was a long queue in front of Jane, and Marianne had a troupe of admirers descending upon her. Elizabeth found herself being addressed by a very gentlemanlike young man with a warm open countenance. She immediately accepted, not knowing what else to do as she had no real idea which gentleman she preferred over the other. Her father had said they were all very much the same, and though she really thought this was not the case, she had as yet nothing to distinguish them by. She was soon swept up into the set without being sure even of the name of her partner. When the dance brought them together she asked him his name.

"My name is Tilney, and in such cases as this I believe we must have some conversation. Starting with our respective names is a good beginning, might I have the pleasure of yours?"

"I am, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Lizzie, beginning to enjoy herself.

"I should have guessed for tales of your beauty have preceded you."

"Indeed."

"The talk of the town, madam," he said with a smile. "And now, I see you do not want to continue to talk of yourself, what say you to books or music?"

"Oh, I can’t talk of such things while I am dancing."

"Of course not! Then it must be politics," said Mr Tilney agreeably.

"You are a very strange gentleman," answered Lizzie, highly amused.

"I see you are observant. Would you like to do a character study of me?"

"I very much enjoy performing character studies, sir," said Lizzie "But perhaps you will try to trick me into false conclusions. One must not set too much in store by first impressions."

"I see you have found me out," said Henry Tilney in mock despair.

The next time the figure of the dance brought them together, he broached another subject.

"It is indeed a pity that you are wearing silk," said Mr Tilney.

"You do not approve of my gown?" asked Lizzie, quite taken aback.

"I approve of your gown immensely. The ivory silk is unparalleled. The Spanish lace trimming is exquisite. But alas, it is not of muslin."

"And pray tell me," said Lizzie, smiling again, "what would the advantage of muslin be?"

"Only that I am quite an expert on muslins, and am singularly renowned for my interesting comments on the subject. You have effectively denied me of a method of showing off my excellent knowledge."

"Oh, I would not want to deny you the pleasure for all the world," said Lizzie. "Please, sir, enlighten me!"

"But don’t you see, I am unable to while you are in silk. Perhaps you would like me to tell you the number of cocoons the silk worm has to spin to produce enough silk for the gown you are wearing?"

"Sir, I am all anticipation," said Lizzie laughing up at him.

"I see you are laughing at me. Next you will tell me that I am strange again." Mr Tilney’s smile belied his words. The dance took them apart, and the next time they were together, Lizzie took it upon herself to start the conversation.

"What think you of this gathering?"

"Well, I know you would like me to say something witty, but I am afraid that words fail me," said Henry Tilney, shaking his head. "It is all so nice. The music is nice, the people are nice, the draperies are nice, and my partner is nice. I think I am very nicely situated at the moment. Would you not agree?"

"I think I am not as capable of so many social niceties as you are sir," said Lizzie with a saucy look.

"Touché!"

The dance was ending, and as Mr Tilney led Lizzie off the floor he said, "I hope I have given you much to write about in your journal tonight."

"And which journal would that be, sir?" asked Lizzie, cocking her head at him.

"Why do you not keep a journal as all young ladies do?"

"No sir, I do not."

"Then I must admit that I am relieved. I do not think I would have shown up well in it at all." He bowed over her hand and left her at the edge of the floor.

She looked after him with some amusement. He had been a most enjoyable companion, but was he perfect? She was not given time to consider the question for long because she was soon approached by another gentleman. He was not handsome, and he approached her with some awkwardness, but he had a kind face and she accepted him at once.

"I am afraid the introductions were very poor," she said in a friendly manner. "I am, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"M-My, um, pleasure. I am, um, Mr, er Edward F-Ferrars."

Lizzie could see that she was to have no scintillating conversation this dance. Now, she didn’t mind if a gentleman were reserved, but shyness she just could not cope with, not when considering a long-term relationship.

As she danced she had much more time to view the assembly. Her partner barely spoke, let’s face it, he barely made eye contact. She noticed a very elegantly attired gentleman who always stuck to the edge of the crowd, invariably leaning against the wall as if it needed propping up. He was a fine looking young man indeed, but he had an air of coldness, a carelessness of his company that bordered on awkwardness, and an expression of disdain upon his handsome aristocratic features. He seemed to stare intensely at the dancers, sometimes raising his quizzing glass to his eye, and seemed to be preoccupied with a timid looking girl in a delicate white gown. Every so often he would converse with her partner, and that was the only person Lizzie ever saw him speaking to.

Lizzie was affronted by his attitude of superiority, and by the time her very boring dance partner returned her to her seat, she was seething with disgust at the unknown gentleman’s rude behaviour. If he came only to stare and sneer, why did he bother coming at all? She was sure everyone would be as incensed as she by his behaviour. Charlotte came to sit beside her and she immediately broached the subject with her.

"Do you have any idea who that most unpleasant gentleman is?" asked Lizzie in a loud whisper.

"Do you mean that stout fellow with the ill-fitting jacket and sandy whiskers?" asked Charlotte, looking at Mr Thorpe who was downing a glass of claret.

"No, not him. He’s not even worth mentioning. I mean that very proud gentleman who stares so."

Charlotte turned her head and took a good look. "You do not find him handsome? He is very rich."

"What has that to do with it? He would be handsome if he were not quite so supercilious. He is forever curling his lip and looking down his nose. I have never seen anyone more haughty."

"Well that is Lord Osborne, and everyone is quite delighted with him. I have heard it remarked all about the room that his very presence has made this assembly a huge success."

"I should not have thought it. I should have thought all of Meryton to be disgusted by his disagreeable behaviour by now!"

"Your own mother is delighted to distraction."

"None of this makes a particle of sense!" cried Lizzie in complete confusion. People turned and stared, but she did not care.

"I think your hand is about to be requested again," said Charlotte.

Lizzie turned and saw a very good-looking young man with an air of ease and fashion approaching her.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the honour of this dance?" There was a warm smile on his lively countenance.

Lizzie accepted, and as he lead her to the dance floor said, "You have the advantage of me, for I do not know your name at all."

"I am Mr Sidney Parker, you may not have heard of me, very few people have."

"I have heard of very few people, Mr Parker, so it really is not too surprising."

"Well, in most places one only has to mention Mr Knightly, or Captain Wentworth, or any number of other names, and there are ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and great sighs among the gathered company, but mention Mr Sidney Parker, and everyone gets very quizzical looks on their faces, and the question, ‘Who?’ is often canvassed, not that I can blame any of them, of course."

This was all said with a smile and a twinkle of the eye. Lizzie decided that Mr Parker was not to be taken too seriously.

"I understand that you are a great studier of character," he went on to say.

"I do enjoy studying the foibles of my fellow man, but I did not think it was general knowledge," said Lizzie, slightly taken aback.

"I make a point of finding out the most interesting facts as I can," said Mr Parker. "Just to know that you are a great walker and enjoy reading, but not to the dereliction of other pursuits, is not quite enough to satisfy my curiosity. I own, I was pleased to find that you are a studier of character, for I would like you to study my own!"

Lizzie found that this captivating young man was almost as entertaining as her first partner. "And what would you like to discover about yourself, sir. I already find you to be charming and very good company. You are quite different than most of the young gentlemen that I generally meet."

"Quite. I do agree. But you see, when it comes to my character there is so little to go on. What is known of me is only what my elder brother has to say, and I don’t know how reliable his word is. He tells everybody that I am a saucy, idle fellow, who lives too much in the world. He accuses me of making jest of himself and my sisters all the time."

Lizzie pondered this statement for some time and then, when the figures of the dance permitted conversation again said, "And do you, sir? Make jest of your brother and sisters?"

"How could I possibly avoid to? If only you knew them. My sisters are such hypochondriacs, and always physicing themselves. It is most diverting. One day the only cure is leeches, the next asses’ milk. And my brother is besotted with his seaside town, which he values above all others, and can speak of nothing else. It is so hard to stop myself that I don’t bother to even try."

"Then I would find your brother correct in saying that you are saucy!" said Lizzie pertly. "And are you also idle and too much in the world?"

Mr Parker hung his head and looked sheepish. "Well, I have an independence and so have no need of employment. And I do so love to jaunt about. Do you not like to?"

"Sadly I have rarely had the opportunity to leave these environs," said Lizzie enviously.

"Then I say take a trip! Go and visit the lakes! Life is so much more fun when you are always on the go."

A trip to the lakes, mused Lizzie. That sounds like a good idea. The rest of the dance, Mr Parker entertained her with light conversation and then he took his leave. She was sorry to see him go, and looked after him wondering if such a flighty light-hearted person could indeed be Mr Perfect.

She turned around to find herself being accosted by the stout sloppy fellow that she had noticed before. He had a brash air and seemed very taken with himself, and she felt a sense of satisfaction in refusing him.

"I am sorry, sir, but I am quite done in and must rest a spell."

He went off in a huff, with a look that seemed to imply, ‘It’s your loss lady,’ and then promptly told Maria Lucas that she had promised this dance to him, leading her to the floor to the astonishment of a young man who was about to claim her.

Lizzie made her way to the refreshment table for a glass of lemonade. A young lady of about her own age turned to her and said, "You must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am Emma Woodhouse, and I have been longing to meet you. Is there somewhere we can sit and talk quietly?"

Lizzie led her to some chairs in an alcove that were partially obscured by a potted palm.

"We should have some privacy here," she said. "Though quiet I don’t think I can promise you."

"This is splendid. You are just as I expected; I know that we will get along famously. Can you answer me just one question before we begin?"

"Most certainly!"

"Do you play?"

Lizzie was surprised by the question. It seemed so mundane; she had been expecting more after such a beginning. "Well, I do play, but I must admit I play exceedingly ill. I do not practice enough to be proficient."

"That is just as I had hoped! Will you be my best friend? If you had been an accomplished player, I should not have asked you. I most jealously despise accomplished ladies. Their wonders are forever thrown in my face! You do not draw well either, I hope!"

"Oh, not at all!" laughed Lizzie.

"Better and better. I am in need of a new best friend. My other one is good, but she will not do for what I have in mind. This is to be a project of immense proportions, and I need someone with their wits about them. You appear to have your wits about you."

Lizzie only nodded. She was afraid to say anything and destroy her new best friend’s illusions. She felt her wits had definitely gone begging.

"You are not in love, are you? Or about to fall in love, or interested in any of these charming gentlemen? I am not, and I hope you are not either, then you can help me in a most unbiased manner. Of course if you are, it may still work out all right. You can help me help everybody else and in turn I will help you help yourself."

Lizzie was totally confused but completely intrigued, and she sat in awe as Emma outlined what she had in mind.

 

Part 5

"I must tell you, that I have an innate ability and a great predilection for matchmaking," said Emma. "It is most diverting and I am gratified that I can help so many people find true happiness. I set it all up between Miss Taylor and Mr Weston, and a happier union you would be hard pressed to find!"

Lizzie nodded encouragingly. She had no clue who Miss Taylor and Mr Weston were, but if Emma had brought them happiness, she was all for it.

"It did not work quite as well with Mr Elton and my dear friend Harriet, though. I was completely taken in about Mr Elton’s character. He actually had the audacity to propose to me! Me, Emma Woodhouse, the most important person in Highbury! What an utter fool. He is not worthy of Harriet for she is dear and sweet and beautiful, even if she is someone’s natural daughter. We will not bother finding a wife for him; let that be his problem."

"Who do you propose we do find a match for?" asked Lizzie.

"Why everyone else of course! My dear Miss Bennet, may I call you Elizabeth? I feel if we are to be involved in this project we cannot keep ‘Missing’ each other. You may call me Emma."

"And you may call me Lizzie! Now what have you in mind? I am a good judge of character, and I am excellent at first impressions, so I think I will be a great help."

"And I dearly love to manage people’s lives! I suggest we discover as much as we can about the gentlemen by dancing with as many as we can. Let’s divide them up between us. It is no good asking Harriet for help, for she is bound to fall in love with each in turn, and Jane Fairfax will be of no help either, for she is so reserved she would keep all the information to herself."

"Well I have danced with Mr Tilney, Mr Ferrars, and Mr Parker, and I have refused Mr Thorpe, so that is four already!"

"And I have danced with Thomas Bertram, and his brother Edmund, and Mr Knightly, so that is only two more, for Mr Knightly doesn’t count at all."

"Why indeed?"

"Mr Knightly is not to marry. We cannot deny my poor nephew Henry his right to Donwell."

Lizzie was completely at a loss to understand what Emma was talking about, but then she had a thought. "You say you shall not marry, Emma, and that Mr Knightly shall not marry either. Could it be that you want to reserve him for yourself?"

"Lizzie! How could you think such a thing? Don’t you realise that when I was a baby and he sixteen, he held me in his arms? We have grown up together. He is like a brother to me, or rather, like a father, always admonishing me for something he is displeased about. The very thought of it is appalling. It would be practically incestuous!"

Lizzie bit her lip. "Well that counts him out for you, but what of the other ladies? He might make that very elegant lady over there a good husband."

"Which do you mean? Her? Oh, never! That is Jane Fairfax; she would never do for him. No, Lizzie, I am firmly convinced that he should not marry. There are more than enough men to contend with that we have no need of him."

Lizzie was inclined to agree. This whole matchmaking scheme was to be a daunting task. "Let us proceed, we have six accounted for and two that are ineligible, so that leaves . . . thirteen. That is six dance partners for me and seven for you, for I have done more than you already."

"Well, let us see, I will dance with Frank Churchill, Henry Crawford, Mr Willoughby, Mr Wickham, Mr Elliot, and Captain Tilney," said Emma with a smile. She thought she had made very good choices. "Oh yes, and Colonel Fitzwilliam!"

Lizzie looked about the room. Who was left? Emma had chosen all the most dashing men as far as she could tell, although, there were still two military men who looked romantically moody, and another who looked downright depressed. "I will have to take the two Captains and the other Colonel, plus that proud disagreeable looking Lord, his friend Mr Howard and one other . . . where can he be?" She suddenly spied Jane dancing rather possessively with a smiling young man. "Oh yes, and the smiler that father warned us of, Mr Bingley. Are you sure you don’t want to trade?"

"Oh no, I think I will be quite content with my choices," said Emma, her cheeks flushed with anticipation, "After all, I have already danced with the dullest ones. I deserve this!"

"That will do for the men, then, but how are we to discern the ladies’ characters?"

"Oh! I will invite them over for tea tomorrow. We will understand them all in a trice!"

Lizzie had to acknowledge that one could discover everything about a lady by inviting her to tea, so it should work for twenty.

"How will we go about ensuring that the gentlemen in question will indeed ask us to dance?" asked Lizzie. "We can’t very well go up to them ourselves and ask for the honour of their company."

"Lizzie! I am surprised at you. You must know how to draw a gentleman’s interest," said Emma in horror.

"Well, I do not want to use mean feminine arts," said Lizzie staunchly. "And I certainly do not want to behave like my younger sisters."

Emma glanced over at Lydia and Kitty who were lifting their skirts to show their ankles and fluttering their eyelashes. Oh how obvious! "Certainly not! We shall simply stand near our prey and act like we are completely uninterested. It will work like a charm!"

Lizzie wasn’t quite sure of the efficacy of this plan of action, but as she had never tested the method she decided it was worth a try. At the very worst she would dance with no one, but she might overhear private conversations that would help her in her character analyses.

"We have been away too long," said Emma. "We don’t want the gentlemen to have forgotten our very existence. It is time . . ."

Just then a very stern gentleman came around the potted palms and grabbed Emma by the shoulder. He looked very displeased.

"So this is where you are hiding!" he hissed.

"Oh Mr Knightly!" said Emma brightly. "I would like you to meet my dear new friend Lizzie, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

His whole demeanour changed. He turned to Lizzie with an empathic smile and said, "My dear Miss Bennet, I am so pleased to meet you. I would stay and chat, but I must return Emma to her other friends. I know you will excuse us."

Lizzie curtsied and smiled. "Delighted Mr Knightly. I was just about to return to the dance floor myself, so you needn’t feel that you are doing me any disservice."

As Lizzie walked away she noticed Mr Knightly’s face change once again, and the angry lines return. "You have left Harriet Smith and Jane Fairfax alone for far too long! And poor Miss Bates. How could you Emma? That was badly done. Vary badly done indeed!"

Lizzie could well understand why Emma had no desires to marry that gentleman!

 

Part Six

Lizzie looked about. She saw the Smiler and her sister, Jane, over at the refreshment table, so she made her way over to stand beside them and turned her back, pretending a great interest in the gold velvet draperies. No one had told her that if the gentleman was already entertaining a lady he was besotted with, the hard to get treatment would not work. Jane and Mr Bingley were completely oblivious to her existence. Charlotte walked up to Lizzie and whispered in her ear.

"I think you should talk to Jane."

Lizzie looked at Jane, who was gazing, entranced, into the Smiler’s face. "She seems to be happily occupied."

"She is making a complete fool of herself, wearing her heart on her sleeve like that! If you show a man too blatantly that you are attracted to him, he will think that you are a hussy! She has danced with no one else all night. It is most shameful and improper. How will she ever get a husband like that?"

"It appears to me that it is working just fine," said Elizabeth, noting the rapt look on Mr Bingley’s face.

Just then, Jane looked over and noticed them talking about her. She excused herself from her partner and joined the two girls. Mr Bingley smiled fondly after her, a rather sickly look of extreme bliss on his face.

"Are you two talking about me?" she asked severely, well at least as severely as a Jane madly in love could ask.

"Charlotte thinks you are being too forward," said Lizzie. "She says you have danced with no other partner."

"Have I?" asked Jane innocently. "I am sure I do not know. They all look the same to me. Well instead, I will dance with this gentleman over here, he appears to wish to dance with me," and she went back to Mr Bingley who swept her onto the dance floor yet again.

Charlotte sputtered. Lizzie laughed. There was one gentleman that she would have no need to dance with, she reflected.

"Excuse me, Charlotte, but I have a mission to accomplish. I have three very moody military men to ambush."

Charlotte looked at her strangely. Everyone was acting so oddly, first Jane throwing discretion to the wind, and now Lizzie chasing officers. Next thing, she would see Kitty and Lydia sitting with the dowagers, tatting doilies. She turned around and when she saw Lydia running giddily through the crowd with two officers in tow, and Kitty trying to catch up, she new that all was still right with the world.

Lizzie went to stand demurely beside the group of officers who were staring dejectedly into their drinks. Either they were disgusted with being served lemonade, or they were crossed in love. From their expressions it was hard to tell the difference. She decided to try a new tactic, and dropped her hanky. All three gentlemen stooped to retrieve it at the same time, and two of them bumped heads. The third managed to wrench it from the others’ grasp while they were still in a concussed state, and presented it to Lizzie.

"It appears you have mislaid this fine piece of linen," he said in a deep rich voice.

Lizzie looked up into his dark eyes. She could see flickerings of pain within them. This man had suffered some deep and long heartache.

"Thank you, sir," she said in a soft voice. "You are most kind."

"Would you do me the honour of this dance?" he asked, gazing at her intensely.

"It would be my pleasure . . ."

"I beg your pardon. Captain Wentworth at your service, madam. You, no doubt, are the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Lizzie nodded in assent and they took the floor.

At first they danced in silence, and then the captain gave Lizzie a piercing stare, and asked her meaningfully, "Are you much acquainted with nuts?"

Lizzie was at a loss for words. Whatever could his meaning be? "I must know what you mean by such a question, sir."

"Well, if you were a hazelnut, would you be happy and whole and firm, or would you have been trodden under foot?"

"Oh! At first I thought you were making disparaging comments about my family. I am surely a shiny, firm nut, and yet I would not really call myself a nut."

"Then you are firm in your resolution?"

"Decidedly so."

"And if you loved, you would not let others persuade you to give up your love, just because they believed the match imprudent?" He looked at her most earnestly.

"If I believed myself right, I should stand firm, no matter the odds!" announced Lizzie.

Captain Wentworth let out a sigh. All the pain he felt was evident in his face. "If only all women had such strength of character as you!"

Lizzie looked up into his stricken eyes. She must say something to give this man hope. "All situations are not the same. Some may deny love out of youth or duty. When their actions appear weak, they may be stronger still. To give up a love so cherished is not an easy thing to do. And they may still love, even though they know they have destroyed their only chance for happiness. Women love even when existence or all hope is gone."

Captain Wentworth looked at Lizzie, momentarily stunned. He had never even contemplated the situation from that angle before. "I am half agony, half hope," he announced in a tremulous voice.

At that moment, John Thorpe came walking along with an almost empty wineglass in his hand. Lydia, twirling out of control, crashed into him in a fit of giggles. The glass flew from his hand and smashed upon the floor right at Captain Wentworth’s feet. A look of even deeper pain than she had previously seen overspread his visage.

"Captain, are you all right?"

"I’m afraid I will have to sit the rest of this one out," he said through his teeth. "I seem to have pierced my sole." He raised his foot, and sure enough, there was a jagged shard of glass embedded deep into his shoe.

Lizzie helped him from the dance floor, and then went in search of the Assembly’s first aid attendants, whom she found outside the backdoor tossing dice and swilling ale. She collared one and dragged the bloke in to attend to the captain. He looked up at her gratefully, tears streaming down his face.

"Too good, too excellent creature!"

"It was the least I could do," said Lizzie. "I shall come by later to see how you are getting on. Don’t think me unfeeling, but I have a deal of dancing to do before the night is out."

She wandered down the dance floor, only to come face to face with the other naval captain. Well, not really face to face because he was staring dismally at his shoes. Lizzie decided this time she would have to take matters into her own hands and led the miserable man out onto the dance floor. When they got there he looked around in confusion.

"You did not introduce yourself when you so gallantly asked me to dance," said Lizzie archly.

He coloured and apologised in a strained voice and told he that his name was Benwick. Then he lapsed into a brooding silence. Lizzie attempted all types of conversations, the weather, travel, music, and finally got a response when she mentioned poetry. He quoted lines which imaged a broken heart, and impassioned descriptions of hopeless agony, in tones of the profoundest melancholy. This guy was a real downer.

"It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," said Lizzie brightly.

He looked at her through eyes brimming with tears. "My love is dead. You do not know how I suffer."

‘I stuck my foot in it!’ Lizzie decided that she had to get this man off the dance floor. He needed grief counselling badly. She found him a seat and patted him on the head and then snuck away when he wasn’t looking. If she stayed with him any longer she would be crying her eyes out, and then her face would be all red and blotchy, and who would want to dance with her? She made a mental note to find someone with vast stores of empathy and send her his way.

Before she could find anyone to fit the bill, the dour Colonel came up and asked for the next two. She readily assented. He was quite handsome, in a manic sort of way, even though he did sport a flannel waistcoat. And his voice was beautifully resonant. Talk about piercing souls! In the short interim before the next dance she looked about for a suitable companion for the wretched captain, and as a last resort chose a very loquacious older woman.

"Well, yes my dear child. I should be happy to talk with him, that is if he is happy to talk to me, but if, as you say, he is not happy at all, and actually quite unhappy, I can see that it shall make no difference if I don’t manage to make him happy, but I shall do my best, I am very good natured, but I am sure to say some silly thing, I hope he doesn’t mind silly things for I may even say two or three, but I shall not hesitate in reading him Jane’s last letter, though she is here and could tell everything herself, still she is so reserved, and I find her letters such a blessing, such a sweet girl and so accomplished, which gentleman did you say, oh yes, he is quite unmistakable to be sure, I will . . ."

The colonel dragged Lizzie to the floor and the endless flow of conversation did not stop but just changed in its object as the woman sat down beside Captain Benwick and attended to him.

Lizzie found the colonel an improvement on her last companion. Though sombre, he was very conversant and they spoke of art, music, and literature. His direct gaze was a little overwhelming, but after a while Lizzie found that it was drifting from her to a young girl across the room. Lizzie did not resent this, as she had no real interest in the man, and if he was interested in a young lady, it might help her and Emma in pairing up all the couples.

"I hope you don’t think me impertinent," ventured Lizzie, "but I can’t help but notice that you keep looking at a particular young lady."

Lizzie was surprised to see a blush on the gentleman’s cheeks.

"I admire her very much. She reminds me of someone I once knew."

Lizzie hoped there would be more information forthcoming. They were separated by the dance, and when it was possible to converse again she resumed the subject.

"She is quite a pretty young lady." She was pretty, thought Lizzie, but not overly so. What was it about her that was so appealing to this serious man?

"To my eyes she is the embodiment of beauty. Her youth and vitality. Her freshness, her sparkle, her innocent candour. All these things are dear to my own heart. She is bright and lively and full of the joy of life. Notice how she smiles, how her eyes light up, the soft curl of her hair haloing her face."

Lizzie had to admit that the colonel had it bad. "Why do you not dance with her?"

"I? She would not want to dance with a staid old fellow such as I. I would only bore her. No, I am destined only to enjoy her from afar when eventually some dashing young blade who doesn’t deserve her in the least will romantically sweep her off her feet."

Lizzie had a feeling that there were romantic depths within this man that had not as yet been spelunked. As her dance with Colonel Brandon ended she had a firm resolve to help bring him and the young lady together. She made some enquiries and discovered that the young lady’s name was Louisa Musgrove. Emma will be pleased to hear that I have made some progress, she thought.

Speaking of Emma, Lizzie couldn’t help but feel a little chagrined by her selfish behaviour. She had just spent three dances with rather depressing individuals who were obsessed with women other than herself. Every time she had looked over to where Emma was on the floor, she was twirling around with a strikingly handsome gentleman who seemed to have no eyes for anyone else. Emma had had the joy of gazing up into appreciative blue eyes, hazel eyes, and green eyes, while she had been pierced by dark brown eyes, evaded by watery grey eyes, and eventually overlooked by brooding black eyes.

Lizzie sighed. Two more to go, and neither of them looked very enticing. Her feet were aching and her head was reeling. She needed a short rest and then she would make an attempt at the last two. Lizzie made her way to the French doors that led out to the terrace. What she really needed was some fresh air. As she walked past, she noticed that the woman was still speaking with Captain Benwick. She wondered if she had even paused for a breath.

"You are a sailor, so you know what it is like to cross a body of water, and as I have told you the Dixons live in Ireland, and my dear Jane, bless her soul, was invited to go, but did not wish to cross the Irish Sea, she had had a fearful mishap in a rowboat, you understand, and was only barely saved by Mr Dixon himself, if you remember his wife was Jane’s special friend, though not with Jane’s looks or accomplishments, of course, but, what was I saying, oh yes, Jane does so fear the water now that a . . ."

 

Part 7

Lizzie found a cool dark spot on the terrace where she could sit and ponder all that she was doing. She believed that she was a reasonably sensible and intelligent young lady, but was this project she had entered into with Emma either reasonable or sensible, let alone intelligent? And yet, did an assembly make any sense in any form? What was its purpose? To throw marriageable people of the opposite sex together in a situation where they could size each other up, and chose mates. Although nobody would actually come out and say that. So was what she and Emma were doing any more calculating than all the mothers on the sidelines? As she pondered these eternal questions, she heard her two youngest sisters come out and lean upon the balustrade. She shrank further into the shadows, so as not to be seen.

"Lord, I am so fagged!" announced Lydia, fanning herself profusely.

"Not one dance without a partner," sighed Kitty, "but still, I feel quite miffed with you-know-who. I am not content only to dance with the same silly officers."

Lizzie was wondering who you-know-who was. She didn’t even know that Kitty had a you-know-who in her life. Just then, two gentlemen came out onto the terrace. Lydia noticed them as soon as Lizzie did, or probably sooner, because Lydia had a built in sensor when it comes to gentlemen.

"There they are, Kitty," she hissed. "Make like you don’t care a fig for them!" And with that she giggled loudly to Kitty. "Oh la, are we not having a famous time?"

"Hello girls," said Wickham smoothly as he sidled up beside Kitty in a most familiar way. "Have you been waiting long?"

Lizzie felt all the awkwardness of her situation. She couldn’t make her presence known now, and anyway, she had long since discovered that one can learn plenty by listening in on the conversations of others, so she settled in for the duration and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible on the cold stone bench.

"Waiting for what, pray tell?" said Lydia with some asperity.

"You lovely ladies must have known we were only waiting for the opportunity to join you out here," said Willoughby, taking her hand and staring lovingly into her eyes.

"Oh, so that is why you danced with all those other young ladies," said Lydia sweetly, "just to pass the time."

"You two were always engaged," said Wickham smoothly.

"And since when is it not possible to put your name down on a dance card?" asked Kitty pettishly.

"I see that we are not good enough for you in company," said Lydia, "but suddenly, alone here in the dark we have become desirable again."

"You were never more desirable," said Willoughby, raising her hand to his lips and giving it a lingering kiss. "I love the spark in your eyes when you are incensed!"

Lydia took her hand out of his and gave him a resounding slap on his cheek. Kitty looked on in horror. She had been on the point of forgiving Wickham.

"How do you like the spark of my hand when it is incensed?" cried Lydia. "Kitty and I are not common trollops! We may bestow our favours freely to those who are worthy of them, but we are not cheap, and we do not take to being used. We are in this as much for the pleasure we get as the pleasure we give, and it gives us no pleasure to be made fools of by you, no matter how handsome or charming you may be!"

Lizzie listened in astonishment. It was safe to say that she was not the only one who was astonished. Lydia herself was rather astonished by her outburst. Kitty was utterly flabbergasted. Willoughby and Wickham, quickly reassessing the situation, started backing away and talking about longstanding appointments that they had to keep.

"Not so fast," cried Lydia. "We are not done with you two yet." Then on a signal to Kitty that she somehow mysteriously understood, the two girls lunged at the gentlemen and neatly flipped them over the balustrade.

"I believe there were some jagged rocks down there," said Lydia, giggling at their cries of pain.

"If I’m not mistaken," said Kitty, wiping a tear from her eye, "Mr Wickham has had this coming for a long time."

Lydia and Kitty straightened their gowns and tidied their hair. "I think it is safe to return to the dancing now," said Lydia.

"You mean we are to just leave them there?" said Kitty. "But they were so very suave and debonair. They have spoiled me for other men."

Lydia looked at her intently. "I certainly hope not! Did you see all the appetising merchandise in there?"

Kitty allowed Lydia to lead her back to the dance, but she threw a yearning look or two back as she left, hoping to hear a call begging for forgiveness. The only thing she heard was some very colourful language which made her believe that maybe Lydia was right after all.

Lizzie was not sure which sensation prevailed, the shock at her sister’s wanton conduct, or her pride at Lydia for standing up for herself and demanding respect. She was pleased to have been enlightened as regards the character of the two gentlemen in question, and could not wait to compare notes with Emma to see if she had managed at all to penetrate their charming façade. She doubted that she had.

Lizzie decided it was best to return to the assembly room before the gentlemen managed to scramble back over the balustrade. She could hear them arguing over who should give whom a leg up as she quickly exited the terrace.

A new set was starting up as she entered the room, and she heard someone behind her say, "There, that one. Dance with her," and she was approached by an agreeable looking gentleman a little above thirty, who asked her very politely for the next dance. As he was one of the last two remaining gentlemen on her list she readily accepted.

They took the floor, and he introduced himself as Mr Howard, a fact that she already knew because she had made a point of finding out who all the gentlemen were that she had committed herself to dance with. After they had gone down the set a few times and she had assessed him to be quietly cheerful, she decided to interrogate him about what was really on her mind.

"Mr Howard," she said. "I can’t fail but notice that that very disagreeable looking gentleman at your elbow is continually staring at me and conversing with you as we dance."

Mr Howard looked a little guilty. "I was hoping he would have slipped your notice."

"You must admit, he is being rather obvious. Do you think I am short-sighted?"

"Not in the least. In fact your eyes are very fine, if you would allow me to say so."

"Flattery will not sway me," said Lizzie. "I will stay the course. I must add that before you invited me so politely to dance, I distinctly overheard someone to remark, ‘Dance with her,’ and I am disposed to believe that it was your uncivil friend who made the request."

"Do not think that I did not want to dance with you myself," he said in a plaintive voice. "I did, very much so."

Lizzie could not see any reason why this statement would not be true, most gentlemen did want to dance with her, after all, so she accepted it at face value. "But what does he mean by asking you to dance with me, and then hovering around, staring and commenting?"

"Lord Osborne never dances. But if he sees an attractive woman, then he will ask me or some other friend to dance for him."

Lizzie thought this decidedly odd, but it would serve her purposes as much as his. It was actually quite a relief to know that she wouldn’t have to stand up with the haughty man.

"And if he wanted to know more of me would he have you converse with me, and visit me?"

"You understand the matter perfectly!" said Mr Howard in some relief.

"And if he decided to court me, he would have you pay me attentions and bring me flowers?" asked Lizzie, warming to the subject.

"Well, that is possible, I suppose. It has never come down to that."

"And if he fell in love with me, he would have you propose, and marry me, and he would expect to walk down the aisle at your elbow, and discuss with you all the while how the marriage was going," Lizzie said triumphantly.

Mr Howard coloured and stammered and could not think of what to say. At this point Lord Osborne questioned him quite heavily about the conversation.

"Lord Osborne says he had never thought the matter quite that far along before, but that what you suggest would in all likelihood work admirably for him. He wonders whether you would like me to call for tea tomorrow."

Lizzie shuddered. As nice as Mr Howard appeared, there was something decidedly strange about the whole arrangement. "I’ll tell you what," she said quite sweetly. "I think I will try your friend’s method. Why don’t you have tea with my friend Charlotte instead, and we can see how it progresses from there."

"And how old is your friend?" asked Mr Howard.

Lizzie thought this question rather impertinent, but she answered it all the same. "She is a few years my senior, but not quite yet on the shelf."

Mr Howard looked wistful. "How close to the shelf?" he asked hopefully.

Lizzie immediately felt some compassion for the man. It must be very difficult for him always having to undertake his friend’s flirtations with very young ladies, (she remembered how she had seen the Lord eyeing the youngest girls there, it was surprising that he had even asked Mr Howard to dance with a dotard like herself) when he was actually attracted to older females, much older, it appeared, as she caught him eyeing Miss Bates, who was still conversing energetically with the forlorn captain.

Lizzie took herself off in search of Charlotte as soon as the dance had ended. She hoped she had not done her friend a disservice, but she hadn’t been able to help herself making the suggestion. The whole situation was just so preposterous. When she explained it all to Charlotte, she was surprised to find out that Charlotte had been eyeing Mr Howard all evening, but he had never approached her, being busy dancing with the débutantes.

"I had been wondering how to get him to notice me," she told Lizzie. "You know that I am a practical and unromantic person, but when I first beheld him, my heart started to do flips."

"Do you not mind that he caters so to his rich friend?"

"Not at all, Lizzie. It could be a lot worse. He could crawl on his belly raving about Lord Osborne’s beneficence and riches. He could be boring on and on about windows, staircases and chimney-pieces, and shelves in closets. If all he does is cater, I should think myself well off. Besides he is so handsome, and his hair is so . . . dry."

"I will give you a hint, then, that might help you win him. He likes older women. The older the better apparently."

"I shall tell him I’m thirty-five, and powder my hair," said Charlotte. "I’m not above using the feminine arts to lure him!"

Lizzie felt quite a bit better about her impetuous decision. If she had helped Charlotte on the path to happiness, so much the better. Now all she had to do was find Emma and compare notes. She felt she had made some great progress. She had four men lined up with matches, and another three that could be eliminated all together. She had completed all her obligatory dances as well, and now if she danced, she would only have to do so for her own pleasure. Her eyes travelled the dance floor, looking for Emma, but also looking for that illusive Mr Perfect that she just could not seem to find.

 

Part Eight

Lizzie finally spied Emma on the far side of the ballroom, and she began to wend her way through the thronging masses that surrounded the dance floor. At one point the crowd was so thick she was stopped in her tracks for a full five minutes. While she was waiting for the jam to clear, she again had the opportunity to overhear a conversation, and as this one concerned herself, she strained her ears so as not to miss a word of it.

"Churchill, why are you not dancing? Why are you standing about in this stupid manner?"

"Well Crawford, I am looking for someone that it would not be a punishment for me to stand up with. Someone a little more agile than my last partner. She was forever stomping on my toes."

"You are so fastidious! See, my shoes are scraped and I care not! But then, I must admit that I also rely on the local barber, and it is common knowledge that you rushed off to London in the wee hours this morning to have a cut and manicure."

"Also a pedicure."

"Well, that makes all the difference in the world. You will have to take me sometime. But, back to the matter at hand; there are many young ladies in this room who are excellent dancers, and beautiful, I must add."

"You are dancing with a rather wild and boisterous young lady who keeps bumping into everybody."

"Yes, but she has a sister standing right over there who is more than tolerable, if you know what I mean."

"Which do you mean?" he turned around and gave Lizzie an appraising look. "She is certainly much more than tolerable. She appears extremely handsome and tempting to me. Just thinking of dancing with her has restored my good mood."

"Yes, and only think of the consequence it will give you to dance with her. I have it on good authority from my friend Thorpe that she has been cruelly slighting other men."

At that moment Lydia, who was becoming very impatient, grabbed hold of Mr Crawford’s arm and dragged him back to the dance floor.

"Why are you wasting your time with him and not enjoying my smiles?" she demanded.

"Why indeed!" said Mr Crawford as he spun her around and laughed at her squeals of pleasure.

Lizzie stood very still with a soft smile playing upon her face. The conversation she had heard struck a chord within her. It seemed very close to something that she had been expecting. She pretended surprise when she was tapped on the shoulder, and as she turned confidently to face the gentleman, her heart rose high in her chest and her breath was taken away. She found herself gazing into the most sincere pair of green eyes she had ever beheld.

"Am I asking too much, or would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" he asked in a softly resonant voice.

He gave a shy smile that turned her to putty. It was a blessing that she was such an innately good dancer for she was so swept away by his charm that she had no thought for the dancing. Was this finally the man? Was he perfection himself?

After they had been dancing for some minutes, she became aware that though he was carrying on a scintillating conversation with her, his attention seemed to be wandering. This brought her down to earth with a crash that caused her to falter in her steps. He looked at her suddenly, and for an instant there was annoyance in his glance, but it smoothly changed to a look of adoring concern.

"I am sorry, that was my fault entirely," he said with heartfelt earnestness.

"I can’t help but think that something has distracted you," said Lizzie a little petulantly. She was surprised at herself because petulance was something she never fell prey to.

"Do you see that young lady over there?" Mr Churchill said in a rather conspiratorial tone.

Lizzie looked in the direction indicated and saw a young woman with silky blonde curls and an alabaster complexion. How was she to compete with someone like that, she asked herself with a sinking heart?

"I was caught by how deathly pale she looked," continued Mr Churchill in the same tone, only a little more intimately. "The shock of the sight threw me off. I prefer a healthy vibrant look, a rosy blush." He looked deep within her eyes again and started to talk of poetry.

Lizzie was lulled once more into a sense of complacency, and she smiled dreamily into his eyes, thinking that all they needed to make them truly ideal were little amber flecks. And his curls, those gorgeous honey brown curls, she couldn’t help but feel that rich chestnut was more appealing. When she left off examining his hair, she noticed that his eyes had strayed from her face once more. She turned and followed their direction, and noticed that he was staring at the blonde yet again.

"She seems to have caught your fancy," said Lizzie with some asperity.

"Have you ever seen such an unusual way of dressing one’s hair?" he asked in a look of innocent astonishment. "I must apologise for being distracted, but it really is quite strange. I do not understand how someone could come to a ball looking such a fright. I have a good mind to go and ask her after our dance is finished. What say you? Do you think I could bring colour into that parchment skin?"

Lizzie was suddenly struck by the frivolous nature of this gentleman. It was really most disconcerting; why was it that real life could never match one’s daydreams?

When the dance finished, he gave her a look of undying love such as was calculated to melt the heart of any impressionable young lady, bowed low over her hand, and then sprinted away in the direction of the lovely blonde. She stood and watched as he asked the goddess to dance with the same bashful artlessness that he had used on her. So much for first impressions. The affected shyness and the insincerity were now glaringly obvious to Lizzie. Her Mr Perfect still remained elusive, or was that illusive? Lizzie fervently hoped not.

"I see you were dancing with Mr Frank Churchill," said Emma in her ear. "Don’t set your hopes on him. I think he is desperately in love with me. But of course I will have to disappoint him. I’m thinking of lining him up with my young friend Harriet, or maybe even Jane Fairfax."

"Jane Fairfax?" asked Lizzie, wondering if that was the name of the stunning blonde.

"I was just joking, Lizzie. The very idea is quite ridiculous! If you only knew her – what a cold fish!"

"Is she the lady he is dancing with at present?" asked Lizzie.

"No! That is Miss Marianne Dashwood. I have as yet to meet her, so I cannot say if she will do for him or not. I want to be very careful who he marries for he is Mrs Weston’s husband’s son, and it is their dearest wish that he marry me. I was almost tempted to oblige them, but I think I prefer flirting with him, and anyway as I have already informed you, I have no intention of marrying anybody. It is much more diverting arranging other people’s marriages. "

"He appears to be quite taken with her, and she with him," said Lizzie.

Emma looked at the couple, and then dismissed them. "I see no evidence of particular regard," she stated. "She just might do for another gentleman I was dancing with. He is the younger son of an Earl, and quite charming, except for the fact that he complains a little too much. I get the impression he is badly in need of a woman."

"She is quite beautiful. What does he have to recommend him? You have said that though charming he complains a lot. Is he attractive?"

"That is the strange thing about him. As I danced with him, I appraised his countenance from different angles. In person and address he is truly a gentleman. At first glance I did not find him handsome at all, and yet once or twice he appeared truly devastating. One would have to see him in his regimentals to be sure."

"There is indeed something about a red coat," Lizzie sighed, thinking of her silly sisters.

"And you say he is a younger son. Does Miss Dashwood have any fortune?"

"I have no idea. Should that really be a consideration?"

Lizzie looked at her new friend with a dawning realisation. She was beginning to believe that Emma didn’t have the first clue about matchmaking after all. Fortune must have something to do with it, surely.

Just as Lizzie was going to ask Emma about her other partners, Sir William Lucas took centre stage in front of the orchestra again, and stealing the second violin’s sheet music, he rolled them into a cone and bellowed another announcement.

"This is the last dance Ladies and Gentlemen! I thank you all for coming out and making this assembly such an overwhelming success, and bid you all chose your partners and take the floor."

He handed the sheets back to the disgruntled violinist, and then went over to sit down and calculate the logistics of getting so many people out of one exit without any fatalities, and before the cocks started crowing. He pulled out a huge handkerchief and mopped his brow. Never had they had such a long assembly. Next time he would remember not to buy discount dance cards sight unseen. These ones had had full five times as many lines as usual.

 

Part Nine

Lizzie fingered her invitation as the carriage bowled along the narrow lanes to The Grange. Lydia and Kitty were dangling out the windows, and Mary was sitting sedately across from her, meditating on some moral philosophies, no doubt. (She actually was meditating on the effect a pair of lusty eyes had in the face of a corpulent gentleman, but who could have foretold that?) How Emma had managed to print up and deliver so many invitations in such a short space of time, Lizzie hadn’t a clue, but it was only two days since the assembly, and already all the women were congregating for tea at Miss Woodhouse’s behest.

Lizzie thought back to the assembly and all that had taken place there. When they had called the last dance, she remembered her promise to Captain Wentworth that she would come back and check up on him. ‘A promise is a promise,’ she thought, ‘and anyway there is no one who I particularly want to dance with.’ She soon found him nursing his poor foot in the alcove with the potted palms. He was in the company of the charming man she had first danced with.

"Miss Bennet," cried Henry Tilney, "Would you care to dance?"

"Sir, do not think I came this way in order to beg for a partner. I have not the least intention of dancing. I have come to condole with the captain who is unable to partake of the pleasure of dancing."

"Well, I have been entertaining the sad fellow! We have been discussing the attributes we require in a wife."

"Indeed?" said Lizzie, surprised that gentlemen discussed the same topic as ladies at these gatherings. She thought they would be talking of hounds or horses or naval battles.

"It is commonly known that we have come into town in search of wives. Isn’t that part of the infamous universal truth?" said Henry Tilney with a most delightful smile on his face, and a roguish twinkle in his eyes.

"Tilney," said Captain Wentworth, suddenly bestirring himself, "I think I ought to resent you calling me a sad fellow, but somehow I don’t have it in me."

"Just a shell of the man he once was," whispered Henry Tilney in Lizzie’s ear. "We must do our best to mend his heartbreak and find him a wife."

There was no end to the wonders of the world. Not only did this man have extensive knowledge of muslins, but he dabbled in matchmaking too! What other female activities did he indulge in?

"For my part," he continued in a louder voice meant for Wentworth as well, "I would delight in a wife who is open, candid, artless, guileless, with affections strong but simple, forming no pretensions, and knowing no disguise."

That is no tall order, thought Lizzie, and certainly counts me out. My affections are not simple at all, rather quite complex and confusing; as for guileless, no one can ever put anything over on me. "You do not desire someone with a quick intellect, a lively wit, and pert opinions?"

"I fear she would be too much like myself! Let us ask the captain if he should require those attributes."

"I? I am quite ready to make a foolish match."

Lizzie bristled. "Do you mean to say that marrying a lady with a quick intellect, a lively wit, and pert opinions would be foolish?"

Captain Wentworth stared at her blankly. What was her problem? "All I am saying is that I have been used ill, deserted, and disappointed. I was once warmly attached to a young lady who showed such a feebleness of character that it was unendurable! She gave me over to oblige others! The worst thing is, that though she has treated me so ill, and acted so weakly, I have never yet seen a woman to equal her!"

Henry Tilney patted him on the back. "Sounds like she wasn’t worth you ruining your life over her. There are plenty of personable young ladies here. My sister, for example, has a strong mind and a sweetness of manner that is most appealing. Besides, she is most incredibly attractive and is always impeccably dressed."

"Oh, anybody between fifteen and thirty may have me for the asking! A little beauty, a few smiles, some compliments to the navy and I am a lost man!"

"You are willing to put up with something a little inferior?" asked Lizzie in a shocked tone. She hoped she would never find herself crossed in love, ready to accept the first man to ask her. He may turn out to be John Thorpe. Her stomach heaved at the very idea.

"If I am going to be a fool, then let me. I have thought about it long and hard. Most men make fools of themselves with much less consideration."

"I think I had better find my sister without delay," said Henry Tilney. "Someone must save you from yourself, and I would not mind you for a brother in law at all once we rid you of these most foolish tendencies of yours." So saying, he rushed off in search of his sister.

"What a good brother!" remarked Lizzie.

"You should meet my friend Harville. Now there is what I call a true friend and good brother. His sister, you know, was supposed to marry my friend Benwick, but she died recently. Poor Fanny, she would not have forgot him as fast as he has forgotten her. He has spent all night in deepest conversation with one woman alone. He is a man truly smitten."

Lizzie looked over to Benwick. Miss Bates was still talking his ear off. "In truth, I don’t think he is attending to her at all."

"You do not know Benwick as I do. It was his inattentiveness that Fanny loved so much. Harville was fond of remarking that they were made for each other. Ah, Harville! There never was such a friend. You should meet him. What say we organise an outing to Lyme?"

"Isn’t that rather far?"

"I make it no less than two days journey. The beauties of Lyme are surely worth that!"

Lizzie rather doubted that there was anything in Lyme to make an outing of that scope worthwhile, and decided to voice her opinion. "What is there in Lyme that cannot be found in Brighton or Sanditon? If we were to go to the seaside, surely Ramsgate would be the most logical choice, being the closest. After all, what is a sea resort but some sand and a Cobb? There must be a Cobb at any such resort."

She noticed that all the colour had drained from the good captain’s face. He leaned over with folded arms, his face concealed, as if overpowered by various feelings of his soul. "Do not mention the Cobb! I shudder at the very idea. The unevenness of the steps, the hardness of the pavement! Oh, is there no one to help me?" he cried in anguish.

Lizzie looked on in horror. This man was in need of therapy, and quickly. She wondered whether Henry Tilney was such a good brother after all. What was he setting his sister up for?

The jarring of the carriage as it stopped brought Lizzie back to the present. Lydia and Kitty tumbled out, whispering and giggling, and winking at the footmen who were there to receive them. Mary pursed her lips and got up. Her eyes held a strange glow of desire that Lizzie could not quite equate with the carriage ride, or the coming tea party. Lizzie herself was impatient to speak with Emma alone again. One thing she was most eager to discover was why had Emma danced the last dance of the assembly with Mr Knightly, of all people?

 

Part Ten

Emma came running up to Lizzie as she and her sisters were announced.

"I had about given you up!"

"Lydia and Kitty wanted to make an impression, and as there was no time for new gowns, opted to be fashionably late," said Lizzie with a cheeky grin.

"Well, everybody is here now, I should think. Let’s just check. We’ll both count and see how many are here."

This took a while as Kitty and Lydia kept crossing the room to change seats causing Emma and Lizzie to start over.

"I make it Twenty-eight, is that correct?"

"I make it twenty-eight also. Let me see, there are twenty-one newly moved in, myself and my sisters, that’s twenty-six, and Charlotte and Maria make twenty-eight. It appears everyone is here."

"But wait, Mrs Bates is sitting by the fire. She does not count in the twenty-one, I presume, because you are referring to eligible females."

"So who could be missing?" asked Lizzie, somewhat perplexed.

Emma scoured the crowd with her sharp eyes. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being aware of matchmaking prospects, and one of them was unaccountably missing. No one was going to slip through her fingers!

"I have it!" cried Emma. "It is your sister Jane."

"My goodness, wherever can she be? I was sure she was around somewhere. She is always so particular about not hurting a hostess’s feelings."

"Did she not come with you?"

"Now that you mention it, I recall being quite uncrushed in the chaise. She must be doing some chore for mama. She is so angelic, she often gives up her pleasures to do others’ bidding."

Emma blanched at the very thought. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"I remember her dancing at the ball . . . but surely she came home with us."

"You haven’t seen your sister in two days?"

"No, but that means nothing at all. I have been inordinately sleepy since the assembly, always going to bed before her, and rising late," said Lizzie sheepishly, not liking to admit her unusual laziness to her new friend.

"How can you be so complacent?" asked Emma. "There must be more to the story than this, and I mean to find out." She did not like one of her prospective victims getting away from her, nor did she like being kept in the dark about anything. "Well, it will have to wait for now. I must see to refreshments for my guests."

Emma rang the bell, and two serving girls appeared.

"Alicia, will you pass around the cucumber sandwiches? Rita, I would like you to serve the tea," said Emma with regal authority. Alicia flashed Rita a smug grin. The teapot was much heavier than trays of feather-light sandwiches.

Lizzie took a sandwich and some tea and then found herself a spot where she could view everybody.

"You are very comfortably situated, Miss Eliza," said a peevish voice at her elbow.

"Were you moving this way to take this seat?" asked Lizzie, apologetically.

"It is of no importance," answered Caroline in a superior tone. "If it is your choice, it will not do for me. I am sure there is a better situation to be had," and she moved off.

Lizzie looked after her, wondering at the reason for such incivility. The maid passing around the trays of cucumber sandwiches kept glancing at the door in a manner which seemed to suggest to Lizzie that she expected someone to come through it at any moment. Over the hubbub of general conversation, Lizzie could hear a strange tapping sound coming from the direction of the tea table.

Emma came and sat beside Lizzie. "If we are to discover anything about these young ladies, we must circulate," she said.

"My plan was to just quietly observe," said Lizzie placidly. "I have already formed an immovable opinion of one of them."

"Which do you mean?"

"The one in orange. She finds herself very much above her company."

"Hmm, I think I have a man for her," said Emma speculatively. "Now, circulate, circulate!"

Lizzie got up resignedly. Emma did have a tendency to bossiness! Well, she would circulate, but not the way Emma wanted her too. Instead of entering into conversations, she would go about garnering information the best way she knew how; by eavesdropping.

She wandered over to the other side of the room and feigned interest in the blue damask draperies, with her ear open to the nearest conversation.

Marianne turned to her sister and said in an under-voice (a very carrying under-voice), "Do you see the lady beside me? What a vile colour for a gown. Bright orange. It has no romance, no soul. Oh! What type of company are we thrust amongst, Elinor?"

Caroline heard every word and turned to Marianne, her countenance forbidding. "It is not orange! I do not like orange! I never wear orange! The colour of my gown is Apricot Eclat, and it is all the rage in the finest society in Paris."

Marianne looked at her with disdain. "It is so bright it hurts the eyes. I would sooner believe that it has the Parisians in a rage."

"It is much more stylish and becoming than that turbid colour you are wearing."

"Turbid? This is called Eau de Nil. It is the very shade of fields of ripened barley silvering in the sun."

"You obviously don’t understand the French language," said Caroline condescendingly. "It means river water. Ugh! Very dirty and unromantic."

"I am a great lover of the French language," said Marianne dramatically, "and indeed all the romance languages. Picture Cleopatra on her sumptuous barge, floating down the Nile, draped in the finest muslins and adorned with lapis lazuli. The river is silted by the floods as it flows from the great cataracts. That is what this colour says to me." Marianne turned her back on Caroline. There was no sense conversing with her.

"Sister," said Elinor. "You cannot expect everyone to have the same tastes as you. You must be more gentle in your expressions."

"I will express myself as I wish," said Marianne.

"Well I never!" exclaimed Caroline, and she left in the proverbial huff in search of someone to commiserate with. Her sister was in Scarborough with her husband, and Charles was unaccountably missing. The only person the least bit interested in commiserating with her at Netherfield was the groom, and she suspected it wasn’t commiseration that he had on his mind. Her eyes fell on a lady whose very bearing screamed quality and she flounced over to sit by her side.

"Don’t you find the company insipid?" Caroline asked in her most hoity-toity manner.

The lady turned and stared down her nose. "I don’t believe we have been introduced," she said coldly.

"Yes indeed, such a shabby affair. I am Caroline Bingley."

"You are? And is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Well, it is my name," said Caroline a bit taken aback.

"So I should imagine," sneered the lady. "But who are you? Who is your family? What is your place in society? Are you a scion of a noble family? Your garish outfit positively reeks of trade."

"My father was in trade," Caroline admitted with great reluctance, "But my sister has married into the family of the London Hursts, quite people of fashion, you know. And my brother, who is shortly to purchase his own estate, is extremely close friends with the Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley, nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and of the Earl of . . ."

The lady looked over at her with a trace more interest. "I have, of course, heard of the Darcys of Pemberley."

"I am on the point of becoming engaged to Mr Darcy," said Caroline with an encouraging smile.

"Really? I had heard he was engaged to his cousin Anne so that they could combine the two great fortunes."

"Oh! He has no thought of marrying her."

"Well, in that case, and as the company is really not select, I will condescend to accept the introduction. I am Elizabeth Elliot of Kellynch Hall, daughter of Sir Walter Elliot, Baronet. My close relative, Lady Darymple is a Viscountess. A Viscountess!"

Caroline was duly impressed. She was in company of the niece of a Viscountess! She had not been so near heaven since she had last been in Mr Darcy’s company.

"I will share a secret with you," said Elizabeth Elliot, leaning closer to Caroline. "I am on the point of being engaged also. To Mr William Elliot, my father’s heir. I am to be Lady Elizabeth at some not to far off date."

Lizzie had been studying the Dresden figurines on the mantle, and had overheard the whole of this delightful conversation. There was much food for thought. Caroline Bingley did not need to be matched to anyone, nor did Elizabeth Elliot, if both were to believed. It appeared Mr Elliot was out of the running as well. She pondered the Mr Darcy who Caroline had mentioned as her future fiancé. What kind of man could he be, to be betrothed to a snobbish shrew like Caroline? Proud and disagreeable no doubt. Well she was welcome to him. So why, then, did Lizzie feel that particular sinking feeling deep inside? Lizzie felt a headache coming on. The persistent tap tapping that continued to emanate from beneath the tea table did nothing to ease the dull throb in her temple.

 

Part Eleven

Emma pulled Lizzie aside and asked her how the investigation was going.

"Well, I have decided the character of at least two more ladies," said Lizzie as she held a cucumber sandwich, the closest thing she could find to a cold compress, to her throbbing forehead.

"I think this whole process is taking too long," said Emma. "We don’t want my tea party to stretch on endlessly like the assembly. I have devised a new plan."

Lizzie looked at Emma with mounting apprehension. "A new plan?"

"Yes," said Emma, and she told Lizzie what she wanted her to do.

Lizzie looked sceptical, but she complied. She went to stand in the centre of the room, and tapped her teacup with her spoon. The room immediately became silent. Even the rapping from beneath the tea table ceased.

"Ladies!" said Lizzie in a theatrical accent, "I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse, who presides, to say that she desires to know all your thoughts on matrimony."

"Is Miss Woodhouse sure she wants to know all that we think on the subject?" asked Miss Charlotte Heywood.

"Oh, no, no!" cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could, "Upon no account in the world, that would take forever." She whispered in Lizzie’s ear.

Lizzie shrugged and continued, "Miss Woodhouse waives the right of knowing all that you think. Instead she would like either a succinct account of your marital aspirations, a few helpful hints on snaring a spouse, or some dull account of your own heartbreaking experiences."

"Ah! It is to be a sort of Ladies Support Group like are all the rage in London at present!" announced Mary Crawford to no-one in particular. "I have done this before. We sit in a circle, and everyone speaks in turn!"

"Or is it a séance?" queried Miss Bates. "I dearly hope it is not a séance, for I shall be apprehensive of meeting the spirit of someone who has passed on. The other evening I spent much of my time with a gentleman whose fiancée recently left this world and all in it. I do hope she does not come and admonish me for stealing her lover’s heart. Though I am not sure that I did in effect steal his heart, but he was most attentive all evening and never got up once or interrupted while I was talking. Oh dear! I fear I am being very dull. Although I am not talking of heartbreak, I must have already outdone my quota of dullness, I always . . ."

"Miss Bates," said Emma, "as dullness was limited only to some, I must concur that you have indeed exceeded your limit, which is hardly surprising in your case."

"Oh dear! Miss Woodhouse is right, you know. I see what she means. I have been rambling on and boring the whole company . . ."

"Next!" cried Emma.

"I am quite at a loss as to what to say," said Charlotte Heywood. "Could you perhaps go first, to give us an example of the type of announcement expected?"

All the ladies in the room nodded at this suggestion.

"Very well," said Emma. "Though I love dearly to match-make, I have no thought to marriage myself. I live to serve others and my competence has living proof in the happy marriage between Miss Taylor and Mr Weston, for which I am solely responsible. However, anyone who thinks I might be induced to make a match between them and Mr Knightly, is sorely mistaken."

"I am still not quite sure how to go on," said Charlotte Heywood, a tad confused.

"I will try," said Lizzie. "It is well known that I enjoy observing people and making out their characters, and I have undertaken to help Emma with my expertise in this field of endeavour. I fully intend to marry eventually, but I will only be induced to by the deepest and most ardent love. I will never marry solely for money, especially to a greasy toad of a man, just to secure my family’s future on the event of my father dying and leaving us all destitute. I am holding out for Mr Perfect. I have yet to meet him, but I will know he is the one the instant I see him, for I am very good at first impressions."

"Oh, now I see – I think," said Charlotte Heywood. "I, also, will only marry for love. I think it important to use common sense in attempting to understand a gentleman and his intentions, for I have discovered it is quite impossible to take them at their word." She sat down and blushed while the ladies all politely clapped.

"This is going to be so diverting!" said Lydia. "I think officers are just the gentlemen to pursue. I mean to pick one out and run off with him to London. It doesn’t signify if we don’t get married right away, for some disagreeable gentleman is sure to come around and force him to marry me, and pay all his creditors," she sighed at the very thought of such a gallant spouse. "I shall regret not getting wedding clothes from the best milliners in London, but I shall be ever so satisfied to be married before any of my prudish sisters!"

Kitty looked at Lydia and started to cry. "You said all that I wanted to say! Now there is nothing left for me to say! And when you have run off, I will not be able to, for papa will not allow me to talk to officers ever again, and I will only be allowed to stand up with my sisters at balls for ten years! You are selfish and horrid and I hate you!" and she ran off to hide in the corner of the room behind the draperies.

Caroline was next, and she looked quite put out to have to follow such a vulgar outburst. But what more could one expect from those uncouth Bennet girls? "I, of course, need no help in this department, as I am on the point of imminent engagement to the most handsome and eligible bachelor in the whole of England. I am able, however, to offer some very helpful advice, which I don’t mind making available now that I have as good as caught my man. Firstly, always wear bright colours to attract attention, secondly, always deride any woman he may be attracted to, to make yourself look better than her, thirdly, flatter him and his family intensely, fourthly, follow him about wherever he goes so he can see how surely you belong with him, fifthly, agree with whatever he says, no matter what you really think. There will be plenty of time to set him straight on that score once you are married. Sixthly . . ."

"I think they have the picture, my dear," said Elizabeth Elliot. "I am also about to be engaged, and in my opinion, the most important quality that a woman can possess is her station in life. It is essential to puff it up at all times. A method I use is to always have someone of a slightly lower station at my beck and call." She smiled sweetly at Caroline. "You must always show everyone how superior you are to them, so the gentleman can see at a glance how much he would gain socially in a connection to you." She looked around condescendingly at the gathered company, as if to show just how it was done.

"Men," said Isabella Thorpe, "should be ignored. You must be sure to always keep them in your sights while doing so, and make it obvious that you are ignoring them. Never let them know that you are interested in them, but always pique their interest in you. Treat them mercilessly! And don’t forget manner of dress. A good way to attract notice is to dress the same as your closest friend, both of you with coquelicot ribbons on your bonnets, only yours must be much prettier. Do not worry too much about the first man you entrap, but secure him fast, you will be more alluring once engaged, and then you can keep trading up, leaving behind a string of broken hearts, until you finally have the man of fortune that you really want!"

Lizzie looked at Emma in some consternation; was this the direction she wanted the discussion to go? But Emma was sitting with a close smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. If Lizzie had known Emma better, she would have realised it was a dangerous sign.

The next speaker stood and introduced herself as Emma Watson. "I do not think one should be out to entrap a man. I would rather live in poverty than marry a man I did not love. I think we should each stick to our own sphere when looking for a husband. I want nothing to do with any rich gentleman who is trying to win me with his possessions."

"Sister," said Elizabeth Watson, "it is better to marry anyone than to remain a spinster. What’s love got to do with it? I am so far on the shelf, I would marry the first man to ask me, even if he were the baker! I was once about to marry a young man named Purvis, but my sister Margaret told him some lies about my relationship to a certain Tom Musgrave, a very charming fellow, and Mr Purvis gave me up. Who needs a heart if a heart can be broken? I only want to have the security of a husband and a home and nothing more!"

"I resent all that you say!" cried Margaret Watson. "You have always been jealous of me. If Purvis did not propose to you it was your own doing and not mine! As for Tom Musgrave, I know that you have a secret passion for him, but he will never be yours. I love him and he will ask me to marry him when he finally comes to his senses and realises that he can’t live without me. There is no other man in the world for me!"

"How lucky you are to have a gentleman who cares for you," said Maria Lucas shyly.

"He doesn’t care a fig for her," said Elizabeth Watson. "She has been suffering this delusion for years."

"You will see!" cried Margaret petulantly. "When I have been gone from town for six months, he will have noticed my absence and missed me so much that he will be falling over himself to propose to me when I return!"

Elizabeth Watson snorted, and Margaret turned her back on her sister in disdain.

Maria Lucas bravely continued to speak. "If a gentleman so much as looks at me, I blush and stammer, and I would fall in love with any gentleman who would give me the time of day." She turned bright pink and hung her head. Elizabeth Watson patted her on the back comfortingly.

"Very nicely said, my dear."

"Well, I for one think this whole affair silly and an abominable waste of time," said Marianne. "One does not arrange love, it steals into one’s heart with a line of poetry, a heartfelt look. The instant two people’s minds meet, they are trapped in the tangling web of love. Rather than sit in a drawing room discussing finances and strategies, we should be running free on the windswept moors in a fine rain and light mist, with our hair loose, tumbled by the wind. A false footing or trip upon a tussock could send you rolling down the hill to land at the feet of an unknown gentleman out for a stroll on the lonely moors to soothe his brooding soul. Your first sight of him would be his gleaming Hessian boots, and as your eyes traverse up his form you would see well fitted breeches, a top coat with numerous capes, an elegantly tied cravat, disordered locks, and the deepest darkest eyes that had ever drawn you under their spell. Money, position; such considerations are irrelevant."

"There is some truth in what you say," said Louisa Musgrove. "Falling can be quite providential! Be sure to fall so that the gentleman just misses catching you and has to take your lifeless form up from the pavement in his arms. The trick is to not really hit your head hard. Also ensure that more than one gentleman is present, so that if the first should lose interest, the second could take up your cause and nurse you back to health. Poetry can be helpful in this endeavour also."

Marianne looked at Louisa as if she had just uttered a blasphemy, and whispered to her sister, "She has just taken everything I said and made it crass and contemptible. How can you abide such unfeeling company?"

Mrs Clay then spoke up, saying, "That seems quite a dangerous way to go about it, and could have long term deleterious effects. I prefer hanging around the upper classes paying untold flatteries and entering into intrigues. If you don’t capture your first object, you just might be able to snag your backup, if you play your cards with enough cunning."

"I do not understand all this need for cunning and tripping," said Catherine Moreland. "It is easy enough to fall in love with a gentleman by just dancing at an assembly. What you must watch out for, however, is strange figures in the shadows that may seize you and bundle you into a chaise, your eyes blindfolded. You could be thrown into a dark dank room in the tower of a lonely castle, never to be seen again, dreaming of the gentleman you danced with coming to rescue you on a white stallion, but all the while the walls are dripping blood and wailing pierces the darkness."

"There is no need for melodrama," said Elinor Dashwood. "One must be discreet in love, and keep one’s innermost feelings hidden deep inside. There is always the danger of falling hopelessly in love with someone who is secretly engaged to another, and though he has ceased to love her can’t in all honour break the engagement." She held back a sigh and sat straight and tall as if unaffected by her disclosure.

"But sometimes it is efficacious to form a secret engagement," said Jane Fairfax quietly. "At times there are very good reasons, especially when you are poor and he depends on the goodwill of his relatives for his fortune. There is a danger, though, of the teasing and deceit driving you to become a governess."

"Entering engagements can be quite enticing," said Anne Elliot in a determined voice. "But sometimes one must break them even if truly in love, and then find oneself treated with disdain eight years later as the unforgiving gentleman makes love to other ladies right under one’s very nose." She bravely faced everybody as a lone tear coursed down her pale cheek.

"Men are such pigs!" cried Julia Bertram. "Never give your heart to a smooth talking gentleman for he will just tease you mercilessly and throw you over for your engaged sister."

Isabella Thorpe gave everyone a triumphant look. "What did I tell you! Being engaged is such an attraction!"

"But if that sister is more alluring," said Maria Bertram, striving not to let Isabella Thorpe worm her way in for another turn, "and is engaged to a dead bore, how can you blame him? The worst thing is to become engaged to a dead bore and then the next month meet the most charming rascal you have ever beheld."

"It is worse yet to have that charming rascal try to win you because you are good and pure, and then have everyone badgering you to accept his proposals, even the man you love." Fanny Price turned her head away and held her handkerchief to her face.

"Just as parents can force you to marry against your will, they can force you to break off promising alliances," said Eleanor Tilney, "even when money should be no object. Is it fair to be forced to meet your brother’s friend clandestinely during his visits to your home just because his fortune is not grand? To be forced to communicate by secret notes disguised as laundry lists? Your only hope is that one day he should inherit enough wealth to please your domineering parent."

"But some of us find ourselves in the position to be forced to encourage a gentleman out of practicality, whether he is attractive in any way or not, so as not to end a burden to our brothers," said Charlotte Lucas. "At eight and twenty, I would even be induced to accept an obsequious parson, if I could convince one to offer for me."

"A parson! Don’t talk of parsons!" cried Mary Crawford. "I have a warning to all young ladies not to ever fall in love with younger sons. If you do you shall find they intend to become pa