Vampire and Prejudice

Chapter 14 - Elizabeth

The many punishments of the Netherfield ball were inexorable, and I had to ponder which of them I should proclaim to have devastated me the most. There was the complete disappointment about Mr. Wickham not coming; there was the shame of standing up with Mr. Collins; and then there was the utter horror of having to dance with Mr. Darcy. The ball was nowhere close to ending, so my suffering would likely be prolonged by other measures, big and small. Miss Bingley was yet to use her poisonous tongue on me. My mother was not in my earshot, but I was sure that if she were, my cheeks would become too crimson to be fit to be seen in public.

"Lizzy?" Charlotte followed my shocked expression and, finding nothing amiss, endeavored to pry it out of me.

"Will the terrors of tonight never cease?" I exclaimed and turned to her, fighting the urge to hide my face in my hands and cry. It was dreadful, so terribly dreadful. I had dreamed of dancing with the handsome Mr. Wickham, who had the amiable manners and just enough of a tragic background to make his character appealing; who had payed me particular attention and entrusted me with his secrets. Instead, I was to stand up with the wickedest of men, cruel and unfeeling, delighting only in the suffering of others. Was I to be the plaything in his monstrous hands?

I had only accepted him out of fear—I loathed to admit it, but so it was. He was fearsome. I was afraid of him when I considered him a gentleman living under the same roof as me in this very house, and I was terrified of the bloodthirsty villain that I knew him to be now.

"Hush, Lizzy," Charlotte chastised me. "He is a gentleman of consequence. You should be proud he has singled you out."

How could she ask for me to be proud of being a prey, a sacrifice in a ritual of times gone by? She did not see the monster I beheld. She was still of the opinion that a good house and income excused his behavior, which we had witnessed and served as a testimony against the accusations made by a less fortunate man. We were not in agreement on the subject.

"I rather think it a punishment to suffer his company," I responded with arrogant pride to hide my other feelings in the matter.

"You would be wise to school yourself out of those feelings. I dare say you will find him much more agreeable if you do."

"What world is this where only fools have any sense of justice! He is detestable and horrid, and I hate him."

"No more of that. He is coming, and you will gain nothing by insulting him. Smile, be pleasant. Do not provoke him out of his good humor."

It was easy for Charlotte to say those words, for she remained in the safety of the onlookers as Mr. Darcy came to claim my hand. I ignored every watchful pair of eyes as they followed us. Dancing was not something Mr. Darcy was known to do, especially not with the poor people of Hertfordshire. It was well known that he detested us. Just like he detested every person who he thought to be beneath him. Even his so-called friends were not safe. As we joined the dance, I wondered not why they were afraid to speak against him. They probably knew the intimate details of his cruelties. Maybe they were even the victims of those themselves upon occasion.

I braved a look at the crowd, and Miss Bingley apprehended us with a foreign expression. She probably knew most of all how bad Mr. Darcy truly was. Was his abuse towards her as constant as it was to his sister? Had she the mind to please him at every step to not be the victim of his terrible temper? Did she look at me now with a semblance of pity, having some notion of what he wished to do to me?

Losing my nerve, I stared straight ahead. I could only be brave if I was ignorant and knowledge had made me cowardly. I understood why Mr. Wickham had confided his knowledge to me—it was devastating to keep such things to oneself. And even though it had endeared him to me, I wished to forget just for a quarter of an hour.