Impatience is a Virtue

A Ball at Netherfield

It was a very flustered and mayhap slightly confused Elizabeth that walked back towards Longbourn that morning. She had far too much to think about and therefore remained blissfully oblivious to the din arising from the upstairs rooms of her home.

I'd been quite sure Mr Darcy would be of no consequence to me any longer and now it seems we have become friends! What a strange morning, she thought to herself. I do not know if I, like Mr Darcy, would have been capable of caring for my sisters if anything were ever to happen to mama and papa. But perhaps that is why God blessed our family with Jane. Kind, reliable Jane. She would do wonderfully. Even Lydia listens to her, and Lydia rarely listens to anyone but herself.

At that, her thoughts turned once more to her morning companion. I must admit he looks rather dashing when he smiles. Unfortunately, that is so utterly rare he appears disapproving most of the time. I'll have to get him to laugh tonight, perhaps then Meryton may warm up to him. And we most definitely need to talk about Mr Wickham, though that may make him too angry to smile at all. We can't very well leave the man to wander about seducing young girls and gathering debt at every business in town. Perhaps papa will have an idea of what to do.

She was just deciding when the right time would be to approach her father when she became aware of a ghastly conglomeration of screaming, laughing, and her mother's screeching pouring out of her sisters' bedroom window, accompanied by rather strained notes being banged on the pianoforte downstairs. Bedlam must be peaceful compared to this, she sighed, as she took a deep breath, slowly pushed open the door and calmly let the sound engulf her.

Lydia, it seemed, wanted to look risqué and mature for her first ball hosted by such a rich gentleman. To achieve the required look she had proceeded to lop off nearly three inches from the bottom of her skirts, in an effort to copy the daring French Mademoiselles. She stood before the mirror in her and Kitty's room while her mother screeched that her father would never let her leave the house with her ankles on display. Kitty sat giggling on the bed as she watched her mother's face grow redder and redder, and Jane stood next to the mirror quietly suggesting they sow on a length of material of similar hue to lengthen at least the topmost layer of the skirt. To all this Lydia was vehemently protesting, in as loud a voice as possible and insisting this style of dress was á la mode in France. Another burst of laughter from Kitty as Mrs Bennet started calling for Hill and her salts, and Elizabeth rushed most decidedly into her own room and shut the door as quickly as possible. Relieved, she prepared for her bath and wondered at Mr Darcy's description of her family. Honestly, he wasn't very wrong. With the help of Beth, the lady's maid she shared with her sisters, she undressed and slowly submerged her body under the steaming water. Slowly the headache that had threatened to appear with all the madness in the house slipped away, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of complete relaxation. I must remember to thank Lydia for her silliness. At least no one noticed I was dreadfully late! she thought.

All too soon she found herself back in her room and slipping into a dress her Aunt Gardiner had sent a few months ago, but her mother refused to let her wear to any common sort of assembly. Its skirts were made of the palest green silk she had ever seen, and the bodice and sleeves were soft white muslin that fell off her shoulders ever so slightly, embroidered with hundreds of golden flowers and a few pearls that glittered in the light. It set off her darker complexion perfectly, and she was quite surprised to find even she considered herself rather pretty that afternoon. As Beth started on her hair, Jane appeared with a look both relieved and slightly distraught upon her face.

"We must do something about Lydia and Kitty, Lizzy," she said in a rather grave tone.

"I know, dearest, but I cannot imagine how we could possibly manage to knock some sense into those two."