Elizabeth Newark - The Darcys Give a Ball

“I know more about insects than plants,” confessed Eliza. “But the two go together. Some flowers are more attractive to butterflies than others. My brother Jonathan is a naturalist.”

“It was he, I think, I met in the hall? There was no time to speak...” Lucy remembered a pair of gray eyes and a friendly, admiring glance as she mounted the stairs.

“Yes, he is my dear friend. He is so kind to me,” said Eliza. “I missed him very much when he was away at Cambridge. And soon he is taking a post in London with the Royal Society. It is exactly the thing for him, Mama says; she is very pleased. But home will be empty without him.”

“How nice for you to have a close friend among your family. I have no sisters, and my brothers are much younger, ten and eight. Sometimes we play, but they are so boisterous. They rush around and fight and make a great deal of noise.”

They had circled the conservatory and drawn near to the rest of the party. Miss Bingley was once again one of the group, and Lucy drew back a little, behind Eliza. But to no avail.

“There you are, Lucy. So hard to find! I was wondering where you could be. But I am always glad to take the trouble. Don’t you think it would be better if you rested on your bed? Such a tiring journey!”

“I am very well, thank you, Miss Bingley, not tired at all,” said Lucy, looking despairingly at Eliza.

Eliza had just been noticing a perfect spider web filling a windowpane next to the open door leading out to the terrace. Miss Bingley was quite close to that window. Eliza glanced at her tight-lipped face, thin corded neck, and over-ornamented dress.

“Only see,” she said now, pointing out the web to whomever was interested. “One seldom finds a web so perfect. It’s as intricate as a lace handkerchief.”

Her sleeve brushed the web, and the spider rushed out of hiding. It was fat-bodied, gingerish in color, quite large, and very leggy. Miss Bingley stepped hurriedly back behind the other girls, her hand at her heart. Juliet gave a small scream.

“Oh, how dreadful. Do come away. I must tell Cameron to kill it.”

“Oh, no, please don’t!” cried Eliza. “Spiders do so much good in a conservatory. They help keep down whitefly and mosquitoes and other egg-laying pests, Jonathan says. I think insects are fascinating. Do look, Lucy.” She managed to ease Lucy in front of her, closer to the door, pleased to see the other girl seemed quite unafraid.

“Are you interested in natural history?” asked Amabel Bingley, polite but uncomprehending.

“Jonathan teaches me. He is friendly with a young man named Darwin, Charles Darwin. They met at Cambridge. Mr. Darwin sailed as naturalist on the H.M.S. Beagle. They made a scientific survey.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but anyone knowing her well would have caught the mischievous twinkle in her eye. Eliza had long ago learned that it was helpful to know just how people reacted to insects.

“Oh,” said Juliet.

“How interesting,” said Amabel.

Their eyes met. There seemed nothing else to say in response to such an odd preference. Amabel began to talk about her sister’s house in London, where there was a small orangery. Miss Bingley was still at the rear of the group, and Eliza took Lucy’s hand and led her out of the door onto the terrace. A cool breeze caressed her flushed face and fluttered her curls, and she sighed with relief.

“Do you know the way to the stables?” she asked her new friend, hurrying her away from the door.

Sunset was not due until after eight o’clock but, by early evening, clouds had gathered and the sky was overcast. A wind got up and tousled the leafy canopy of the great trees in the park. The rooks rose cawing from the rookery and were tossed like ragged black handkerchiefs over the wood. Rain splattered against the windowpanes and fizzled on the still-hot terrace paving stones.There was a distant grumble of thunder.

Juliet, who had completed the day in a state of high excitement, plunged at once into despair, lingering on the window seat and counting out loud the ever-increasing raindrops.

“It is only a summer storm,” soothed her mother. “Quick to come and quick to go. You will see, my darling. It will soon blow over.”

“Tonight the winds begin to rise

And roar from yonder dripping day:

The last red leaf is whirled away,

The rooks are blown about the skies.”

...quoted Henry.

“Oh, Henry, you are always so provoking.Why must you tease with your horrid poetry? You must know I am thinking of our guests tomorrow—those who come some distance—from London.”

“There was a roaring in the wind all night;

The rain came heavily and fell in floods.’”

...chanted Henry. He had not been happy with Juliet’s behavior that afternoon.

Eliza glanced at Juliet’s flushed and petulant face, and thought it wise to complete the stanza:

“But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods.”

Then she smiled at Henry. “Mr.Wordsworth enjoys his gloomy downpours, but he soon brings out the sun again.”

“How well read you young people are,” said Elizabeth. “Juliet, don’t let Henry depress you with gloomy poetry. Surely you remember some of the happy ones? I am sure dear Miss Underwood (Juliet’s governess for many years, Charlotte—a very worthy woman) must have instilled some into you. How about:

“My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky.”

But Juliet was thinking of Gerard Churchill, rain darkening his fair hair and dripping off his highly polished boots, gallantly riding through the storm in his scarlet regimentals. Her face stayed as downcast as the weather. Luckily the dinner gong sounded at that moment, supplying a welcome distraction.

Dinner was served in the small dining room.

The following night, Jonathan whispered to Eliza, dinner would be served in the grand dining room. There would be fifty guests to dinner. Jonathan had been luckier than his sister. He had renewed his acquaintance with Henry and had made a tour of the house as well as the outbuildings, and accumulated a vast store of interesting information.

The Collinses were seated toward the center of the table. Charlotte pleasantly renewed her acquaintance with Mr. Bingley. Eliza was seated between Torquil Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy’s steward, Mr. Longacre, neither of whom paid her much attention: Torquil was teasing Juliet about a mutual London acquaintance, Mr. Longacre, a taciturn and weatherbeaten man, was interested in his dinner. Eliza employed her time in watching Mr. Darcy, at the head of the table, so handsome and so serious, and Mrs. Darcy, at the foot, so vivacious. She found them both fascinating. Jonathan, seated on the opposite side of the table, next to Catriona Fitzwilliam, was challenged by that lively young lady on the subject of natural history.

“Your sister frightened us all very considerably by introducing us to a spider, Mr. Collins. She mentions worms and snails and slugs with great aplomb. And she tells us that this is a subject in which you are guiding her footsteps. Pray tell me, is it the custom in your family to frighten young ladies?”

Jonathan laughed. Eliza had already mentioned the incident of the spider. He began to discuss, in a light-hearted way, the importance of spiders in the insect world, but also, keeping a solemn face, introduced the large and furry tarantula, the bird-eating spiders of the tropics, and the deadly Black Widow. There were gasps of horror and exclamations from the young ladies. Miss Bingley tried to change the subject (“So disagreeable to the female sex. Quite unsuitable,” she said. She was aware that Lucy’s eyes were fixed on Jonathan.), but other people began to pay attention and, before long, Lord Charles Baluster took Jonathan up. Lord Charles had friends at the Royal Society, it seemed, and he led Jonathan on to talk about his studies at Cambridge, and what he knew about the voyage of the Beagle, and that very odd young man, Mr. Darwin. Science, natural history, paleontology, mycology, ornithology—all were the talk of the day for rational men. The conversation became general. Jonathan, a social being, quiet but not shy, expanded under such encouragement and began to talk, at first amusingly, then more seriously, about the work being done on the understanding of the natural world. His manner before the older men was good, modest but confident. There was a great burgeoning of interest in all things considered part of nature. Collecting was a new enthusiasm. Rocks, fossils, insects, marine animals, birds’ eggs—shore and cliff, forest and hedgerow were pillaged in the interest of science. Much as Mr. Bennet had once collected books, a gentlemanly hobby, educated men now brought home the products of earth rather than the artifacts of man.

When the men were left to their port, Elizabeth Darcy led the ladies to the Chinese drawing room on the first floor, which opened into the music room. Juliet was eager for an informal dance when the men should join the ladies, and her mother saw no reason to refuse. “Certainly, my dear,” she said. “If you can find a willing pianist.”

Miss Douglass was quick to volunteer. She was a lively, talkative lady in early middle age, equally fond of society and her young charges, and always ready to forward their happiness. When the men entered, Juliet swirled her way over to them, her white skirts flaring round her, and seized her cousin Torquil’s hand.