Shadows Upon Netherfield by Nora Kipling

Author:Nora Kipling [Kipling, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-988728-00-1
Publisher: Heart Candies Publishing

Chapter 23

The rest of the ball passed in a blur of dances, gossiping with Charlotte, and admiring Jane as she danced set after set with Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Bennet was incomparably happy, and every time that Elizabeth went near her, she could overhear her mother talking to whoever would listen that the family expected a proposal any day. Elizabeth only hoped her mother was right, and that Mrs. Bennet did not raise up Jane’s dreams only to have them come crashing down again. Mr. Bingley had not announced his intention to court Jane, and a few dances were not enough to know the true measure of a man.

But a dance and a few words were enough for you to know the measure of Mr. Darcy? The thought came to her unbidden as she stood in the hallway, watching a flurry of dancers parade past the door. She sighed to see the floating white gowns, the flowers and feathers pinned up into the elaborate hairstyles of the ladies. The view was stunning, set against the backdrop of the gilt and cream walls of Netherfield’s grand rooms.

Lydia and Kitty went skittering past, giggling, and she turned to scold them for behaving so, but they were too quick for her and in another moment they were gone. She turned back to watch the dancing again, only to come face-to-face with a footman carrying a large tray of drinks.

She gasped, he cursed. His boot became fouled in the long fine fabric of her dress, and for a moment the world seemed to stop as his tray teetered in his hands. A cascade of drink, port by the looks of it, splashed down the front of her gown, and she felt the cold of it bite right through to her underthings.

To her credit, she would think later, she did not scream as the man fell to his knees almost immediately, prostrating himself in apology. She looked down at the ruined dress, and gulped back a lungful of air as she dripped port all over the fine polished floors.

“Oh my goodness, Miss Eliza,” the very last person she might wish to see, Caroline Bingley, appeared like a bad apparition in the doorway. Miss Bingley eyed the length of Elizabeth’s dress and tutted quietly. The footman scrambled to his feet, collecting the shattered crystal glasses as best he could.

“I…” Elizabeth struggled to find something to say, but Miss Bingley crowded in on her, cutting off her view of the people in the doorway who strained to have a look.

“Quickly, let’s upstairs. My maid will help you out of those things, and I shall have a look to see if there is something that will suit you out of my wardrobe. It won’t be to the taste of the evening, but it is better to be ill-clothed than clothed in wine, is it not?” Miss Bingley gave a tinkling little laugh, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks blushing hard.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley,” she said quietly, picking up the edges of her skirts so as to not drip further.

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