Mr. Bennet’s Impressions of the Netherfield Ball

Posted on Tuesday, 8 June 2004

He was in the jungles of India amidst the flora and the bugs that inundated that country, stalking a great man eating tiger that be still loose and on a rampage of nearby villages.

Mr. Bennet was in rapture at the tales of this exciting wild game hunter’s account of his life in that uncivilized country far across the sea, and little would pull the master of Longbourn back to the calm serene forest paths of Hertfordshire and Meryton other than another kind of excitement bedeviling his ears. And the pandemonium of females whining loudly even with his door sealed shut was enough to make even Mr. Bennet look up from his pages and scowl at the door and sigh.

He closed his book and drained the remainder of port from his glass and rose, smoothing out the wrinkles of his evening clothes. He fluffed up his ornate cravat and walked toward the door, wishing he would not be required to attend this spectacle, but knowing the obligation could not be avoided now. His wife would never leave off if he did not accompany his family to the most illustrious ball of the neighborhood.

No, I will attend and take my seat at this sure to be gaudy affair and enjoy myself.

His other favorite pastime being that of observing such displays of human folly of which the county was rift he knew he would have his fill of diversion.

After the Bennets arrived and were attended through the receiving line, Mr. Bennet took his place at a side table and commenced his study of those persons that caught his interest.

The first that drew his eye was that of the host’s sisters, for they were dressed in perhaps what was deemed elegant attire.

Mrs. Bennet will no doubt regale me with superlative adjectives about ‘lace’.

But to him the colors quite clashed with all he knew to be pleasant and serene. Indeed, it seemed the intent of the sisters was to have all fix eyes upon them, and so chose the loudest colors to do just that with one in horrid orange and the other in sickly green! Mr. Bennet inwardly winced at the thought of any of his offspring besides his Mary in such atrocious shades, and the feathers of one and the turban the other to complete the ensemble did nothing for his view of ladies fashions. Instead, he was reminded of vegetable gardens.

Pumpkins and cucumbers, now neither will have the chance to be my favorites.

Having acquired his glass of wine, the gentleman perused the assembly in search of his dear wife. He espied her chatting with their neighbor, Mrs. Long, whose aspect, Mr. Bennet noticed, seemed to fit her name. She seemed quite dour and a frown graced her rather equestrian face. It was clear to him that she was put out by whatever his spouse was relating, most likely again of the engagement of Mr. Bingley to his own daughter, Jane. He wondered at his wife’s determination at rumoring such when the man had yet to even come to him to request to court his oldest. Mr. Bennet shook his head at his wife’s surety of the match, and ventured forth a gaze upon said daughter who was looking longingly into the host’s eyes. Mr. Bennet’s view altered

Perhaps Mrs. Bennet was not so very wrong in her assumptions after all.

He sighed at the thought of his losing Jane to marriage when he had just begun to enjoy having her about now that she was grown and could aid in the running of the house. He lamented her departure as only the beginning exodus of all his offspring, which made him now try to spy his second and favorite daughter.

Without much searching, he saw her with Charlotte Lucas across the room apparently intently conversing in the animated way she did when she was not in the best of moods. While in the middle of their chat, both ladies stopped conversing in sudden realization of a gentleman very near them. Both curtseyed, Lizzy more quickly than respectful, Mr. Bennet noted and smiled as he watched her face alternate with differing emotions before she nodded and curtseyed once more and turned away.

The gentleman turned and left and Lizzy stomped her foot in a form of disgust, if Mr. Bennet knew his girl, and why should she not? For the gentleman who had obviously asked for a dance was none other than Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy, who never looked at anyone but to find some flaw, and now he was to dance with Lizzy.

Well, she will put him in his place.

Of that Mr. Bennet was certain, for she was never one to be impressed by all his wealth and haughtiness, and would not be averse to telling him so to his face. He snorted to himself and waited for that display.

In the meanwhile, the music began and that toad of a cousin now approached Lizzy and offered his hand for the first dance, wiping his brow with his kerchief with the other. Mr. Bennet could not fathom how anyone could perspire so profusely without having the need to refuel, and had not known any of his family members with the affliction, and therefore decided that Mr. Collins must have inherited the propensity from a relation by marriage instead of from the Bennet side

And once the dance commenced it was equally apparent that the man had also inherited two left feet by the same relation for not once, not twice, but no less than thrice did he either turn wrong to bump into the next dancer or misstep or stomp upon Lizzy’s dress or dance slippers. If it were not for his daughters anguished expression Mr. Bennet would have found it necessary to step outside in order the freedom to laugh aloud as such ineptitude.

He found an ally in the tall gentleman who had given his Lizzy her unease earlier, for Mr. Darcy too was watching and trying his hardest not to laugh at the bumbling Mr. Collins. But what was not to be laughed at for the man was trying and failing so miserably to dance a reel during the “Shrewbury Lasses”?

Thankfully, the dance ended soon enough and Lizzy was spared more embarrassment, as the entire assembly seemed use to such amusing behavior from the local families, and was forgiving of most of their antics.

After an appropriate time to give the participants respite, and to partake in some rather enjoyable white soup, the music began again to indicate the beginning of the next set, an even more stately one of the longways dance to the tune of the “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot”.

Mr. Bennet watched as the tall brooding gentleman neared Lizzy, and stared into her eyes, his hand open for her to accept, but his demeanor had an almost commanding air. Defiantly she placed her hand in his and he escorted her silently to the middle of the floor to line up with the other couples. Without Mr. Bennet noticing any conversation passing between them at first, he watched as Lizzy’s partner guided her in the dance, both showing their ability of grace and form. It was as if they have been dancing with one another since childhood, both with an air of confidence, each anticipating the other’s move, each locked upon the other’s eyes at every turn.

But something was amiss, Mr. Bennet noticed. This was less a dance than a skirmish in a battle of wills, for he saw that his daughter was not smiling, not enjoying herself as she did when she danced with other men. No, her displeasure showed, for this gentleman was immune to her usual intimidating stares that would wilt most of those she chose to dissuade. No, this man was not threatened by her, and with his own brooding stare he seemed to be trying to frighten her.

Mr. Bennet shook his head, knowing that ploy would not work on her either.

She is too strong willed for any man to make her fade with a stare, Mr. Darcy.

Her father smiled and raised his glass for the passing servant to refill it from the pitcher, and he sipped while the dance ended and Mr. Darcy escorted Lizzy back to her friend without even appearing to gaze upon her, but merely bowed before turning to depart, his face an inscrutable mask that gave no hint of his true countenance.

Most peculiar. Usually men would be smiling after having danced with my Lizzy.

As Mr. Bennet continued to watch, the young man dropped his mask for a few seconds and closed his eyes and made to sigh and shook his head. He looked so dejected for but the few seconds that it took to again hide those emotions behind his well worn mask of indifference.

How very odd! I have never before seen a face so sad that was not in attendance of a funeral. What could possibly be going on in that mind of his to have such a crestfallen expression? Surely Lizzy could not have caused it, but who then and why?

It was most intriguing that the proud and grand Mr. Darcy had something which caused him such regret in exchange for his treating others so abysmally.

Suddenly Mr. Bennet was distracted by a rush of one of his girls hurrying by followed in turn of one of the red-coated officer intent on her capture. Mr. Bennet began to rise in her defense when he took note that she was not unarmed. She had absconded with poor man’s sword that was part of his uniform, and no doubt it was not as dull as she would have imagined. He was grateful it was still in its scabbard.

But before he had to make amends to the young man, Lydia turned and with a laugh offered the officer his sword’s return for his promise to be her partner at the dinner dance. He laughed at her audacity, and took the sword from her, accepting it gratefully for he knew the consequence of not being in complete dress. He readily agreed to her proposal of the dance so as not to have further reprisals from her or any quarter. They then wandered off merrily into the next room.

Her father could only shake his head re-seating himself and wonder how he could have sired such a wild thing, more unruly with each passing day. None of his other daughters were as ungovernable as she.

His gaze went to his younger middle child laughing and dancing, having a merry time with the young men of the neighborhood.

Yes, Kitty is a bit more sedate than of Lydia and not so intractable at this age.

Next Mr. Bennet searched the room until his gaze came upon his middle child, sitting quietly in the corner reading, blending into the wallpaper as much as she could.

No, unruly is definitely not an apt description of you either, dear Mary.

He felt some shame at his neglect of her. Mary was as voracious a reader as Elizabeth, and Mr. Bennet only wished he could interest her in some of the works that intrigued him that they might have some flow of thought between them. But thinking Mary was only interested in sermons of late, there was nothing for him in Fordyce as he found no solace there. He lamented of Mary’s fate to be the daughter that no one knew of.

Having moved onto dinner after the last dance now, all the guests seemed to enjoying the scrumptious meal of some sort of pheasant, venison, glazed potatoes and other autumn vegetables, and a delightful dish of green peas in a kind of hollandaise sauce which was delicious. Mr. Bennet had begun his meal and replenished his glass once more, now having a rosy blush to his cheeks. He heard the host declare,

“I would like to have some music. Caroline, would you-”

And to Mr. Bennet’s surprise and dare say everyone else’s in the room, Mary jumped up and rushed to the pianoforte with her music sheets. Composing herself, she began to play with her usual lack of finesse, and lo, she began to sing with an equally mediocre voice, shrill and weak with no sense of the connection betwixt the notes and words. Her father closed his eyes and knew her anonymity was not to be had this night. Everyone who wasn’t mumbling around him was sure to spread the word of her deficiency of talent in her performance by the next day.

Well, fortunately I know this song is of short duration and it will be over with soon.

As he viewed the host and his sisters, he saw that especially the women’s faces had the feature of those who had just eaten lemons, so sour and pinched it made him smile at their forbearance if not their ability to appear gracious.

But then he ventured to look at Lizzy, who along with Jane showed some regret of others knowing of their sister’s ineptitude at the performing arts, but sighed when Mary finished and there was applause. Regrettably this only spurred Mary to think them appreciative of her and she began another tune.

When Lizzy’s eyes pleaded with his to stop this abuse, Mr. Bennet was forced into action. Rising to approach the instrument, he had not the intent to deter Mary until she completed her second attempt. Unfortunately, perhaps her being more sensitive of her error when she saw him near, she immediately stopped playing to bring even more attention upon them than he desired.

Having no other choice now, he whispered, perhaps louder than he should, “You have entertained us long enough, child. Allow the other ladies to exhibit.”

The look of mortification on her face as she silently gathered her music and slinked off to the corner once more was more than even her father could bear. He returned to his seat and drained his entire glass of wine in one breath.

Through the haze of slight intoxication, Mr. Bennet heard the sound of the piano playing once more. He watched as the older sister of the host played Mozart’s “Alla Turca Allegretto” as though her dress was afire, her fingers flying over the keys, making a spectacle of herself that all might forget the one who had come before. He smiled.

Perhaps Mary’s denigration was not as bad as all that.

With another refill, Mr. Bennet heard the piano playing softly now as Miss Geoffrey, one of Mrs. Long’s nieces entertained the assembly. Out of the corner of his eye Mr. Bennet again viewed his imbecilic cousin as he attempted to begin a conversation with the conceited Mr. Darcy.

I wonder if anyone has ever introduced the two.

Mr. Bennet could not remember of his having done so, and watched as the proud Mr. Darcy, who was seated at the time, looked aghast at the breach of decorum by the sniveling Mr. Collins, posturing in subordination as he tried to mention his knowledge of the health of his benefactress, Lady Catherine De Bourgh.

Without barely a word passing his lips, Darcy rose to his full height, looked down his nose at the abominably behaved toad with a stare of such disdain as to keep poor Mr. Collins frozen to the floor. Darcy then turned and strode from the room determined to no longer be party to anymore of this foolishness.

Mr. Bennet coughed to cover his snort at the pompousness of the man who thought himself so high and mighty, only to be put upon by a lowly parson who in truth had little better wit than a child, but still had his own sense of importance. Mr. Collins tried gracefully to return to his seat beside Mrs. Phillips.

Popping the last of the food from his plate into his mouth, the master of Longbourn leaned back in his chair and drained his glass and sighed.

Yes, a most enjoyable evening of food and entertainment, enough to amuse even the king and queen. The neighborhood would be abuzz with talk of it for some weeks.

But as he perused the room some of the faces showed a marked melancholy quality as that of having ‘not’ had a delightful time. This was especially true of the “Sisters Grimm” as Mr. Bennet had mentally named the host’s relations for he thought their dour expressions had not changed in the entirety of the evening.

Trying to gather his own family for departure he made note that even his two elder offspring were not in as good a mood as he would have believed. Lizzy most of all seemed a bit out of sorts when they entered the carriage for the ride home. She said not a word and only watched the scenery go pass the window. He wondered at what she could be staring as the night hid all from her view.

Why is she so ill at ease when all the rest are happily chatting of the wonderful time they had?

He wondered if he should ask her of what she is musing, when, sensing that she was being observed, she turned to gaze upon him and shook her head and smiled. Therein his momentary concern for her distraction was allayed for he knew she felt as he did.

This night was filled with such a plethora of tomfoolery for both of us to laugh on for many weeks to come.