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I have a gilded book edge that looks, well, patchy (I re-did it a couple of times and by now I blame the paper quality XD).
Still there’s a way to sort of salvage this by adding a pattern to the book edge so I’m going to gauffer it. I hope the irregular pattern will cover up the patchy gilding and make it look nice anyway.
I did not prepare the paper here in any way though so there are bumps in it and apparently doing this on different, seperatly bound blocks of paper is not a good idea either, but I just wanted to see if the pattern works out for me (it does)
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I’ve been working on this for a couple days. I may go back and rewrite this chapter, if I decide to continue this project.
The night had been long awaited. A ball at Lucas Lodge! Precisely, the first ball the new residents of Netherfield would attend. As much as the populace of Hertfordshire attempted to go about their business, making acquaintances and sharing gossip with old and new friends alike, there was an anticipatory buzz in the air. Eyes often drifted to the entryway, hoping for the first glimpse of the newcomers arriving. Even the dancers upon the floor seemed to find their attention drifting toward the door.
Or, perhaps, that was merely Elizabeth’s interpretation. Between her mother and Mrs. Lucas nearly constant chatter on the subject, sharing tidbits they’d learned from their respective husbands, and the rumors brought home by Lydia and Kitty, intrigue had certainly been piqued. The amount of new embellishments - lace, netting, and ribbon - on old gowns seemed more than a coincidence.
“He shouldn’t be hard to spot,” sighed Elizabeth as she stood amongst her sisters. “I heard he’s bringing quite the platoon of gentlemen and ladies.”
“Four men and six ladies, I hear,” came an excited giggle from Kitty who, moments earlier, had been sizing up potential dancing partners.
There was a quiet smack as Lydia elbowed the Kitty, her voice taking on an almost annoyed tone, “I heard it was six men and twelve ladies.”
“Either way, too many ladies,” remarked Mary, whose voice dipped low with sarcasm as she turned the page of her book. She, along with her sisters, knew the main delight in the newcomers were the prospective bachelors. Not that she cared much for such trappings. However, the more women there were, the less likely one of the new men were available.
Her words were lost as Kitty and Lydia both gave soft squeals of joy, pushing forth toward a group of friends not far away. Already, the thought of newcomers was forgotten by the two.
“However many he brings,” Jane cut in, her voice soft and filled with a delighted excitement, “I’m certain they will all be well-mannered and lovely.”
Elizabeth hummed in reply to Jane, her lips pressed together in a smile. She didn’t wish to put a damper on her sister’s unerring sense of optimism. It was part of Jane’s charm, so different from Elizabeth’s own demeanor.
Charlotte Lucas, a homely young woman with a pleasant smile and long-time friend of the Bennet sisters, scuttled through the crowd, an excited smile barely contained on her lips. “They’ve arrived. Three men and two women.”
“Promising,” laughed Elizabeth, sharing a look with the two sisters who remained near her.
Seconds later, the strangers entered and, with them, came a renewed slew of conversation in the room. So many suddenly animated conversations, so many people enjoying their night and paying the strangers no mind! Attentive eyes followed the party as Sir Lucas greeted and welcomed them.
A man with dark skin - reminiscent of purple calla lilies - and long pointed ears parted from the group, a brilliant smile splitting across his lips. Adorned in well-tailored clothes, that showed off his lanky, streamlined figure, and accessorized with silver jewelry, he carried himself with an air of grace and regality while maintaining a warm smile. With long white locs that fell to his hips and a tattoo of silvery swirls along the right side of his face, the man certainly stood out among the mostly human populace of Hertfordshire.
Charlotte leaned close to the Jane and Elizabeth, her voice dipping quietly, though her eyes lingered on the contingent. “The drow is Mr. Bingley.”
“And the ladies?” Jane’s soft voice barely carried over the renewed conversation around them. Her eyes had flickered to the fashionable women with him, one baring long pointed ears while the other appeared just as human as the rest of Hertfordshire.
“His sisters, I understand. One is married to the elven man behind them, a Mr. Hurst.”
Behind the drow woman, a well-dressed elven man did, indeed, stand.
Elizabeth minutely inclined her head toward the final newcomer. “And the last?”
Standing ramrod straight with his arms folded behind his back, and taller than the rest of the room, he cut quite a figure. Broad shoulders and musculature pulled his tailored clothes taut, drawing the eye along enticing arcs of his arms and legs. Ice blue eyes contrasted against his laurel green skin, face marked by one long scar along his right cheek. Filed down tusks jutted from his lower jaw, capped with silver adornments. His dark hair pulled into a low bun, his ears hidden beneath the locks.
“That is Mr. Darcy. I’m told he’s one of Bingley’s closest friends.” Charlotte managed to say no more, as her father - Sir Lucas - waved her over. Elizabeth and Jane nodded politely after her, as she skittered to greet her father’s guests.
When compared to Bingley’s sunny disposition, Darcy’s sobriety appeared detached and standoffish. He gave only the slightest incline of his head and the briefest smile in greeting to Charlotte as Sir Lucas introduced his daughter. Bingley, on the other hand, shot her a smile that could cleave a cloudy day in twain.
The two men were, in a way, a very visceral depiction of night and day, thought Elizabeth.
“Quite a pair, the two make,” she mused, a smile curling at her lips.
“Yes, a very rich pair!” The words announced the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, a stout and soft woman whose gaze could shrewdly size one up in an instant, as she elbowed through the crowd. After the last few days, Mrs. Bennet became a font of knowledge all things Bingley related. From his newly bought estate - Netherfield - to his wealth of five-thousand, you could hardly go an hour without her mentioning something pertaining to the man. This before he even introduced himself to Hertfordshire society!
She leaned close to Jane and Elizabeth, her whisper not quiet enough, “Lady Lucas has told me of Mr. Darcy. He’s of a mighty fortune, twice that of Bingley, and owns a great estate in Derbyshire. Such a handsome man, too!”
“Mamma, please,” Jane pleaded, her voice quiet yet firm in her discomfort of the subject.
Mrs. Bennet gave out a gasp, standing a bit straighter and completely ignoring Jane’s soft spoken reprimand. “They’re coming over. Smile, girls, smile!”
“Mrs. Bennet! Mr. Bingley here expressed an interest in becoming introduced to you and your daughters,” chuckled Sir Lucas, his face ruddy with the heat of the room and delight.
“Sir, how good of you!” Mrs. Bennet gave a curtsy, her daughters following suit. Mr. Bingley bowed deeply, that eternal sunshine of a smile still lighting his features, while Mr. Darcy remained behind him, expression stony.
“Here, we have my eldest, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet motioned to her blonde daughter. Among the Bennet sisters, her beauty and angelic countenance had always been talk of the town. Even now, among the swaths of people, she was a beacon. Mrs. Bennet’s hand flicked toward her oldest brunette daughter, who shared her mother’s shrewd gaze. “And my second eldest, Elizabeth.”
“Mary is seated in the corner. Such a well-read little thing.” Indeed, Mary had re-positioned herself in a far corner, eyes locked to a book, utterly disinterested in the world around her.
With a final flourish of her gloved hand, Mrs. Bennet indicated toward the dance floor, where a lively jaunt and giggles arose. “My two youngest, Kitty and Lydia, are occupied with dancing.”
Mr. Bingley’s smile never faded, his gaze flickering from Bennet sister to Bennet sister.
Not one to let the situation teeter away, Mrs. Bennet - a bit louder - inquired, “Do you like to dance, Mr. Bingley?”
“I find it one of the best joys of life, madam,” laughed Mr. Bingley, attention drawn back toward Mrs. Bennet. Somehow, his smile broadened as his lavender eyes moved toward Jane. “If not otherwise engaged, would Miss Jane do me the honor of the next two dances?”
Jane’s expression rippled with pleasant surprise, before she replied, “I am not engaged.”
“May I take that as a yes, then?” Mr. Bingley raised an eyebrow, his lips curling with an almost teasing smile.
“You may,” Jane said with a slight nod, her own lips twitching at the corners.
“And you, sir? Are you fond of dancing, too?” Mrs. Bennet turned her gaze to Darcy, her eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming.
Darcy shot a look at Bingley, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed tight.
Bingley started at the expression, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he motioned toward Darcy. “Oh! Forgive me. Mrs. Bennet, may I present my friend, Mr. Darcy, to you and your lovely daughters?”
“You are very welcome to Hertfordshire, sir! Do you come with the same eagerness to dance as your friend?”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Darcy inclined his head to Mrs. Bennet, his voice deep but tone detached. “I fear I rarely dance.”
“Well, I do hope that changes tonight!” Like a bird, Mrs. Bennet seemed to puff out her chest with pride, looking over the merrymaking. Elizabeth’s gaze followed her mother’s, a warm smile breaching her lips as she found all her neighbors clustered and smiling or dancing to the happy, trilling music. “I daresay you will not find music as lively nor partners as lovely.”
A beat of silence fell between the two and, without another word, Mr. Darcy gave a nod and moved away.
Mrs. Bennet blinked, shocked at his sudden departure from the conversation, her pleasant countenance dropping slightly.
“Pray, pardon my brief leave, ma’am,” Bingley gasped, giving a brief and polite smile before darting after his friend.
As soon as the two were far enough away, Mrs. Bennet sputtered, “What a disagreeable man!”
“Mamma, he may hear you.”
“And what if he does?” Mrs. Bennet turned to her eldest, shooting her a righteous look of annoyance. “His friend is everything charming. Who is he to believe he’s so above us, he may excuse himself from our presence without a word of warning?”
Elizabeth sighed, knowing better than to argue with her mother in this mood. She’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same prickle of irritation. Who simply walked off, in the middle of a conversation?
As she turned, to survey potential dance partners, cool blue eyes caught hers from across the distance of the room. Her heart stuttered, realizing Darcy seemed to leer right in her direction. More precisely, the distasteful gaze was upon her mother who had continued her tirade, unaware her daughters were not listening. His attention shifted slightly to Elizabeth, no doubt drawn to her movement.
Unable to do anything else, Elizabeth simply gave a slight nod and uncertain smile. He stared at her, face stony, before Miss Bingley beckoned his attention away. Whether Darcy had truly been focused upon them or not, she couldn’t determine. However, Elizabeth breathed easier as his attention shifted.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d think he could hear their conversation, in spite of the general chaos of the dance. That was silly, though, wasn’t it?
