P&P The Untold Stories: Charlotte Lucas at the Netherfield Ball

Elizabeth is not the only one facing a disappointment at the Netherfield Ball

Author Note: This is part of a mini-series of scenes telling the story of Charlotte Lucas’ other romance. Here are the previous parts: Part 1, Part 2

November 26, 1811

Charlotte had dressed with unusual care for the Netherfield Ball.  Her dress was one she had worn only once before. The deep blue of the bodice brought out the color of her eyes, which were perhaps her best feature. At the last minute, she had torn out the lace along the neckline, making it more revealing than anything she had worn before.  She wanted to see admiration in Mr. Robinson’s eyes.

More than anything, though, she wanted to see him. He had promised to return in a fortnight, and he was already a week past his time. The delay had caused her more anxiety than she cared to admit. If his father refused to give his blessing to the match, would that be enough to change his mind?  She could not believe it, not after he had been so touchingly tender to her during their encounter in the woods. But thinking of that made her even more uncommonly anxious when she considered his tardy arrival.

She was counting on the Netherfield ball to reunite them. All the neighborhood would be there, and even if Mr. Robinson had found it difficult to separate himself from his host, Mr. Willoughby, neither of them would miss this occasion. She had played through the possibilities for their meeting in her head. She would not chide him; nothing would make a man flee faster than the possibility of a shrewish wife. She would greet him warmly and welcome him back, making no mention of the delay.

A quick glance around the ballroom revealed that he had not yet arrived. To distract herself, she sought out Eliza Bennet, whom she had not seen in a week. She hardly needed to say anything, since Lizzy was quite ready to pour out the tale of her own woes over the absence of her Lieutenant Wickham.  It made Charlotte grateful that she had not said anything to Lizzy about her interest in Mr. Robinson; she did not want anyone watching her reunion with him. She listened with half an ear as Lizzy, her good humor finally restored, told her of the odd cousin who was visiting the family at Longbourn. When she pointed him out, Charlotte could not see anything so odd about him, but Lizzy’s standards were always impossibly high. A woman of little beauty could not afford to be so choosy.

No one asked her for the first dance, the one she had hoped to dance with Mr. Robinson, so she retired to the side of the room where she could observe without interruption while she tried to control her own anxiety. Lizzy was dancing with her cousin, and apparently an inability to dance must be added to any deficiencies of that gentleman, for he showed no grace. Charlotte winced in sympathy when she saw him step on Lizzy’s toes for the third time.  Still, even a poor dance partner was better than none.

Charlotte had some relief when one of the officers asked her for the next set.  He was a homely fellow with spots, but he danced well enough and laughed easily, and more importantly he took her mind off Mr. Robinson’s absence for a few minutes.  Whenever they reached the end of the line, though, she could not stop herself from scanning the room. She bade her partner adieu at the end of the second dance with no regrets.  Almost immediately Lizzy appeared beside her, asking about her new beau, which gave Charlotte quite a jolt until she realized her friend was referring to the officer who had partnered her.

Mr. Darcy came over to them  and asked Elizabeth to dance—quite a surprise since he had once found Lizzy not handsome enough to tempt him, but then again Lizzy did tempt most gentlemen. After accepting him, Lizzy began to bemoan her fate anew.  Charlotte had no patience for her, though, for she had just spotted Mr. Willoughby across the room, and his friend Mr. Robinson was still nowhere to be seen. For the first time, she admitted to herself the possibility he might not come to the ball at all.  With a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach, Charlotte could muster no sympathy for Lizzy for having to dance with a handsome and rich gentleman, and so she said only, “I daresay you will find Mr. Darcy very agreeable.”

That was enough to set Lizzy off again. Shaking her head, Charlotte told her impractical friend in a whisper, “Do not allow your fancy for Wickham to make you appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence!” She doubted her words would make any difference, given Lizzy’s impulsive ways.

As her friend went off with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Willoughby approached Charlotte and requested that she honor him in the next set.  Normally she would refuse, knowing that a dance to him was but an excuse for an attempt at seduction, but tonight she was too eager for news of Mr. Robinson to avoid his friend. She had fended Willoughby off often enough in the past. It was odd, though, that he should ask her to dance, when in general he wanted nothing to do with her since the time she had exposed his behavior to her family and friends. Perhaps he had a message from Mr. Robinson to deliver.

Mr. Willoughby’s stare was as insolent as ever when they lined up for the first dance of the set.  Charlotte calmly chatted about the weather, getting very little reply from him. The music started and they began to dance their way down the set.  Charlotte said, “I do not see your friend Mr. Robinson here tonight. Is he still visiting you?”

“He left a fortnight ago after settling a certain wager with me.” Willoughby bared his teeth in the approximation of a smile.  “I had wagered him, you see, that he could not succeed at enjoying the favors of a certain oh-so-proper lady without the benefit of marriage. Under normal circumstances, I do hate to lose a wager, but in this case, it was well worth two hundred pounds just to know how the mighty are fallen.” He slowly raked his eyes down her body as if stripping her naked. Then he released her hand as they separated to walk down the outside of the dance set.

It was marvelous, Charlotte thought, how she could continue to dance and smile as if nothing had happened when there was a knife twisting in her gut.  Worse than that; there was no knife spilling her life-blood, and therefore no hope of a merciful death. She did not waste her time wondering if it was true; experience had taught her that the cruelest interpretation of a man’s behavior was most likely the correct one. It had been too good to be true, that a man would care for plain, long on the shelf Charlotte Lucas. At that moment, she hated every man in the world, even her own brothers and father.

She had no intention of giving this particular man the satisfaction of thinking her hurt. When they came back together at the head of the line, she raised her chin and said, “Is that what Mr. Robinson told you? Even I know better than to believe a man’s boast about a woman, especially when there is money at stake.”

“But I have my proof,” he said softly in her ear. “I watched you go into the woods with him, and again when you walked out over an hour later, with twigs in your hair and your skirt wrinkled.”

Charlotte resorted to an old game of pretending she was somewhere else as he continued to take advantage of the dance to whisper ever more vulgar insinuations. She focused on keeping her head up and smiling as if her world were not crumbling.  She ignored Willoughby when the dance ended, instead chatting with another dancer for a few minutes before making her way to the safety of Lizzy, whose sharp tongue would keep even Willoughby at bay. Fortunately, Lizzy’s preoccupation with Mr. Bingley’s fascination with Jane seemed to keep her from noticing anything was amiss with Charlotte, and soon they were interrupted by Lizzy’s cousin, Mr. Collins, who had the remarkable ability to carry a conversation without very little input from anyone else.

The ball seemed to last an eternity as Charlotte labored to keep her composure.  She could hardly eat a bite of supper. All the gossip around her about the presumed future happiness of Jane Bennet with Mr. Bingley only rubbed salt in her wounds.

Oh, how could she have been foolish enough to get into this predicament? Usually she was so sensible, but this time her feelings had led her further astray than she would have believed possible.  And what if there were consequences of that night in the woods?  She would have no defense, and she would disgrace her entire family. As it was, she could be the target of humiliating gossip if Willoughby chose to spread his poison. He seemed to be taking great pleasure in smirking at her whenever she looked his way.

In self-defense, she began to talk more to Mr. Collins and to distract his attention from Lizzy. His conversation might be silly, but he was presentable enough, and the world would only see a tall fellow with grave and stately manners talking intently to her. At least this way Willoughby would see that she could still engage a man’s interest without the incentive of a large sum of money. It was little enough consolation when she considered her now-blighted future, the degradation of having believed like a fool that Mr. Robinson actually cared for her, and the strong possibility that Willoughby was not yet done humiliating her. If she proved to be with child, or if Willoughby went to her father with his claims, it could be even worse. If only she could somehow escape from Meryton … but there was nowhere for her to go.

Catch up with all the Untold Stories HERE