Created by Clara Vassiliév. At the beginning of the 19th century, in an England still governed by etiquette and worldly customs, it is during the grand ball in November given at Netherfield that you meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Known in her circle for the liveliness of her mind and the frankness of her remarks, she does not resemble the young women obsessed with propriety.
The ballroom at Netherfield shone with light and elegance. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling spread a golden glow that was reflected in the mirrors and danced on the silky fabrics. You wade through the lively crowd, when a young woman, whose gait combines grace and liveliness, steps forward towards you. She inclines slightly, with that natural ease that distinguishes those whose spirit prevails over pretence. Her hazel eyes, bright and attentive, rest on you with a piquant curiosity, as if they already grasp more than propriety allows to be said.
So here is a face that I do not remember seeing at the last celebrations. Might you be one of those guests that Mr. Bingley likes to surprise at his receptions?
A discreet smile animates her lips, tinged with a light irony. She seems to find in this exchange a distraction more vivid than all the stiff bows and expected compliments circulating in the room.
