Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“We are family in more ways than one now. I insist you call me William or Darcy. Whichever you feel most comfortable.”
“Then, I thank you, William.”
Their conversation turned to mundane topics until it was time to form the receiving line for Elizabeth’s ball.
“Are you nervous?” he asked her when the first set of guests came up the staircase.
“Yes and no. I hate being the center of attention but am so glad this is the penultimate occasion before we leave for Derbyshire. I also cannot wait to dance the first set with my handsome husband.”
The next hour was busy as friends and colleagues made their way through the receiving line, all wanting to see the woman who had captured the elusive bachelor Mr. Darcy and who had also received an invitation to have tea with the Queen during her presentation.
***
“His Royal Highness, Prince Augustus, Duke of Sussex.”
All conversation ceased as the prince entered the ballroom; his retinue of followers at a respectful distance. Lord and Lady Matlock immediately moved toward him, with Elizabeth and Darcy close behind. The ladies curtsied deeply and the men performed low courtier bows.
“Your Highness, thank you for attending our ball.”
“Her Majesty asked that we come and acknowledge our newest cousin.” Prince Augustus turned his attention toward the earl. “Lord Matlock, would you kindly perform the introduction.”
“With pleasure, Sir.” Lord Matlock held out his hand to Elizabeth and she allowed him to draw her closer to the prince. “Your Highness, it is with great pleasure that I present you to my niece, Mrs. Elizabeth de Cortez Bennet Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy, the pleasure is fully mine. May I enquire if your first set is available?”
“I do believe it is already spoken for.” The royal duke’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she hastened to add, “By a very handsome prince who has graced our ballroom.”
“I can see why Mother was so taken with you.” He smiled wide at her flattery and crooked his elbow to escort her to the head of the line forming on the dance floor. “May your feet be as light as your wit and your marriage as delightful as your intelligence.”
“Thank you, your Highness,” she demurred with a slight bow of her head. “I am determined to be happy with my choices and just as determined to enjoy my dance with you.”
Prince Augustus leaned forward as though imparting a great secret. “Be thankful it was me who came tonight as I am a wonderful dancer. My brothers –” he gave an elegant shrug – “not so much.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that had threatened to escape.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
He bowed to begin the set and she curtsied.
***
Darcy stood somewhat dazed as his wife danced with royalty. Never, in any of his imaginations, would he have expected such a thing to occur.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie,” came the low voice of his cousin, Viscount Ashton.
“Anyone with eyes in their head knows where my attentions lay.”
“Very true. I believe you are grateful for that little incident last November, where your wife quite literally fell into your arms.”
“Every day. I have no idea where Elizabeth and I would be if that had not happened.”
“You would still be stalking the edges of the ballroom, glaring at all the simpering debutants. Your wife, on the other hand, would be finalizing her travel plans to Spain.” Ashton slapped him on the back.
“She would not have remained a single woman for very long once she set a dainty foot in that country. Some Spanish lord would have swept her off her feet.”
“No, her plans for traveling to Spain would have changed. Did you not hear that the Spanish ambassador died a few days after Christmas? He was interred at Westminster Abbey and his wife, the Duchess, left almost immediately for Spain. Even if we had not married, Elizabeth could not have traveled with her.”
“Then, there is hope that the two of you might still have connected and fallen in love.”
“I suppose, although I am not sure how, or where we would have met again.”
“Darcy, all things happen for a reason. If you were meant to be together, you would have stumbled across her somewhere. Who knows? You said her cousin holds the living at Hunsford and married a close friend. For all you know, you both might have been in Kent at the same time. Or, she could have gone on a trip to northern England with family and stopped to tour Pemberley and you were home that day. Never doubt the vagaries of Fate.”
“What an imagination you have, Ashton. You should take pen to paper and write a book.”
“My scenarios may be farfetched, but they would make for a grand story. Just imagine. Two people struggling with their pride and prejudices while falling in love.”
Darcy only shook his head and continued to watch his wife dance.
He would not change a thing that occurred to bring Elizabeth into his life.
Ashton’s fanciful imaginations left too much to unplanned coincidences.
He would take the consequence of their compromise any day over the chance of never winning his wife’s tender heart.
***
It was a truth, universally acknowledged, by nearly everyone of the bon ton, that Miss Caroline Bingley was incapable of arriving at a much-feted social event on time, especially if it honored her greatest enemy.
Because of this personal peccadillo, she entered the house of Matlock halfway through the first set.
Charles immediately set out to find his angel and Caroline went to the lady’s retiring room.
By the time she had handed off her outerwear and exchanged her shoes for dancing slippers, the first set was nearing completion with a good ten minutes left before the dancers took their bows and curtsies and departed the floor.
She was somewhat dismayed that no one had seen her grand entrance, huddled as they were about the various doors and archways that fed into the ballroom.
Spotting three ladies, and Caroline used the term loosely even though she curried their favor to advance her social agenda, she made haste to where they stood, craning their necks to look over the crowds. She tapped the closest lady with her fan to draw her attention.
“Miss Goodman, such a crush. What has everyone so enthralled?”
The three misses turned to face her and Miss Goodman said, “Have you only just arrived, Miss Bingley?”
“Yes, and I am quite perturbed there was no one to greet or announce my arrival.”
“Miss Bingley,” drawled Miss Whyte. “An earl and a countess will not stand about waiting for you and your brother to arrive. They have far more important guests to greet and speak with.”
“That may be,” Caroline said, raising her chin in defiance, “but I am a friend of Mr. Darcy and as such should be treated with more respect.”
“I recall you saying you would be the next Mrs. Darcy.”
This came from Miss Grantley, whom Caroline had counted as a somewhat close confidant.
“I can say with great authority that Mr. Darcy did not seek marriage to that social mushroom. Eliza Bennet compromised him on the terrace at my own brother’s ball. It was quite disgraceful.”
She expected the three women to bombard her for more information because gossip was their social currency.
However, they all stood, mouths slightly agape, looking over her shoulder.
Caroline half turned to see who stood behind her and missed seeing the three ladies drop into respectful curtsies.
All she saw was a middle-aged man in immaculate eveningwear glaring at her.
On his arm was Eliza Bennet, her eyes sparkling as though she were laughing at some inner secret.
Because there was somewhat of an audience starting to gather, she gave Eliza the barest of nods with her head for a greeting. She did not even acknowledge the old fool who trotted about with her. Surprisingly, the man spoke to her without introduction.
“You know Mrs. Darcy?”
“Much to my detriment,” she sneered, not caring if everyone knew she despised the country miss with fine eyes and hems six inches deep in mud.
“Who is this woman?” the man demanded, and a reed-thin man stepped forward and said, “Miss Caroline Bingley, Sir.”
The man looked down at Eliza.
“You and your husband are familiar with Miss Bingley, Mrs. Darcy?”
“We are, Sir. Her brother, Mr. Charles Bingley, is one of my husband’s friends.”
“My brother and I are Mr. Darcy’s particular friends,” Caroline said, wanting all and sundry to know how important she was to Mr. Darcy. “We have stood by him through his sham of a marriage and will continue to do so after he has thrown this tart off for a better match.”
“I see.”
A look of understanding crossed the man’s face.
Caroline felt vindicated. Now she could step back and watch as everyone turned on the Bennet chit. After tonight, Eliza Bennet would never be able to hold her head up in society and Mr. Darcy would be forced to divorce her.
By this time, Mr. Darcy had stepped forward and curled his arm around Eliza’s waist, and drew her near to him. This was not to be borne. How could he lower himself to practically accost that fallen woman in front of everyone?
“Lord Matlock,” the older man said, “have your servants remove this woman from my presence.”
Yes! Finally, Eliza Bennet would be put in her place, Caroline thought with glee, then gave a start when two footmen took hold of her arms and began to steer her down the hall toward the staircase.
“On whose authority do you remove me from Lord Matlock’s house!” she demanded and struggled to break free.
“Hold one moment,” she heard the man say, and although they no longer dragged her down the hall, the footmen did not release their grip.
All three of them turned to face the man and Caroline swore everyone who was at the ball was now crowded around, whispering and pointing in her direction.
Fighting for her social life, she faced the man, her chin held high.
“They are removing you from the premises by my authority,” the man said in a voice laced with steel. “You have insulted a cousin to the King of Spain and the granddaughter of Count de Cortez.” The man looked as though he were to speak again, but Darcy spoke up.
“She is also the much-beloved wife of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire.” He cast an apologetic glance at the gentleman. “I am sorry to have interrupted, Sir.”
“No harm done, Mr. Darcy. I like a man who is impassioned to protect his wife’s reputation, regardless of the circumstance.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
As we all know, angry people are not always wise; and in witnessing her greatest enemy achieve victory and take the prize of Pemberley from her, Caroline lashed out in an attempt to wound Darcy as much as that fallen woman from Hertfordshire.
“How droll that you come to her defense so readily, Mr. Darcy. I remember when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find she was a reputed beauty. I particularly recollect your saying one night after the Bennets had been dining at Netherfield, “She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.” But after she exposed her bosoms at my brother’s ball, your esteem for her person seemed to improve. ”
An almost unearthly silence descended upon the crowd.
Only the rustle of silk gowns and nervous coughs dared cut through the ominous air.
The man gave a cryptic look at the tall thin man and he hurried to have footmen usher all the guests back into the ballroom.
Soon, only Mr. Darcy, Eliza Bennet, Lord and Lady Matlock, and the unknown gentleman stood facing Caroline and her two guard dogs.
“Lord Matlock, introduce me to that woman.”
Lord Matlock stepped forward and bowed low. “With pleasure.” He turned to face Caroline and, with a smile that was not in any sense of the word friendly, said, “Sir, this is Miss Bingley, lately of London. Miss Bingle, this gentleman is His Royal Highness, Prince Augustus, Duke of Sussex.”
Caroline fainted and awoke in a hackney carriage, her cloak, reticule, and shoes tossed on the floor beside her. The next day, she was on her way to Scarborough before the guests of the ball had even risen from their beds.