Chapter 20
The newly minted Duke of N and his Duchess were spotted for the first time at St. James’s Church with their five handsome daughters.
The eldest, Lady J, will surely garner the title of ‘la belle du ton.’ After the service, gentlemen of wealth—both the titled and untitled, the young and not so young, all unmarried—swarmed the ducal family, hankering for an introduction.
Alas for these eager gentlemen, Lord F. and his younger son, the war hero Colonel, whisked the family away before anyone had so much of a chance to say, ‘How do you do?’
We shall have to wait to see more of these beautiful and intriguing ladies, not to mention their immensely wealthy father—unless other claimants, of whom there are many, do not soon rob him of his wealth and possibly even title.
The only Bennet-Fitzstuart sister to contest the honor bestowed on the eldest would have been the youngest, but Lady Lydia was in no position to voice her discontent, as she was already confined to the ladies’ seminary.
Lydia was further aggrieved that her mamma, instead of personally bringing her to school, had sent that hated Mrs. Trimmer to accompany her.
En route to the seminary, Lydia petulantly demanded, “How did you, in such a short time, worm yourself into my mamma’s good graces enough to make her send me away?”
Mrs. Trimmer, ever kindly, answered evenly, “M’lady, you flatter me.
Her Grace wanted to avoid a tearful parting from one of her precious daughters in front of the staff of the school, and so she sent me.
You will be in good hands. The headmistress, Mrs. Treadwell, has educated many young ladies from distinguished families.
My own charges, the daughters and nieces of the Duke of Devonshire, attended this school. ”
Lydia’s displeasure was somewhat placated by the knowledge that she belonged to a most elite group of noble young ladies.
She had heard of the renowned Lady Henrietta Leveson-Gower and Lady Caroline Lamb.
In addition, the brother and cousin of these ladies, the young Duke of Devonshire, was still unmarried.
He would be an eligible husband for her.
Mrs. Trimmer could be useful in recommending her to the young duke.
“How do I compare to Harryo and Caroline?” asked Lydia, eager to show off that these unimaginably exalted ladies were now her equals, and eventually, her intimates when she married the young Duke.
“Hmm… m’Lady, you are as high-spirited as Lady Lamb, and far more so than Lady Leveson-Gower. You will enjoy your time at the school, just as they did.”
Mrs. Trimmer never gossiped, and Lydia thought her the dullest of people.
However, Lydia had read in the gossip pages that the sixth Duke of Devonshire carried a torch for his cousin, Lady Caroline.
If Mrs. Trimmer believed she was as lively as Lady Caroline, perhaps the young duke would transfer his affection to her.
After all, Caroline was only the daughter of an earl, while she was the daughter of a duke.
When they arrived at the school, she was whisked away to her quarters—a room smaller and plainer than her room at Longbourn, which did not bode well for her life at the seminary.
To her satisfaction, the other girls seemed to pay her deference. When she talked about marrying the young Duke of Devonshire, they neither objected nor tried to claim him for themselves.
Meanwhile, almost immediately after the ducal family’s first public appearance, despite it being a Sunday service, the scrambling for introductions to the Northampton daughters began.
The knocker on the front door remained stubbornly off to ward off the curious and the unconnected.
Lady Jersey, one of society’s most prominent ladies and a patroness of Almack’s, gained entry using the excuse of personally delivering the coveted vouchers.
She invited the Duke and Duchess—and their beautiful daughters—to attend the Wednesday evening ball.
Her two nephews had accompanied her, and they warmly expressed, with practiced charm, their eager anticipation of dancing with all the Northampton ladies.
The Duchess, however, did not seem impressed.
Mrs. Trimmer had informed her of the nephews’ background in trade—they were from the banking side of the Countess’s family.
Her Grace, heeding the advice of Mrs. Trimmer, did not invite her daughters to join the estimable Countess’s brief visit on account of the untitled young men’s presence.
“Her Grace condescended to allow me to visit her at her palatial home,” the Countess told the newspapers when they interviewed her for a rare glimpse of the Duchess at home.
To her own bosom friends, the ever-discreet Countess gave a subtly critical but still circumspect account of the Duchess.
“Her Grace, as befitting her station, never indulged in… drawing-room trivialities. She hardly spoke.” Lady Jersey did plan to marry her nephews into the ducal line, so it would not do to antagonize the provincial duchess, who clearly had been instructed by her companion to say nothing unless necessary.
However, their former life in Meryton soon insinuated itself into their current glamorous life.
The two Bingley sisters were among the first to leave their cards, which were promptly put aside with all the other rejected visitors.
The letter from Sir William and Lady Lucas, however, was received with pleasure.
The Lucases, including their youngest daughter, Maria, hoped to visit their former neighbors in town while traveling to Hunsford to visit their daughter Charlotte and son-in-law, the Duke’s cousin.
Would Her Grace condescend to accept their request?
Francine, Her Grace, promptly and gladly sent an invitation to the Lucases.
Her Grace felt exhausted by the great number of rules of the society in which she now resided.
Having to watch constantly what she said did not sit well with her.
It was against her nature to be silent. She did so love to talk, especially to her friends, about the sights and sounds of town, her fine clothes, and, more importantly, how all the noble ladies she once thought so high now deferred to her.
But none of that was possible. First, she had no friends in these new environs; second, it would be considered poor form to brag about either her possessions or status.
Thank heavens for her new confidante, Mrs. Trimmer.
The older woman was pious like Mary, but not sanctimonious, and Her Grace could depend on the companion to be a source of information on everything aristocratic.
One thing in her new life she liked very well was the attentiveness of her husband. She quite enjoyed the renewed intimacy between them.
To have a visit with Lady Lucas, as in the olden days, would inject the familiarity and comfort to make her life almost pleasant, especially now that improving Lydia’s decorum was out of her hands.
The visit, eagerly awaited on both sides, turned out to be a gross disappointment. Sir William and Lady Lucas were so awed by the new station of their old neighbors that they were practically tongue-tied.
There were many utterings of ‘Your Grace,’ and not a single ‘Capital!’ from the famously loquacious knight.
Lady Lucas did not dare lift her head to look at her friend, who sorely wanted to know about her former neighbors’ goings-on, and had hoped to share her exalted new life with these neighbors through the Lucases.
Somehow, after meeting them in person, and encountering their unrecognizable, obsequious attitude, she lost interest. Without their friendly but sometimes rivalrous interactions, their old neighbors were no different from strangers.
The Duchess served the Lucases tea and then sent them off. She decided that if she wanted to know anything about her old neighbors, her sister, Mrs. Philips, would have to be the only source.
Maria, however, was more successful in reconnecting with a member of the ducal family.
Kitty invited Maria to stay for a time after she visited her sister, Charlotte, in Kent.
Maria was overjoyed, of course, and would have gladly given up her trip to Kent altogether to start her visit at Northampton House right away, but she was too timid to suggest this change of plans.
After that day, Sir William inquired of every gentleman he met, “Have you had the pleasure of visiting Northampton House? It is more magnificent than St. James’s Palace, in my opinion. My old friend, the Duke of Northampton…”
◆◆◆
The whirlwind of social and court engagements began in earnest for the Northampton family after the ball hosted by the Duchess of Richmond, a consummate hostess of extravagant events.
Although Her Grace had little time to prepare, the presentation of the ball was spectacular.
Hundreds of society’s crème de la crème attended.
Royalty, peers, prominent parliamentarians, and wealthy landowners rubbed shoulders with one another.
The Prince Regent made a brief appearance but could not stay long.
He had already been quite inebriated when he arrived around midnight, and—to everyone’s relief—he was soon carried out by his entourage.
For the ladies of the Duke’s household, the lavish festivities were overwhelming rather than enjoyable.
The former Mrs. Bennet, having been thrust into the center of attention as the newest and most important aristocrat in the haute ton, yearned for her past position as the leading lady in her neighborhood and attending such provincially renowned events as Meryton’s assemblies.
Lords of all ages asked her to dance, but she declined the honor because her dancing skills had become rusty.
She remembered only the basic steps. Her husband had not willingly danced since the birth of Lydia.
Even on this occasion, he danced the first with the hostess and then disappeared immediately into the card room.
Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth had their dance cards completely filled early in the evening. They met so many heirs to dukedoms, marquisates, and landowners of grand fortunes that by the end of the evening, or rather, the dawn of the new morning, they were relieved to be able to leave.
Jane and Elizabeth both woke up not too long before noon. The sisters had never experienced such a late start, but again, they had never stayed out until five o’clock in the morning.
They walked arm-in-arm in the garden on this warm, springlike day.
“Dear Jane, there is now no contest that you are the belle of the ton! So many young men surrounded you that there were hardly any left for other ladies!”
Jane sighed, feeling the irony of her new situation.
“Not two months ago, I sat all alone at my uncle’s house on Gracechurch Street, pining for a tradesman’s son.
Now, future dukes, earls, prime ministers, and diplomats flock to me like bees to nectar.
I have not changed in essentials, but circumstances have created a new person of me, as fascinating as the eighth wonder of the world. ”
Elizabeth frowned. She asked, “Jane, do you still harbor an affection for that irresponsible, unfeeling… son of the merchant class? You have mentioned him on several occasions already.” Then Elizabeth turned remorseful.
She ought not slander the man who might still hold her dear sister’s heart. “Forgive me.”
Jane looked startled to hear that. “No, I only meant that I enjoy the company of amiable gentlemen, and that has not changed. In Hertfordshire, meeting such a gentleman was so rare that when one came along, I fancied myself in love. But now they come like a flood. How am I to pick one from so many and say the vow—with conviction—that ‘until death doth us part?’”
Jane was genuinely perplexed, but was self-conscious that she had been harping on the topic of her confusion.
Steering attention from herself, she asked with curiosity, “Lizzy, I noticed you frequently looking toward the ballroom entrance until Colonel Fitzwilliam came to talk to you. You even sat out a set with him—and you dearly love to dance! Has the Colonel made a conquest?” Jane teased, imitating her mother.
It was Elizabeth’s turn to be startled. She had not realized that she had been watching people as they entered the ballroom.
“Oh, I was just curious about who everyone was—they must be important to have been invited! As for sitting down with Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was so exhausted after dancing three sets in such a crush and without a stop that I welcomed the opportunity to sit, even more so with a war hero. The Colonel cannot yet dance because of his injuries, and so he had begged me to save him a dance two months hence. I instead saved one for him last night.”
“The Colonel is gentlemanlike. He spoke with me as well, but I had to break off the conversation to join another dance. I do not mean to pry, but I noticed you had appeared rather intensely disappointed after the Colonel said something. What was that about?”
Elizabeth was incredulous. Why had Jane watched her so closely when she should have been dazzled by the grand ball?
Elizabeth was saved from answering her sister because they were being summoned to get ready for calling hours.
Northampton House was thronged with so many young men that the parlor resembled market day in Meryton.
Neither sister could recognize any of the faces of the young men who had danced with them the previous evening.
Even the ever-amiable Jane appeared slightly ruffled and smiled only out of a tired politeness, but Elizabeth was so resentful that these men would give her no rest after such a long night that she exerted no effort to be her usual lively self.
That evening, the Northampton family decided to retreat to Kennington Castle immediately after the ball at Almack’s the following Wednesday.
The strain of living under so much public scrutiny was taking a heavy toll on all of them.
Even the Duchess acquiesced to moving to the country when the season was coming into full swing.
Without the pressure to marry off her daughters, she was exceedingly curious about her new castle home.
Besides, she detected a little of the long-forgotten feeling of inexplicable fatigue.
She and the Duke had started again to have relations, but it seemed too soon for any sign of being with child.
Her secret, cherished hope of giving the dukedom an heir buoyed her spirits.
The country air would be good for her condition.