Chapter Seven #2
“Why not send her a letter expressing exactly that, without revealing the full reason?”
“Yes! I shall do so at once.” Franny took her husband’s hand in hers and raised it to her cheek. “You are so clever. I have never once regretted marrying you.”
“And I do not regret marrying Miss Frances Jane Gardiner. She… You are the love of my life, even with your silly nerves.”
“How you vex me, Mr. Bennet,” his wife teased.
“You are the only woman I choose to vex.” He looked closely at his wife, appreciating the way the warm glow from the fireplace softened her features and enhanced her beauty. “Lady Rumley,” he ventured softly. “May I stay with you this evening?”
“Oh, Thomas,” she whispered, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. “I… of course. It would be my pleasure.”
Bennet stood and held out his hand to his wife. “I believe the pleasure will be mine, my lady.”
Elizabeth paused at the threshold to her and Jane’s shared bedroom at Uncle Edward’s town house.
The room was bathed in late-afternoon light streaming through tall sash windows, and the scent of fresh rosewater wafted from a porcelain bowl on the mahogany washstand.
Before the long cheval glass stood Jane, draped in a azure-blue silk gown that caught every ray and turned it to liquid sapphire.
Her hair was pinned loosely at her nape, a few tendrils escaping to brush her pale neck, and her fine brows were drawn together in uncertainty.
“It is no use,” Elizabeth said, stepping into the room. “No matter what you do, you simply cannot cease being beautiful.”
Through the glass, Jane gave a tentative smile, the corners of her lips lifting as if to reassure herself. “Do you think one shoulder sits higher than the other?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Turn around,” Elizabeth instructed, her keen brown eyes inspecting her sister’s posture. “No, you look as you always do. Perfect in form and figure.”
“I am not perfect,” Jane retorted, though the slight lift at the corner of her lips betrayed relief.
“You are to me,” Elizabeth replied, looping an arm through her sister’s and giving a gentle squeeze. “And your shoulders look exquisite in that gown. Stop fussing, and let your maid finish arranging your hair. We must not be late for Lady Meadowbrook’s ball.”
Within twenty minutes, the sisters descended to the family parlour, where everyone awaited, the hush of anticipation thick in the air.
“You both look absolutely enchanting,” Aunt Madeline declared, then turned to Lord and Lady Rumley. “Are you certain you will not accompany us?”
“No, thank you, Madeline,” Papa said. “We are not ready to engage with London society. We prefer to grow accustomed to our new titles and responsibilities first.”
Elizabeth understood that Mamma welcomed the chance to resume lessons with Miss Tyler and let the novelty of their status settle.
“We shall miss you,” Jane said, pressing a warm kiss to their mother’s cheek. “Lizzy and I promise to tell you everything tomorrow.”
“Oh, do! I wish to hear about your new admirers, and how handsome they all are.” Mamma exclaimed with a mischievous glance at her husband. “And, of course, you must tell me all about the lace—”
“No lace, Mrs. Bennet,” Papa interjected with mock severity, eliciting a ripple of laughter. “Would that our daughters turn their ankles before entering the ball, and be compelled to withdraw without having spotted one single gown embellished with lace, and other such fripperies.”
“Fear not, dearest Papa, no mention of lace shall escape me,” Elizabeth assured him. She then faced their aunt and uncle. “We should take our leave before Father suffers apoplexy over petticoats.”
“Thank you, my Lizzy,” her father said. “Be mindful of whom you meet. A title does not make a gentleman; remember the proverb of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“I will keep a close eye on them,” Uncle Edward promised. “Come, my ladies, the coach awaits.”
Outside, the carriage stood on the cobbled road, and the horses stamped impatiently as the sisters settled into the velvet-lined interior.
The journey from Cheapside to Mayfair wound through narrow, bustling streets for over an hour, then paused another quarter of an hour among a glittering cortege of coaches disgorging guests before Lord and Lady Meadowbrook’s elegant town house, where lanterns glowed against the early evening sky.
Once they had stepped down from the carriage, Uncle Edward tilted his head towards a grand limestone town house across the square. “That is the earl’s town residence. The current tenants will vacate this summer, and your father intends for you all to move in by Michaelmas.”
“It looks… enormous,” Elizabeth admitted, unable to think of a grander adjective to describe the house’s commanding presence on the street, with its imposing columns and glittering windows.
“Aye, that it is. More than enough room for your father’s books,” Uncle Edward joked.
“Uncle! For shame,” Elizabeth protested with mock outrage, pressing a gloved hand to her heart. “One can never have enough room for books.”
“You are your father’s daughter, Lizzy,” he replied, offering his arm to his wife.