Chapter 15 In Weal and Woe #2
To escape the heavy scrutiny, she called the Morgiana in Ireland.
Georgiana formed the top of the line with Captain Warrender, a younger brother of the fourth baronet of Lochend.
He was, most likely, attending her ball to forward a connection between Lord Matlock and his older brother, who had just become the MP for Truro.
But it was either him or the sixty-three-year-old Colonel Greville…
Darcy quaffed his flute of champagne and offered Elizabeth his hand.
She accepted with a light squeeze and joined Miss Darcy as the second pair.
Kitty was engaged by the young Mr Augustus Darcy, which left Mary to dance with Judge Darcy.
When none of the remaining guests moved, Elizabeth signalled the musicians and the dance commenced.
The first set ended with the arrival of Miss Bingley, three feet of peacock feathers waving atop her head.
The sight was as ridiculous as her disastrous ball, and Elizabeth fought to comport herself.
She lost and laughed merrily. All heads turned in her direction, and Lady Matlock looked at her as if she were the one who had just crouched to enter the ballroom to save her feathers from molestation.
Mr and Mrs Hurst followed and looked about the room.
“Where is everybody?” Miss Bingley whispered, confounded.
“I dare say you are looking at them,” Elizabeth said, reining in her humour to reply flatly.
“What a disaster!” Miss Bingley cried, having regained her usual nasal penetrating volume.
“Who are you?” Lady Catherine shouted.
Elizabeth wondered whether the lady was hard of hearing because her voice was always loud.
“Miss Caroline Bingley of London, Lady Catherine. Town is vastly superior to the country, I should say. How unfortunate that some have not had the opportunity to partake in the education a metropolitan city can provide but have been brought up amongst rural pastures.”
Miss Bingley looked at Elizabeth with much pity.
“Where do you believe I was raised, Miss Bingley?” Lady Catherine boomed.
The lady shifted uncomfortably.
“Have you ever seen a grand estate in the middle of London? This may come as a surprise to you, but the nobility and the gentry are all raised in the country. Do not feel uneasy, however. I am certain it is a difficult concept to understand for a tradesman’s daughter.”
“Finally someone speaks sense. Let us all go home and be done with this comical tragedy of a ball,” Judge Darcy suggested.
“I was having a splendid time!” Captain Warrender protested. “The company is excellent, there is no crush, and the champagne is flowing freely.”
“Please do not leave yet.” Elizabeth grimaced at the pleading note in her voice. “Cook has prepared a feast, and it would be abominable for it all to go to waste.”
“When is this fete to be served?”
Thank the Lord for Mr Hurst’s insatiable appetite!
“At twelve o’clock. We have time for one more dance before we adjourn to the dining room,” Elizabeth informed her guests. “The Persian Dance,” she called before Miss Bingley regained her wherewithal.
Darcy released her and engaged Mary for the next set. It warmed her heart to see the effort he made to avoid the harridan in their midst, even on the night she had disappointed him the most…
Whom was she trying to fool? Censored, rebuked, and abandoned as she was by the whole elite, she had no right to disparage Miss Bingley, whose success surpassed her own.
As the night progressed, she would have sacrificed a limb for the comforting presence of Jane.
She longed for a rainy day at Longbourn with nothing to do.
Not that she would ever forgo the wedded bliss of being married to Darcy; she just needed a respite from trying to please those who were unworthy of being pleased.
The meal met with everyone’s approval; even Miss Bingley complimented her fellow peacocks. Her behaviour had improved significantly after being rebuked by Lady Catherine.
After the second course, the guests bade their hosts a hasty farewell.
Elizabeth would have laughed at their eagerness had she not been the reason for their abrupt departure.
Were they concerned she would force them to remain and dance the final sets?
The only reason she had called the second set was to allow the kitchen enough time to finish preparing the food.
None of them were more desirous for the night to conclude than she!
“It was clearly a mistake to throw a ball so soon after Mrs Darcy’s introduction to society, and for that blunder you must pardon me,” Lady Matlock informed Darcy.
“I underestimated the disapprobation she has garnered and society’s disinclination to be introduced to anyone they deem of inferior birth.
In retrospect, we should have waited until, at least, the animosity had lessened. ”
“You are not to blame,” Darcy assured his aunt.
Lady Matlock patted his arm and kissed Georgiana fondly on the cheek. “You looked radiant tonight, dearest. It is a pity so few were here to see it.”
Georgiana’s face broke into a genuine smile, the first of the evening, and she retired as soon as the door closed behind her aunt. Mr Darcy hastened after his sister, begging for a private word.
Mrs Bennet yawned and ushered her daughters to bed, whilst Elizabeth remained rooted to the spot in utter abandonment.
Staring at the aperture leading out into the refreshing night air, she then bolted out of the door.
Beyond the flickering light from the torches, the verdure in the square beckoned, and Elizabeth ran out of the gate, away from the closed doors along the street, and into the central garden, not stopping until she reached the gilt statue of George I in the middle.
Grosvenor Square’s houses posed like looming shadows—threatening and uninviting.
Only here could she allow her tightly wound pretence to fall.
She wrapped her arms around herself whilst heaving for breath.
What could be done to save her reputation?
Nothing! There was nothing left to try. Nothing could be done!
“Elizabeth!”
Darcy called from a distance, but she could not make herself reply. She needed more time than a mere moment to comport herself.
“Elizabeth!”
The voice had moved closer, and seconds later her husband drew her to his chest and pulled his coat round her shivering body.
They stood thus in silence for a short spell.
“Can we leave for Pemberley?” she asked in a thin voice.
Elizabeth coveted nothing more than the quietude of the country. London had lost what little allure it had possessed.
“No.”
Her heart sank whilst her ire sparked.
“Whyever not?”
There was, after all, nothing left to do but be despised and censured.
“To run with our tails between our legs would be cowardice, and we are, neither of us, faint-hearted. This evening was not a reflection of you or me. If anything, today’s events have convinced me that someone is deliberately trying to ruin us.
I shall not be deterred from finding the culprit, and he will rue the day he crossed me. ”
“Are you certain it is a he?”
“Yes. This is someone with enormous influence, most likely of elevated rank. Do not be concerned. I intend to resolve the matter on the morrow.”
Only six more weeks until Jane returns. The thought must sustain her for the foreseeable future.