Chapter 14
Elizabeth gathered her skirts in one hand, slightly lifting her hem so that she might more easily descend the broad expanse of the staircase.
It felt distinctly odd to be wearing her best gown in the middle of the day, but Lady Catherine had requested that she wear her finest dress for the next day’s lesson.
Elizabeth had considerable amusement in imagining what her ladyship had intended by it. Surely nothing complimentary. Perhaps Lady Catherine intended to play the lady’s maid and tell her she ought to wear her stays tighter, or perhaps she simply meant to criticise Elizabeth’s taste in gowns.
If the latter, Elizabeth thought ruefully, her ladyship would not be entirely wrong.
The dress was well enough for a country gentleman’s daughter of limited means, but hardly suitable for the mistress of Pemberley.
The riding habit now being made for her would be only the first of many new gowns she would need to be at all adequate to her new role.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Lady Catherine was nowhere to be seen when she entered the drawing room. Beside herself, the sole inhabitant of the room was a maid clearing away a tea tray.
Hearing her enter, the young woman turned and bowed respectfully. “Mrs Darcy, Lady Catherine requests that you attend her in the grand salon,” she said.
With a word of thanks and a nod of acknowledgement, Elizabeth turned and made her way there.
Curious indeed. At the conclusion of their previous lesson, Lady Catherine had mentioned discussing the proper etiquette in being introduced to members of the nobility and the proper conversation to engage in when at the theatre.
Why would they possibly go to the grand salon?
When she arrived, she was still more surprised to find that their lesson would not be only among ladies, for Mr Darcy was there, sitting in a sunlit corner and reading his newspaper.
Lady Catherine was seated in a chair positioned in the centre of the dance floor like a throne, while her daughter was seated in a somewhat more modest chair at her side.
The room seemed impossibly large without the press of bodies that would have attended a ball.
A little wistfully, Elizabeth wondered how long it had been since the Darcys had held a party. She suspected it had been far too long. Certainly not since the late Mr Darcy’s death, and possibly even longer than that.
But that was enough woolgathering. She turned to Lady Catherine with a determined smile. “I see we are to meet in a new place today, Lady Catherine. Have you something particular in mind? You had mentioned discussing the etiquette for social events.”
“I thought we could start out with the obvious, of course. There will be time enough to see how you do in polite conversation, but I want to see how you fare with dancing.” She looked Elizabeth up and down, sighing heavily. “And how much work we have on our hands.”
Elizabeth’s suppressed laugh of surprise came out as a graceless snort. She attempted a recovery. “Oh, Lady Catherine, I am perfectly able to dance —”
“Perhaps for the humble, rustic assemblies of a small country neighbourhood,” Lady Catherine said dismissively.
“But in London, a lady does not bound about like a wild animal. She must glide. Until you can dance with grace and converse with style while you do it, you cannot possibly be seen at any of the dances given by my sister, the Countess of Matlock.”
Elizabeth was engaged in sorting through this assortment of insults and implications and attempting not to laugh aloud at what Lady Catherine seemed to imagine went on at a Meryton assembly when she noticed that her husband seemed to have taken his aunt’s ridicule far more seriously than she had herself.
Mr Darcy had stopped reading and leaned forward in his chair.
To judge by his thunderous expression, he was not pleased that his aunt was again belittling her.
Catching his eye, Elizabeth shook her head deftly. Acknowledging the gesture with a raised eyebrow and a nod of his own, Mr Darcy subsided. Thankfully, Lady Catherine did not seem to notice.
“I am speaking of the waltz, which has been made more popular in recent years. Do you know the waltz, Mrs Darcy?”
“I must admit that I do not.” For once, her mother had instructed her daughters with a greater eye to modesty than to catching a husband. She had not wished any of the girls to dance the waltz, even with each other, lest they be thought too fast. Little good it had done her in the end!
Lady Catherine, who could not possibly have guessed her thoughts, was only looking superior. “You will need to know these dances if you are to move in more genteel circles when we go to Town.”
Elizabeth looked to her husband in surprise. “Are we to go to Town?” she asked directly.
Mr Darcy did stand then, and joined her before the chairs of the ladies.
“We will travel to London eventually, I imagine,” Mr Darcy began.
“And I cannot wait until we get to London to teach you how to act with decorum,” Lady Catherine cut in. “What of the Season, I ask you? Surely you will wish to attend next year.”
“A possibility,” Mr Darcy hedged smoothly.
Lady Catherine sniffed. “Then we have a year to prepare your new wife for her duties in London.” She looked Elizabeth up and down.
“First, Darcy, it would be a wonder if she were ready in a decade, had I not come to offer my aid. Do you not have anything appropriate to wear, Mrs Darcy? This gown must be at least two years old.”
Elizabeth attempted to smooth down her skirts and her temper. “When one is the second of five daughters, one must make economies, Lady Catherine —”
“That is no excuse now. You now belong to one of the foremost families in England. You must have an appropriate wardrobe to match your new position, however accidental.” Lady Catherine pursed her lips.
“Do you have no care for the way your new wife represents you in the village, let alone Town?” she asked, scolding her nephew.
Elizabeth had not meant to turn Lady Catherine’s attention to Mr Darcy. “It is not my husband’s doing. I have not had the time to order anything new since coming to Pemberley.”
“Well, that must be remedied as soon as possible. You cannot have your wife walking about in these rags, Darcy.” She sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Really, it is a blessing that I came when I did, or else the whole house might have descended into anarchy,” she huffed. “Now, get into position.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Catherine?” Elizabeth asked.
“Take the stance. Your partner will place his hand on your waist and will hold the other out. Anne will show you how to do it. Copy her closely,” she instructed.
Thankfully, Mr Darcy went to sit back down in his seat near the window.
She turned her back on him so that he would not see the depth of her humiliation as she tried to do as Lady Catherine bid.
It took several minutes for her to get the correct stance down.
Miss de Bourgh gave her gentle suggestions, though these were difficult to hear over Lady Catherine berating her for being so clumsy.
“Now, show her how to move about, Anne. Heaven knows we will be here all day if she is left to her own devices,” Lady Catherine snapped.
Miss de Bourgh stood beside Elizabeth and showed her how to hold her arms in the correct position, then demonstrated how to move about the room, counting aloud, “One, two, three. One, two, three.” Elizabeth was very fond of dancing, and so she felt she picked up the general idea quickly.
Still, Lady Catherine did not let up her criticism.
Finally, Elizabeth gave an exasperated sigh. “Forgive me, Lady Catherine, but it is difficult to learn to dance by oneself. You must give me some credit.”
Lady Catherine thought for a moment, raising her chin. “I give credit where credit is earned, Mrs Darcy.” She turned and waved her nephew over. “Darcy, come over here this instant and help your wife.”
It ought to have been obvious that Mr Darcy was there to practise with her, and yet it had not occurred to Elizabeth before that moment. Heat instantly flooded her face, and she held a hand against her cheek to cover her sudden colour. “That is not necessary. I only need a little more practice —”
“Nonsense. It is only right that he should help to guide you. You will catch on much faster that way.”
Mr Darcy folded his newspaper and placed it in his chair, walking over to the centre of the dance floor. “I would be delighted to help,” he said.
Elizabeth felt as if she were an actress on a stage with Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh sitting there watching.
She was unsure why she was so nervous, but when Mr Darcy placed his hand on her waist and then took her hand, her knees went weak, as if they were made of water.
It was perhaps for the best that he had a firm hold of her hand. “Follow me,” he whispered.
Elizabeth’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears. “Now, go through the steps with her, Darcy. I want to see if she has the skill to master the waltz. Before I turn a hundred, if possible,” Lady Catherine said.
Everything else faded away as Mr Darcy led her through the dance. He was a generous partner, Elizabeth thought distantly. Mr Darcy must be little short of exasperated to be spending his time so pointlessly, and yet no trace of any such emotion could be seen.
“You are doing very well, Elizabeth,” he said softly. He tightened his arm around her waist, bringing her even closer to his chest. She could hardly breathe with his face so close to hers.
“Thank you,” she replied, barely above a whisper.