Chapter Eighty-One
Matlock House
The ball was to start at nine, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were expected to be part of the receiving line. Thus, the Darcys and Mary arrived at Matlock House at a quarter till nine o’clock.
Aunt Ellen was practically incandescent with joy.
It seemed that the patronesses of Almack’s had spread the word that the new Mrs. Darcy was completely acceptable, despite her many faults – lack of dowry, lack of connections, and so on – and Miss Darcy had been pronounced not guilty of any wrong doing.
“You look absolutely lovely,” the Countess went on. “I knew this gown would be perfect for my ball!” She clasped her hands to her chest in delight.
***
Two hours later, Elizabeth was glad that her slippers were comfortable, for she had been on her feet since her arrival, just in the receiving line!
It seemed that all of society had decided to meet the new Mrs. Darcy.
She was introduced a hundred times, and forgot names the moment after she heard them, despite her best efforts.
But – oh! – there was Jane, looking like an angel in her blue silk dress! And Mr. Bingley, grinning from ear to ear! Miss Bingley had gone all out with peacock feathers in her headdress, and a gown the colour of the turquoise in a peacock’s feather!
“If Mama could see us now,” Jane whispered to her sister.
“Just what I said to Mary tonight!” Elizabeth replied.
And the Gardiners! “Oh, Aunt!” Elizabeth hugged her Aunt Gardiner and then presented both Gardiners to the Earl and Countess.
Mrs. Gardiner smiled widely, affection warm in her eyes. “Elizabeth, you look stunning; I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw you!”
The Countess’ eyebrows were raised; she had not expected the Gardiners to be so fashionably dressed. “I am so glad you could come,” she said to Mrs. Gardiner.
Mrs. Gardiner knew exactly what the Countess was thinking, of course, but she smiled, curtsied to just the right degree, and said, “You were very good to include us.”
When the dancing finally began, Mr. Darcy immediately took his wife’s hand and led her to the dance floor. By rights, the Earl of Matlock should have danced with Elizabeth for the first, as he was the host and the ball was in her honour, but Mr. Darcy had insisted on his husbandly prerogative.
Elizabeth felt as if she were in a fairy tale! She was the poor country girl who had managed to find her prince; and what a prince he was tonight!
For Mr. Darcy was utterly resplendent in his black breeches, snow-white stockings (his aunt had no patience for the newer black stockings), white shirt, and tail coat.
His black leather dress pumps were tied with gold ribbons; his cravat sported a gold embroidered border.
All in all, his attire had been carefully designed to complement his lady’s gown.
Corbin had debated with himself for hours over whether or not the gold border on the cravat was quite proper, but Mr. Darcy had overruled him on the subject.
“You are staring at me,” Mr. Darcy murmured to Elizabeth, when the dance brought them together.
“I cannot help myself; you are without a doubt the most handsome man I have ever seen,” she admitted.
He did not reply, but she saw colour rise in his cheeks. The intense look in his eyes promised her that she would get very little sleep when they returned home!
The evening passed in a blur for Elizabeth.
She later could not have recalled what the dances were and what gentlemen she had danced them with, except, of course, for her dances with her husband.
Three were rather too many for society’s taste, but he insisted on the supper dance and the final dance in addition to the first.
***
Mary had very much feared that she would dance very little.
She was not known, of course, and had very little to recommend her to gentlemen.
But she had not reckoned with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who claimed her for the first dance as well as the supper dance.
“But – two dances? Is that quite proper?” she had whispered to him.
“It is a private ball, Miss Mary,” he had assured her. “The rules are rather more relaxed.”
“Very well,” she had replied, “I trust you.”
The joy she had felt upon receiving gifts from him had been nothing compared to what she felt during their dances.
For all his musculature, his dancing was light and lithe.
Dreamily, she wondered if a good deal of sword practice had helped him dance so well.
She made a mental note to ask him about it, and completely forgot it a moment later.
“Miss Bennet,” he whispered.
“Yes, Colonel?” Mary was embarrassed that she sounded so breathless.
“How on earth did you recognise me?”
“Recognise you?”
“When – well, in that alley in Meryton. I had a hat pulled down well over my face and was certain I would not be recognised.”
Mary reddened. How was she to say that she recognised him from the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles of his thighs?
“Miss Bennet?”
“You have a rather different physical appearance from most of the gentlemen of my acquaintance,” she managed to say.
“But my hat was pulled – oh, I see,” he said, finally understanding. All those hours spent in the saddle and in swinging a heavy sword had paid off in the most unexpected way! A wide grin spread over his face. “Should I consider that a compliment?” He was teasing her now.
“If you like,” she replied, suddenly finding that she could tease him back.
After the first dance, he brought her to Mr. Bingley, who had claimed her for the second dance. Then he whispered, “I shall see you at supper, Miss Bennet,” and then he briefly squeezed her hand. Yes, squeezed her hand!
Mr. Bingley managed not to chuckle at seeing calm, unruffled Mary Bennet stare after the Colonel for all the world like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Mr. Gardiner danced with Mary after Mr. Bingley and then, wonder of wonders, the Colonel’s elder brother, the Viscount, danced with her! She had never, ever dreamed of dancing with as superior a personage as a Viscount!
But though he was everything polite and well-mannered, she thought that he could not hold a candle to the Colonel.
Other gentlemen, seeing her dance with such a superior personage as the Viscount, concluded that she must be someone of importance, and they begged for introductions.
During a lull in the dancing, Elizabeth came to ascertain her well-being. She found Mary grinning from ear to ear, for she had danced every single dance, and two of them with Colonel Fitzwilliam! Never had there been such a magical night! She could not wait to write to her mother.
***
Georgiana was in a light cream gown with white ribbon around the bodice and sleeves.
The bodice was extremely modest, and she wore no jewelry.
All in all, she looked exactly like who she was – a young lady of good character from an excellent family, who was not yet out, but was being permitted to attend a family ball.
Georgiana’s uncle, the Earl of Matlock, danced with the Countess for the first dance, but came to escort Georgiana to the dance floor for the second.
After that, she was permitted to dance with her brother, her cousins – both the Colonel and the Viscount, whose attendance had been quite a surprise to everyone – but no one else.
Even Mr. Bingley was not permitted to dance with her.
She and Elizabeth had nullified most of the ill will that had been generated by the newspaper article, but her family was taking no chances.
When not dancing, she sat in a chair by a wall, her ankles carefully crossed and her hands, encased in white gloves, resting on her lap.
Her demure costume and equally demure manner were convincing to anyone who might still look at her askance.
She sat with Elizabeth and William at dinner, and then returned to her chair.
She was visited many times by her family, checking on her well-being – Elizabeth, Mary, even Miss Bingley! She had been concerned that she would feel abandoned, sitting on her own on the sidelines, but that was not the case at all.
“May I join you, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana looked up. The speaker was a young gentleman, perfectly dressed, but completely unknown to her.
She turned away, refusing to answer. Her reputation, so recently restored, might suffer were she to speak to someone she did not know, someone whose own reputation might be in question!
Despite her refusal to respond, the gentleman sat beside her. “I am told you are a great proficient on the pianoforte, Miss Darcy, and I have longed to meet you.”
She did not respond, looking steadfastly away.
“Georgiana?”
“Oh, Uncle! This man just came and sat – but I said nothing – and –“ Her words spilled out.
“Georgiana, allow me to present the Marquess of Hartington, the eldest son of the Duke of Devonshire. Lord Hartington, this is my niece, Miss Darcy.”
Her face flaming, Georgiana rose and curtsied to the Marquess. “I am sorry to have been rude,” she whispered.
“Not at all,” he replied, graciously. “I ought not to have approached you without an introduction.”
The Earl then smiled and winked at Georgiana and left the two young people alone. It turned out that he was a devotee of the pianoforte and had heard her praised as a great proficient; they spent the next hour happily discussing their favourite composers.
“I do not suppose they will let you dance with me,” he said. “But might I be permitted to visit Darcy House so that we might play the piano?”
“I am sure my brother will allow it,” Georgiana replied, smiling happily. She was not at all sure, in truth, that it would be allowed, but she would do her best to convince him!
A footman, older than the rest, stopped before her to offer her a glass of champagne. She smiled up at him – for she had been taught since birth to be kind to servants – and said, “Oh, no, I am far too young for champagne! But I thank you for your kindness.”
An odd look crossed the footman’s face – or did she imagine it? – and he bowed very respectfully and took himself off. She thought no more of it.
***
Mr. Darcy smiled to himself upon seeing Lord Hilton dancing with Miss Bingley. Perhaps Miss Bingley would become Lady Hilton! He took it upon himself to approach Hilton and murmur, “She has twenty thousand pounds.”
“Who?”
“Miss Bingley.”
Hilton paused, a glass of champagne at his lips. He lowered it and said, “You know, I heard she was overly proud and rag-mannered, but I saw none of that while dancing with her. She was entirely complimentary of the ball and everyone present.”
“She has changed a good deal in recent months. And she has connections, of course; her sister by marriage is my own wife’s sister.”
“I see.” A thoughtful look crossed the baron’s face.
***
It was five o’clock the next morning before the ball ended and the Darcys could return home. A light breakfast had been served at the ball, but Elizabeth was too tired to do more than look at the food and admire its presentation.
In the carriage, Elizabeth leaned against her husband, her eyes closing as the carriage moved. “Did you have a good time, my Elizabeth?” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, yes, a very good time,” she murmured, drowsily.
“Georgiana?”
“It was wonderful!” Georgiana was tired, but not so much so that she could not still sound enthusiastic.
Eagle-eyed Mr. Darcy had not missed the fact that his sister had been speaking with considerable animation to an unknown young man; he had decided not to quiz her on this new acquaintance until everyone had slept, so he bided his time.
“Miss Mary?”
Mary looked up. “I apologise, Mr. Darcy; I was busy fixing all the dances in my head so that I could write to Mama!”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Then I suppose I have no need to ask if you had an enjoyable evening.”
“Oh, no! It was everything delightful!”
Her enthusiasm made Mr. Darcy smile. “I am very pleased to hear it. I trust we will all sleep well past noon; we deserve it!”