CHAPTER 1 MISS ELIZA’S DEBUT #2
Elizabeth felt a glow of triumph. She had passed the first test, earned grudging acceptance from society’s most formidable gatekeeper. Miss Eliza was proving herself worthy of the investment Caroline had made.
“He is here,” Caroline whispered, moving her fan to shield her face.
She could only be referring to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the object of her matrimonial scheme. Elizabeth, however, had not sought his good opinion, so his presence did not concern her.
Darcy was merely a chess piece in their arrangement—the prize Caroline coveted, and hence, the man Elizabeth had promised to avoid.
She waited a beat, then raised her hand to signal a passing footman. As she accepted a crystal cup of punch and lifted it toward her lips, she used the gesture to glance casually across the ballroom.
He stood near the entrance, imposing and severe in his black evening clothes.
But where she had expected to see the familiar cold indifference, tonight his dark eyes held something that made her breath catch.
He studied her with unsettling intensity, his gaze traveling from her elaborately arranged curls to her silk slippers and back again.
Disapproval, no doubt.
Elizabeth’s grip tightened on her fan, the delicate ivory suddenly fragile in her fingers.
Caroline moved toward the entrance, as if distancing herself from Elizabeth, but Darcy bypassed her and approached their circle with determined strides.
Elizabeth smoothed her expression into one of pleasant neutrality.
Her mind raced through possible escapes, finding none.
“Mrs. Drummond-Burrell,” he greeted the patroness with a respectful bow before turning to Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet, from Hertfordshire.” He pronounced her name with careful deliberation, as though testing its weight. “I confess myself surprised to encounter you. I was not aware your family frequented London society.”
The implication stung. He would question her presence here—in his estimation, she was barely tolerable, hardly worthy of notice from gentlemen of consequence.
The delicate lace on Elizabeth’s fan trembled as she forced herself to meet his gaze with Miss Eliza’s practiced poise. “How attentive of you to remember my origins, Mr. Darcy. Though I find one’s background becomes rather irrelevant when one has stimulating new acquaintances to cultivate.”
His eyebrow arched as his gaze flickered briefly to her fluttering fan. “Indeed? And these new acquaintances—they find Hertfordshire conversation as spirited as I recall?”
Heat crept up Elizabeth’s neck as she detected the subtle challenge in his words. One ill-considered response could unravel weeks of careful pretense. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell watched them with the sharp-eyed interest of a collector examining a potentially valuable but suspect antique.
“Mr. Darcy,” Caroline interjected, gliding forward with practiced grace, “how fortunate we should all meet. Miss Eliza has been the toast of several gatherings this Season—such natural refinement, wouldn’t you agree?”
Elizabeth seized the opportunity like a drowning swimmer grasping a rope.
“You flatter me excessively, Miss Bingley. I merely observe and learn from those with true accomplishment.” She turned to Mrs. Drummond-Burrell with a deferential smile.
“Miss Bingley’s guidance has been invaluable in navigating London’s unfamiliar waters. ”
“Proper appreciation of one’s mentors reflects well on a young woman’s character.” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell nodded approvingly. “Particularly one new to our circles.”
Darcy’s penetrating gaze never left Elizabeth’s face. “May I request the honor of the next dance, Miss Bennet? Perhaps you might share more about these… navigational lessons.”
The moment crystallized around her like ice forming on a pond. To accept would betray Caroline and potentially expose her tenuous social standing. To refuse might offend both Darcy and the formidable patroness observing their exchange.
“Mr. Darcy.” She adopted her most gracious smile, the one she had practiced until her cheeks ached. “How thoughtful of you to ask. However, I fear I must defer to more accomplished dancers this evening.”
The slight narrowing of his eyes told her he recognized the evasion.
Before he could respond, she continued smoothly, “Miss Bingley was just mentioning her eagerness to demonstrate the steps she learned from that Parisian dancing master. I believe she would be delighted by your invitation.”
She turned to Caroline with a smile that appeared genuine to all but its recipient. “Is that not so, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline’s answering smile held the gleam of triumph beneath its veneer of modesty. “How thoughtful you are, Miss Eliza.”
Darcy’s expression shifted through several emotions too quickly for Elizabeth to catalog—surprise, disappointment, and something that looked remarkably like reluctant admiration. “Of course. Miss Bingley, would you do me the honor?”
“With the greatest pleasure imaginable.” Caroline practically floated as she accepted his arm, shooting Elizabeth a look of pure triumph.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s fan slowed. “Excellently managed, Miss Eliza. Young ladies should always defer to those of established standing. It speaks well of your understanding of social propriety.”
“You are too kind, ma’am.” Elizabeth watched Darcy escort Caroline toward the dance floor, noting the rigid tension in his shoulders and the way his gaze kept drifting back to where she stood.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s pale eyes held intelligent observation. “You handled his request with admirable diplomacy. Such discretion will serve you well in navigating society’s more complex expectations.”
The patroness glided away to terrify another unfortunate soul, leaving Elizabeth momentarily alone with thoughts she preferred not to examine.
She should feel triumphant. She had successfully managed her first major social test, impressed one of society’s most formidable arbiters, and preserved her crucial arrangement with Caroline.
Instead, she felt as hollow as a blown eggshell.
Lord Malvern appeared at her elbow with champagne and an expectant expression. “Miss Eliza, you appear quite pensive. Surely such a lovely creature should not trouble herself with serious thoughts at a ball?”
“You are quite right, my lord. I was merely admiring the dancers.” Elizabeth accepted the champagne, though it tasted flat on her tongue. “One can learn so much about character from observing how people move through a quadrille.”
“Indeed?” His gaze lingered on her lips rather than her eyes. “And what does my dancing reveal about my character, I wonder?”
Elizabeth sipped her champagne to avoid answering immediately. The Elizabeth of Longbourn might have said his dancing revealed the same superficial charm as his conversation. Miss Eliza, however, had mastered the art of the flattering non-answer.
“That remains to be discovered, my lord. One dance is hardly sufficient for a proper scientific conclusion.” She tilted her head slightly, allowing candlelight to catch the amber pendant at her throat. “Perhaps further observation is required.”
“Scientific, are we?” Lord Malvern’s laugh carried just the right note of appreciation without true understanding. “I had no idea I was to be a subject of study.”
“All gentlemen are subjects of study to ladies with any sense,” Elizabeth replied, surprising herself with a flash of genuine wit. “Though few prove as interesting as they believe themselves to be.”
Rather than taking offense, Malvern appeared delighted. “Sharp claws beneath those silk gloves, Miss Eliza. How refreshing.”
He took her empty glass and placed it on a passing footman’s tray. “I believe the orchestra is beginning our dance. Shall we provide the room with something worth observing?”
Elizabeth placed her hand on his offered arm, noting the appreciative looks from several other gentlemen and the envious glances from young ladies who had observed her triumphant social maneuvering.
Three weeks ago, she would have laughed at the idea of measuring her worth by such meaningless approval.
Now she collected these small nods like precious coins, each a step away from the specter of Mr. Collins and his persistent proposals.
“Lead on, my lord,” she said, summoning Miss Eliza’s most beguiling smile. “I believe the evening holds considerable promise for all to observe.”
The barely tolerable Elizabeth Bennet was truly dead. In her place stood Miss Eliza B., a sophisticated creature of London society, commanding respect and desire from those who might have once overlooked her.