Chapter 22
Franny smiled at her husband as he handed her out of their carriage; they were to spend the afternoon at Netherfield Park.
“You, madam, are a thief” He whispered, his breath tickling the curls by her ear.
“Behave, Thomas,” Franny said. “In any case, whatever do you mean?”
“You continue to steal my breath.”
Franny pressed her heart and sighed as she took the arm her husband offered her. Looking up, she spied Lord and Lady Lambrook awaiting them. Exchanging a smile, they quickened their pace to go meet their friends and neighbours.
After heartfelt greetings had been exchanged, the men departed. They were to ride the shared fence lines and discuss estate business, Thomas had informed her; thus, his arriving in riding apparel.
Lady Lambrook took her arm and led her into the parlour. Franny, as she always did, admired the quality of the furnishings and decor. The room was the definition of understated elegance, a direct reflection of the mistress.
“The country is once again so pleasant now that the weather has changed,” Lady Lambrook began.
“Indeed, a happy time for us all after the long winter,” Franny replied “Although not so much for our laundress.”
Lady Lambrook handed Franny a cup of tea and tutted. “May I presume that Miss Elizabeth has resumed her rambles?”
“Mr Bennet fears she may soon outwalk Mr Legget,” Franny said with a smile, and they both laughed.
“Our husbands are as thick as thieves, much like they were at university,” Lady Lambrook said.
“Mr Bennet was excessively eager to ride out with your husband,” Franny said. “Speaking of university, how fares your son?”
“John is doing very well. He is first in most of his subjects, and he leads his year in mathematics.”
“You must be very proud.”
“We are.” Lady Lambrook shook her head fondly “It is singular, this affinity he has for numbers. It will serve him well once he assumes the responsibilities of the estate.”
“Will he return anytime soon?”
“He will. He is not much for flitting around the country as his peers do. He is quite attached to his family.”
“How nice,” replied Franny. “Once he completes his studies, you are depending upon him to return to the county?”
“Yes. He is not desirous of participating in the London Season just yet.” She leant in. “He has, however, expressed his intention to attend the quarterly assemblies in Meryton.”
Franny nodded, hiding a smile at the pleasure she knew that news would give Jane. “He is coming of an age where a young man will seek out a wife, is he not?”
“John tends to deflect the subject should I approach it,” replied Lady Lambrook. She paused, eyeing Franny in a considering sort of manner. “What of your daughter? Do you find the same with Jane?”
Franny inclined her head a fraction of an inch. “We hope to have her ready for the next Season.”
“Well, she certainly is blooming. She will be a treasure.”
“Thank you. Jane is particularly admired wherever she goes but I am proud of all of our girls, naturally.”
“As you should be.” Lady Lambrook paused. “Has Jane begun with a dance master?”
“Lessons with Mr Sweet commence this week.”
“Oh, he is lovely. Jane will do very well under his instruction.”
“That is good to know. What prompts your opinion?”
“He was John’s dance master as well.”
Bennet and Lord Lambrook handed off their reins to the Longbourn stable boy. Bennet guided his friend for a short walk about the manor to stretch his legs. Lambrook raised an eyebrow.
“I find a few minutes of walking after a brisk ride eases the tight feelings in my back.”
“Do you?” asked Lambrook.
“I do. Indulge me.”
Lambrook nodded. The two men walked in silence. Lambrook seemed deep in thought.
“What has put that look upon your face?” asked Bennet.
Not answering directly, Lambrook asked, “Is Legget at hand?”
“I shall send for him, if you would like.” The two men entered the manse and Bennet gestured to Hill, who nodded. Once in his study, they settled into the chairs and partook of the warmth emanating from the hearth.
“Out with it, old friend.”
Lambrook sighed. “John shall come home for a month or more.”
Bennet knew Lambrook loved his son, so his reticence had to be related to the young man’s safety. “I see why you have asked of Legget. What measures have you taken? Hertfordshire is not Cambridge.”
“No, it is not. May I speak to your man? I would like to employ the same number of footmen as I have done in previous engagements.”
“Of course. I am happy to be of service.” Bennet thought Lambrook to be too passive in his protections, but when Legget entered in response to their summons, he pushed his concerns aside.
Franny, attentive in her favourite chair, was excited for Jane. Her dance lessons were moving along swimmingly. She was so elegant, so graceful. A swan. A veritable swan.
Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte, Mary beside her. “You may begin, Miss Elizabeth,” announced Mr Sweet.
Mr Bennet stood across from Jane. At the end of the introductory notes, they began to dance. Mr Sweet guided Jane’s steps through the patterns and whispered to her any needed encouragement or correction. Jane’s pleasant expression remained unchanged. At the ending octet, Mr Sweet clapped his hands. “Lovely, lovely. Once more.”
Mary and Elizabeth changed seats. Mary played; Elizabeth turned the pages. The dancing recommenced.
“Excellent. Such a lovely expression, Miss Bennet. I commend you.”
“Thank you, Mr Sweet,” she replied just as Hill entered announcing Master John Smyth had come to call.
Jane blushed as Elizabeth leapt from the seat and exclaimed, “Master John!”
He stepped into the room. “I thought to call and pay my respects.”
“And so well-timed,” replied Mr Bennet.“I am relieved you have come to relieve me.”
Mr Smyth smiled his understanding. “I am at your service, sir.”
Mr Sweet clapped his hands and Mr Smyth took his place across from Jane.
They locked eyes. Elizabeth played.
Neither moved.
Moments passed. Why do they not begin? Franny looked from Jane to John and back. Both were smiling—John’s was wide, Jane’s was… coquettish? Jane? Mr Sweet clapped his hands. Both John and Jane looked to the floor.
Mr Smyth covered his cough with his fist. Jane blushed so that her neck resembled a beetroot.
“Oh my,” whispered Franny, hiding her amusement behind her fan.
Jane looked up at John, his light hair neatly combed and his eyes shining with a mischievous glint. When had he got so tall? How handsome he looked! She startled herself with that thought. This is John!
Jane glanced over her shoulder. Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte; Mary was next to her, ready to turn pages. Mama was hiding behind her fan. When Jane caught her eye, Mama winked at her.
Mama!
“Music, please,” said Mr Sweet.
John held out his hand. Jane hesitated, a rush of something unfamiliar stirring inside of her. She placed her hand in his and her heart began beating faster than ever. He had touched her before—helping her down from a fence and bumping shoulders while they groomed their horses—but that had been before he had gone off to Cambridge.
His hand was warm and quite pleasant. She stepped towards him and looked into his eyes; her nose was nearly into his cravat. Without thinking to do so, Jane inhaled. She drank in his cologne—familiar to Papa’s but the weakness in her knees was nothing she had ever experienced. She poked her tongue out briefly to taste her lips.
What am I doing?She stepped back before meeting him in the centre again. Their palms touched. She gasped at the heat. When had she removed her glove? Jane could taste the mint in his breath. She shivered.
He spun her under his arm, his blue eyes remaining on her, sliding left to right for an eternity.
“Lovely,” he whispered.
They stepped back. Jane’s cheeks almost ached from smiling. She lightly bit down on the tip of her tongue. She turned a circle, then faced up. John winked as he took her hand and squeezed. His finger tickled her palm. She swallowed a giggle.
“Jane?” asked Mama.
She threw her mother a smile over her shoulder and turning under John’s arm, closed her eyes and inhaled audibly. She heard John gasp and narrowed her eyes at him. He laughed aloud as Elizabeth played the final four notes.
“Delightful,” said Mama, looking at Jane with an upraised eyebrow. “Although no excellence is to be acquired without constant practise. Is that not correct?”
“No truer statement has ever been made,” replied Mr Sweet with enthusiasm. “Again, please.”
Mary and Elizabeth exchanged places.
Jane cocked an eyebrow up at John. He dipped his head.
So, this is what Heaven may be.