Chapter 34
Lady Matlock was pleased Jane had accepted the invitation to stay at Matlock House. Her plans to promote her would now come to fruition. Her pleasure dimmed, however, when her lady’s maid described the reasons behind the change. As she absorbed the details of the encounter, Lord Matlock entered her sitting room holding a note.
“Dearest, I have been informed of the happenings at Kew.”
Lady Matlock stood and wrung her hands. “This insufferable town …. Oh!” She raised fists and shook them once, then resumed her seat. “I am thrilled Miss Bennet—Jane—has finally consented to join us but the circumstances are entirely unsavoury.”
He brandished the note in his hand. “Gardiner did warn us of the growing attention she receives in public. I daresay she shall require some additional men about her at all times.”
“Will that be effective?”
The earl took her hand in his. “We shall forestall trouble before the seeds may be planted. Perhaps Lambrook sensed trouble, for he arrived on Gardiner’s doorstep this evening. Whether he ends up her choice of husband, the young man wishes to protect her as well. He cannot remain in town at this time, of course.”
“I worry how this will affect her opinion of the Season.” She knew the young woman had dealt with far too many slights—if not cuts direct—already in her brief time in town. “She will need her sister with her.”
Lord Matlock nodded. “I doubt Miss Elizabeth will choose to remain at Gracechurch Street without her. We shall send an invitation asking her to join her sister here.”
“I believe Georgiana would benefit from the company of friends near to her age. Especially Jane, whose experience with stares and pointed fingers could have a calming influence on her.”
Her husband nodded. “Let us invite her to spend time here and get to know the Bennets. Perhaps as you grow busier with Jane’s presentation, her sister could join Georgiana at Darcy House.”
Lady Matlock held out both hands as Georgiana hurried past her father into her welcoming embrace. After delivering a kiss to either cheek, the countess settled everyone in before ringing the bell. “Clarke, please summon the Bennet sisters to join us for tea.”
Georgiana gasped. “Oh, no!” She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.
Lady Matlock gave her a look meant to be reproving.
“This was to be family only. I cannot bear to—” She covered her face with both hands.
“Do not fret, dear. We would never expose you to the malice of others,” assured her uncle, laying one hand on Georgiana’s shoulder.
There was no time to discuss it further as just then, the sisters arrived. Elizabeth wore a green gown that matched her eyes; she smiled warmly, her interest clearly caught by Georgiana. Jane looked divine in her full-brim black hat and beaded veil; her cream day gown complemented her figure very well. Although she was not the girl’s mother, Lady Matlock savoured the pride that filled her breast.
“Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, allow me to introduce Mr George Darcy,” Lady Matlock said, “and my niece, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
Georgiana appeared to be frozen in place. Lady Matlock frowned, knowing how Georgiana grew terrified, certain people thought she was a monster. If only her niece could know that she and Jane were more similar than not in that regard!
She nudged Georgiana gently and it prompted her to at least curtsey.
Jane studied Georgiana a moment and said, “Of all our feelings, shame is the most wrongly attributed.” Then she removed her hat and veil. “You see, our flaws and scars do not define us, but only underline our character and the beauty within us.”
Georgiana took a quick breath and visibly relaxed.
Much to Lady Matlock’s joy, the comfort and relief that came with their shared connexion led to a fast friendship between Jane and Georgiana. Elizabeth, too, with her natural openness and cheerful demeanour, became close to the younger lady. The three quickly fell into a routine of having tea and discussing the matters of the day together. One afternoon, Lady Matlock overheard their laughter and stilled in the corridor outside the small yellow parlour where they sat together.
“How do you remember everyone’s preferences?” Georgiana asked. “It is all so overwhelming.”
“I shall let you in on a Bennet secret.”
“Mama’s secret, mind you,” Jane added.
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, our mother’s secret. She taught us to keep a parlour book of guests’ preferences. Each page is a letter of the alphabet. We use that page for actual surnames. If we only remember a title, we have pages for visitors by rank.”
“How clever!” exclaimed Georgiana.
“We keep two copies. One is in the kitchen, the other in the housekeeper’s room. Can you surmise why we do this?”
“I can see Mrs Reynolds preparing for our guests well before they arrive, but why is a copy with Cook?”
“Excellent question, dear,” encouraged Jane.
Elizabeth provided the explanation. “While we entertain unscheduled guests, Hill takes their cards to Cook. Then, Mrs Hill sets up the tea tray by visitor preference. If a guest prefers a small dollop of honey and a large pour of milk, a tiny spoon in honey and a larger cup of milk are next to that cup, with their card underneath the setting.”
“That is a wonderful system,” exclaimed Georgiana.
“There is nothing wrong in asking a guest’s preferences. Only poor manners will end in vexation,” counselled Jane.
“Who could ever show vexation with you, Jane?” Georgiana asked, sounding doubtful.
“None! Vexation cannot coexist with perfection,” Elizabeth teased.
“Nor with your teasing,” Jane chuckled. “Always remember to add to your tea journal. Your Mrs Reynolds will support you gloriously.”
The countess moved quietly away from the doorway. It would not do to be caught eavesdropping. Georgiana’s happiness with the Bennet ladies warmed her heart, especially her immediate bond with Elizabeth. She would meet with Lady Catherine to gauge the progress of Elizabeth’s Season. Something about the brunette beauty brought her nephew Darcy to mind. Her liveliness would certainly add light to his sombre mien.
Three days later, the sun shone brightly through the window of Bond Street’s most exclusive dress maker. While Elizabeth was occupied on an excursion with Lady Catherine, Georgiana had accompanied Jane as she added to her wardrobe for her upcoming Season.
“Oh, it is all so beautiful,” Georgiana exclaimed, running her fingers over a piece of silk. They moved from table to table, discussing the fabrics and colours they liked. Jane favoured pale gold silk, while Georgiana chose a delicate pink lace.
“Oh, and look at this lavender velvet,” Georgiana said, running her fingers over the fabric. “It would make a beautiful ball gown for you.”
Madame Celeste replied. “Yes, that would be perfect. I shall see what remains of that bolt.”
Georgiana gasped and jumped. “You surprised me.”
The shopkeeper smiled and walked away; her actions—and her seemingly false friendliness—put Jane on guard. Madame Celeste’s manners left much to be desired—the woman ought to have shown proper deference to her patron and apologised.
Georgiana picked up the bolt of silk, observing, “Madame forgot to take our samples.”
“Allow me,” Jane offered. She hoped her suspicions were unfounded, but town constantly disappointed her. She walked towards the back of the shop, following the path the proprietor had trod moments earlier. She stopped two steps before the curtain in the open doorway. The flawless French Madame had spoken earlier when she greeted them had seemingly disappeared.
“I don’t care if Miss Darcy be rich. She ain’t ne’er going to catch a fancy, with her face and all,” said the shop assistant.
“Her money will get her one. The dandies marry her purse, not her person,” replied Madame Celeste.
“She must have it and more. Did you see them footmen of hers? They are everywhere!”
“Oui. And who is that with her? Miss Bennet? A poseur with her hat and voile.”
Jane stepped through the doorway. Madame Celeste looked at her with widened eyes.
“I shall notify the countess of your conversation,” Jane announced in flawless French.
Madame Celeste wore her shock openly. “Why would that be, Mademoiselle Bennet?”
“My uncle shall pay you a visit,” Jane continued in French, ignoring the question.
“Le Comte?” she asked with a gasp.
“Mr Edward Gardiner.”
“M-Monsieur Edward G-Gardiner?” Madame stammered. She looked as if she might be sick but Jane did not remain to see whether she was.
It took little at all for Mme Jardin’s Fine Fabrics to triple its business as former clientele from Bond Street flooded her shop near Gracechurch Street with new orders. The store’s major investor—and silent partner—assured her that the shop’s booming business, and of course, access to the finest fabrics and textiles—would be lasting.
The shop’s well-trained employees were a boon as well, for Mrs Gardiner spent a day impressing upon the shopgirls the need to be kind to all customers, as one never knew who had a connexion that could make their fortune. Or ruin them.