Chapter A Calm Before the Season
A CALM BEFORE THE SEASON
The brass knocker sounded with such insistence as to leave no doubt of the caller’s importance. It echoed through the polished hallway of Darcy House, crisp and commanding, as though the person on the step expected not merely admittance, but an audience.
Darcy looked up from the letter in his hand. The rustle of parchment was the only sound that disturbed the quiet of the morning drawing room.
They had been enjoying a rare spell of calm. A low fire glowed in the grate, casting a soft amber light against the marble hearth. Elizabeth sat with her embroidery in her lap, a tray of untouched tea cooling beside her. The scent of lavender and beeswax polish was faint in the air.
“A shilling says it is your aunt,” she murmured, not looking up from her work.
“I do not gamble,” he replied, though the way he closed the letter suggested she was right.
Georgiana sat by the window, her posture straight, a slim volume of Cowper open in her lap. At the sound of the bell, her shoulders tensed and her fingers tightened on the page. She had not turned it for some minutes.
Elizabeth’s needle paused, then continued its quiet rhythm.
“Do you truly think it is her?” Georgiana asked, her voice low, nearly inaudible.
Elizabeth met her eye. “It may be, but one can always hope for someone more agreeable. A florist, perhaps.”
Darcy glanced towards the hallway. “The tread is too firm for a florist.”
Georgiana rose. She clasped her hands in front of her, and her brow faintly drew together.
“I should go. Only for a little while.”
“You need not stay,” Elizabeth said. “There is no harm in taking a moment. Join us later if you wish.”
Georgiana gave a small nod and moved quickly but quietly toward the side door that led to the morning room. Her slippers made no sound on the floorboards. Just before she slipped through, she turned and gave her brother a questioning look.
Darcy returned it with a calm, wordless assent.
With a soft swish of muslin and the faintest creak of a hinge, she vanished from view.
Moments later, the butler appeared at the drawing-room door.
“The Earl and Countess of Matlock, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” he announced.
Darcy rose from his chair by the fire, laying aside the newspaper he had not truly been reading. Elizabeth lifted her eyes at once, set her embroidery carefully upon the small table, and stood beside him. She moved with composure, but her gaze met his with calm resolve.
For a moment, neither spoke. The soft tick of the ormolu clock on the mantel marked the passage of time, punctuated only by the quiet shifting of coals in the grate. There was no need for speech; the silence between them conveyed a wealth of understanding.
Elizabeth raised one eyebrow with the faintest motion, a silent enquiry.
Darcy gave a slight inclination of his head in response, his expression unaltered, save for the subtle compression at the corners of his mouth.
She recognised it at once. He did not look forward to the interview any more than she did.
Their hands brushed as she reached for her sewing basket. The contact was brief, but it stilled them both. Elizabeth glanced towards the door. Somewhere nearby, she sensed Georgiana’s presence, quiet and watchful, though not within the room. She did not call for her.
“You believe it will be difficult?” She asked softly, barely louder than a whisper.
Darcy gave a quiet breath that might have been mistaken for a sigh. “With those three? Inevitably.”
Elizabeth allowed herself a fleeting smile.
Her gaze returned to the fire. The flickering light played over the polished wood and gilded frames, lending a gentle warmth to the elegant room.
She thought again of Georgiana and how the day must weigh upon her.
She wondered whether she should go and find her before their guests arrived.
But there was no time.
The guests entered with all the dignity their titles permitted.
Lady Catherine came first. Her back was perfectly straight, her chin high, her expression severe. The towering turban atop her head nodded faintly with each determined step. She regarded Elizabeth with a narrowed gaze, her expression unreadable.
The earl followed. His tall figure bore the unmistakable stamp of command. Silver hair, precisely cut, framed a face of stern intelligence. Though his gaze was sharp, there was warmth in it, a flicker of private amusement when he glanced at Darcy.
The countess came last. Graceful and serene, she bore a white spaniel nestled contentedly in the crook of her left arm.
The little creature blinked once at the fire and then closed its eyes, quite at home in the room’s grandeur.
Lady Matlock’s steps were unhurried, her bearing dignified.
Her gown was of soft dove-grey silk, trimmed with modest lace, and a small spray of winter violets adorned her bodice.
Darcy stepped forward with formal composure.
“My lord. Lady Matlock. Lady Catherine.”
The earl offered a nod of approval. “Darcy. Mrs Darcy.” He bowed his head slightly to Elizabeth. “I trust my nephew is treating you with the respect you deserve.”
Elizabeth curtsied. “He is, my lord. Most faithfully.”
“I shall expect a full report one day,” he replied, his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile.
Lady Matlock had already extended her hand. “Mrs Darcy, how well you look. I am pleased to see you again.”
Elizabeth accepted the gloved hand and returned the sentiment. “You are very kind, Lady Matlock. Your visit honours us.”
“So much warmth,” the countess murmured, as though surprised. “Very good. It has turned so cold again.”
The countess moved to the nearest chair by the hearth and seated herself without ceremony. Her spaniel shifted in her lap and gave a contented sigh. Lady Matlock offered no apology for the intrusion; her presence required none.
Lady Catherine, still standing, allowed her eyes to sweep the drawing room. “You have done little to alter it,” she said to Darcy. “That is perhaps wise. The house was always respectable, if somewhat stark.”
“I am content with it as it is,” Darcy replied with steady politeness.
“I should hope so. Some families do far too much. One sees it at once.”
Elizabeth, still standing at her husband’s side, turned to the butler. “Williams, please bring tea and light refreshments. And more wood for the fire in the drawing room as well, if you please.”
“Very good, madam,” the butler replied with a dignified bow. He withdrew without further remark, the door closing behind him with the soft precision of a well-trained servant.
No sooner had the door closed than the earl cleared his throat and leaned slightly forward in his chair. Though his manner remained genial, there was a distinct note of purpose in his tone.
“We will not keep you long, Darcy. This visit was necessary, however, and not solely for the pleasure of seeing your drawing room again.”
He paused, his genial tone giving way to quiet purpose. “There is a matter which requires discussion. It concerns Georgiana’s coming out.”
Darcy gave the smallest nod. “Indeed, Uncle.”
“We are now in January,” the earl continued. “The Season will commence before we have blinked. Her presentation must be arranged.”
Lady Catherine interjected with a sharp nod. “It is already well past time for such things to be settled.”
The earl raised one hand with calm authority. “Catherine, allow me. I know you are most concerned for our niece’s welfare. So are we all.”
Lady Matlock, still stroking the spaniel curled in her lap, gave a soft hum of agreement but said nothing.
Elizabeth remained by Darcy’s side, her hands lightly clasped. She said nothing, though her eyes moved briefly towards the drawing-room door, aware that Georgiana might yet be within hearing.
“It is not only the presentation,” the earl continued, now addressing both Darcy and Elizabeth.
“It is the manner in which it is to be carried out, and the company in which it will place her. Your sister has been sheltered since Ramsgate, perhaps too much so. That period is behind us. We cannot protect her forever.”
“I have made inquiries,” said Darcy. “Preparations are under way.”
“But under whose supervision?” Lady Catherine demanded.
The earl did not so much as glance at her. “Lady Matlock has offered to guide Georgiana through her presentation and initial engagements. We believe she will respond best to a steady and gentle influence.”
“I am her nearest female relation,” said Lady Catherine stiffly.
“And yet,” the earl replied, not unkindly, “Georgiana is in need of comfort, not command. My wife has the advantage of both affection and subtlety. She is, I believe, the better choice in this case.”
Lady Matlock inclined her head modestly. “I would not presume to act without the agreement of the family. But if it is Miss Darcy’s wish, I shall be honoured to stand with her.”
Darcy looked toward Elizabeth, who met his gaze and gave the faintest nod.
“She has expressed a preference for you already,” he said to the countess. “I believe she will feel more at ease in your care.”
There was a silence following this, brief but weighty.
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “You would exclude me entirely, then.”
“No one has suggested such a thing,” replied the earl. “You are welcome to attend her, to call, and to offer your counsel. But the principal responsibility must fall to someone with whom the girl feels secure.”
Lady Catherine’s lips compressed into a pale line, but she did not argue further.
At that moment, the door opened once more and Williams entered bearing the tea tray.
Elizabeth moved at once to receive it, directing him where to set it down and thanking him in her calm, precise manner.
The countess’s spaniel lifted its head only long enough to sniff at the rising scent of lemon cakes before settling again.
“I shall pour,” Elizabeth offered. “Will you take lemon or milk, my lady?”
“Lemon, if you please,” said Lady Matlock, with a slight smile.
“I shall have nothing,” Lady Catherine announced.
“As you wish,” Elizabeth replied.
The earl accepted his cup with a courteous nod. “You pour as if born to the task, Mrs Darcy. I suspect you keep the household well in order.”
“I have an excellent staff, my lord,” Elizabeth replied. “And a husband who is rarely disorderly.”
There was the faintest twitch at the corner of Darcy’s mouth.
The tea poured and the fire replenished, Elizabeth resumed her seat beside her husband.
“Is there more, my lord?” she asked.
“Not quite,” said the earl. “There is also the question of the ball.”
Darcy’s expression did not change, but Elizabeth felt his arm shift slightly beside her.
“A formal affair?” she asked.
“A modest one,” said the earl. “But sufficient to establish Georgiana’s presence in society before the greater events of the Season begin.”
“A ball at Matlock House,” Lady Matlock added. “Nothing extravagant. A private invitation to a few trusted families. Just a pleasant evening to mark the beginning of her entrance.”
“She has not yet expressed enthusiasm for dancing,” said Darcy.
“Then she need not dance beyond the first,” the Countess replied. “She may sit beside me, speak with those she chooses, and retreat when she pleases.”
“Better five and twenty and content than seventeen and trembling,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“We do not wish to see Georgiana pushed where she is not ready,” said the earl. “But neither can she be allowed to fade.”
“Let her see the preparations,” said Lady Matlock. “Let her know it is hers. And then let her choose to walk into it.”
“Perhaps she could be persuaded to dance once or twice more,” said Elizabeth. “With someone she trusts. And perhaps a little practice beforehand, among family and close friends, before the night itself.”
Darcy shifted slightly in his chair, then addressed his uncle. “If the presentation is to proceed, we must also settle who will take Georgiana to court.”
Lady Catherine opened her mouth, but the earl spoke first.
“She has no mother. The honour falls to a woman of rank, certainly, but also one with her confidence.”
“I have presented all of our daughters,” said Lady Matlock, with quiet assurance. “If Georgiana will have me, I would be pleased to present her as well.”
Darcy nodded. “I believe it is her wish.”
“Then let it be so,” said the earl. “We shall speak with her this week. And if she is willing, we will begin.”
Darcy had just nodded in agreement when Lady Catherine gave a sharp sniff and looked pointedly about the room.
“And where is the girl?” she asked. “I should like to speak with her myself. She ought to be present for such a discussion. Indeed, it is high time she received a little guidance from her family.”
Elizabeth’s expression did not falter, but her gaze met her husband’s with the slightest question in her eyes.
“Miss Darcy is practising her music,” Elizabeth said evenly. “She may join us in time, but I thought it best not to interrupt her unless necessary.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “You did not summon her? But it concerns her future. Does she not understand the honour involved in being presented at court by a woman of consequence?”
The earl set down his cup with deliberate calm. “She understands her position, Catherine. But she is not a parcel to be passed from one relation to another. She will be consulted. Kindly remember she is no longer a child.”
“She is scarcely more than a child,” Lady Catherine huffed. “And children require firmness. I shall explain the matter to her plainly. Once she understands what is proper, she will agree.”
Elizabeth sat straighter. “Georgiana is not being denied guidance. She is being offered choices.”
“Too many choices, if you ask me,” said Lady Catherine. “When I was her age, I did not question my elders. She ought to be flattered that I am willing to take her in hand.”
“She will be presented by Lady Matlock,” Darcy said, his voice firm. “That is her decision, and ours.”
“Indeed,” said the earl. “There is nothing more to debate. The arrangements will proceed under my wife’s care, and Georgiana shall be consulted at each step. If she wishes to join us shortly, she shall. If not, you may call for her another time, by invitation.”
Lady Catherine’s lips thinned, but she said nothing more.