~Fifteen~
Two days later...
When the day of Lady Drummond’s ball finally arrived, Elizabeth found herself in a fluster.
She had hoped to spend several hours in the company of her husband and Lord Matlock, to ensure that every possible concern was addressed.
But as fate would have it, a summons from the Queen herself had come, just after breakfast, requesting the presence of Lord Matlock.
It seemed, that her majesty had also been made aware of his arrival, and would not be placed second to anyone.
Unfortunately, it was not an invitation to be delayed, and it was with less than an hour to dress that both gentlemen arrived home.
This left precious little time to prepare, and much to discuss, but beyond invading the man’s bath, Elizabeth had to settle for the carriage ride in which to voice her recommendations.
“Despite technically being in mourning, your mere presence demands that you dance. Make the request in the receiving line as Miss Talmadge’s card will fill quickly and it will not do for her to feel slighted.”
“But she is so young, I would not wish to give any false impressions.”
“Nor shall you, but as the ball is in her honor, and considering your new rank, it must be done. Besides, after having been introduced so recently, the snub would be obvious. But that being said, do not dance with anyone more than once, it will be noticed as favoritism.”
“Is that not the goal? Even Her Majesty suggested that I marry soon....” he began, trying not to recall the terrifying presentation.
Everything he had ever heard about Queen Charlotte had been true, and more.
The lady could lead an army into battle!
All he could do was smile, nod and agree with everything she had said, he did not dare otherwise.
Afterwards, Darcy had laughed at him, making it all the worse.
“She does that to everyone,” he had said in consolation, but with little effect.
And now, he must request a dance with a child, when his thoughts led elsewhere.
The mere mention of Ariana Talmadge or Lady Drummond, stirred up memories of another, one who was already taken.
But now, Elizabeth smiled knowingly and patted his hand.
“Indeed, you must marry, but not today. Do not appear over eager, for this is not some task to be completed and then forgotten, but the choice of a lifetime. And while we are on the subject, I have it on very good authority, that a certain relation of Lady Drummond’s is a widow of several years... ”
Hearing this, Matlock’s heart lifted, but it was bittersweet, for he would not wish such sorrow upon anyone, despite the opportunity it presented. Daring to expose himself, he voiced a query, “Do you suppose this particular lady will be present tonight?”
“I am sure of it,” Elizabeth replied, but said no more as the carriage stopped before a brightly lit residence where Charles and Jane Bingley waited to one side of a long queue of arrivals.
But of Caroline Bingley, there was no sign.
Had some happy event occurred to prevent the irritating woman’s presence?
Spitefully, Elizabeth hoped it was the case, but no sooner did the thought arise, than was Caroline spotted, hurrying back to her brother’s side.
Sighing, Elizabeth shook her head in dismay, for the woman was an utter spectacle, clad in a garish burnt orange gown and feathered headdress.
In truth, she resembled some sort of strange pumpkin.
Suppressing her opinions as she alighted, greetings were exchanged, but as agreed, no mention of Richard’s status was made, but Caroline’s appraisal of the man’s alteration in clothing was noted.
Elizabeth imagined the woman toting up the cost of his attire, and wondering where the funds were obtained as she laid a possessive hand upon his sleeve.
“Ah, Colonel Fitzwilliam, how long has it been? I must say, I hardly recognized you without your uniform,” she declared, never pausing in her compliments as he drew his limb from her reach, replying with a curt ‘good evening’ before looking away.
The queue, moving swiftly, was the best distraction, as Elizabeth maneuvered their places, thrusting the Bingley’s first, then herself and Darcy, with Matlock bringing up the rear.
It would allow for a bit of distance, should anyone use Richard’s title before he was announced.
And as if some divine power was on her side, Lord Matlock managed to greet his hostesses and acquire the third dance with Miss Talmadge without detection.
The ballroom, situated beneath an overlook that wrapped the circumference, was more than three-quarters full, a situation that could not be better.
Lady Drummond’s butler, announcing each arrival in a booming voice that echoed throughout the chamber, would ensure that heads turned.
Descending the stair with one hand upon Darcy’s arm, and the other lifting the hem of her skirt, Elizabeth did not wish to risk a fall, but nor would she miss the look upon Caroline’s countenance.
Having reached the bottom, the Bingleys stood to one side, awaiting their company, and allowing Elizabeth a full view of Miss Bingley as the butler declared “Richard Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock” for all to hear.
And as expected, Miss Bingley’s shock was palpable, but equally expected, the woman quickly recovered.
“Well played, Your Grace, well played. I must say, you have surprised everyone. I, naturally, knew all along...”
Elizabeth, unable to repress and eye roll, nearly sent Darcy into a fit of laughter, but unfortunately, Lord Matlock was not laughing as he scanned the chamber, searching, she knew, for a certain lady, as well as an escape from a present one.
For Caroline, believing she held the upper hand in terms of acquaintance, now awaited a request for a dance....
a dance that was not to come. Instead, Lord Matlock bowed sharply and took his leave.
“Indeed...do excuse me, I believe I see Lord Cavanaugh and would like a word before Miss Talmadge opens the ball.”
It was an effective lie, and soon, the Earl of Matlock was gone, lost amongst the throng, leaving a disappointed Miss Bingley to set her sights elsewhere.
However, it was nearly an hour, and three dances later before Elizabeth spied her husband’s cousin, on the arm of Ariana Talmadge.
Knowing he had been promised the third dance, she had chosen to watch from the sidelines.
Having been left with an uneven number, the gentlemen had rotated, with one lady being left out in turn.
Jane, even in her married state, had no difficulty finding other partners, nor did Elizaebth.
But as her husband went through the steps with Caroline, she chose respite, for it also offered observation of Lord Matlock upon the floor.
There had been no time to refresh his dancing skills, and she noticed several stumbles, each of which were gently corrected by his diminutive partner.
“Indeed, it is like a clumsy giant next to a pixie, but stranger matches have been made,” Lady Drummond whispered in her ear, having come up silently from behind, followed by Moira Blackpool, who by some miserable understanding, trailed her mistress everywhere.
Elizabeth smiled but made no comment, for she knew Matlock’s preferences, and the music had just ended, sending the couple towards them as Miss Talmadge was delivered back to the safety of her chaperones.
In their wake, Darcy and Miss Bingley also ventured, with Caroline’s eyes upon Lord Matlock in opportunity.
As yet, she had not danced with anyone who was not some sort of relation, and while distantly, so was he, the gossips would not see it the same way.
But, as all good soldiers possess, Richard Fitzwilliam’s peripheral vision was excellent, as was his hearing, and he sought to once again, avoid unpleasantness with something far more appealing.
With full knowledge that he could not engage Miss Talmadge again, he smiled genuinely, and offered his hand to Mrs. Blackpool.
“As Miss Talmadge has suffered enough, will you, Mrs. Blackpool, do me the honor of a dance?” he inquired, only to be sharply rebuked by Lady Drummond.
“Mrs. Blackpool does not dance; she is in mourning!” the old woman replied, with indignation and superiority dismissing her relation as unworthy.
But Elizabeth suspected that Lady Drummond did not want competition for her granddaughter, not from any quarter.
However, it was Miss Talmadge herself that came to Moira Blackpool’s rescue.
“Oh Grandmama! We all miss Arthur, but one does not cease living simply because someone dies...he would want Moira to enjoy life. It has been three years, what is one dance? Besides, Lord Matlock is also in mourning, yet he chooses to dance.”
“It is different for men,” she replied, but knew that any further argument was futile, and may result in embarrassment as far too many eyes and ears were upon them.
Sighing in defeat, much to Miss Bingley’s irritation, consent was granted and Lord Matlock rejoined the dancers, accompanied by the lady of his choosing.
In this, Caroline Bingley huffed with barely concealed jealousy, something upon which Elizabeth could not resist comment.
“Whatever ails you, Caroline? Did you not deem a mere colonel unworthy? Or, like so many others, has he improved in your opinion?”
The words, said in a tone of polite inquiry, had the desired effect, sending the unhappy woman in search of liquid refreshment with Jane trailing behind attempting to console the hurt feelings.
It had been rather spiteful, but as Elizabeth watched the couple move fluidly through the dance, it was obvious they were well matched in form, if not yet in mind.
Time would tell, but only if opportunity continued to arise.
And for Lord Matlock, the dance could have lasted forever as he smiled into the dark eyes of his partner, receiving one in return, but it was one of reluctance, as if happiness was a thing not to be had beyond a few brief moments.
“What is it? My apologies if I have done anything to upset you, or cause trouble with Lady Drummond.”
“There is no need, it is Ariana who will suffer her wrath, not I, but then, she is the only one who can stand up to the old girl without ramifications.”
“Oh dear. Is it as bad as all that? My condolences for your loss...”
“As you now know, it has been three years. I would have done with sorrow.... if only....”
But Lord Matlock was not to discover why, for the music had come to an end, and so, his time with Moira Blackpool.
Returning her back to Lady Drummond’s company, he suddenly realized that not once, had he missed his steps, nor stumbled like a clumsy ox.
No, she had moved with him as one. Was it because she was taller?
Able to look him in the eyes without strain?
Or was it something else? Something that had yet to be named?
Lost in the pleasant discovery, he nearly collided with Miss Bingley, who seeing her chance, now blocked his path.
In truth, he desperately needed a respite, somewhere away from the heat of the ballroom where he might collect his thoughts, but it was impossible.
Now, but two options remained, one, to dance with a woman that had thought him unworthy of a second glance without his title, or complete rudeness.
Quickly searching for an alternative, a third option, equally unappealing, offered compromise.
“Do excuse me, Miss Bingley, but I have promised the next dance to an old friend,” he insisted, for several months ago, he had said as much, giving hope to a woman that had tried unsuccessfully to trap him in to marriage.
A matter of honor, on behalf of a dead man, but now, a temporary solution.
Brushing past a now seething Caroline Bingley, Richard Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock, bowed and offered his hand, much to the delight of Lady Gloriana Westlake.
“Lady Gloriana, so good to see you again,” he lied outright. “Might I have this dance?”