Chapter Seven #3
Jane and Elizabeth followed the Gardiners up the weathered stone steps.
They had only just crossed the threshold into the marble-floored vestibule, its ceiling adorned with intricate plasterwork, when Mr. Morgan appeared and bowed politely.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Lady Jane, Lady Elizabeth,” he greeted.
“I have just arrived myself. May I escort your nieces to the receiving line?”
“Permission granted, Morgan,” Uncle Edward said with a broad smile, glancing knowingly at his wife, whose eyes twinkled in response. “Let us make our way. I daresay our niece’s dances will be filled before the first set is called.”
“I believe you are correct.” Mr. Morgan turned to Jane, his gaze lingering on her delicate features. “Lady Jane, might I have the honour of your first set of dances?”
“I would be delighted,” she replied, her cheeks warming to a soft pink.
He then bowed to Elizabeth, his movements graceful and practiced. “And may I solicit your second set of dances, Lady Elizabeth?”
“You may,” she answered.
Mr. Morgan hesitated as he caught Jane’s eye, his expression suddenly earnest. “If I may be so bold, Lady Jane, might I also secure your supper set? I would very much like an extra hour to deepen our acquaintance.”
Jane paused for no more than a heartbeat before nodding.
Elizabeth fought back a triumphant grin.
At this rate, her sister would be practically engaged before the evening was out.
A soft laugh escaped her as she shook her head, knowing he would not be so rash, but secretly pleased to see a gentleman so clear in his intentions, his admiration evident in every attentive gesture.
Lord knew the last one had failed miserably in that area, leaving nothing but confusion and heartache in his wake.
“Your uncle has spoken of his sister’s family, and my husband and I have found his conversation, and his wife’s most agreeable,” Lady Meadowbrook said with a wry smile.
“It is no secret, Lady Elizabeth, that I am the daughter of a simple gentleman, and that my maternal uncle is in trade as well. We are thus very much alike, and I eagerly await meeting your parents. I have no doubt your mother and I shall become fast friends.”
“Thank you, Lady Meadowbrook,” Elizabeth said with great feeling. “My mother will be most appreciative of any kindness and support you offer.”
Lady Meadowbrook’s fan, trimmed with peacock feathers, fluttered open and shut.
“Come,” she murmured, “there is another I wish you to meet.” Around them, visitors drifted in clusters, laughter chiming like silver bells.
“I have known her almost as long as your Aunt Madeline. At times, Derbyshire is like a small village, where everyone recognises one another.”
“I quite understand,” Elizabeth replied, her voice soft above the rustle of silk. “In our little community, the quarterly assemblies draw families from every corner, and I frequently find myself exchanging pleasantries with Miss Grant and Miss Peters of St. Albans.”
“Precisely,” Lady Meadowbrook agreed, stepping through a throng of feathered headpieces. “Your aunt and I hail from Lambton, and our dear friend Lucinda is from Matlock. Growing up, we spent many delightful evenings at each other’s balls and house parties.”
They joined a small coterie of stately ladies, who turned to greet them.
“Beatrice, your ball is a splendid success, as always,” the tallest lady declared in a rich voice that carried effortlessly across the room.
Her lace fan fluttered briefly as she cast a polite glance at Elizabeth.
“And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this delightful company?”
Lady Meadowbrook laughed softly. “May I present Madeline’s niece?”
“Yes! I have heard about Jane and Lizzy for many years,” the lady said enthusiastically. “I am delighted to finally meet them.”
“Lucinda,” Lady Meadowbrook said, placing a gentle hand on Elizabeth’s elbow and guiding her forward, “this is Lady Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. Lady Elizabeth, allow me to introduce Lady Lucinda Fitzwilliam, Countess Matlock of Wyndhaven, Derbyshire.”
“Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth said, curtseying gracefully.
“Lady Elizabeth,” the countess replied with a nod and a warm smile, her emerald necklace catching the candlelight. “Your aunt did not overstate your charms, and I very much look forward to becoming better acquainted.”
She then presented Elizabeth to her circle, and by the time Elizabeth withdrew, she had met a duchess, two countesses — one a patroness of Almack’s — and the wife of a visiting Belgian dignitary.
Each bowed and smiled, their jewels sparkling brighter than the candelabra.
As she withdrew at last, Elizabeth could scarcely believe how her evening had progressed.
Never had she imagined she would mingle so effortlessly with such exalted company or be accepted as an equal.
Had anyone asked her four months ago where her life would lead, this evening would have seemed beyond even her most fervent dreams.