18
Matlock House was en fête this late November evening.
Every window was a brilliant yellow square of light and on either side of the front door, two flaming torches warmed the air, much to the relief of the footmen who stood on the steps, waiting to give help if needed.
Straw had been heaped on the roadway to deaden the sound of the many carriages and hansom cabs that would bring those with a coveted invitation to the Darcy winter ball.
In the coach mews at the back of the house, stables had been prepared in case any gentlemen came on horseback and Elizabeth Darcy had made sure that there was a barrel of small ale, bread and cheese for any groom or postillion that needed to wait until the end of the evening.
As the guests arrived, they were ushered into the hall where garlands of white and yellow flowers hung from the chandeliers and decorated the huge gilt edged mirrors on either wall, throwing back their reflections in a kaleidoscope of colours as maids took capes, cloaks and overshoes.
In the ballroom, musicians were already playing and footmen were circling with glasses of champagne on silver trays.
Bennetta and Anne, who were the official hostesses for the evening, welcomed their guests and felt great satisfaction as their dance cards were filled with the names of suitable young men.
Anne had kept the first three dances clear. She knew Archer would want them with her. Resplendent in gold silk, her waist pulled in to show off her full skirts and low cut bodice, she knew she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
Even Bennetta, whose dark ringlets were tonight kept under control with two brilliantly jewelled combs, could not outshine her. She watched as her sister moved around the room, tall, elegant, full of a suppressed excitement that made her eyes shine and her face glow with colour.
Celeste—whose red satin dress was so low-cut that Bennetta feared for her modesty when she danced—had arrived with Andrew and Lady Goddard. The Italian girl seemed not the slightest bit perturbed at the change in her role, and commented that she had never seen Anne so full of life.
“I take it that we will be receiving news of her engagement tonight,” she murmured. “For some reason my dear Andrew has his doubts, but then he is a man and so cannot be trusted to understand these matters.”
Bennetta nodded and watched as Anne received Lady Goddard—resplendent in purple lace and a high, feathered headdress—accompanied a few steps behind by Miss Purkiss, her companion, valiantly trying to carry two shawls, two reticules and in danger of dropping them both.
Her sister led the elderly ladies across the polished floor, already dusted with powder to stop feet from slipping, to seats next to Mrs Darcy, far away from the musicians but positioned so Lady Goddard could see and hear everything.
“Mrs Darcy! A pleasing room, not too many people, but enough for some interesting conversations. And I must compliment you on your eldest daughter.” She patted Anne’s hand, the diamonds on her fingers glittering in the candlelight. “A fine girl. You must be very proud.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We are proud of all our children, Lady Goddard. Anne and Bennetta have worked particularly hard to make this evening a success.”
The old lady turned her beady gaze on Elizabeth.
“A success? Ah yes, well that is still to be seen. I am hoping that when my grandson arrives, he will have recovered from what seems to me nothing more than a temper tantrum—his mother was afflicted with the same trouble—and bring this long-drawn out dalliance with your daughter to a speedy conclusion.”
Elizabeth nodded politely. She was uneasy about this much hinted about marriage: just hoping something would happen didn’t mean that it would. Anne was not in love with Archer Maitland and, unless she was very much mistaken, Archer was not in love with her.
Was it wrong to want the bliss of overwhelming love to be experienced by your children?
That was what she and Fitzwilliam Darcy had together and she thought it tragic that Anne was prepared to settle for anything less.
She watched her talking to Lady Goddard, laughing, enjoying being the centre of attention, and felt concerned.
It seemed to be the attention and influence she craved, rather than the man.
Anne’s behaviour was also making Bennetta uneasy.
Her elder sister was usually so elegant and refined in her behaviour—she would smile but not laugh, never raise her voice.
Tonight she was different, as if she could not contain her excitement.
For some odd reason Bennetta remembered a saying of her old nurse, Nanny Chilcot.
“You mark my words, there’ll be tears before bedtime,” had often been her dour comment when any of the Darcy children had become over-excited.
Celeste tapped her arm with her fan, attracting her attention. “And where is Jane? I do not see her anywhere.”
Bennetta pulled a face. “Upstairs, no doubt. She is well known for disliking large parties and will no doubt slip into the room, unnoticed. Which is a pity, because that gentleman over there, in the plum coloured coat, is Digby Frobisher.”
Celeste turned to stare. “Oh indeed. The man who broke poor Jane’s heart. Well, he is certainly very handsome. What a splendid moustache!”
Bennetta privately thought he gave every appearance of being vain because he never missed an opportunity of checking his appearance in any mirror he passed.
Earlier, on his arrival, she had watched with interest as he paid his compliments to her parents.
Her father, in particular, did not look pleased to see him and made only the slightest gesture of welcome.
Digby obviously had no feelings of regret or shame for his actions that summer. Bennetta sighed: she had thought she was doing Jane a favour by asking him to the ball, but was beginning to think that perhaps she was wrong.
She peered towards the door, wishing Jane would hurry up and appear. And where was Archer? Anne was beginning to frown, obviously annoyed at his absence, especially as so many people at the ball would have been speculating and gossiping about what might happen.
Jane was, in fact, still upstairs in her room, sitting in front of her mirror, wondering just how long she could put off going downstairs.
Tabitha, who had arrived back from Dorset with the Fitzwilliams had wanted to put up her hair into a very complicated style with many little braids woven into a coronet around her head, but Jane refused.
She had seen and admired Anne’s gold silk dress and similar hairstyle and in no way did she wish to draw any attention to herself, to be accused of vying for popularity.
So she had brushed her hair, then curled it into a thick bundle that sat at the nape of her neck and tied it with a silver ribbon.
Her mother had insisted that, like her sisters, she should have a new dress for the ball.
It was still hanging in the wardrobe, a deep pink with a darker pink over skirt, adorned with many ruffles and bows.
Jane hated it and much to Tabitha’s disapproval, decided to wear the cream silk that she had worn when dancing with Archer down in Dorset.
At last she knew she could delay no longer, sighed heavily, and made her way down the sweeping, curved stairway.
She could hear music and the swelling sound of many voices from the ballroom.
Just as she reached the hall, the front door was swung open and a footman ushered in a familiar figure.
Resplendent in a black coat, heavily embroidered with gold filigree, Archer Maitland cast an impressive figure.
“Jane!” He bowed. “Your servant.”
“Archer.” She curtsied, knowing she was blushing, but unable to hide her face.
“I hope I find you well?”
“Indeed, Sir.”
“Are you looking forward to this evening?”
Jane had reached the final step on the stairs and realised her eyes were level with his.
She forced herself not to drop her gaze, hoping that her love for him was not apparent.
“It is always pleasant to find oneself amongst good company. One piece of news that may interest you, my godfather has recently married Miss Susannah Courtney. I take it that you will not be surprised and I thank you with all my heart if you helped the union along in some way.”
Archer held out his hand as support as she stepped down onto the shining marble floor.
He was smiling. “That is good news indeed. I doubt that anything I said or did would have changed the final outcome, but I did point out to Colonel Fitzwilliam that the attraction seemed to be on both sides of the partnership, something he was having problems believing.”
Jane released her hand from his; she found even the touch of his fingers on hers caused her exquisite pain and she forced herself to speak.
“There is an old saying in our part of Derbyshire that everything goes in threes. Andrew and Celeste, the Colonel and Susannah—everyone is expecting a third announcement tonight.”
“I am hoping for that as well,” he replied smoothly and she fought down the cold shivers that swept over her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must pay my compliments to your parents and my grandmother.”
The door to the ballroom was opened in front of them and a wave of colour, heat and sound swept out, surrounding them, overwhelming Jane’s senses.
The air was thick with the smell of perfume, candle grease and the chalk that had been laid on the polished floor to avoid slipping had already been sent swirling up into the air by dancing feet.