Chapter Twenty-six
Mary arrived at Netherfield in the late afternoon of Thursday, the day of the Meryton assembly, full of news of her engagement, and eager to meet Georgiana’s prospective governess-companion, Mrs. Clarise Inwood. Brewster sent a footman up the back stairs with Mary’s valise.
Georgiana, glowing and eyes sparkling, grasped her hand and drew her toward the stairs. “I am so glad you are here. I have so much to tell you, and I cannot wait to introduce you to Mrs. Inwood.”
“I have news as well,” Mary told her, smiling broadly.
Mr. Bingley came out of a side room and approached, bowing when he reached her. “Welcome to Netherfield, Miss Mary. We are delighted to have you visiting us, and hope we can convince you to stay more than one night.”
“You are too kind,” Mary murmured as she curtsied.
“Would you care for some refreshments?” Bingley asked.
“We are meeting with Mrs. Inwood in the small upstairs sitting room. Miss Bingley has already arranged for us to have tea there,” Georgiana said in a sunny voice. “Please excuse us, Mr. Bingley, I wish to show Mary to her bedchamber first.”
“Of course. Until later, Miss Mary,” Mr. Bingley said, bowing again.
“Congratulations on your engagement, sir,” Mary said, smiling at him. His instant grin pleased her.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am the happiest of men.”
“Jane is equally delighted,” Mary informed him.
“I can scarcely wait to see her tonight,” Mr. Bingley stated, and then he walked away, grinning.
Mary nodded and followed Georgiana up the stairs. At the top of the steps, they turned and proceeded along the corridor.
“Miss Bingley has given you the loveliest of bedchambers,” Georgiana assured her, grinning widely. “It is next to mine.”
“I am sure I will find it delightful,” Mary said. She slipped her arm through her young friend’s arm and squeezed her close. “I have brilliant news,” Mary said softly.
Georgiana turned owlish eyes to her. “Truly?”
Mary nodded. Exclaiming softly, she said, “My Oscar has proposed!”
“Oh, Mary!” Georgiana squealed. “I thought you glowed with happiness. I attributed it to anticipation of our visit, but now I see it is something infinitely better.”
“It is infinitely better than anything,” Mary said, sighing deeply. “I cannot seem to keep myself from smiling. Lydia and Kitty have teased a little, but they think Oscar is just a boring doctor. They are more interested in officers—though it seems their favorites are nowhere in town.”
“Never mind about your younger sisters,” Georgiana urged, vibrating with curiosity. “When did this happen?”
Mary laughed softly. “Yesterday, on the walk home from Meryton with Lydia and Kitty. Oscar caught me up, and we walked together.”
Georgiana gasped. “He proposed with your sisters right there?”
She pushed open a bedchamber door, and they entered, paying not the least attention to the sunny yellow and pale green décor.
“Did you think my younger sisters still walked with me?” Mary asked, shaking her head. “No, they had hurried ahead of me—much further ahead.”
Georgiana led her over to a small table and two chairs set at an angle, next to the tall window overlooking the park.
“Come, sit,” she urged Mary. “Tell me everything.”
Mary untied her bonnet, removed her hat pins, and placed the bonnet on the table.
“Mrs. Inwood is expecting us, is she not?” Mary asked without expecting an answer.
She undid the fasteners on her deep-brown spencer.
“We must not keep her waiting. I will tell you everything later, but I will tell you this, now. Oscar came to speak to Papa last evening, and Papa gave his consent for Oscar to pay his addresses to me.”
Georgiana clasped her arm. “Your mama must have been thrilled.”
Shrugging, Mary turned them toward the door.
“Mama only seemed pleased to have a second daughter off her hands. She has always liked Oscar well enough, though, of that I am certain. Mrs. Gregg and Mama have a cordial relationship—which I cannot but be glad for.” She paused with her at the door and said, “Mama is more excited about Mr. Bingley’s five thousand a year than about a junior doctor’s hundreds. ”
Georgiana stroked her arm in an attempt at comfort. “Will you think me unkind if I say that your mother’s preoccupation with Jane’s betrothal allows you to quietly savor your own?”
Mary smiled. “Not at all, for you are quite right. Lizzy and Jane are happy for me, as is Papa. Oh, Georgiana, I have never been happier in my entire life…except for the moment when Oscar told me he loved me, of course.”
“Of course,” Georgiana said, and then covered a giggle with the flat of her hand.
Grinning widely, Mary said, “Come, let us go so I can meet Mrs. Inwood.”
*
Lizzy dressed with extra care in preparation for the assembly.
She had chosen to wear a pale-blue, shimmering gown, split over an embroidered underdress of white.
Jane, who had already finished dressing, poked tiny blue silk flowers into her looping hair, here and there.
Around her neck, Lizzy had chosen to wear a light-blue lapis lazuli bead necklace. From her ears hung matching drops.
“You look lovely tonight, Lizzy dear,” Jane said, smiling. “You will be the belle of the assembly.”
“Not with you there.” Lizzy stood and impulsively embraced her. “I have always loved pink on you.”
“Thank you.” Jane turned and picked up the lightweight blue cloak off the bed. “It is still too warm for the season. Perhaps we will get proper autumnal weather soon.”
“Which means rain and mist, and lovely colors on the trees,” Lizzy said with relish. She stood still for Jane to drape her cloak around her shoulders. “Have you an objection to Mary wedding Oscar before you marry Mr. Bingley?”
“I do not,” Jane said with a chuckle. “I think it is a grand idea. Why should she wait for me? Has she said she wishes a short engagement?”
“I have suggested February 14th to her,” Lizzy confessed. “Not so short an engagement. I consulted a calendar. It is on a Friday.”
“Why should she prefer it? And why do you?” Jane asked, tying Lizzy’s cloak closed. “Are you bringing a shawl?”
Lizzy pointed to where a gossamer-light white shawl lay folded over the back of a chair. “I think, because Mary wishes for a small wedding, that her event will not be compared to your larger wedding. Overshadowed by it, you know.”
“I understand you perfectly, and I agree.” Jane handed her the shawl. “What did Mary say to your suggestion?”
“She merely said that she must discuss it with Oscar and Mrs. Gregg.”
“Naturally,” Jane said. “Now, let us collect my outer things and go downstairs. Listen, there is the chiming of the hall clock. It is time we were off.”
Getting five ladies gowned and into a large carriage did not make for a punctual departure. Nevertheless, the carriage trundled along toward Meryton only fifteen minutes later than the planned hour. They did not even have to return home for something forgotten.
The carriage waited in line with other carriages along the front of the town hall.
Balls, assemblies, feasts, and other gatherings were held on the second level in a large room graced with enormous divided-light windows and a coffered ceiling.
When the ladies eventually arrived in the ante-chamber, an attendant relieved them of their cloaks.
The tuning and preparations of the musicians could barely be heard over the din of those gathered.
“Good, good,” Lizzy’s mama said brightly, and over-loudly, “we have not missed a single dance. Come girls.”
Lizzy, walking beside Jane, followed their mother into the assembly room.
The space already appeared more than half-full.
Ladies sat on artfully arranged chairs and Grecian benches, while their escorts hovered nearby.
The town musicians occupied a raised dais positioned in the middle of one long wall of the rectangular room.
Three impressive chandeliers illuminated the space.
“There is Lady Lucas,” Lizzy’s mama said as she waved across the room to where Lady Lucas, Maria, and Charlotte sat in a cluster of chairs, waiting for the music to begin. “We will go to them.”
“Yes, Mama,” her daughters said as one, following in her wake.
By the time they arrived, Mr. Lucas, Charlotte’s younger brother, arrived at the group, several friends in tow.
They made their bows to the ladies and asked for spots on their dance cards.
Lizzy wrote down Mr. Lucas’ name for a country dance—in the third set.
He was not a particularly good dancer yet, but he tried his best.
Lizzy examined her card. She had put Mr. Darcy’s name down for the first dance and the supper dance, as he had requested. I pray he does not forget. I am so looking forward to dancing with him. Dear Lord, I would be almost as happy sitting beside him against the wall somewhere, talking.
Not unexpectedly, for Lizzy was well-known, she felt someone at her shoulder and looked up, straight into the warm gaze of the man who so often occupied her thoughts. Her stomach muscles tightened.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said brightly. Lizzy opened her folded dance card to show where she had penciled in his name. “You see, I have not forgotten your request.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, showing her his card. The only name present was her own.
“You must dance with some other ladies, sir,” she admonished, keeping a teasing note in her voice. “There will not be enough gentlemen to go around, as you must know. Even if my father had come, he would not have made up the deficit.”
“I mean to dance with Lady Lucas, Miss Bingley, Miss Bennet, Mrs. Hurst—Bingley’s sister—and Miss Lucas,” he informed her in a meditative voice. “Is there some other lady whom you might suggest?”
“You could stand up with my younger sisters,” Lizzy mentioned, her eyebrows high and her mouth pressed into an amused grimace.
“I think you must hate me to point me in their direction,” Mr. Darcy mused. “My feet will be trampled.”
“Oh, you need not worry about your feet, sir. They are both excellent dancers.”