Chapter Eight
The Goulding ladies surveyed the ballroom as they waited for their guests to come down, inspecting the decorations, going over the final details of the meal to be served, and listening to the musicians warm up.
While their mother and sister-in-law inflicted their perpetual struggle for dominance on the servants, Lady Blanche made a casual circuit of the room with Lady Rosamund. The former tutted with frustration. “I must admit, Rose, that I do not think anything is going to plan.”
Rosamund looked around the ballroom in confusion. “It all looks perfectly lovely to me; I hope Cook has not made a mess of the white soup.”
“Not the ball, Rose,” Blanche said, gesturing broadly as she gave her a look of impatience. “I refer to our plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“I fear we shall not make as many matches this year as we have done in the past. Captain Wentworth seems more interested in Miss Jane Bennet than Miss Anne Elliot, the Bixlers are far more conceited than I remembered and I fear they shall not find anybody up to their standards, and I think we shall have to forcibly remove Sir Walter Elliot. He was only meant to escort his daughters here – and then leave! And now Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have brought extra guests we did not plan for – at least they have not put our numbers off, as Sir Walter did, the odious lech.”
Rosamund sighed. “I worry for poor Brandon. I did fear it would be a mistake to press him into attending; he has only done so because of his fondness for our poor late brother.”
“You might have said something before we wasted an invitation on him! I thought he would appreciate our little gift to him, the chance to fight that dastardly Willoughby! Instead, the cad is flirting with all the ladies, and none of them have the wit to see Brandon’s worth.
It is all wrong! Well, I am only five years older than him, and we are both still quite handsome… .”
Rosamund laughed. “Perhaps if you persuade Dorothea that it will balance the numbers to put yourself forward again this year – but then, she will only say you are a better age for Sir Walter!”
“I think not! He wants a young lady who can give him a son and heir, if he can stop admiring himself in every mirror he passes for long enough to accomplish it. But I saw the greedy look in Miss Bingley’s eye – she may entertain the opportunity, if we are not able to get rid of the old bore.”
“Oh, I do not like her at all! But her brother is very agreeable; perhaps he may win back Miss Bennet, and then all can be put right for Captain Wentworth and poor Miss Anne. Her sister reminds me of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, twenty years ago.”
Blanche gave a throaty laugh. “She may be worse – Heaven help us!”
Rosamund tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we act to dispel any talk of the Elliots’ financial woes, the eldest might ensnare Mr. Willoughby, which would be sufficient punishment if Brandon will not call him out.”
Blanche let out a pensive, appreciative hum.
“That notion certainly has merit. She would plague his heart out, I am sure – just as Miss Grey might have done, if she had not broken things off with him. I daresay he is a fortune hunter, if ever I saw one, for I actually heard him call Lady Julia Bixler charming, and nobody in their right mind could possibly think her that.”
“But Mamma’s notion has merit, that he may choose to pursue whichever lady Brandon sets his sights on, if only our old friend would pay some young lady his addresses. She would be a fortunate creature, indeed, for he is a dear man.”
“He is, he is! But I am quite put out that he has not shown interest in anybody except Miss Elizabeth, for whom I have other plans. And she, the vexing creature, has taken it upon herself to push Miss Anne at him – as if this party needs another matchmaker! Well, now that Mr. Darcy is here, I must hope that will be sufficient to distract her.”
Blanche grumbled her displeasure, for she had made a substantial bet that she would not only succeed in matching Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, but that they would be the first couple to become engaged. It was not looking good.
The gentleman was as handsome as his father, which was promising, but he had been delayed, and worse, Miss Bingley had already demonstrated that she would be an obstacle, trying to get her claws in him.
Miss Elizabeth was too caught up in her own schemes to unite Miss Anne with Colonel Brandon, who seemed to prefer Miss Elizabeth’s ebullience over her friend’s demure charms. Blanche was sure she would have to intervene somehow.
As if reading her mind, Rosamund gave Blanche a knowing look. “His cousin may be the key. After all, we invited Lady Rebecca here chiefly for her devotion to stirring the pot at every opportunity.”
“I am glad to hear you face reality; you must admit, she would be a terrible match for Brandon. I admire her wickedness, but he will not. Anyhow, I do not think her disposed toward marriage.”
Rosamund laughed heartily. “She is very like you, sister. She will not throw herself away on the wrong man, but there must be a right one out there somewhere, and I do not think she will ever resign herself to spinsterhood. She may enjoy making sport of her friends and relations, but she is just as susceptible as any lady to the allure of real romance.”
“Well, I only hope we shall start to see some real romance this evening – if we do not, I may be forced to take drastic measures! We may have to lock some young couples in a dark room together before this is all over.” Blanche waggled her brows at Rosamund, who looked duly scandalized.
Lady Sophia appeared behind them, laughing drily. “Leave it to you to think of such a thing – but you may perhaps be right, Blanche. The ball tonight will be our carrot – tomorrow we may have to try the stick.” She gave her daughters a gleefully ominous grin.
Before either lady could ask their mother what she meant, the doors were opened by a pair of liveried footmen, and the first of their guests entered the room. They could say no more of their schemes, and the three ladies joined Lady Dorothea in being artlessly welcoming.
***
The Bennet sisters entered the ballroom with their aunt and uncle, who were kept at Richmond Cove by the intermittent rains that would make the roads difficult to traverse back to London.
Elizabeth was glad they had been welcomed to remain for the ball, if not for Jane’s peace of mind, then for her own.
She found herself reaching for Aunt Madeline’s hand as her eyes landed on Mr. Darcy, before she had even finished greeting their hostesses.
Lady Blanche had clearly noticed her reaction, for the lady wickedly detached her from her aunt, escorting the latter to procure libation and gossip.
Elizabeth turned to her sister, who betrayed none of the same discomfort, despite Mr. Bingley standing beside Mr. Darcy at the back of the ballroom.
Her eyes were all for Captain Wentworth, who was coming toward them with a confident stride.
Elizabeth tore her gaze from Mr. Darcy as Captain Wentworth addressed her. “I hope you will forgive me if I deprive you of your sister, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Look at how prettily she smiles,” Elizabeth said with a teasing look at Jane. “I daresay she would happily exchange my company for yours, sir.”
“I should say the pair of you have the loveliest smiles in the room,” Captain Wentworth said with a gallant dip of his head. “And after I have danced with Miss Bennet, I shall be glad to exchange one sister for the other.”
Elizabeth gave him the brightest smile she could muster, feeling eyes on her from across the room.
Mr. Bingley was visibly squirming, which gave Elizabeth a moment of gratification – until she beheld that gentleman’s sister watching Captain Wentworth lead Jane away.
But the sight of her did not vex Elizabeth nearly as much as the devastatingly beautiful woman who took Mr. Darcy’s arm just as Miss Bingley reached for it.
The petite creature with raven hair and dark eyes full of mirth squared her shoulders and smirked, tipping her chin up as she blinked her thick lashes and gazed around the room with confident satisfaction.
And then she laughed, a brash and indecorous sound, and leaned toward Mr. Darcy to whisper something that made his lips twitch nearly into a smile.
Elizabeth looked away sharply, her stomach knotting itself. She found Anne in the crowd and sent her a silent, desperate plea, and her friend hastened to the rescue. Anne looked ready for any excuse to move away from her father and sister, who were fawning over Lord Bixler and his sister.
Anne linked her arm through Elizabeth’s and knit her brows in concern. “What is the matter, Lizzy?”
“The gentleman whom I told you of, on our first day here – whom I feared I might meet with, again…. be discreet if you must look, but he is here, and in the company of Aphrodite herself.”
Anne seemed to instantly comprehend whom Elizabeth meant, and she softly sucked in a breath. “Good Lord, there is something rather terrifying about her.”
Elizabeth dared a glance back at the goddess in gold silk. She was small but buxom, and she spoke to her companions with great energy and self-assurance. She looked expensive, unflappable, and capable of wreaking absolute havoc. Something like envy stirred in Elizabeth’s chest.
“Should I be worried? I would have thought you daring enough to face the very devil, Lizzy. But I suppose it cannot be pleasant to see a man one had rejected in the company of such a siren, even if you do not want him yourself.”
“Yes, exactly,” Elizabeth said, clinging to this explanation rather than examining any other.
Anne gave her a look of commiseration. “I daresay I am not the only one more anxious than pleased by Lady Dorothea’s declaration that all the ladies must dance with each and every gentleman tonight. But perhaps they will not ask us, the gentlemen we have rejected, even if we may wish to be asked.”