Chapter Eighteen
Lady Blanche did not often allow exasperation to get the better of her.
She enjoyed puzzles and conundrums, and nobody had ever dared contradict her conviction that she rose to every challenge with positively charming ingenuity.
She fully expected the tenth annual spring house party to be the pinnacle of her achievement – her shared achievement with her mother, sister, and sister-by-marriage, of course – but she would not have objected to a few easy triumphs.
In the face of their impatience, Blanche was determined to remain unflappable, but Colonel Fitzwilliam saw through her. Better still, he indulged her rising pique with certain uncooperative guests as she surveyed them from the card table.
“Really,” she whispered to him, fanning herself idly.
“Even a woman as bright as I am deserves the luxury of an easy victory from time to time! But nobody seems inclined to cooperate with our schemes this year. I am sure we shall outwit them in the end, but it need not be so taxing when we are meant to all be enjoying the process.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, though he was still handsome, in a rugged and cheeky sort of way, at four and thirty.
“I suppose it would be ungallant of me to suggest you have brought these worries upon yourself. Your guests are enjoying themselves very well indeed. Can this not satisfy you?”
He made a sweeping gesture toward the rest of the room, where most of the party was congregated, making merry chatter as they waited for Lady Sophia to join them with an exciting announcement.
Lady Blanche took note of her particular favorites – her darling Harriet, attempting to hold the interest of sullen Captain Benwick, Colonel Brandon making some scowling reproach to Sir Walter Elliot before leading Anne away from her nasty relations, and Elizabeth Bennet eyeing Mr. Darcy with hungry desperation before Lady Rebecca drew her into a conversation with Mr. Bingley.
Blanche leaned closer to the colonel. “We have all made bets between us, you see.”
He chuckled. “I hope you have not put your money on my hopeless cousin.”
“Quite a nice sum – more’s the pity. But is there perhaps something I did not know of between Miss Elizabeth and your cousin’s young friend?”
The colonel snorted. “What, Bingley? As well-informed as you ladies are, you must know it was her sister that Bingley admired.”
He followed Lady Blanche’s scrutinizing gaze, regarding the merry trio seated not far from them. “Perhaps my devilish sister finds some perverse sort of amusement in matching them. I suppose there would be irony in it, since Miss Bennet is now attached to a man who once admired Miss Elizabeth.”
“You cannot mean Wentworth! No, indeed. He never admired Miss Elizabeth – I am sure he never saw her before coming here. What would give you such an idea?”
“Well, Darcy said….” The colonel paused and stroked his chin, grinning broadly. “He overheard Miss Bennet speaking to Rebecca, and came away with the impression that there was some history between them. He is convinced that Wentworth is up to no good.”
“Ah! That accounts for his odd behavior these past few days. But I shall tell you candidly, sir, that the only person here with whom Wentworth was previously acquainted is Anne Elliot; they were attached many years ago, but she was persuaded to give up the connection for fear of her family’s disapproval. ”
Lady Blanche perked up, feeling some hope that her favorite match might still be possible, and she laid a hand atop the colonel’s.
“You must inform your cousin of his misapprehension. And tell your sister, too – you must beg her to cease whatever mischief she is up to – let her work her schemes on anybody else! For three days now, she has been getting in the way. Miss Lizzy cannot speak a word to Darcy without Lady Rebecca making haste to detach them, or sending Miss Bingley to do it for her. Poor Miss Lizzy! I can see the longing in her eyes – she was quite beside herself on the day of the boating party, but she will never admit to herself that she admires him with so much interference!”
“I have promised Darcy I would stay out of it, but I suppose he would thank me for sharing what could only give him some relief,” Colonel Fitzwilliam mused.
“You might speak to Brandon, too. I cannot coax him out of his sulking, but you have been acquainted with him for many years, and he may value your opinion. The poor man will not fight Willoughby, which I had thought would be a fine gift for my late brother's dearest friend. He only glares and glowers, and refuses to enjoy himself in the man’s presence. He has asked repeatedly for me to turn Willoughby out of the house, but Mamma will not do it. She is sure he will make some sort of delightful mischief, and I can think of a few young ladies present who rather deserve the finely packaged lifetime of headaches.”
“I begin to feel myself a hired mercenary, but I am at your service, of course,” he said with a bow of his head. “But I must ask you to reconsider one thing.”
Again Blanche fanned herself, presenting her most beguiling angle to the colonel. “And what is that, sir? I am past the age of trading favors.”
“Oh, I doubt that. While it is entirely tempting, my request is on behalf of my sister, and not my own wicked impulses. If you can abide Willoughby’s promise of shenanigans, you must allow my sister the same leave to do as she chooses.
If the material purpose of these parties is your own entertainment, she is sure to reward you in that quarter. ”
“I invited her with no other thought in mind – I only wish she would direct her acumen for mischief at somebody I do not especially like. She would make Miss Elliot or Lady Julia a formidable adversary – it is most amusing that Miss Bingley is blind to how your sister despises her!”
“A hundred years ago, she might have been burned for a witch, but she is still a Fitzwilliam, and she means well. She will devote herself to some great purpose, and her results may surprise you as much as her methods.” The colonel stood and gave a sweeping bow as he sauntered away from the card table, and Lady Blanche took in the sight of his muscular backside with an appreciative smile.
She watched the colonel make directly for Mr. Darcy, no doubt to alleviate his misapprehension about Captain Wentworth, for Mr. Darcy’s expression grew comically bewildered.
Better still, Lady Sophia entered the room a few minutes later, flanked by half a dozen footmen carrying large wooden trunks. Perhaps the next few entertainments would be just the thing to put all their plans right.
And best of all, as the ladies were trying on their costumes for the evening’s ball, Lady Blanche received word from an old friend that there would be an unexpected guest joining their party.
It would put the numbers right – they had been unbalanced by Sir Walter’s determination to linger, when only his daughters had been invited.
Best of all, Lady Blanche and her sister were vastly curious about the young lady travelling with their friend.
She elected to say nothing to anybody, relishing how it would surely be just the thing to add some intrigue to the party.
***
Elizabeth fidgeted with the stomacher of her kirtle; the stiff gown she wore was nearly two hundred years old.
The thick brocade was embellished with beads, pearls, and tiny gemstones along the pattern of gold and green brocade.
The necklace was very low, making her feeling wildly self-conscious; it was nearly indecent, and even with the ornate jewels that hung from her neck and adorned her chest below the Elizabethan ruff, she felt exposed.
The thick, puffy sleeves were latticed with deep blue and green ribbon and more gold beading over the burgundy brocade.
The entire garment was larger and heavier than anything Elizabeth was accustomed to wearing.
Even her hair had been styled in the Tudor fashion, with a netting of pearl and gold over her hair – a caul, Lady Dorothea had called it – and a blue and burgundy French hood lined with pearls atop her head.
Jane stood at her side, similarly attired.
The whole party had been informed that morning that they would attend Sir Arthur Marbleton's costume ball dressed in the borrowed garments they would wear the following evening for a theatrical performance. The Gouldings engaged a troupe from Bath to perform a Shakespearean comedy at Richmond Cove, and the guests would all have a turn enacting scenes from the bard. It had apparently become an annual tradition at the Gouldings’ parties, and part of that tradition was attending a ball the night before in costume and parading before all the neighbors and other revelers.
“They love you,” Lady Blanche said matter-of-fact, escorting each of the Bennet sisters by one arm as they entered the ballroom at Marbleton Park, the seat of the Gouldings’ cousin and nearest neighbor.
“Do they not see this every year?” Jane drew in a sharp breath, tugging at the busk that had been placed behind her stomacher.
“Sir Arthur thinks to compete with us! Every year he hosts a house party at the same time as ours, hoping for some overlap – dinner invitations exchanged, and the like. We attend his ball, and we shall invite them to ours – but it is never the same people. Only my family and I see the costumes every year, and Sir Arthur, but he is not in a strong position to complain about anything that elevates the appeal of his meager parties. The neighbors, they always enjoy it.”
Elizabeth smiled; despite her discomfort, she liked the tradition. “If my family possessed so many carefully preserved treasures as these, I am sure we should wear them to every assembly.”