| |
A surprise greeted the Bennet sisters the morning after the play. Bouquets of hothouse flowers crowded their drawing room. The roses from Mr. Bingley brought a delighted cry from Jane. When tulips from Lord Greymore arrived for Lizzy, she was rendered speechless. He had said some pretty things to her the night before, but nothing she would have described as flirting. Such a gallant gesture from him was unexpected.
Good heavens, if her mother knew Lizzy had received flowers from an earl—! The poor woman would have an apoplexy.
Lizzy, however, would not plan her wedding just yet. It amused her to think Greymore might send flowers to half a dozen young ladies after every assembly. As she understood it, he was fantastically wealthy and could afford such extravagance.
She took up her embroidery and strove to think no more about it. Then, a second wave of flowers arrived. Peter Fitzwilliam sent Jane white amaryllis, while Joshua sent Lizzy red amaryllis. Apparently the brothers had acted in concert, making the whole thing more bewildering.
Perhaps they had arrived home in their cups after a late night at their club. On a lark, they asked the footman to send the flowers the next morning. The more she thought about it, the more likely that explanation sounded.
Lizzy understood the charms she and Jane held for the opposite sex. They had been much admired in Meryton since making their come-outs. But for men from aristocratic families to notice them in this way...
It seemed unreal. Lizzy thought back to the night before. To her feeling that Georgiana had brought Lizzy and Darcy together. Could she have enlisted her cousins to help with her scheme? And to what end?
A few weeks ago, Darcy had thought Jane unsuitable for Bingley. Bingley, who had no family connections at all. Now, Darcy’s most illustrious relatives were distinguishing Jane and Lizzy. It made no sense.
She was pondering the situation when Lord Greymore himself arrived. The servant showed him into the front parlour. Lizzy could not help admiring how well he looked in buckskin breeches and a hunter green coat. His blond hair and moustache were immaculately groomed.
He bowed to the ladies and handed an envelope to Mrs. Gardiner. “My mother is sending out invitations to a ball,” he explained. “I offered to bring this one personally. Miss Elizabeth, might I have the pleasure of dancing the first set with you?” He met Lizzy’s eyes wearing a smile that made him even more striking.
She did her best to hide her astonishment. She could not pretend he was not distinguishing her with this gesture. Of all the ladies in London, he would be opening his family’s ball with her.
An earl. A wealthy one. And handsome besides.
Her heart fluttered, and warmth suffused her skin. The offer was almost unbearably exciting. When she had first made her come-out, she had dreamed of such things. Never had she expected her girlish fantasy would come true.
Aunt Gardiner opened the starched envelope and perused the contents. “We are free that evening, I am pleased to say. I quite look forward to it. I am sure the girls do as well.” She looked at Lizzy with a placid smile, but her eyes sparkled.
Lizzy forced herself to speak, though her throat was tight and her voice thin. “In that case, I would be honoured to stand up with you, your lordship.”
“Splendid!” he cried.
Mrs. Gardiner rang for refreshments. Pots of coffee and tea arrived, along with a platter stacked with pound cake and buttered muffins. Accepting a cup of tea and a muffin, the earl stayed for half an hour. After he had gone, Jane and aunt Gardiner turned and looked at Lizzy with bright smiles and arched brows.
“I am no less surprised than you are,” she assured them. They laughed together, trying to keep their heads. Mrs. Bennet would faint dead away if she knew an earl had asked Lizzy to open a ball with him. If the flowers had not already killed her.
Her mind awhirl, Lizzy went upstairs and looked through her closet. The blue silk might be a good choice for a ball gown. The neckline was lower than she would normally have chosen, but not scandalous for London. Was she a fool to think Greymore might have some serious interest in her?
A nagging, foolish part of her worried that it was some jest. That he had chosen her for the sole purpose of exposing her country manners. She pushed those silly thoughts aside. She could not afford to lose the chance to make herself agreeable to one of the most eligible men in England.
If she became a countess, it would elevate her family’s prospects significantly.
She had promised herself she would never marry solely for the sake of money or position. But so far, she liked Greymore. He was handsome and athletic, with a good sense of humour. From what she knew, he seemed kind.
Of course, Wickham had seemed kind, and what a blackguard he had turned out to be.
The doorbell rang, and Lizzy stepped into the hallway. Though she kept out of sight, the strains of female voices reached her ears. One belonged to Lady Arabella Fitzwilliam, and another sounded like Lady Nerissa. Lizzy smoothed her dress, a white sprigged muslin threaded with violets. Then, she headed down the stairs.
“Oh, there you are,” her aunt said as Lizzy hovered in the doorway to the front parlour. “I was just about to send Sally to fetch you. Lady Matlock, Lady Jersey, may I present my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lizzy caught her breath, thinking she might faint dead away. She had half expected the Countess of Matlock to call...but Lady Jersey! Lizzy could only marvel.
Lady Matlock appeared to be somewhere between fifty and sixty. Her unweathered face was still attractive. With her high cheekbones and serene smile, her expression was confident but kind. A purple walking dress of sturdy wool was beautifully tailored. The drape flattered her matronly figure. Tendrils of brown curls streaked with grey peeked out from beneath her turban.
Lady Jersey was a little past thirty, dressed fashionably in red. Her bright eyes, aristocratic nose, and kind smile lent her an uncommon prettiness. Dark curls piled high on her head were wrapped in a velvet bandeau.
Lizzy stepped into the room and curtseyed to them. “It is a great honour to meet you.”
Lady Matlock moved forward and clutched Lizzy’s hands. “I have heard so much about you, my dear, I feel as if I already know you.”
“Nothing too frightful, I hope.”
“I have been warned about your wit,” Lady Matlock said. “Have I cause for concern?”
“Not at all, ma’am. A woman as celebrated for her intelligence and taste as you are has nothing to fear from me. And I am certain I cannot hold a candle to Lady Jersey.”
Sarah Villiers, Countess of Jersey, was one of the lady patronesses of Almack’s. She was renowned for her cleverness and courtesy. It took much to intimidate Lizzy, but she knew better than to try to match the great lady.
Lizzy nodded to Lady Matlock’s two youngest daughters. They expressed pleasure at seeing her. As they all took their seats, Mrs. Gardiner called for tea.
Arabella sat on the couch with Lizzy, while Nerissa took a chair next to Jane. Lizzy was flattered by their attention. And until Jane was engaged, Lizzy would make the most of every available connection.
“I have heard many reports of you,” Lady Jersey said, “primarily from people who have never met you.” Mirth danced in her eyes. Lizzy wondered how one night at the theatre could have attracted such notice. The interest was gratifying, but it did not feel precisely safe. It increased the pressure on them to meet social expectations.
Lady Jersey continued, “Some say Miss Bennet is a brilliant watercolourist. Others claim she studied oils under a Florentine master. And Miss Elizabeth, some allege you play Beethoven sonatas like a professional. Others say you prefer the harp. I am quite mad to know the truth of it.”
Jane’s complexion turned a bright red and all power of speech seemed to leave her. It fell to Lizzy to say, “I am sorry to disillusion your ladyship. Jane does have a talent for watercolours, and I play the pianoforte tolerably well. But we cannot claim any greater skill than most ladies of the ton.”
“What a relief that is!” Lady Jersey sipped her tea. “I was quite prepared to be jealous, and now we can be friends instead.” She set her porcelain cup back on its saucer with a clink.
She asked about their family, their home in Hertfordshire, and any beaux they left behind. When she learnt that they had no brothers and their father’s estate was entailed, she gazed at them with wide eyes.
“I hope you will forgive my saying so,” Lady Jersey declared, “but I do not approve of daughters being passed over. I am fortunate that my grandfather had no compunction about girls inheriting.” According to rumour, Lady Jersey’s grandfather had left her his banking fortune. That made her one of the wealthiest women in England in her own right.
“I understand that your father’s heir,” Lady Matlock said to the Bennet sisters, “is rector at Hunsford.” She turned to Lady Jersey. “That is my sister Catherine’s parish.”
Lady Jersey offered a wry smile. “I trust she has given you her opinion of him.”
“I have never known Catherine to withhold her opinion,” Lady Matlock said flatly.
Nerissa, who had been sipping her tea, gave a little cough.
Lady Matlock eyed her daughter pointedly before continuing. “Catherine says he is a respectable sort of man. He is all that propriety demands of him.”
Lizzy wondered what sort of woman Lady Catherine was, to describe the fawning Mr. Collins that way.
Lady Jersey cocked her head. “That is high praise. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is quite the stickler. How unfortunate that she rarely travels to London.”
“Unfortunate indeed,” Lady Matlock said.
Arabella let out a choked laugh, then covered her mouth with her hand. Her mother arched her eyebrows at her. Arabella composed herself and sat up very straight.
Lady Jersey turned to the Bennet sisters again. “Is the waltz danced in your little town in Hertfordshire?”
“Not often enough for my tastes,” Lizzy said. “There are some who still consider it scandalous.”
“And what do you think, Miss Bennet?” Lady Jersey asked Jane. “Do you approve of the waltz?”
“I would not like to see my youngest sister waltz,” Jane said, “as she is still quite impressionable. But I see no reason to object if the lady comports herself in a mature manner.”
“I quite agree,” Lady Jersey said. “I hope, Miss Bennet, that I shall have the opportunity to see you and your sister waltz at the Greymore ball.”
“Thank you, your ladyship. I hope we may oblige you,” Jane said.
A thrill of delight passed through Lizzy. On such a brief meeting, Lady Jersey had given them permission to waltz! It seemed a silly convention, granting the lady patronesses of Almack’s that power. But then, as Jane had said, it would be indecorous for naive girls like Lydia to waltz. They could be too easily taken advantage of.
The ladies chatted a few minutes more. Then Lady Jersey made her excuses and took her leave. Lady Matlock and her daughters remained, however.
Lizzy felt the strength of the compliment the Fitzwilliams were paying them. She could not account for it. It must have to do with Darcy’s friendship with Bingley, and Bingley’s attachment to Jane.
Surely Lady Matlock would not involve herself in Georgiana’s scheme to unite Darcy and Lizzy. No, that could not be it at all.
Mrs. Gardiner replenished everyone’s tea. Lady Matlock took a sip, then asked Lizzy, “Are you enjoying London?”
“The entertainments are more varied than in our little town of Meryton,” Lizzy said, “and the company as well. You must have heard of Miss Darcy’s kindness to my sister and me.”
Lady Matlock nodded. “Darcy does his best with her, but what does a young gentleman know of the needs of an adolescent girl? It seems you are a blessing to her.”
“And she to us.” Jane passed a plate of apricot scones. “She and I have much the same taste in books. We quite lose track of time when we talk about them.”
“She is trying to teach me Italian,” Lizzy said, “but I am impossible at it. I hope we can remain friends with her after the season ends.”
“That would be delightful,” the countess said. “Hertfordshire is an easy distance from London. I am certain Georgiana would be happy to visit you there, and meet your younger sisters.”
Lizzy stiffened. Horror washed over her at the thought of Georgiana being exposed to Lydia and her wild ways.
“My youngest sister is of an age with Miss Darcy,” Lizzy said, “but Lydia is a high-spirited girl. I doubt Mr. Darcy would approve—that is to say, I believe he would be cautious...” She looked at her aunt pleadingly.
“Miss Lydia Bennet has just turned sixteen,” aunt Gardiner said. “She has not yet attained the maturity one might expect of a young lady in London society.”
Lady Matlock nodded slowly at Mrs. Gardiner, then turned to Lizzy quizzically. “But I understood that all your sisters were out.”
“Yes, ma’am. Lydia came out at fifteen. Jane and I protested, but my mother was deaf to our pleas. My mother cannot bear to say no to her youngest child.”
“Yes, I quite understand,” the countess said kindly.
Arabella spoke up forcefully. “I am the youngest of my family, and no one thinks twice of saying no to me. Besides two parents telling me what to do, I have four brothers and three sisters as well.”
Lady Matlock eyed Arabella fondly, then turned to Mrs. Gardiner. “I have been blessed in all my children. Arabella is a good girl, but the most fearless child I ever saw.”
“I am hardly a child,” Lady Arabella said with a scowl.
“You are barely an adult,” her mother countered.
“You must have a dozen suitors lining up outside your door every morning,” Jane said.
Arabella looked at her sister. “Between Nerissa and me, we have three or four. Nerissa might be persuaded to marry this year, but I am in no hurry.”
“Nor I for you,” the countess said. “I was twenty when I married, and that is quite young enough. Of course, I was mad for Lord Matlock, and determined to have him.”
“It was the same with my husband and me,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Though he is twelve years my senior, I knew the moment I met him that I would marry him.”
“I had not your certainty,” the countess said. “My father was an Italian count, and that was not a mark in my favour. I did not have the peaches-and-cream complexion so desirable in an English lady. Thankfully, white face paint was fashionable at the time.”
“Pay no attention to her,” Nerissa said. “You should see my parents’ wedding portrait. She was a beautiful bride.”
“Flattery will not win you any points,” the countess warned her daughter with a smile. “Beauty is not the only consideration when it comes to the marriage mart. A woman with a cultivated mind will always be sought after.”
“I understand that Miss Elizabeth is a great reader,” Lady Nerissa said.
Lizzy stirred her tea, the porcelain cup glazed with a pink rose pattern. “I wonder how I have gotten that reputation.”
“I believe Miss Bingley said so,” Arabella replied.
“Caroline Bingley?” Fury burned in Lizzy’s chest, but she soon composed herself. “Miss Bingley seems to be sharing her compliments of Jane and me quite liberally.”
“I understand she was intimate with the two of you while in Hertfordshire,” Lady Matlock said.
Lizzy shot a quick look at her sister, then spoke with as much politeness as she could manage. “Miss Bingley did indeed seek out a friendship with Jane. As for myself, I would say she tolerated me with equanimity.”
“She would have tolerated you better,” Jane said, “if Mr. Darcy had not tolerated you so well.”
Lizzy flushed, taken aback. The Fitzwilliams seemed to share knowing looks, but Lizzy stared at her sister. Whatever was Jane about? Surely she was giving their visitors a mistaken impression.
Lizzy intervened quickly. “The closest Mr. Darcy ever came to singling me out was asking me to dance at the Netherfield ball. And that was after snubbing me in a rather dramatic fashion at a previous assembly. All in all, I feel safe in saying that Mr. Darcy showed no great regard for my company.”
“Yet last night,” said Arabella, “he sat with you during the entire play. According to Josh and Peter, at least.”
“That was his sister’s doing,” Lizzy insisted. “I have no doubt Mr. Darcy would have preferred to sit with anyone but me.”
“If that were true,” Lady Matlock said, “then he would have done so.”
Lizzy let those words sink in. She knew Darcy too well to think he would have sat with her out of politeness. The countess was correct on that point.
More alarming, Lady Matlock suggested she approved of Darcy’s attention to Lizzy. Had she called this morning to pay her respects to the woman she thought her nephew to be courting? Surely not! Her sons had sent Jane and Lizzy flowers, after all.
“You honour me, your ladyship,” Lizzy said to the countess. “I would not contradict you for the world. But I promise you, if rumours are circulating about your nephew and me, they are idle speculation. Mr. Darcy has been kind and solicitous, but he has shown me no particular regard.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Arabella said, “you must be unfamiliar with my cousin’s disposition. His reserved nature may conceal his ardour. I have never seen him look upon a woman with such admiration as he does you. When we took tea with Georgiana at Darcy House, the man could not take his eyes off you.”
Lizzy gave her a wry smile. “If Mr. Darcy looks at me, I can only assume his purpose is to find fault.”
“Never say so!” Nerissa protested. “Darcy would not be so uncouth. Besides, he does not suffer those he dislikes. If he found fault in you, he would ignore you.”
Lizzy’s neck and shoulders tightened, and her head began to ache. Could it be that Darcy admired her? Yet if he did, what did it signify? He was not pursuing her. Nor did she wish him to.
Did she?
How fortunate that she had not entered the London marriage mart when she first made her come-out! At seventeen, her head would have been spinning from the attentions now being paid to her by men of quality. At twenty, she was better able to restrain her hopes.
She wondered whether to put any stock in the interest of Lord Greymore or Mr. Joshua Fitzwilliam. She had often imagined she would marry a clergyman, and one who was an earl’s son would be most eligible. To marry an actual earl...that seemed out of reach.
And so did Darcy.
“You must forgive my sister,” Jane said. “The first impressions she and Mr. Darcy made on each other were not favourable. She may be loath to concede that his opinion might have changed.”
Lizzy’s cheeks heated. Could that be true? Her feelings towards him had softened over the previous weeks. But she did not consider herself and Darcy to be on friendly terms. Their interactions continued to be stiff and awkward.
He chafed at the inequality between them. In Hertfordshire, he had made that clear. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was a man of consequence. He could not take notice of the residents of a backward little town like Meryton.
But then why had he sat in her box at the theatre the previous evening? Had that been for Bingley’s benefit, so that he could spend the evening with Jane? If so, did that mean he now condoned Bingley’s courtship?
Lizzy’s thoughts swirled. She hoped, of course, that Darcy now approved of Jane. And yet, Lizzy wanted more. When she considered that Darcy might be indifferent to herself, her gut clenched.
She had awoken that morning with a sense of well-being, of hope and excitement. Some part of her liked Darcy. Some part of her longed for him. But that was not sensible. Apart from his physical attractions, the man was cold, aloof.
Yet he had shown kindness when he rescued her from the rain. Plus, he helped reunite Bingley with Jane.
Even worse, Lizzy was growing excessively fond of Georgiana. The girl was everything Lizzy wished she had in a younger sister. Lady Matlock and her daughters did their best to look after Miss Darcy. Still, she seemed desperate for the companionship and guidance of an older sister.
Lizzy would have to take care. She could not allow her feelings for the sister to affect her feelings for the man. Not given his dismissiveness of Lizzy the night they met. If he considered himself above her—that did not bode well for the kind of husband he might be.
Now she was thinking nonsense. A man who considered himself above her would not make her an offer.
And she did not want him to make an offer. For if he did, how would she ever refuse him?
