Jane. Her cousin was the most logical choice. She was a beauty—poised, elegant, angelic—but overall, she would not be a threat to Prinny’s ambitions. Political alliances and loyalty were his objectives. Jane could bring him neither. Rather, her cousin’spresence would give him a greater source of perceived control over Elizabeth.
Elizabeth did not flinch from the honesty of that thought. Control, offered gently, was often more palatable than restraint imposed openly.
And, perhaps, I can help Jane heal her broken heart, too. After seeing that lady hanging on Mr. Bingley’s arm at the theater, she suspected he had never meant to propose to his Hertfordshire…diversion. Jane would be devastated, but the distractions of Town would help soothe her wounded feelings. Mr. Bingley obviously did not know how to treat a lady.
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. Whatever tenderness had once existed between Jane and Mr. Bingley, it had been abandoned too easily to deserve regret.
Gathering her courage, she sent a request by way of a footman to the prince, asking for an audience. Her query went unanswered for two days. During that time, Lady Hertford came and whisked her away, first to the museum and then to another expedition to Bond Street.
Elizabeth had long enjoyed art and antiquity, but even the museum visit carried an undertone of instruction—what to admire, what to mention later, what connections to imply without stating outright. Bond Street, however, was unmistakably a lesson in presentation.
Elizabeth always had an excellent, well stocked wardrobe over the years, but she stood to double the number of gowns she possessed. Lady Hertford had the final say, and she seemed to believe Elizabeth ought to have enough garments to supply an army.
“One must never see you in the exact ensemble more than once,” the lady said when Elizabeth protested the amount of clothing being purchased. “You have more than enough pin money to supply yourself adequately.”
Elizabeth bit back a smile. In Hertfordshire, such abundance would have been vulgar; here, it was necessity.
And so, pelisses, spencers, day, evening, and ball gowns, bonnets, gloves, and more were ordered and delivered at Carlton House.
Her chambers began to resemble a modiste’s showroom rather than a sitting room, each parcel another reminder that she was beingprepared, not indulged.
She had just returned from Hertford House, where she had attended tea with Lady Hertford and a few of her close friends when the prince summoned her to the blue parlor.
The summons came without explanation, which Elizabeth recognized as deliberate. Anticipation sharpened obedience.
Elizabeth changed as quickly as she could. She made her way to the blue parlor. Footmen opened the door, and she entered, keeping her eyes down-turned. Elizabeth was announced without delay. Dropping into a deep curtsy, she waited til the prince told her to rise. Every movement was measured; every breath controlled.
The Prince Regent did not rise as she entered, but he did look up from the papers on his desk, his expression one of mild curiosity rather than impatience.
That alone heartened her. Curiosity could be engaged. Impatience could not.
“Miss de Bourgh,” he said, gesturing to a chair opposite him. “You wished to speak with me.”
“Yes, sir.” Elizabeth inclined her head and waited until she was seated. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her posture composed, her expression attentive rather than anxious. “I am grateful for your indulgence.”
He leaned back slightly. “You have been at Carlton House scarcely a fortnight. I trust you are settling tolerably well.”
“I am, sir. The arrangements made for me have been most considerate.” She paused, choosing her next words with care. “I am keenly aware that I am here by your command, and I endeavor to conduct myself in a manner worthy of that distinction.”
The Regent smiled faintly. “A sensible ambition.”
Elizabeth allowed the silence to settle before continuing. “It is precisely because I wish to meet your expectations that I hoped to seek your guidance on a small matter.”
“Guidance,” he repeated, amused. “You are a prudent young woman, Miss de Bourgh. Proceed.”
She inclined her head again. “My cousin, Miss Jane Bennet, has long been regarded for her steadiness of character and propriety of conduct. You may recall that I resided with her family at Longbourn during my sojourn in Hertfordshire.”
“I recall her from reports my men provide,” he said. “A pretty girl. Quiet.”
“Yes, sir.” Elizabeth permitted the faintest note of agreement. “She is universally well thought of, and I believe her presence would occasion no remark—save perhaps for approval.”
The Regent studied her now, his gaze sharpened by interest. “And what presence is it you propose?”
Elizabeth met his gaze steadily. “I had hoped you might permit Miss Bennet to join me here in Town for the Season.”
His brows rose. He did not speak at once.
Elizabeth continued before the silence could harden. “I would not trouble you with such a request were it not, I believe, consonant with your own interests. Sudden elevation invites speculation, sir. The presence of a close female relation—one of unblemished reputation—would serve to quiet it.”
