She had just completed the necessary courtesies to Lord and Lady Matlock when she felt Jane falter beside her—not from fear, but surprise. Elizabeth followed her gaze and understood at once. Their hosts’ son, Viscount Bramley, stood in the receiving line, and for one extraordinary moment he simply stared, struck utterly dumb by Jane’s beauty. It was not the bold admiration of a practiced flirt, but something quieter and more startling: astonishment. Then he recovered himself with visible effort and bowed.
“Miss Bennet, may I beg the honor of your first set?”
Jane’s cheeks bloomed pink as she answered, her voice soft but steady, pleased and shy in equal measure. Elizabeth—still exposed, still trembling beneath her calm—felt a quiet surge of triumph that at least one good thing had begun this night exactly as it should.
“That is quite the coup, Miss Bennet.” Lady Hertford smiled at her young charge, clearly pleased. “Bramley is notoriously particular. It is said that he is looking for a love match. I have spoken with you enough to know that you are not merely a pretty face.”
Jane thanked her ladyship politely, her composure returning even as the color lingered in her cheeks, and Elizabeth could not help but feel a swell of pride. Jane had always inspired affection; tonight, it seemed, she inspired something more immediate.
As Jane and Elizabeth followed Lady Hertford into the ballroom, the full spectacle revealed itself. The room glittered—crystal chandeliers, polished floors, silk gowns in every fashionable hue. There were already many guests sprinkled in groups around the room, laughter and conversation rising in a lively undercurrent, and Lady Hertford wasted no time introducing them to her associates.
Names blurred with faces as the ladies met person after person. Heirs to earldoms and large estates, title-bearingbachelors looking for a young bride, matrons and young ladies—the introductions continued until the ball opened. Elizabeth found herself smiling, inclining her head, offering polite replies while privately struggling to retain even half of what she heard. By the time the first set formed, Elizabeth’s dances were taken but for one. Jane had not one dance left open.
Elizabeth danced the first with Sir William Barnet, a baronet from Wiltshire. He was a man of five-and-thirty years, handsome, but boring. They exchanged amiable conversation, but nothing of depth. He appeared very interested in her—or rather what her connection to the Crown could bring him. His questions circled her situation without quite touching it, probing for advantage rather than understanding.
“What are your thoughts on Sir William?” Lady Hertford asked when Elizabeth had returned to her chaperone’s side.
“It is impossible to form a complete opinion over the course of half an hour.”
Lady Hertford tapped Elizabeth’s arm with her fan. “You have some opinions, my dear. Do not hesitate to share them.”
“He is boring. Sir William speaks to me as if I were unintelligent. I despise being denigrated in such a manner.”
“You are anything but unintelligent. No, a condescending man will do you no good. You need a man who you can elevate. Behind the success of every good man is a greater woman—remember that.”
Elizabeth absorbed the words, surprised by the sincerity beneath Lady Hertford’s worldliness.
Lady Hertford greeted Jane next as Viscount Bramley returned her charge.
“Did you enjoy your dance, Miss Bennet?”
Jane’s cheeks went pink as she nodded. “The viscount was very polite and engaging.”
Lady Hertford agreed. “Lady Matlock despairs of him ever marrying. As I said, he is very particular. He will dance, but he generally avoids the more significant sets. Watch—he will not dance the supper set or the final set.”
Elizabeth noted Bramley’s lingering attention, though he stood some distance away now, with interest. There was nothing calculating in it—only focus. After a moment, he returned and now stood beside Jane, speaking softly. When her partner came to claim her for the second set, he looked incredibly displeased.
“Lady Hertford.” Lady Matlock approached. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“You are very welcome, Lady Matlock. The arrangements are exquisite. I am pleased to have Elizabeth’s first large society event be your ball. And her cousin, Miss Bennet, is very pleased to join us.” Both young ladies nodded in reply.
“Miss de Bourgh, do you know who I am?” Lady Matlock gazed at Elizabeth.
“I do. I have studied Debrett’s.”
This answer seemed to amuse Lady Matlock, who chuckled. “Then you know your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is my husband’s sister.”
“I was aware, though I have never met the lady in my memory.” Aunt Caroline had described Lady Catherine as antagonistic towards Elizabeth’s mother.
“She will be in attendance tonight, though she is late.” Lady Matlock shook her head. “I cannot imagine what keeps her. My nephew, Mr. Darcy will escort her and your cousin, Miss de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth’s mouth crept into a half-smile. “I met Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire last autumn.”
Lady Matlock beamed. “Oh, that is lovely! I hope he behaved himself.”
Elizabeth could not stop a grimace, and her hostess tut-tutted in response. “Oh, Darcy. Allow me to apologize for whatever offense he caused.” Lady Matlock’s look of delight now turned to trepidation.
“His offenses are his own, your ladyship. I hold only him accountable. Be that as it may, I shall be pleased to have one acquaintance here tonight. I can scarcely keep all the new names and faces straight.”
