“Yes, my Lord.”
Dunwich descended the steps with measured elegance, spoke to his coachman, and settled inside the carriage. It rolled away from Beaumont’s townhouse and rattled down the street.
Jane stood at the drawing room window until it disappeared at the crossroad. Lord Dunwich had been the first of Lizzy’s callers. She wondered if there would be others when the butler entered the room.
“My Lady, where would you like these?”
“Oh, those are lovely. His taste is artistic. Place all of Lizzy’s flowers upon the sideboard, James.”
He arranged the bouquet in a vase and withdrew. Jane rose at once and took up the card. The note was written in his own hand and bore his signature. Hugh. Color rose in her cheeks as she read.
“Darling, my pursuit begins today. Your most ardent cicisbeo, Hugh.”
Beaumont entered the room. “What is it, love? Are those from Dunwich?”
“Yes.” She handed him the note. “This accompanied the arrangement.”
Beaumont’s mouth tightened as he read the missive. “I hope this does not end upon a field of honor.”
Alarmed, Jane asked, “How could it? Elizabeth wants nothing to do with the man. She would never prove disloyal to Mr. Darcy.”
“No, but Darcy may feel compelled to meet Dunwich if he brings dishonor upon your sister.”
Jane sank into a chair. “But how can this be?”
“His reputation is black, my love. Merely becoming the object of his attentions may tarnish a woman’s character.”
“Shall we have this note delivered to Mr. Darcy?”
“We shall, along with any others she receives today. Your sister proved a success. I imagine many gentlemen will call.”
Dunwich remained stationed down the street only long enough to determine that the lady, in fact, remained absent from the house. The gentlemen who called left their cards and tokens, then departed. He struck his walking stick against the ceiling of the carriage, and it rolled away. It was clear that Darcy guarded his intended, exactly as he had expected.
Before the day ended, fifteen gentlemen had left calling cards along with flowers, sweetmeats, fruit, and one gentleman had sent a beautifully tooled leather miniature book of verse. Jane crossed the drawing room, taking in each offering.
“It is a shame Lizzy cannot see these.”
“Why can she not? Calling hours have ended. Let us take Dunwich’s note to Darcy. Perhaps he will grant your sister leave to come admire her flowers. We shall return her before dinner.”
That same morning, at Matlock house, Elizabeth settled at the breakfast table beside her young friend. Her head ached, and she was fatigued after a restless night.
Georgiana bent over a newspaper that lay next to her plate. “Look, Lizzy. Here is the account of Lady Sophia’s ball. Shall I read it aloud, or do you wish to read it yourself?”
“Read it to me, dear girl, while I drink my tea.”
Georgiana read aloud. “The lovely Miss B took the ton by storm. Lord D and Mr. D both paid her unrelenting court. Countess M made it abundantly clear that Mr. D, one of the wealthiest eligibles, now wears Miss B’s fetters, but the question remains: will Lord D prevail? More to come.”
Elizabeth set down her cup and sat in silence through the account.
Lady Helen entered the breakfast parlor. “It might have proved worse, Elizabeth. They might have mentioned that Dunwich conversed during the entire dance and so distressed you that some supposed you would faint upon the ballroom floor.”
The Countess took up one of the newspapers and paged through until she located the society column. She read aloud, “There is new, lovely competition this season, and the cats are not pleased. Miss B of Hertfordshire is the sister of Sir GB and betrothed to one of our most eligible gentlemen. With his wealth and her beauty, they shall becomeThe Coupleof the season, though not if Lord D has anything to say on the matter. Hedanced only with her and then departed the ball. Did he attend merely to secure a dance with the new mystery lady?”
Elizabeth grimaced. “The society columns are written very poorly.”
“They are not intended as literary works, Elizabeth. They are meant to sell newspapers. Welcome to the world of the upper circles, where everyone observes everyone else. Take care, my girl, not to set one foot wrong, or you may find yourself ruined.”
Mr. Darcy entered the room. “Elizabeth, you are not eating. Shall I serve you a plate?”
