Elizabeth resumed her seat and Jane settled gracefully in the remaining chair across from their father’s desk. As Elizabeth related her vision of Miss Bingley’s imagined journey from fashionable Mayfair to the merchant district around Cheapside, Jane pressed her fingers to her lips, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Both of you are incorrigible,” she managed to say, after composing herself. “I came to inform you that Mamma has had Mrs. Hill prepare tea in the small parlour. She remains hopeful for visitors today, despite the frost. The house has been rather quiet since the Gardiners departed with Kitty and Lydia.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied. “Lady Lucas is too consumed with Charlotte’s wedding preparations to pay any calls, poor Aunt Phillips still suffers from a lingering cold that has turned her nose as red as a ripe apple, and the King family is exhausted from the steady stream of hopeful suitors since it was revealed that Miss King inherited ten thousand pounds upon the death of her grandfather.”
“Which is precisely why our recent good fortune remains a family secret,” Papa said, rising. “Any gentleman who did not think you worthy of his attention before my elevation to earl is not worthy of your attention now, nor of your mother’s excellent tea and seed cake, which I think we shouldhasten to partake in.”
Candles blazed from everywindow of Lucas Lodge, casting a warm, golden glow across the frost-dusted gardens as carriages deposited guests for the engagement celebration in honour of Miss Charlotte Lucas. Though Elizabeth had genuine happiness for Charlotte, evident in the way her dear friend’s eyes sparkled with newfound purpose, she could not help but question the wisdom of such a match. Even Papa had ventured forth an opinion that his cousin was not the sharpest knife at the dinner table. Still, Charlotte had seized her chance at independence, even if that freedom came with the price of Mr. Collins’ company, and his endless praise and adoration of Lady Catherine and her opinions.
It was during a quiet moment amidst the festivities, where Sir William once again regaled a captive audience with tales about his investiture at St. James’s Court, that Charlotte approached Elizabeth with an invitation.
“You must join us in Kent next Easter. My father and Maria will be visiting, and your father would surely not object. Since you and Jane plan to be in London following my wedding, my father could collect you from your uncle’s residence, and you might travel together.”
Elizabeth hesitated, uncertain how to navigate their altered circumstances without revealing too much.
“I have been remiss in not telling you earlier,” she began carefully, lowering her voice as Mrs. Long swept past in a scented cloud of camphor. “I hesitated to trouble you with our affairs while you have been occupied with wedding preparations and selecting linens.”
“I must confess, I have been preoccupied,” Charlotte said with a wry smile. “What news do you wish to impart?”
“My father’s cousin has passed. Papa has been asked toattend the reading of the will, as he stands to inherit substantially.”
“The cousin whose estate your family visits every second year?”
“Yes. Rather than visiting Tetherwood this summer, we shall likely take up residence there. How strange it will be without Cousin Arthur’s familiar figure in those halls.”
“An estate for your father? What an unexpected blessing for your family.” Charlotte pressed their hands together, her face alight with genuine pleasure. “I confess I have worried about your mother and sisters’ security after your father’s time. Tell me, does an entail restrict this property?”
“None that we are aware of. Jane and I shall remain in town through January, before rejoining our parents and Mary in Bedfordshire.” Elizabeth withdrew her hands from Charlotte’s gentle hold. “I must beg your discretion on this matter. Papa fears that rumours of our inheritance might invite unwelcome attention.”
“Is that the reason Kitty and Lydia were dispatched to schools in Kent?”
“In part. Their infatuation with the officers had grown excessive, and a governess would scarcely have prevented their daily pilgrimages to Meryton.” Elizabeth sighed, a small crease forming between her brows. “Schools at a considerable distance from both Hertfordshire and the militia seemed the wisest course.”
“Your father chose prudently.” Charlotte’s expression took on a hue of sadness. “I shall lament your absence while in Kent, and miss your company dearly.”
“While I cannot make firm commitments until Papa’s inheritance is settled, be assured I shall endeavour to call upon you.” Elizabeth’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Perhaps not immediately, but in due course, I shall honour your parlour with my humble presence.”
“Oh, I do hope you keep that promise.” Charlotte reached for Elizabeth’s hand once more. “You remain my closest and dearest friend.”
Chapter Five
Miss Charlotte Lucas becameMrs. William Collins on a bitter January morning that chilled the fingers and reddened the noses of her wedding guests. Outside, a biting easterly wind encouraged even the most determined well-wishers to abandon the customary lingering on the church steps and hasten to Lucas Lodge for a modest wedding breakfast. Ultimately, the festivities and well wishes were cut short by Mr. Collins’s frequent consultations of his pocket watch, as his thoughts were clearly fixed on the miles of rutted winter roads between them and his patroness’s estate in Kent.
After bidding the newlyweds farewell, the Bennets returned to Longbourn, where Jane and Elizabeth’s trunks lay open, partially packed for tomorrow’s journey to London, while Papa closeted himself with Mr. Turner to finalise lease papers. Mamma and Mary occupied the drawing room, patiently submitting themselves to Miss Tyler’s instruction on proper deportment.
Within days of Papa learning of his inheritance, an express rider arrived at Longbourn with a royal command bearing the seal of the King himself, its royal insignia pressed deep into thecrimson wax, requesting the new earl present himself, his countess, and their unmarried daughters at court in the first week of February. Thus, the newly minted Countess Rumley and Mary spent hours in the drawing room, skirts billowing around their ankles as they desperately attempted to perfect their curtsies and master the delicate art of backing away from Her Majesty without turning their backs or, heaven forbid, catching a heel in the elaborate trim of their formal gowns.
Elizabeth and Jane, their faces betraying only the faintest hint of amusement, had already navigated this particular royal gauntlet under the wing of Lady Deborah Rumley, now the Dowager Countess, and were spared the daily drills that left their mother and sister exhausted by teatime.
Elizabeth’s thoughts turned to Cousin Arthur’s widow. How did she fare without her husband? Theirs had been a love match, founded on genuine affection, a rarity among the nobility. Thirty years together, and now alone. The countess must feel his absence keenly.
The next morning, Jane and Elizabeth, with no small feeling of melancholy, bid farewell to Meryton’s familiar hedgerows and winding lanes. Their first day in London passed in a whirl of pleasant domesticity in their aunt and uncle’s elegant town house in Gracechurch Street, exchanging stories of Kitty and Lydia’s adventures at their new schools. Tales of French verbs mangled beyond recognition and deportment masters already driven to despair, while contemplating the family’s imminent move to the sprawling green hills of Bedfordshire. The sisters took turns at the gleaming new rosewood piano in the parlour, its ivory keys still pristine and unmarked, and read their small cousins to sleep when their yawns could no longer be hidden. On the second day, Aunt Madeline swept into the breakfast room with purpose.
“Today,” she announced, her hazel eyes twinkling, “we shall visit the fashionable emporiums of Bond Street for hats with ostrich plumes and silk ribbons befitting the daughters of an earl. I, myself, shall demand a bonnet with an entire bird’s nest, complete with eggs, perched triumphantly on top.” She flung her finely woven shawl about her shoulders with dramatic flair. “One must present a certain image when one’s brother-in-law ascends to the peerage.”
Though Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances of barely contained mirth at their aunt’s theatrical pronouncement, both sisters recognised the undeniable truth beneath her jest. The simple sprigged muslin frocks that had served them well as daughters of a country gentleman would appear positively provincial in the drawing rooms in town. Thus, Aunt Madeline had arranged a meeting with Madame Étienne, the French dressmaker whose establishment she had helped finance a decade earlier. The next day, they had barely reached the window of the fashionable milliner’s shop when a sharp, all-too-familiar voice cut through the air and brought them to a halt.
“Miss Bennet, whatever brings you and your sister to Bond Street? Has Miss Eliza lost herself on one of her long rambles and persuaded you to accompany her?”
