Jane paused for no more than a heartbeat before nodding. Elizabeth fought back a triumphant grin. At this rate, her sister would be practically engaged before the evening was out. A soft laugh escaped her as she shook her head, knowing he would not be so rash, but secretly pleased to see a gentleman so clear in his intentions, his admiration evident in every attentive gesture. Lord knew the last one had failed miserably in that area, leaving nothing but confusion and heartache in his wake.
“Your uncle has spokenof his sister’s family, and my husband and I have found his conversation, and his wife’s most agreeable,” Lady Meadowbrook said with a wry smile. “It is no secret, Lady Elizabeth, that I am the daughter of a simple gentleman, and that my maternal uncle is in trade as well. We are thus very much alike, and I eagerly await meeting your parents. I have no doubt your mother and I shall become fast friends.”
“Thank you, Lady Meadowbrook,” Elizabeth said with great feeling. “My mother will be most appreciative of any kindness and support you offer.”
Lady Meadowbrook’s fan, trimmed with peacock feathers, fluttered open and shut. “Come,” she murmured, “there is another I wish you to meet.” Around them, visitors drifted in clusters, laughter chiming like silver bells. “I have known her almost as long as your Aunt Madeline. At times, Derbyshire is like a small village, where everyone recognises one another.”
“I quite understand,” Elizabeth replied, her voice soft above the rustle of silk. “In our little community, the quarterly assemblies draw families from every corner, and I frequently find myself exchanging pleasantries with Miss Grant and MissPeters of St. Albans.”
“Precisely,” Lady Meadowbrook agreed, stepping through a throng of feathered headpieces. “Your aunt and I hail from Lambton, and our dear friend Lucinda is from Matlock. Growing up, we spent many delightful evenings at each other’s balls and house parties.”
They joined a small coterie of stately ladies, who turned to greet them. “Beatrice, your ball is a splendid success, as always,” the tallest lady declared in a rich voice that carried effortlessly across the room. Her lace fan fluttered briefly as she cast a polite glance at Elizabeth. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this delightful company?”
Lady Meadowbrook laughed softly. “May I present Madeline’s niece?”
“Yes! I have heard about Jane and Lizzy for many years,” the lady said enthusiastically. “I am delighted to finally meet them.”
“Lucinda,” Lady Meadowbrook said, placing a gentle hand on Elizabeth’s elbow and guiding her forward, “this is Lady Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. Lady Elizabeth, allow me to introduce Lady Lucinda Fitzwilliam, Countess Matlock of Wyndhaven, Derbyshire.”
“Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth said, curtseying gracefully.
“Lady Elizabeth,” the countess replied with a nod and a warm smile, her emerald necklace catching the candlelight. “Your aunt did not overstate your charms, and I very much look forward to becoming better acquainted.”
She then presented Elizabeth to her circle, and by the time Elizabeth withdrew, she had met a duchess, two countesses — one a patroness of Almack’s — and the wife of a visiting Belgian dignitary. Each bowed and smiled, their jewels sparkling brighter than the candelabra. As she withdrew at last, Elizabeth couldscarcely believe how her evening had progressed. Never had she imagined she would mingle so effortlessly with such exalted company or be accepted as an equal. Had anyone asked her four months ago where her life would lead, this evening would have seemed beyond even her most fervent dreams.
Chapter Eight
January’s bitter frost gaveway to February’s damp chill, and the earl and his wife set off for Bedfordshire without their middle daughter. Mary, having asked and obtained permission to remain in Meryton, was comfortably installed with Aunt Philips and a new upright piano. Assured of her contentment, Lord Rumley allowed himself to relinquish the lingering guilt he had borne since the Netherfield Ball. Although his middle daughter was unaware of how close she had come to public humiliation at the piano, Bennet carried the memory keenly and resolved to make every possible amends. Her stay in Meryton was only the first of them.
Lady Rumley, less pleased at having her daughters scattered across the country like autumn leaves in a brisk wind, took comfort in knowing that Jane and Elizabeth would join her in Bedfordshire come July, accompanied by her brother and his family, before they continued to the Peak District for the long-awaited holiday amid its verdant hills and dramatic stone outcroppings.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth arranged to visit Charlotte in March, with plans to stay six weeks. The journey from London took just under four hours, with a brief halt at Bromley to rest the horses,and for Elizabeth and her maid to attend to necessary errands. When the carriage turned off the main road onto the narrow lane leading to Hunsford, Elizabeth peered eagerly through the rain-speckled window for the first glimpse of her cousin’s modest parsonage. One final bend and it appeared, nestled behind a low laurel hedge, glistening with droplets of recent rain.
On the covered portico stood Mr. Collins and Charlotte, joined by Sir William and Maria, who had arrived in Kent a week earlier. They waited until the carriage came to a halt on the gravel drive, then stepped forward to greet her. Mrs. Collins offered a warm, almost exuberant welcome, her usually placid features animated with genuine pleasure, while Sir William repeated, with undisguised enthusiasm, “Capital. Just capital!” his ruddy face beaming.
Elizabeth quickly perceived that her cousin had by no means forgotten the slight he believed he had suffered at her family’s hands during his first visit to Meryton. His recital was exhaustive, from the exact proportions of every room (Fourteen feet by sixteen, with a southern exposure), the quality of the furnishings (Note the sideboard, a most generous gift from Lady Catherine herself), and, in particular, the layout of his garden with its neat paths and industrious beehives humming with activity despite the season.
Elizabeth met Charlotte’s gaze and offered a crooked, half-amused smile. Her dearest friend’s calm expression betrayed no surprise; she knew exactly what had transpired in the breakfast room at Longbourn the morning after the Netherfield ball, and yet, she had still consented to marry the man. With any luck, Mr. Collins would calm after a few hours, allowing the ladies to converse at leisure. But no sooner had dinner begun than talk inevitably turned to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Collins leaned forward eagerly, his voice rising in pleased anticipation.
“You will find Lady Catherine most charming, Cousin Elizabeth,” he proclaimed, his voice swelling with pride. “She is quite the model of gracious politeness, tempered, of course, by her signature condescension. You may expect a gracious nod or two, just as my revered father-in-law and dear sister-in-law have received. Why, she invited us to dine scarcely an hour after our arrival and insisted we not walk home. She even ordered her carriage for us, or rather, I should say, one of her carriages, for she has several.”
“Your patroness is a most attentive neighbour,” Elizabeth observed, her tone measured.
Truth be told, a twinge of irritation bothered Elizabeth at such attentiveness, particularly upon discovering that Lady Catherine had ordered him to install shelves in the closet. What was to become of her clothing? Would her maid be reduced to draping gowns on the curtain rod? She repressed an amused giggle at the image of her two finest dresses festooned about the window like tawdry drapery. She could only hope that the spacious armoire she had glimpsed in the dressing room earlier would accommodate her wardrobe.
By the time the first course was removed, their discourse shifted to Hertfordshire. Sir William, proceeded to update her on the latest Meryton news, which remained largely fixated on the militia, and Maria expressed dissatisfaction that the officers would soon march to Brighton for the next phase of their training. Subtle questions were asked with regard to what the Bennet family was doing in town, how Lydia and Kitty were faring in their schools, and whether Mary was enjoying her time with their aunt and uncle Phillips.
Elizabeth’s reply had all the restraint her father’s confidences demanded, and the candour her upbringing required.
“My two youngest sisters are thriving in their respective schools. Kitty has unveiled a remarkable aptitude for sketching and watercolours, and Lydia, much to everyone’s surprise, has displayed a natural gift for mathematics, a talent none of us expected.”
“Mathematics? How singular,” Charlotte murmured, brows arched in polite surprise, then deftly shifted her curiosity to the elder siblings. “And what of Jane? Has she spoken with Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst since she arrived in town?”
A smallmoueof distaste pinched Elizabeth’s lips at the mention of Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Or rather, the one sister that truly mattered, with her haughty airs and barely hidden dislike of everyone in Meryton.
“Jane had planned to pay them a call,” she said, her voice low and cool, “but providence, or perhaps ill fortune, led my sister and me, accompanied by Aunt Madeline, to encounter them quite by chance on Bond Street.”
“Were they not civil?” Charlotte enquired, her gaze bright with genuine interest, like a bird spotting a tasty crumb.
