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Chapter 47: Secret service

The earl got suitably drunk at his son’s engagement party but fortunately not before the Archbishop’s emissary had discreetly approached him with a letter regarding his nephew’s marriage. He managed to sign off on this on a tray that was presented to him. All the guests, including his sister, not unreasonably assumed that Lord Matlock’s ecclesiastical business concerned Richard’s marriage.

The earl’s valet woke him at an uncharacteristically early hour the next morning in anticipation of Lady Catherine. He thus managed to evade his sister who arrived on his doorstep at the damnable time of ten o’clock. Instead of hearing the result of his intervention with Darcy to correct her nephew’s uncharacteristic deviation from common sense, Lady Catherine was informed by his butler that the earl had gone out on business.

With apologies, Greaves admitted Lady Catherine to the vestibule where he handed her a note that the earl had left with instructions for it to be delivered to the Pulteney. The butler gave his sincerest mea culpas—all the footmen were busy cleaning after the colonel’s engagement party; he had not imagined Lady Catherine would be yet awake.

Lady Catherine berated Greaves with a long diatribe on the evils of Town ways while Mr Collins shot disappointed looks at the butler. Her angry words were like water off a duck’s back as Greaves had expected a scolding, having been instructed not to deliver the letter until eleven. He humbly begged Lady Catherine’s pardon before withdrawing to allow her to read the missive.

Sitting down on a fauteuil, Lady Catherine broke the seal. The earl instructed his sister he would call on her at the Pulteney at one, having been summoned to The City regarding a matter that could not be delayed. Seething with frustration, Lady Catherine was forced to retreat to her hotel—she knew from experience that the countess would not rise before noon.

The earl had, in fact, ensconced himself at White’s where he knew no woman could tread. After a chaser to stave off his hangover, Lord Matlock fell asleep in an armchair in front of the fire in the comfort of his largely deserted club. He woke again at midday to have a tolerable breakfast of ham and eggs.

Meanwhile in Gracechurch Street, all was in preparation for the wedding. Jane had dressed in her gold silk, deeming her newer silk dresses under-trimmed for the occasion. After she swept her golden hair quickly into an immaculate bun, she began brushing her sister’s chestnut locks out in preparation for arranging them. Plaiting the sides, Jane drew them across Lizzy’s crown before fastening the ends together near her nape on top of a layer of hair she could draw up to hide her handiwork. After teasing the loose strands, she drew them into a bun before setting the flowers into the exposed plaits as a coronet.

“That looks charming, Jane!” praised Mrs Gardiner as she walked into her bedchamber, which had been given over to the ladies for dressing.

She opened a pretty box in front of the mirror and drew out a long necklace. “Here, Lizzy, you may wear my pearls!”

“Oh, Aunt!” said Lizzy looking at the necklace that had cost her uncle a pretty penny. “That is very generous of you! But please wear them yourself. I am going to wear my cameo.”

“Not the owl cameo, Lizzy?” asked her aunt in exasperation.

“Yes, Aunt. It has special significance to me, and I think to Mr Darcy also.”

“Are you sure, Lizzy? It seems a little strange for a wedding.”

“I think so, Aunt. But I will ask Fitzwilliam when we get there, if you like, and gratefully take your pearls if I am mistaken.”

With that assurance Aunt Gardiner had to be satisfied. She looped the pearls twice around her own neck before dropping a more modest citrine necklace into her reticule as a reserve should Lizzy need her pearls. On top of this she placed a rolled length of wide cream ribbon that had been sitting on the dressing table.

Soon the carriage, returned from Southwark, was heard outside. The ladies donned their coats in preparation for their departure. Entering the house, Mr Gardiner changed into his best coat and allowed his wife to push a flower into his buttonhole before ushering them all out the door. On top of the carriage, wrapped in sailcloth, was the object he had retrieved from his warehouse. By happy coincidence, Mr Gardiner had put the finishing touches on his walking machine not the day before. He thus was able to bring it to the ceremony as the Gardiners’ wedding present. He had been very glad to hear the marriage was to go forward so quickly upon arriving home from work the previous day.

They arrived in Mayfair to be greeted at the front door by the colonel who was in a jovial mood despite his lack of sleep. After his engagement party, he had spent half the night in his betrothed’s bedchamber before sneaking back along the corridor to his own room. Richard had discovered that Hildie was no shrinking miss. He was looking forward to consummating his marriage on the following week with some anticipation. Apprised of his cousin’s impending marriage by a note sent to Matlock House during the engagement party, Richard had been roused by Greaves midmorning. He breakfasted alone with Hildie.

After almost running into his Aunt Catherine in the vestibule, Richard had slipped down the servants’ stairs hand in hand with Hildie and emerged into the square via the area steps, much to the surprise of Lady Catherine’s long-suffering groom, who was standing at the horses’ heads. The colonel gave the groom a cheery salute as he headed across the square with his betrothed.

Richard found the preparations for his cousin’s marriage well in hand. As the servants were all employed in this business, he appointed himself doorman when he saw the Gardiners’ carriage arrive. Hildie joined Georgie in the saloon, sorting through the sheet music for the occasion. When Mr Trevor arrived shortly after from his lodgings, he took Richard’s place at the door to wait for the clergyman so that Richard might assist Darcy down the stairs.

Arriving in Darcy’s bedchamber, Richard found Darcy looking very dapper in a black tailcoat of superfine with dove grey breeches above shiny hessians. The single touch of colour that had been added to this ensemble was a ruby stickpin nestled in the folds of his snowy white cravat. Darcy directed Finn and Richard to take him to his study where he requested an audience with Elizabeth whilst they waited for the clergyman.

He looked up when Elizabeth entered and closed the door behind herself.

“Did you wish to talk to me, Fitzwilliam?” she enquired.

“Do you think I should wear my glasses?” he asked, indicating the spectacles in his hand. “I worry that my eyes wander. Finn chose the ruby pin to match them.”

“They do not wander,” Elizabeth reassured him. “Do not wear them; I want to see your beautiful eyes.”

A small smile puckered the corners of Darcy’s lips. “What are you wearing?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

“The dress I wore to the Netherfield ball and my cameo, provided you have no objections.”

“How appropriate! I can just imagine what you look like,” he said, reaching out in the direction of the cameo.

When Elizabeth guided his hand to the carving, he rubbed the relief with his thumb in fond recognition. “And you are wearing a different scent?”

“It is the roses I am carrying. I have some in my hair as well.”