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It was an excellent idea. Perhaps the gown would not fit, and Elizabeth would be forced to refuse it. Just because she and Miss Darcy were of a height, it did not necessarily follow that their figures were at all similar. She and Jane could share the white gown only because it was a looser fit than most formal dresses, and even then it had needed many modifications. Very likely a dress as closely fitted as this one would need extensive alterations.
Elizabeth gathered the dress into her arms, careful not to ruin the fall of the cloth. “Very well. I shall put it on, but should we encounter anyone—anyone at all—we must tell them this is a gift from the Gardiners.”
Jane and Kitty both nodded quickly; they understood the possible consequences if Collins were to discover the gown’s true provenance.
“You must put it on immediately,” Kitty said breathlessly. “Our cousin could return from town at any moment!”
Elizabeth sighed, knowing her sister was correct. The three women exited the breakfast room and hurried up the stairs, Elizabeth carrying the gown pressed against her chest.
A short time later, Elizabeth was admiring herself in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. It clung to her waist and bosom in just the right places. The shape of the bodice, the color…everything flattered her figure and complexion.
Since her father’s death, Elizabeth had ignored the shifts in fashion and told herself that her appearance did not matter. Since her marital prospects were dim, she had focused her efforts on ensuring that Jane and Kitty appeared to their best advantage. But in this dress, she was again Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Tears stung her eyes. How silly to be brought to weeping over the good fortune of a beautiful dress!
“It fits so well!” Kitty exclaimed. “It is as if the gown was made for you! You and Miss Darcy must have very similar figures. What a stroke of luck!”
Elizabeth brushed her fingers over the skirt, savoring the soft, smooth texture of the silk. As she exchanged a look with Jane, she knew they shared the same thought. It was impossible this dress had been made for anybody but Elizabeth. It fit her too exactly; it must have been made to her precise measurements.
Mr. Darcy must have obtained that information from the seamstress in Meryton and then arranged to have the gown made in London. And he must have done so immediately upon his arrival home. He had been gone nearly a week. Creation of such a gown would take time. Her estimation of the cost increased—as did her guilt—even as she was compelled to take another peek in the mirror.
Jane’s expression suggested she was drawing conclusions about Mr. Darcy’s feelings for Elizabeth. She wanted to blurt out everything he had told her about making amends; no doubt the dress was simply another way to assuage his guilt. At some mysterious point when he determined the debt had been paid, he would drift out of the Bennets’ lives. Perhaps he would buy gowns for all the Bennet daughters, and then they would never see him again.
“You are a beautiful dream, Lizzy!” Kitty sighed. “You simply must keep the gown.”
Elizabeth disliked being the recipient of someone else’s charity, but she had spent much time over the past month convincing the tenants that they should accept help. Refusing the gown on principle would make her a hypocrite.
Elizabeth cast a worried glance at Jane, who better understood the reasons for her misgivings. “You should keep it,” Jane echoed. “Then you will be able to attend the ball.” The ball at Pelham Manor. Had he guessed how dearly she longed to attend it? Perhaps she had not been as good at concealing her disappointment as she believed.
Well, if Jane believed it was acceptable….And she was correct that they did not want to offend Mr. Darcy…
She admired herself in the mirror again. It was a most flattering dress. “Very well. I will keep it.”
“And you will attend the ball?” Jane asked with rising excitement in her voice.
Elizabeth experienced a thrill of anticipation. “Yes, I suppose I will.”
***
Even the people who attempted to ignore the existence of the Bennet sisters could not prevent themselves from glancing in Elizabeth’s direction at the ball. It was rather satisfying. She felt quite elegant in a gown that was not only beautiful but also au courant with the latest London fashions. No other woman—not even Mary King—had a gown that could compare.
Upon such occasions, Elizabeth was tempted to reconsider her decision not to marry. Did she want to become a poor and lonely spinster? But she reminded herself that these moments were fleeting. She could enjoy it while it lasted, but this glittering world bore little resemblance to her real life.
One stark reminder of that life was how few invitations to dance she received. Two of Charlotte’s brothers—one of whom was married—stood up with her, as did a friend of her father’s. Mr. Shaw had solicited a dance after his set with Jane, but dancing with him was rather a chore than a delight. Well, I could hardly expect a fashionable gown to make me less of a pariah.
She had hoped that Mr. Darcy might attend, thinking that the unexpected gift was an indication of his plans. It would be quite flattering if he not only wanted her to have the gorgeous gown but also wanted to see her wearing it. And Elizabeth was a bit astonished at how eager she was to see him.
But an hour of the dance had already passed, and he had not appeared. Perhaps he had simply felt sorry for her and wanted to ensure that she might be able to attend a ball. Disappointment was silly. His attention was flattering, but he certainly meant nothing by it. Guilt had prompted better behavior toward her family, but no doubt he disdained her inferior connections. Still, she made frequent glances toward the ballroom entrance in search of any latecomers.
She had just finished a glass of punch when she peeked once more at the entrance. Her heart fluttered at the sight of a tall figure framed by the doorway. Mr. Darcy had arrived! His suit was immaculate, cut to emphasize his height and the breadth of his shoulders. Dark hair tumbled over his forehead, and Elizabeth imagined she could see the vivid blue of his eyes even from this distance. He commanded attention from many in the room, both those who knew his identity and those who were curious about a handsome, obviously wealthy man.
Her joy was immediately tempered, however, when she saw that he was escorting an elegantly dressed blonde woman. She was about Elizabeth’s height but with a far more womanly figure—displaying curves in all the places Elizabeth lacked. Her gown, a pale ivory embroidered with flowers and birds, put even Elizabeth’s dress to shame.
Elizabeth quickly averted her gaze, not even certain at first why she was so distressed. She had hoped Mr. Darcy would be here, but she had expected him to come alone. If he had brought a young lady, they were likely more than casual acquaintances.
She might even be his fiancée. Although he had not mentioned being engaged, there was no particular reason he would have told her family. For a moment Elizabeth believed her heart had ceased beating and died in her chest.
Why do I feel so terrible at the thought of his fiancée? I must have feelings for Mr. Darcy!
What a terrible time for such a realization.
