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A FINAL FAMILY DINNER

O n Monday, Georgiana arrived early at Darcy House and came quickly to Elizabeth’s side. “I do not understand exactly what has gone on these past several days, but Lady Catherine was humming at breakfast! And looking ever so different.”

“Different in what way?” Darcy called from his chair.

“Her cheeks were pinked, but not from heavy rouges and powders.”

“Perhaps she was blushing,” said Elizabeth.

“Or had consumed a bad kipper,” Darcy offered.

He waited as Georgiana bit her lip, a clear sign of deep thought since she had been in leading strings and asking how butterflies painted their wings. “No, it was as though she were aglow with happiness.”

Wincing, he glanced at Elizabeth, who had glowed with happiness at least once every night since they were wed.

Blushing a deep red, she was leaning towards Georgiana. “And Anne? How is your cousin?”

Her eyes widened. “She has asked to try on my gowns.”

“Perhaps she would like to improve her appearance, just as her mother has these past weeks,” speculated Elizabeth.

“Mrs Darcy, please do not for even the tiniest fraction of a moment consider proposing we remain in London in order to offer Anne instruction in cosmetics and fashion. I shall be tempted to return to Derbyshire alone and return to fetch you in April when the roads improve,” Darcy cried, almost entirely in jest.

“Never fear, Mr Darcy. As regards the ladies de Bourgh, I have done with the business of lessons, both in the giving and the receiving. Any future tutelage will be done within our small household.”

The warm look she exchanged with her husband fortunately went unseen by their sister.

At the appointed time, the party from Himdale House was announced.

Elizabeth exchanged an expectant glance with Darcy.

After tonight, their onerous family business in town would end, and they would settle into his finest, most comfortable carriage to begin their journey north.

Lord Matlock swaggered into the drawing room, grinning at his nephew.

“Kind of you to open up to host a dinner for your aunt. It is not the usual thing within weeks of one’s wedding. ”

“Indeed. I had thought the lovely dinner we held here with Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle two nights ago would suffice for family obligations,” Darcy replied blandly.

“The one with the warehouses?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth interjected quickly. “Mr Darcy and I are very fond of them. My uncle Gardiner has a new shipment of silks from India, and I have ordered new fabrics for the chairs in the parlours and drawing room.”

She smiled at Lady Matlock, who nodded her approval before adding, “Mrs Gardiner is excellent company.”

As Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forwards with Anne, Elizabeth realised that Lady Catherine was missing from the group. She pulled Anne aside.

“Where is your mother? Is all well?”

Anne rolled her eyes. “I imagine she will be here soon. She left a note with Barnes stating that she was out conducting some business or other, perhaps seeing the perfumer , but it is all a hum. I heard noises coming from her rooms as we were preparing to depart. ”

“What sort of…?” Elizabeth began before executing a hasty conversational volte-face. “Um, indeed, I spoke to her recently about fragrances. The scents fashionable today are rather, um, lighter than in previous years, and I recommended she visit Floris to seek advice on what might suit her.”

“So long as her perfumes mask her breath.” Anne looked slightly ill.

From across the room, Lord Matlock boomed, “You may expect Cadbury to make a late arrival, Darcy. It is his only vice.”

Lady Matlock laughed. “Your sister always arrives early, my dear. We shall see who breaks whom of which bad habit, in the end.”

“Odds are they will arrive together, in a state of mutual disarray,” muttered the colonel.

After Elizabeth ensured all had found comfortable seats and were served their beverage of choice, they chatted happily about long-ago holidays and soirees at Darcy House whilst they waited for the others to arrive.

Yet a quiet tension prevailed as they awaited the entrance of the evening’s central figure.

In Lady Catherine’s eye, the dinner was meant to be Elizabeth’s final test; in the clearer eyes of the others, it was to be a closer look at the lovestruck dowager with the object of her affection.

At last they heard the knocker sound. Some scuffling, giggling, and whispering could be heard in the front hall. Everyone rose hurriedly and walked into the corridor to listen.

“I beg your pardon?” shouted Lord Cadbury.

“Wait a moment so it does not appear we arrived together,” Lady Catherine advised loudly as she pulled on his arm. “And remember to use your new ear trumpet, my darling.”

She looked up to see everyone gathered about the balustrade, gaping down at her and Lord Cadbury.

The distance—and Lady Catherine’s new face powders—made it difficult for Elizabeth to discern whether she was blushing, but, seeming unbothered, the dowager called up, “Staring is quite rude, but nevertheless, good evening to you all. What a coincidence it is that Lord Cadbury and I have arrived at the same time.”

“Those are the same clothes he wore yesterday,” whispered Anne to Elizabeth.

“Such a wonderful coincidence, indeed,” she replied politely before calling to the couple, “Please, do come in. We are delighted you are here!”

Darcy’s long-widowed and endlessly puzzling aunt had an almost youthful glow about her. There was powder on those lined cheeks, but less than before. And her wig was a crown of winter white.

“A confection of spun sugar.”

Elizabeth turned slowly to her left and found Georgiana leaning close, whispering in awe. “Soft, shiny snowdrifts of hair.”

She smiled at her sister. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “Lady Catherine is?—”

“—In fine form tonight.” Darcy stared at his aunt, a quizzical look on his face. “She looks different. She appears to be?—”

“—An ageing French coquette exhibiting far too many fleshy bits,” Fitzwilliam coughed.

“Hush,” said Elizabeth as she herded everyone back to the drawing room after the couple tottered up the stairs. “Lady Catherine, what a lovely gown! Is it one of the new ones? You look positively radiant.”

As Lady Catherine preened, Elizabeth heard the men clearing their throats.

“Doing it too brown, my dear?” Darcy said in a low voice as they followed the guests into the dining room.

“No, not at all! She is glowing with happiness.”

“She is glowing with something , all right. She looks downright dewy .”

Elizabeth swatted his arm and laughed. “Do not be ridiculous, you naughty man.”

But, she reflected, Lady Catherine truly did look beautiful, and not only because her bosom was high and plump and her gown stylish.

Indeed, although her rouge was a bit less garish than before, her wig was still concerningly tall and her jewels unrestrained in their number and size.

It did not matter in the least, though, not when she and Lord Cadbury looked at each other with such adoration.

During dinner, Lady Catherine and Lord Cadbury sat disconcertingly close together, and if they were trying to hide the fact that they were holding hands under the table, they completely failed in that endeavour. Elizabeth thought even Georgiana noticed and seemed charmed by the couple’s affection.

When Lady Catherine’s painful finger joints appeared to flare and she dropped her fork and clutched her hand, Lord Cadbury leant over and cut her meat for her. When a spoonful of soup slopped onto his waistcoat, she cleaned it with her own serviette.

As any couple who has been together long enough to care for the other’s frailties , Elizabeth thought, smiling at Darcy, who—with Fitzwilliam—stared agog at the spectacle.

“If these public displays of affection do not cease, I shall be scarred into eternal bachelorhood,” she heard the colonel mutter. His mother swatted his shoulder.

“Do not think I have missed your little comments, you jackanapes,” Lady Catherine snapped, the dreamy smile melting from her face and her customary sour expression returning. “When will you do your duty and bring home a bride to your mother? ”

Elizabeth laughed softly to herself as the colonel hastily sat up straight and changed the subject.

Between the soup and fish courses, Lord Matlock began to wax on about a scrape he and Lord Cadbury had got into at Cambridge. “…And that was when the serving wench dropped the entire roast on Pinkington’s head!”

Lord Cadbury looked puzzled. “What was that? A coach on his bed, did you say?”

Lady Catherine wordlessly handed him the ear trumpet that she had, it seemed, been carrying in her bag.

After thanking her, he smiled broadly and held it aloft for Lord Matlock’s inspection.

The jewels studding the golden horn-shaped device sparkled in the candlelight.

“What do you say, Matlock? Have you ever seen such an exquisite thing? Catherine gave it to me to mark the one-week anniversary of our becoming reacquainted. Both clever and beautiful, your sister! And such spirit!”

“I should have decorated it differently, had I learnt the art of goldsmithing,” sniffed Lady Catherine. “It is insufficiently jewelled.” Then she seemed to catch a glimpse of Lord Cadbury’s smitten face, and her own broke into a besotted grin. “But it is lovely nevertheless.”

After the ladies withdrew, Lord Cadbury took the opportunity to ask his boyhood friend for his sister’s hand in marriage.

It was strictly a formality, of course, since, as a widow, she was free to do as she pleased.

His old chum stood, clapped him on the shoulder, and welcomed him warmly to the family, urging him to have some brandy and a cigar.

These Lord Cadbury had to refuse on account of his bilious liver, but he declared the sentiment was deeply appreciated regardless.

Apparently bursting with emotion, he rose from his seat and wabbled round the dining room before returning to his host. “Blast it, Matlock,” he boomed.

“Thanks to your sister, I am lit up like a volcano. She makes me so infernally happy. It is dumbfounding no other man has swooped in to win her since Sir Lewis’s demise. ”

Lord Cadbury’s words incited a coughing fit in his companions. He reached towards the earl and smacked his back, sending his lit cigar flying across the dining room. “Must be a bilious liver in you as well, Matlock!”

No one but Darcy seemed to heed the thin wisps of smoke curling from the carpet.

Stamping on the incipient flames calmed him well enough to offer congratulations to the gentleman whose failings in hearing and eyesight boded well for a happy future with his long-cantankerous aunt.

The gentlemen soon adjourned to the drawing room to join the ladies, as Lord Cadbury was burning to share the good news with his beloved.

Cad sat beside her on the settee, murmuring ‘dear Catherine’ as he took her hands adoringly in his and began whispering loudly in her ear all that had passed in the dining room.

As he spoke, Lady Catherine peered over her paramour’s shoulder; across the room by the fine mantelpiece, Darcy’s wife was teasing him out of his dullness.

The boy was so solemn at times, she thought, and usually more interesting when in company with that hussy—um, that is, Mrs Darcy, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy!

Indeed, he gradually became more relaxed as his wife smiled prettily, coaxing and joking, until finally he grinned, his eyes on Lady Catherine, and nodded his head in agreement.

He bent to kiss Elizabeth discreetly on the cheek.

Shameless! Does every bit of felicity demand an indecent display?

Thumping the cushion, Lady Catherine bellowed, “Darcy, have a care! This is no public house—!” But she did not complete her thought, and even the memory of what she had meant to say quickly faded as her lover’s lips wandered with a butterfly’s touch to the tender spot just below her ear.