Page 39

Matlock House

London

Friday, 17 th January, 1812

The Matlocks' butler shut the door on the chill evening, and maids took Darcy's heavy overcoat and Elizabeth's pelisse. She was dressed in her new ruby dress as befitted a married woman, with a gold chain about her throat. Darcy looked very handsome in his fir green coat and brocade waistcoat, and she smiled at her husband as she accepted his arm.

The previous week had been an idyllic one of leisure and love, with breakfasts and dinners that had lasted for hours with the newlyweds sitting close beside each other, along with evenings in the library curled up in the armchairs by the fire, reading in companionable silence or aloud to each other. In the afternoons, while Darcy was busy writing letters to his steward and man of business, or dealing with other correspondence, Elizabeth had occupied herself with learning her new duties. She was, by marriage and soon by practice, the mistress of Pemberley. It behooved her to know how to take care of her estate and people .

The housekeeper at Darcy House had been an invaluable help, endlessly patient with Elizabeth's many questions. The two women had spent hours together, poring over household accounts, discussing expenses and servants' wages and a mistress's duties. Pemberley, of course, was much larger than Darcy House in London, and the mistress of the estate would be partially responsible for looking after a host of servants and many tenant families.

But eventually even the most pleasant honeymoon week must end, and even the most in love couples must rejoin society. The knocker had been rehung on the imposing front door, the silver card platter in the hallway cleared off and notes replied to and returned, and the carriage brought around to the front. Lady Matlock had invited them to a small cozy dinner to meet her few friends who were in Town before the Season started.

Elizabeth was entirely cognizant of the kindness of the earl and countess. Even as Darcy's new wife, she would have difficulty entering the circles of society where he moved without a female relative to sponsor her. Such a role should have fallen to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, as Darcy's closest surviving matron relative, but Elizabeth could not imagine any way that would not be a complete disaster. Lady Matlock had been graciousness itself in stepping into the role, and Elizabeth was appreciative, even if she and Fitzwilliam would have preferred to hide away for a few weeks longer. Mrs. Darcy necessarily had social obligations, and Elizabeth was determined to do her duty.

Thus, the newlywed couple found themselves following the stately butler down the paneled corridor to the drawing room door, which he swung open with gravitas.

“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” the butler announced, and Darcy patted Elizabeth’s hand reassuringly as the earl moved forward from his place by the fireplace, his patrician face stretched into a welcoming smile.

“Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, how wonderful to see you,” he said. “You look lovely today, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said with a smile and turned as the Countess approached and exclaimed, “Darcy, it is about time you brought your beautiful bride here! Elizabeth, I hope you are well?”

“I am very well, thank you,” she said. “How are you, Lady Matlock?”

“I am very well indeed. Now, allow me to introduce you to my family and friends, please.”

The ensuing minutes were full of introductions and brief conversations, with Elizabeth doing her best to remember the new names and faces. Most of those present were a generation older than she and Darcy, though there were a few younger ladies and gentlemen in a corner chatting, one of whom was Richard Fitzwilliam. Once the elders had met the newly married couple, Richard surged forward with the remaining individuals trailing behind him and said, “Good evening, Elizabeth, Darcy. Ladies, sisters, brother, Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth, please allow me to introduce you to my older brother, Viscount Montferrat, his wife, Lady Montferrat, my sisters Lady Rebekah and Lady Rachel, Miss Goldsmith, and Miss Haskett.”

Elizabeth curtsied and the ladies curtsied and the viscount bowed.

“It is wonderful to meet you,” she said politely.

“We are very pleased to meet you, too,” Lady Rebekah said, her eyes dancing. “You cannot imagine how eagerly we have desired meeting the lady who won my cousin’s heart.”

Elizabeth glanced at her husband, who was staring at her in a thoroughly besotted way and smiled. “I am well aware of how blessed I am.”

“Indeed you are,” agreed Miss Goldsmith, a handsome young lady with nearly black hair and dark blue eyes. “My brother told me that there were bets being placed at White’s about who would capture Darcy, and I assure you that you were not on anyone’s list.”

Elizabeth considered Miss Goldsmith with interest. The lady’s mouth was curled up, but the smile did not reach her eyes. There was curiosity in Miss Goldsmith’s gaze, not unmixed with disapproval and perhaps a hint of disdain.

“Anyone who bets on the marriage of another is a fool,” Darcy said irritably, and Elizabeth aimed an amused look at her husband, who was standing very upright, his back stiff.

“I agree,” she said merrily and turned to Richard’s sisters and brother. “I believe you are the last of Fitzwilliam’s cousins I have had the honor of meeting. Lady Montferrat, Lady Rebekah, Lady Rachel, are you musicians like my new sister, Georgiana?”

This question provoked a lively discussion about music among the ladies, while Darcy released her arm and drifted off to speak with his two male cousins. It developed that all four of Elizabeth’s new female acquaintances played at least two instruments, and based on the casual introduction of difficult musical selections, they were all very skilled. Elizabeth was quite certain that Miss Haskett and Miss Goldsmith were showing off, but it did not disturb her. Darcy had fallen in love with her partly because she was not a society lady, and if she did not play the pianoforte well, it hardly mattered.

When the company was summoned to dinner, she found herself settled some seats away from her husband and flanked by the Fitzwilliam sisters, Lady Rebekah and Lady Rachel. Both were friendly, especially Lady Rebekah, who seemed the more outgoing of the pair, and the dinner was magnificent, though Elizabeth noted the frequent curious glances from the various members of the group, and her husband’s increasingly stiff expression.

She smiled at him every time he looked at her, and he managed a slight smile in return. She knew how much he disliked being the center of rampant curiosity, but after the events of the previous two months, she found herself entirely undisturbed. Their marriage was a surprise to many, including herself, after all, and within a few weeks, any gossip about her would be swept away by new romances or scandals.

This dinner was necessary so that she would be accepted in society, but in a few hours, they would be cozily back at Darcy House, together.

***

Gardiners’ House

Cheapside

After Dinne r

Anne leaned back in her chair and happily contrasted her current surroundings with sitting rooms at Rosings, which were, without exception, built to a magnificent scale and opulently decorated. The drawing room of the house in Cheapside, on the contrary, was cozy in dimension rather than generous, with a mere handful of knickknacks and sensible dark upholstery and carpet that would not show wear and stains.

She sat in the chair nearest the fire, both isolated and not. Though she was part of neither conversation occurring in the room, she could listen with ease and join in if she wished. Georgiana and Lydia were seated side by side on a loveseat close by, leaning towards Kitty and Mary, where the four were discussing a gothic novel. A little further into the room, Mrs. Gardiner was entertaining Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Jenkinson. Anne listened for a moment and caught the word purling and concluded they were talk with one another about knitting, a subject that did not much interest her.

She was perfectly content to sit in silence and enjoy the amiable atmosphere. After all, she had been surrounded by grandeur her entire life and was weary of it. Rarely had she enjoyed a meal as much as she had enjoyed Mrs. Gardiner's dinner. which had been the peak of pragmatic sense. Even with high-born guests in attendance at her table, she had restrained herself to two courses, simply but skillfully cooked. Anne had found it delectable and eaten with a healthy appetite .

Lady Catherine had favored having five or even seven courses at every dinner, even quiet family dinners. It was ridiculous, of course, and invariably wearied Anne.

The company, too, was more enjoyable than any at home. Her autocratic mother preferred to have guests who would flatter her, hang on her every word, and agree with her every whim. Anne found all of them tiresome. But Mrs. Gardiner did not hold court, and Mr. Gardiner did not hold forth obnoxiously and dominate the conversation, refusing to brook any dissenting opinion. Talk had been lively and cheerful, which was still a novelty to Anne.

So much of her new life was novel still. Anne was yet unused to being able to order whatever she liked for dinner – and breakfast and luncheon – instead of being subject to what her mother liked and claimed that Anne, naturally, ought also to prefer. Georgiana was mild-mannered and easy-going, along with being blessed with a hearty appetite, and she had and made no objections to Anne's preferred menu. Housekeeping, meals, what to wear all fell within Anne’s purview, now, and even as she felt herself overwhelmed some days, she exulted in her new freedom.

Even visiting friends was an option for her now, and this was proving a most delightful evening. Anne wished only that Mrs. Bennet, whose company she had come to enjoy, had been able to attend that evening. It was true that the older woman was, at times, rather vulgar, but she was unfailingly kind. However, Mary had borne her mother's regrets and disclosed that a headache had kept Mrs. Bennet to her room at the Curzon Street house.

The door opened to reveal a maid, who said, “Mrs. Gardiner, my apologies for interrupting you, but the children have asked if you could come upstairs to bid them good night.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner said immediately, rising to her feet. “If you will excuse me, ladies?”

“Might they come downstairs?” Kitty requested. “I have not seen my little cousins in a full week, after all.”

“Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, would you mind if my children joined us?”

Anne hesitated for only a second and then said, “I do not mind.”

“Neither do I,” Georgiana said firmly.

Mrs. Gardiner nodded to the maid, and within two minutes, Anne heard the sound of many small feet, followed moments later by the eruption of four children into the drawing room, two older girls and two younger boys .

Anne watched as the little ones crowded around their mother for kisses and embraces, and then turned to greet their Bennet cousins. Anne, watching Georgiana’s expression, thought she saw a hint of longing, which was likely a mirror of her own thoughts.

She had grown up at Rosings as a sickly, only child, largely ignored by Lady Catherine until she was in her teens. She had been raised by nurses and governesses and frequently dosed by doctors for her illnesses, and she had been lonely much of the time, entirely cut off from other girls her own age.

Georgiana, while blessed with a diligent father and older brother, had lost her mother while still very young. Darcy was more than a decade older, and Georgiana had spent much of her youth under the care of nurses and governesses and had also spent a few years in school, which had probably been difficult for shy Miss Darcy.

It was the way of the nobility and gentry to spend very little time with one’s own offspring, but Anne, considering the cheerful, happy faces of the Gardiner children, could not help but wish that she had experienced such closeness to her parents when she was a child.

If she ever married, she vowed that she would be directly involved in the care of her children.