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“Fanny, I fear that Mr. Darcy and I are much alike in some ways… we are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition with little talent for flattery or liking of social gatherings. Perhaps that is why we both chose to marry ladies with such vibrant spirits… you and Lizzy are more alike than either of you might care to admit—you both have such a zest for living that it breathes life into everyone and everything around you.”

It was quite the longest and most complimentary speech that her husband had made to her in years, and Fanny Bennet was left speechless for a moment. Finally, she simply threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Thomas. Oh, thank you—that was just what I needed to hear.”

Mr. Bennet patted her back. “There, there, Fanny… I speak nothing but the truth.”

The Gardiners were happy to see that their sister appeared almost calm when she descended the stairs. Little was said during the carriage ride and, in the end, the trip to Grosvenor Square was shorter than the time spent waiting in line to reach the Fitzwilliams’ door.

But reach it they did, and so it was that Mrs. Fanny Bennet accepted her husband’s arm and took her place ahead of her brother and sister, climbing the steps to the Earl of Matlock’s London house.

Light poured from the many windows and she glimpsed silk-clad ladies moving about inside like some marvelous, glittering butterfly garden.

The footmen wore the peer’s livery and it was not until she passed under the lintel that she realized she had been holding her breath.

Mr. Bennet patted his wife’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile as they moved toward the receiving line. She took a deep breath, and then Fanny Bennet stepped forward to go where Fanny Gardiner would never have dreamed.

Although they greeted her pleasantly, the Earl and his wife were quite as grand as she had imagined and paid her only the attention due a new but distant connection.

Mr. Darcy was still intimidatingly tall, but Fanny thought that his eyes seemed softer, somehow.

Taking her hand, he must have seen something in her face, for he smiled and spoke in a kind tone; “Mrs. Bennet, we are very happy to have you here.”

Fanny managed only a syllable or two in response, but that appeared to satisfy him enough that he turned to the Gardiners.

In doing so, he shifted enough that she could see beyond him to the elegantly glamorous lady at his side.

For a moment, Mrs. Bennet could only stare.

When the young lady finally turned to her, Fanny managed to breathe a single word. “Lizzy!”

Her second daughter recognized something of her own nerves in her mother’s eyes and without a thought held out her arms. The pair embraced with more warmth than either could remember. “Oh Mama, I’m so glad that you have come.”

And suddenly, Elizabeth knew that she spoke the absolute truth. Her father might tease her about quitting the ball for the library with the best of intentions, but it was her mother who truly understood the significance of the occasion.

Mrs. Bennet hugged her daughter tightly for just a moment before stepping back.

“Oh, be careful—I don’t want to muss your dress!

” She held the young lady at arm’s length and looked her over, from elegant coif to gem-encrusted slipper roses just peeping out below her skirts.

“Good heavens, Lizzy—you quite take my breath away!”

Mrs. Darcy dropped her eyes in embarrassment at the unexpected compliment. She recovered quickly, however, and looked up with a twinkle in her eye that Fanny recognized. Raising her skirt a few inches, Elizabeth teased, “Did I get all the mud off my petticoats, Mama?”

“Oh Lizzy, how you try my nerves!” huffed the matron, but there was an abundance of affection in her voice.

It soon became obvious that the Bennets needed to move on so that new arrivals might advance through the receiving line. Assured by their daughter that Jane and Mr. Bingley were somewhere inside already, the master and mistress of Longbourn proceeded into the first of many crowded rooms.

After weaving through the crush and spending several minutes greeting some gentlemen who had known Mr. Bennet at university, the couple retreated to a punch table.

Mrs. Bennet stood beside her husband, ostensibly observing the glittering crowd but also sneaking glances toward her second daughter.

“Oh, Mr. Bennet… I barely recognized her. Is that truly our Lizzy?”

Her husband smiled indulgently. “Our little tomboy cleans up rather well, wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Bennet?”

“Oh Thomas,” she giggled. “Be careful—someone might hear you!” Before she could continue, Fanny suddenly realized the handsome young couple speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner was her eldest daughter and son-in-law.

Normally, Mrs. Bennet would have rushed forward to greet her most beautiful daughter with loud effusions guaranteed to attract attention.

However, something about the overwhelming company and her lingering astonishment over Elizabeth’s appearance lent her patience.

For once content to remain still and wait for her relations to come to her, Fanny observed her daughters and pondered the state of affairs.

Jane was still as classically beautiful as ever, but where her serenity lent her an appearance of aloofness, Elizabeth’s beauty glowed with spirit and liveliness.

As a result, it was the younger sister at whom people turned to stare.

Mrs. Bennet knew for a fact that the same modista had designed both dresses and she could not fault Jane’s ice blue gown, nor the jewels that ornamented her neck and hair.

Fanny had an inkling that Lizzy’s ruby and diamond set might be more costly, but somehow she knew that Mrs. Darcy would be just as impressive without them.

Before she might consider her offspring further, however, the Bingleys stepped up to greet Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, followed by the three girls and Mrs. Annesley.

Fanny’s younger daughters were dressed far more modestly than she would have chosen for them, but given the approving looks that they were receiving from the other guests, Mrs. Bennet supposed that her sister-in-law’s advice about what was appropriate had been correct.

In truth, most of the attention was on Miss Darcy, as not a few were curious to catch a glimpse of the young heiress.

Even so, Mary and Catherine’s appearance at her side did them no harm, and more than one matron noted that these Bennets were certainly not the country savages that the more vicious gossips had labeled them.

Unfortunately, not everyone could claim relations of whom they might be proud. Mr. Bingley was standing at his wife’s side while she chatted amiably with her parents when his eye was caught by a lady whose fashion was so excruciatingly modern that it made him embarrassed for her .

The next moment, Charles realized that the lady was none other than his sister. “Oh dear God,” he breathed.

Miss Bingley appeared to have vented her frustrations by pressing her modista for a gown that would attract the attention she craved at the ball she had once dreamed of being held in her honor.

Unfortunately, the result was such a revealing contrivance of thin white organza with so little underneath that more than one gentleman was observed to do a double take before blushing and turning away.

Bingley excused himself to find his elder sister; Mrs. Hurst was already in quite a state, having just caught sight of her sister receiving the attentions of several known rakes. That their interest was not in her scintillating conversation was obvious to everyone but Caroline.

“Oh Charles, how could you let her come dressed like that!?!” Louisa whispered in an agitated tone.

“She had her cloak on already when we met downstairs… she was late, as usual, and I only thought to be thankful that we could finally leave,” Bingley answered unhappily.

Fortunately, Mr. Hurst arrived just then with a glass of wine for his wife, patting her shoulder reassuringly and making a face at her brother.

“Neither of you is at fault for that gown. A woman of twenty-four, who has been out in London Society for nearly six years, should know how to dress for an earl’s ball.

With the both of you married, her behavior only hurts her own chances…

which are sinking lower by the minute, from what I can see. ”

Seeing that Louisa did not look particularly reassured, he added, “Besides, it was looking to be quite a dull event… they should thank us for bringing some entertainment.”

The gentleman was pleased to see a smile brought back to his wife’s face. “Come now, Mrs. Hurst; why are we standing around in this foolish manner? Is this not a ball? Shall you dance the next with me?” The lady agreed happily and soon the Hursts could be observed joining a set.

They were not alone in finding the dance floor a pleasant escape.

While the Earl of Matlock appeared to be in his element, his nephew was growing increasingly testy as he was forced to watch his wife dancing with a seemingly endless series of gentlemen, not a few of whom appeared to be excessively appreciative of her laughter and wit, not to mention her figure.

Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy was forced to deal with a procession of politicians who desired his support (financial or otherwise) and it seemed as if every time he escaped one, he was captured by another, or else by some matron intent on conveying her disappointment that he had not chosen her daughter as his wife.