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D arcy looked down at his watch, suppressing a sigh. He had been waiting in the parlour of the Fitzwilliam house for a little over ten minutes now, and still, his uncle was nowhere to be seen. His Earl’s tardiness was not unusual, and on most days, Darcy did not mind distracting himself with the day’s newspaper, or a copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine that was, more often than not, kept in the room for this very purpose.

On this occasion, however, Darcy was too restless, too eager, and too agitated for the interview to end to have any patience to sit in one place and read. He had plans this evening. He had invited the Braxtons to join him in his box at the Covent Garden Theatre. As You Like It was being performed starring Dorothy Jordan. Darcy had seen a couple of the actresses’ plays and had considered her talented, but her rendition of Roselind was considered to be on another scale entirely. Not only was the play one of both his and Elizabeth’s favourites, the cast of actors and actresses had also earned raved reviews from the critics. It was, therefore, more than a little understandable that he would much rather spend his time watching his fiancée gasp and giggle at the Shakespearean Comedy than sit in an empty parlour to wait for his uncle to arrive so that they could have a discussion that would be disagreeable to all.

Darcy had just started contemplating pacing (an inherently nervous activity in which he never took part) to rid himself of the uncharacteristic urge to fidget when the door to the parlour opened and his uncle entered, his aunt just behind him. Darcy stood, bowed shallowly, and then reclaimed his seat.

“Darcy.” His aunt Elenor smiled, “It is quite rare of you to visit without an invitation. What is the occasion?”

Darcy supposed that was true enough. Richard preferred to visit Darcy at his place whenever they made plans, and he mostly only ever met with the Earl at the gentleman’s club. Darcy did not care for the Earl’s eldest son, Viscount Milton (the man was a spendthrift and a dandy) and without a wife and a too-shy sister, he did not have much of a reason to visit his fashionable aunt.

Darcy saw no point in beating around the bush. He was already on a tight schedule as it was,

“I am getting married.”

Lord Fitzwilliam paused, a cup of now lukewarm tea on its way to his lips,

“Pardon?” He almost spluttered from the surprise of the announcement. His aunt, on the other hand, gasped, a wide smile breaking out on her face,

“Oh! That is wonderful news! Do I know the lady?”

She seemed to have infinite confidence in his ability to choose a suitable bride. Darcy supposed it was a belief he had earned. Over the years, he had become ever more particular when it came to people he chose to associate with.

“I doubt it. Elizabeth is to have her first season this year. You have, however, I am sure, heard of her family. She is the granddaughter of the Earl of Wrexham.”

“The Earl of Wrexham!” The Earl shot up to his feet, shock marring with outrage, “Absolutely not! It is impossible for our family to even associate with them considering how they destroyed your aunt’s reputation. But to marry one of them? Preposterous!”

“I do not see why it should be a problem.” The countess shrugged, “The lady comes from a good aristocratic family, and no doubt has her own fortune. Considering she is yet to have her first season, she cannot be too old, and seeing as she caught Darcy’s attention, I can only suppose she has both beauty and brains. It sounds to me like she very much is the perfect bride for our nephew.”

“Elenor!” Lord Fitzwilliam protested, “You do not understand the history between the two families. We had not yet married when the scandal occurred. But, Darcy-”

“Was also not a part of the family when the scandal occurred. In fact, he was not even born. Nor was his bride. Besides, as much as you like to pretend otherwise, Darcy is not a Fitzwilliam. He is not under your charge.”

The Earl clenched his jaw shut, but Darcy could see he was gearing up for an argument. Before an undignified shouting match could begin between the couple, Darcy intervened,

“Aunt Elenor is correct. Whatever disagreements you might have had with the Braxtons nigh forty years ago have nothing to do with either me or Elizabeth. I have asked Lord Braxton for his consent, and I have been granted it. I will marry Elizabeth, and I shall send you an invitation to the wedding. Whether you attend the ceremony or not is up to your discretion.” Standing up, Darcy once again pulled out his watch to check the time, “Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment I cannot miss.”

“Darcy, wait!” Lord Fitzwilliam commanded, “We must discuss this!”

“If you wanted a discussion, Uncle, you ought to not have made me wait for a quarter-hour.”

Elizabeth Braxton was nervous. She looked at herself in the mirror, fingering the high-quality ivory muslin of her dress critically. The embroidery along the dress was done with delicate silver threads, the baby blue satin ribbon trim that ran through the wide boat-neck collar was ruffled and the sleeves were Grecian. It was not exactly a pattern that was currently in vogue , but her grandmother had assured her that by wearing it, Elizabeth would be starting a trend amongst the debutants.

When it came to dresses and styles, Elizabeth was used to following her grandmother’s recommendations blindly. For decades Lady Braxton had been leading the women of the ton on what to wear and how to wear it. Still, the nerves refused to settle in her stomach. This trip to the theatre was to be her first public appearance. And if that was not nerve-wracking enough on its own, it was an event that she would be attending with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Only a dense idiot would witness him accompanying her and her grandparents and not realise that they had made a match of it. By the end of the evening, the news of her and Darcy’s betrothal would be spread throughout London, and by the end of the week, she supposed, throughout England.

Fitzwilliam was excited, she could tell just from the note he had sent to her residence inviting her and her family to his private box. And considering how she had practically hopped over to her grandfather’s study to inform him of their plans for the evening, Elizabeth could admit she was too.

It was simply that the prospect of her coming out was so daunting as to make her feel ill.

On any other occasion, Elizabeth was certain she would have been able to laugh herself out of her trepidation, but there was just something about her debut. This was, in its essence, her transition from girlhood to womanhood. This year, she would enter into an entirely new world, she would marry, and she would leave her family to begin a new one with a man whom she loved dearly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

She wished her mother was here.

“Miss Lizzy?”

A familiar voice broke her from her reverie, and Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Hala’s reflection in the looking glass looking concerned. Turning around, she gave her maid and her best friend her widest smile,

“How do I look?” She asked,

“Like a goddess, ma'am.” Hala replied without skipping a beat and Lizzy laughed,

“Thank you, Hala.”

“But I reckon, there is something missing.” Hala continued, walking further into the room. Lizzy’s smile dropped, and she whirled around to face the looking glass again,

“Oh. Do you think it is the hair? Perhaps a more structured updo would look better-”

“Your hair is perfect, Miss Lizzy.” Hala shook her head, then, pulled out a velvet box the size of a book from her apron pocket, “However, every lady who is spoken for ought to have a love token that she can wear with pride, do you not think so?”

Hala opened the case, and Lizzy gasped when she saw the jewellery inside. It was an ornate headpiece, heavily studded with pearls and embroidered with beads in a repeating scallop motif. Not only was it the most beautiful thing Elizabeth had ever seen, it also perfectly matched her dress.

Her maid grinned at the look on her face, then quickly turned her around to face the looking glass. Almost reverently, she placed the piece of jewellery to rest on her hair, careful to not ruin the styling. The headband glinted under the little evening light that was still coming through the window, and Elizabeth, when she looked at herself, felt very much like a five-year-old playing dress-up as a princess.

“It looks wonderful on you.” Hala whispered.

Silently, Elizabeth agreed. It was also very much to her taste. Not too ostentatious, not too glittery. She had always preferred pearls and beads over diamonds and stones, and it would appear Fitzwilliam had noticed. His silent observations of her tastes and her habits were one of his many wonderful qualities.

A knock on her door disrupted the near reverent air that had surrounded the two young women as they admired the jewel. Elizabeth granted permission to enter and her grandpapa entered into the room. He blinked, stunned, and then smiled softly, his gaze warm and sentimental,

“You look lovely my dear.”

Elizabeth teased with a grin, “You sound surprised. Were you not expecting me to look nice?”

Lord Braxton laughed, “I was not expecting you to look so mature. You look very much like a society lady now. Only until yesterday, you had been my little Lizzy. Now you are well on your way to becoming Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth went to him. Taking his hand in both of hers, she squeezed it affectionately, “Whatever I may become in the future, I hope to remain your little Lizzy for the rest of my life, grandpapa.”

Her grandfather’s eyes glistened with unexpected tears. Elizabeth knew he would never let them fall, “If that is what you wish, then that is the way it shall be.” His voice was hoarse. Lord Braxton cleared his throat, then placed one of his granddaughter’s hands on his arms, “Now, come. The carriage is waiting outside and your grandmother is nearing the end of her patience. She looks forward to meeting up with all of her friends and sharing the latest news before the plays start. No doubt on this occasion, she will want all the time she can get to introduce you to everyone.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “I do not see what the urgency is. Is that not what Queen Charlotte’s Ball is for? For formally introducing me to society?”

The Braxton’s had been, as was expected, invited to Buckingham Palace to attend the Queen’s Birthday. It was also the day all of the debutants will be introduced to the royal family and the London Season will officially begin.

“Yes, but the ball is not for a sennight yet, and both your grandmother and I would feel much better if your dance card were filled before the event. It would allow us to vet every gentleman who has dared to ask our granddaughter for a set and make certain that they are from the right stock and of the right character.”

Elizabeth raised a brow at her grandfather, “The first set shall, of course, belong to Mr. Darcy.” And the supper too. And perhaps even the last if he asked it of her.

Lord Braxton huffed a laugh. He seemed to have considerably softened towards Darcy since the conversation the two of them had had in his study, “Yes, of course.”