Page 10 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

Chapter Five

Darcy stood at the edge of Lady Ashburton’s ballroom, surveying the glittering assemblage with a mixture of pride and apprehension.

The chandeliers cast a golden light over a sea of elegant coiffures and jewels, silk gowns and immaculate evening dress, while the orchestra’s strains provided a genteel backdrop to the hum of conversation and laughter.

His gaze, however, repeatedly returned to Elizabeth, who stood a short distance away in animated conversation with their hostess, her eyes bright with intelligence and her smile captivating in its warmth.

In the month since their arrival in London, he had anticipated this evening with equal measures of pride and concern, knowing that this first major ball would set the tone for their entire Season.

“Your wife appears to be making quite the favourable impression,” observed Lord Matlock. “Lady Ashburton is notoriously selective in her approval.”

Darcy inclined his head proudly. “Elizabeth has a natural gift for conversation that transcends the usual social artifice,” he replied. “Even those initially predisposed to find fault seem unable to maintain their resistance.”

Indeed, as he watched, Lady Ashburton threw back her head in genuine laughter at something Elizabeth had said, a reaction rarely witnessed in a woman known for her restrained deportment.

Around them, several matrons of impeccable lineage observed this interaction with expressions ranging from surprise to grudging curiosity.

The subtle shift in their countenances told Darcy all he needed to know: Elizabeth had begun to conquer London society as decisively as she had once conquered his own carefully guarded heart.

“A remarkable quality,” Lord Matlock agreed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “And one that will serve her well in shepherding three young ladies through the perilous waters of their first Season. Speaking of which, your sister appears to be drawing considerable attention.”

Darcy’s gaze shifted immediately to where Georgiana stood with Lady Matlock near one of the ornate columns that lined the ballroom.

His sister’s pale blue gown, elegant in its restrained simplicity, complemented her fair complexion perfectly.

She had grown into her beauty in recent months, the last traces of childish awkwardness giving way to a graceful poise that reminded him poignantly of their mother.

Several gentlemen had already begun to hover in her vicinity, though none had yet worked up the courage to approach directly under Lady Matlock’s watchful eye.

“Georgiana is still painfully shy,” Darcy observed, a protective instinct rising within him. “I fear the attention may overwhelm her.”

“Margaret will ensure she is not overtaxed,” Lord Matlock assured him. “And a certain degree of reticence will not appear amiss in a young lady of Georgiana’s position. It lends an air of mystery that many find intriguing, particularly when combined with her considerable... attractions.”

The delicate pause made it clear that Lord Matlock referred not only to Georgiana’s personal charms but also to the substantial fortune that accompanied them.

Darcy frowned slightly, disliking the mercenary calculations that inevitably surrounded a wealthy heiress’s debut, but acknowledging their reality nonetheless.

“I shall be scrutinising her potential partners with particular care,” he said, his tone making it clear that few would meet his exacting standards.

Lord Matlock chuckled. “As is your right. Though I suspect Elizabeth may temper your protective instincts with her own discernment. Ah, and here comes the first aspirant now.”

A young man of perhaps five and twenty, impeccably dressed and bearing himself with the confidence of good breeding, was making his way determinedly toward Lady Matlock and Georgiana.

Darcy recognised him as the younger son of Viscount Cranley, a respectable family with modest estates in Hampshire.

Lady Matlock performed the introductions with perfect composure, and Georgiana, though blushing furiously, managed a curtsy without visible distress.

“Mr. Cranley,” Lord Matlock murmured, as if reading Darcy’s thoughts. “Second son. Excellent family, though the estates are somewhat encumbered. Currently reading law at Lincoln’s Inn.”

Mr. Cranley appeared to be requesting Georgiana’s hand for the coming set. After a moment’s hesitation and a quick glance toward her aunt, Georgiana nodded her acceptance, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“The first of many such requests this evening, I have no doubt,” Lord Matlock remarked as they watched the young couple take their places in the set forming for the quadrille.

“Though Georgiana’s fortune makes her an obvious target, her natural refinement and your family name would ensure interest even without such financial inducements.

You may rest assured that Margaret has already investigated the background of every eligible gentleman in attendance tonight and will allow none but the most suitable to approach. ”

Slightly reassured, Darcy turned his attention to another corner of the ballroom, where Kitty Bennet was emerging from the crush surrounding the refreshment tables, her face alight with the unalloyed pleasure of a young girl experiencing her first taste of London society.

Her rose pink gown, while modest in comparison to many of the more elaborate creations on display, suited her youthful exuberance perfectly.

Elizabeth had chosen well for her sister, Darcy thought, recognising how the simple elegance of the dress transformed what might once have been giddy excitement into becoming animation.

“Miss Catherine appears to be enjoying herself,” Lord Matlock observed, following Darcy’s gaze. “A charming young lady, from what I have observed. She has a lively spirit that many will find appealing, and very striking looks, like her older sisters.”

“I confess I had some reservations about her readiness for London society,” Darcy admitted. “But she has matured considerably since coming under Elizabeth’s influence, and I am certain she will not disgrace herself.”

Kitty’s path through the ballroom was marked by glances of masculine appreciation.

Despite her lack of fortune or particularly distinguished connections, her pretty face and engaging manner had already attracted notice.

As Darcy watched, a young militia officer approached her with a deferential bow, clearly requesting the honour of the next dance.

As the dance began, Darcy scanned the ballroom for the third of their charges.

His cousin Anne proved more difficult to locate, until at last he spotted her seated in a quiet alcove, partially obscured by a large floral arrangement.

Mrs. Jenkinson hovered beside her, maintaining a running commentary that Anne appeared to be enduring rather than enjoying.

In her lavender silk, which had been the subject of such contention during its creation, Anne looked less washed out than usual, but her posture betrayed her discomfort and uncertainty.

“Anne seems to be struggling,” Darcy observed, a note of concern entering his voice. “I had hoped that being away from Rosings might allow her to blossom, but she appears as withdrawn as ever.”

Lord Matlock’s expression softened with genuine sympathy. “The girl has spent her entire life being told she is too delicate for normal society, Darcy. Such conditioning cannot be overcome in a matter of weeks.”

Darcy felt a surge of indignation on his cousin’s behalf.

How many of Anne’s interests and pleasures had been curtailed in the name of protecting her health?

And how much of her supposedly delicate constitution was the result of being prevented from engaging in normal activities that might have strengthened her?

For the first time, he considered that Lady Catherine’s obsessive concern for Anne’s wellbeing might have done more harm than good.

“Perhaps I should have engaged myself more in Anne’s upbringing,” Lord Matlock murmured, sounding regretful. “But…” he trailed off, leaving unsaid the awkward truth that even he, the head of the family, tended to give way rather than face Lady Catherine’s wrath.

“Let us hope my wife and Aunt Margaret can work their magic for Anne, too,” Darcy said, though privately he wondered if finding happiness for Anne might be beyond even Elizabeth’s considerable talents.

“And that if they do, Catherine does not interfere!” Lord Matlock shook his head. “Margaret told me about the list Mrs. Jenkinson provided, of suitors considered eligible for Anne’s hand. Some of them are older than I am!”

Darcy’s mouth turned down with disgust. His aunt’s complete disregard of her own daughter’s happiness was incomprehensible to him; while he might not have cared for Mrs. Bennet’s attempts to marry her daughters off to wealthy gentlemen, at least he had understood her motives, desperate to see them safely settled before their father’s estate was lost to the entail. Lady Catherine had no such excuse.

“I will not allow Anne to be pressured into marriage,” he said firmly, “no matter what Aunt Catherine may say or do, and I trust I will have your support in that endeavour, Uncle.”

“Undoubtedly!” Lord Matlock agreed, before nodding across the room. “There’s one we can write off immediately; Lord Berringby. Sixty if he’s a day, seen three wives into the grave and is looking for another.”

Darcy stiffened with outrage as the gentleman approached Lady Matlock, apparently seeking an introduction to one of her charges, but he need not have worried.

Whatever Lady Matlock said made Berringby retreat at a rapid pace, indeed exiting the ballroom entirely and apparently heading for the card room.

“Trust in Margaret,” Lord Matlock said with a deep chuckle.