Page 94 of Lizzie’s Spirit

“Well, we shall take the landau out, perhaps later in the week. I do believe ‘tis William. I apologise for his tardiness, but a horse threw a shoe just by the smithy in the village.”

A rather overawed Mrs. Hill opened the door to the drawing-room.

“Lord Darcy and Lady Georgiana Darcy.”

“Oh, William, you’ve caught me dishabille. Please, a moment before I make the introductions. ”

None in her family, apart from Mrs. Bennet, had met Darcy beforehand.

They were openly staring. Not only was he a marquess—the highest rank ever to visit Meryton—but his physical size was daunting.

But ever so handsome. Lydia gave a smothered cough, putting her hand over her mouth to hide her embarrassed giggle.

Elizabeth came to stand by his side, little Ben stretched out his hands to be taken by Georgiana.

“Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, and Miss Lydia—his Excellency, the Lord Darcy, Lieutenant Governor and Judge-Advocate for New South Wales, and Lord Bennet Darcy, and Lady Georgiana Darcy.”

There was no sound, all in awe of such a gentleman. The silence was broken by pealing laughter.

“Oh my, you look as though you swallowed a fly! I so wished to announce my dear William thus. Come, let us make the proper introductions for family.”

Darcy stepped forward and fondly took Mrs. Bennet’s hands.

“Dear Mrs. Bennet, it has been some five years since we met in St. Albans. Then, Elizabeth assured me that you were her mother, for I had mistook you for her sister. She spoke so much of you, and I can see from whence she gains her beauty, her kind heart and her good character. You honour me, ma’am, with your acceptance of me into your family. ”

Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet. “Sir, I must apologise, for I wed Elizabeth without your cognisance. ‘Tis too late to turn back the clock, but we would very much like your approbation.”

“My lord, you made my Lizzie happy and brought her home to me; that is all I ever wanted. But, please, call me Bennet.”

“Darcy. This, my lord business is rather too high in the instep.”

Again, it was like a dam breaking. Kitty, discovering that Georgiana was of an age, took her and Bennet to sit by the window. Soon, she, Lydia and Georgiana were discussing fashions from the La Belle Assemblée. Little Ben was crawling on the floor, exploring under settees, couches and tables.

“Oh, there’s Lizzie’s dress,” exclaimed Georgiana, pointing to a plate. “She was so beautiful and so elegant walking into the courtroom at Derby. She told me later that it was her wedding gown.”

“Mama,” cried Lydia across the room, “come, you must see Lizzie’s wedding dress.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Papa, please take Darcy to your study, for there will no longer be any sensible conversation in this room. I would join you, but, being a female of our species, talking fashion and fripperies is far more interesting than anything you gentlemen could conceive of discussing.”

The morning was full of excited conversation, laughter, taking tea, and enjoying Hill’s lemon tarts and biscuits.

Mrs. Bennet sat back in her chair, watching her five daughters—no, six, for Georgiana was now such—enjoy themselves in the parlour, as they had so many years ago before Mr. Bennet succumbed to his apoplexy.

“Mr. Bingley.” Mrs. Hill announced the arrival of the gentleman who attended to his regular morning call. Jane smiled demurely, “Lizzie, let me introduce you to my affianced.”

Elizabeth stood and moved to where Jane was standing next to a fair-haired man of pleasant countenance, smiling broadly as she approached.

“Mr. Charles Bingley, the Lady Darcy.” He gave a deep bow.

“My lady, ‘tis a great pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Darcy spoke of me?” said Elizabeth, in some confusion, for only his father and Georgiana had known of his marriage.”

“My apologies, ma’am, but I never knew your name.

‘Twas only that Darcy had told me of a woman he was to spend his life with, but she had been lost to him. He said he would give anything, any part of his fortune, for just one more day in her company. And now, having met you, I understand his meaning. You are, my lady, if you will allow me some impertinence, almost as beautiful as my lovely Miss Bennet.”

Jane blushed, and Elizabeth swatted him on his arm. “Fie, sir! Jane is the jewel of the county—what is this almost ? None compare with her. I shall think you rattle-headed if you believe otherwise.”

At that moment, Mr. Bennet and Darcy entered the room. “Bingley, well met. Have you been introduced to Elizabeth?”

“Indeed, thank the heavens she was returned safely to you and her family. And, many thanks, my friend, for the loan of your horses and Jonas. It was a ride I shall remember all my life—but the prize for finishing the race has well exceeded my expectations.”

***

Elizabeth was to attend an assembly! This was her very first at Meryton, for she had left before her coming out into local society. She had danced at balls in Sydney, Bombay, and the Cape, but to her, this was special.

Whispers went around the assembly room that a marquess and marchioness were to attend, for the butcher’s boy had seen a handsome landau at the smithy outside of the Longbourn village two days past. There was a coronet above the shield, which was freshly painted.

After much discussion in the tavern, Rector Wilkinson settled the matter by retrieving his copy of Debrett’s Peerage and showing the boy woodcuts of all coronets from baron to duke—without doubt, a marquess.

Also, venison, pheasant, and quail had been ordered for Longbourn and Netherfield.

And the clincher—the servants of both houses were very tight-lipped about their visitors, though one laundry maid let slip she was pressing a very fine gown for the assembly.

There was a hush as they entered the hall.

Darcy, as usual, was impeccably dressed in a ruffled silk shirt, patterned waistcoat, double-breasted tailcoat, silk breeches, an intricately tied silk cravat, and white leather gloves.

He drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person and handsome features—everything that a marquess should be.

But the loudest gasps of admiration were reserved for Elizabeth when she removed her travelling cloak and hood.

She wore a French rose-coloured silk slip, made tight to her shape and very short in the waist. It was overlaid with a French gauze frock, open behind, the bosom embroidered to correspond with the slip, and the bottom decorated with wreaths of roses.

A very short sleeve of French gauze, drawn in full compartments, each of which was ornamented with pearls, displayed her bare upper arms. The whole was complemented by white satin sandals and long kid gloves.

Necklace, earrings, and bracelets of pearl and diamond glittered in the candlelight of the sconces illuminating the hall.

Her rich chestnut hair was dressed full on the temples and low on each side, à-la-Grecque behind.

Hers was a true beauty, enhanced by a radiant smile displaying her genuine pleasure with her surroundings.

She placed her hand on Darcy’s arm, and together they walked gracefully onto the floor. The band commenced tuning their instruments for the start of the first set.

“Would you do me the honour, Lady Darcy?” Mr. Bennet bowed to Elizabeth. “I believe tradition mandates a father dance the first with his daughter on her coming out.”

Elizabeth curtseyed, her eyes twinkling. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Together, they walked to the head of the line. Behind, Darcy escorted Mrs. Bennet, who was beaming with delight at the compliment paid to her: she, a matron, dancing the first with his lordship.

Why would a marquess honour Mrs. Bennet?

Why was Mr. Bennet leading the set with her ladyship, the Marchioness?

Murmurs of recognition grew to a crescendo—Miss Elizabeth Bennet, gone from Longbourn these past five years—to New South Wales, ten thousand miles away, now come back: so elegant, such comportment, of rank and consequence far above those gathered in the room.

When the set finished, Elizabeth and Darcy made themselves acquainted with all of the principal people in attendance.

When introduced to Sir William and Lady Lucas, Elizabeth took them aside to gain some privacy.

“I wish to call, Lady Lucas, for I’ve some intelligence of Charlotte.

I met her at the Cape; she is well and gave me her direction should you wish to write. ”

Lady Lucas grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth”—all formality lost to her emotion—“thank you, thank you ever so much. We were so grievously deceived by that man, who called himself a clergyman. He stole her away in the night… Now, to know that she is safe.”

Sir William took his wife in his arms. “This means much to Lady Lucas. You are welcome to call anytime, my lady.” Gently, he led his wife from the room. Tears gathering in her eyes, Elizabeth watched them depart. Darcy stepped closer.

“I believe Charlotte was a close friend. Sir William was her father?”

“Indeed, she has been most cruelly used. I’ve not told you of my meeting with her at Fort Frederick. There are some things best left unsaid. But she will do well, and if Mr. Collins is lost in the veld, all to the good.”

Elizabeth leant her head against his shoulder—“ Oh, William, I am the luckiest person in the world.”

Reluctantly, she pulled back, placing her gloved hand once again on his arm.

“We are in company, and a marchioness must always display the utmost decorum.” She looked to him, a delicate hue, matching her gown, flushed her cheeks.

“But ‘tis well, my lord, that the bed at Longbourn is exceedingly soft—for little Ben wishes for a brother or sister.”

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