Page 6 of Lord Lonbourn’s Daughter
It was the morning when weeks of preparation would come to fruition—The Earl of Longbourn’s first ball.
A lot was resting on this significant moment.
Their reputation and standing in society would be fixed if the event were a success and non-existent if it were a disaster.
The latter not being a choice, of course.
Lady Matlock came early, way too early for some of the residents of Bennet House.
His lordship was still in his robe, but it was not him she had come to see but his daughters.
They had managed to dress in morning gowns, desirous to make the final changes to the flowers and the like—perfection being the ultimate goal.
“I have some bad news—” Lady Matlock began.
“Oh no! Has the wine exploded in the cellar? Have all the footmen caught the plague? Is the meat off?” Mary was the family’s prophet of disastrous possibilities.
“Dear Mary, it is bad news, not doomsday. My son, the viscount, and his wife are unable to attend. I was so counting on their support.
“The weather has prohibited them from coming home in time for the ball. The spring showers have flooded the Tricket Brook and washed away the bridge that led from the estate they are currently visiting. Montgomery and Annabella are at the Duke of Chesterfield’s estate, Wingerworth, in Derbyshire.
He is a distant cousin of my husband’s, and an elderly man who has grown lonely in his dotage.
“He was not blessed with children, and his wife died three decades ago. He never thought to remarry. He should have, as now the dukedom will go to a distant relative instead of his own blood. His wife never conceived, poor dear.”
“That is sad news indeed. They would have been a pleasure to host and an asset to our ball.”
Elizabeth meant every word. She liked the viscountess in particular, as she reminded her of her friend Charlotte Lucas back home in Meryton. She was wise and unaffected, if not a little quiet and reserved. However, when she did speak, it was sensible.
#
The Earl of Longbourn opened the ball with his eldest daughter.
Lady Matlock had secured her younger son, the colonel, for Elizabeth and her nephew for Lady Mary—a clever move, as Lady Matlock related sotto voce to Elizabeth.
To fulfil a previous promise to his aunt, Mr Darcy must engage Elizabeth during the course of the evening—a detail he appeared to realise when he overheard the countess’s not-so-subtle whisper.
The gentleman promptly engaged Elizabeth for the second set and Jane for the third.
Elizabeth was not in the mood to taunt Mr Darcy on this occasion; her stomach was in too many knots to be witty.
They danced the entire half-hour together with nary a word spoken between them.
It was a stark contrast to the charming colonel’s repartee that Elizabeth had had a hard time keeping up with.
Instead of engaging the taciturn gentleman in conversation, she let her thoughts wander…
This was by no means the first ball the Longbourn daughters had attended, but it differed vastly from their usual assemblies in Meryton. Country dances were much less formal. Elizabeth found that a trait she could not fault.
To host a ball had not been as easy as she had imagined.
There were a lot of responsibilities she had not foreseen.
It was exhausting, yet they were expected to rise fresh as a rosebud to accept gentleman callers the next morning.
She worried about Jane, not herself. She would not mind if there were no suitors vying for her affection on the morrow, but Jane was more tender-hearted.
This train of thought led to her infamous words when their set ended.
On their way to her father, where Mr Darcy would trade the second eldest for the eldest daughter, she implored him, “Perhaps, Mr Darcy, you plan to call on my sister Lady Jane on the morrow. May I offer you some advice? Jane favours roses above every other flower.”
Elizabeth smiled widely at Mr Darcy, who looked stunned, and hoped she had not frightened the gentleman from his suit by her impertinence. It had not escaped her that his eyes had rested for a long moment on Jane in the reception line before Lady Matlock’s dinner.
Elizabeth was engaged to dance with her father for the next set; however he was of a mind to sit one out, so she accompanied him to the refreshment table for some sweet ratafia, infused with fruit and spices, before they sat down at a table by themselves.
“What fabulous set-down did you offer Mr Darcy?” her father enquired. “Your parting words horrified him.” He grinned.
“I did not! I merely informed him that roses are Jane’s favourite flower, should he be of a mind to call on her on the morrow.”
Her father chuckled but refrained from commenting.
Elizabeth danced the supper set with Viscount Melbourne. He was a charming dinner companion but a married man of some years. They knew each other from his home in Hertfordshire, Brocket Hall, where Elizabeth had visited his sister, Emily, on occasion.
He had been but little in Hertfordshire as he had spent the last few years in town since he took his first seat in the House of Commons in the year four. He wished to know the gossip from Hertfordshire while he regaled Elizabeth with the goings-on in the House.
#
“But…we had a sound system for putting away and retrieving the coats and shawls of each respective guest. I do not understand…”
Elizabeth was distraught. This was an absolute disaster, and on their first event of the Season.
Nothing they had accomplished so far would matter one iota when all the guests would remember was the havoc at the conclusion of the evening.
Neither flame throwers nor fireworks would be spoken of; it was in every way horrible.
Goloshes and gloves had been mismatched in addition to the fact that none of the garments had been left in its rightful place.
It would take hours to find the correct owner of each item.
Elizabeth looked about at all the disgruntled guests who would most certainly turn into a growling herd in no time at all. Her eyes rested on a woman who did not seem as vexed as she would have expected. No, she had a gleam of merriment around her eyes.
Elizabeth needed to think of something—something quick and entertaining. “Do we have any more champagne?” she enquired of her father.
“A little but not enough to please the flock of discontented guests,” Lord Longbourn replied discouragingly.
A gentleman stepped forwards. What now? resounded in Elizabeth’s mind.
“I have a couple of crates in my cellar. It could be easily fetched. What did you have in mind?”
“A champagne auction. Not to auction off the champagne but the muddled garments in the ballroom. I shall serve as an auctioneer and try to make a few jests to lighten the mood. It is an endeavour to bring all together around me in a less cramped space and try to pair each garment with its rightful owner. The champagne is simply to drink, and I hope to get everyone too foxed to remember ever setting foot in Bennet House.”
“I shall send one of your servants to retrieve it. Meanwhile, we should move the garments into the ballroom. Instruct footmen to move a few tables into the middle, then keep bringing it all in until we have finished.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy!”
Elizabeth called everyone’s attention and shepherded the guests into the ballroom.
Flutes of champagne were handed out while Elizabeth instituted raising hats, canes, and shawls in the air—the goloshes and gloves needed to be paired first. Thankfully, Mr Darcy had requested every obtainable hand at Darcy House to come to Bennet House promptly to aid the distressed servants.
“Who is the owner of these perfectly matched bays?”
Elizabeth held a pair of reddish-brown shawls in the air. A pair of giggling sisters came forward to collect the items.
“Silver hound of foul temper?”
She held up a cane with a silver wolf handle an elderly lord claimed.
“We cannot see you! Could you not step up onto the table?” a female’s raised voice suggested.
Elizabeth would not disgrace herself in such a way, but the guests were too many to all be able to stand at the front of the circle that surrounded her. The suggestion was valiant, though distasteful.
“Let me hold up the items,” Mr Darcy offered.
“Yet again, I find myself beholden to you, Mr Darcy. You must stop rescuing me before I am indebted to you for life,” Elizabeth whispered. She turned back to the crowd and smiled mischievously.
“I have acquired the aid of this handsome and very tall assistant. The lucky lady who has not yet found her garments at the end of the auction may win a lovely stroll in Hyde Park at the most fashionable hour with one of our most favoured gentlemen.”
“That will be you, Lady Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy whispered in her ear as he grabbed the pelisse from her hand, not at all as perturbed by her brazen suggestion as she had foreseen.
He was right, of course, since she had no outer garments in the anteroom. She blushed crimson and offered him an apology and a retraction of her impertinent offer of his escort, but he would not allow it.
#
News of the scandal at Bennet House was all over town by the next morning, despite Elizabeth’s attempts to rectify the matter.
It had had the opposite effect to what Elizabeth had imagined because their parlour was brimming with morning callers of the curious kind rather than actual suitors.
The Longbourn sisters’ vanity was not suffering much as they had their pick of valiant gentlemen and flowers of every colour.
One gentleman in particular was missing, though, and Elizabeth suspected she might have worn him out by the end of the evening.