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Matlock House - Elizabeth

A s their carriage rumbled to a stop, Elizabeth leaned forward, eager for her first glimpse of the Matlock residence.

The house loomed before them, a grand Georgian mansion of pale Portland stone that seemed to glow in the fading winter light.

Its imposing facade, with its symmetrical rows of tall sash windows, spoke of wealth and prestige far beyond anything in Meryton.

Ornate wrought-iron railings lined the steps leading to the glossy black front door, upon which gleamed a brass knocker polished to mirror brightness. Gas lamps flickered to life along the street, their warm glow catching on the intricate ironwork of the area railings that surrounded the house.

As they alighted from the carriage, the cobblestones beneath their feet still damp from an earlier shower, Elizabeth caught the faint strains of music drifting from an open upstairs window.

The air was crisp with the promise of frost, carrying with it the mingled scents of coal smoke, horse manure, and the indefinable essence of London itself.

Liveried footmen stood at attention, their breath visible in the chill air as they waited to usher the guests inside. Through the windows, Elizabeth could see the warm glow of chandeliers and the flicker of countless candles, hinting at the opulence that awaited them within.

As they approached the entrance, Elizabeth couldn’t help but compare this grand London residence to the familiar, modest comfort of Longbourn.

The sheer scale of the house, the number of servants, the air of old money and established power – it all served to underscore just how far she was from her Hertfordshire home.

They entered the Earl of Matlock’s house, it was much more grand than any of the houses they had been in before.

There were many more servants than they were accustomed to.

Lady Rowena stood at the door to greet them with her brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

They were both smiling and ushered the ladies into the house so as not to catch cold.

They were quickly introduced to the rest of the family. Lord and Lady Matlock greeted their guests warmly. The Earl, a jovial man with a broad middle and thinning hair, bore a clear resemblance to both Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, though shorter in stature.

The Lord Matlock had a habit of punctuating his sentences with a hearty chuckle, his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. Despite his imposing title, there was something approachable about him, as if he’d be just as comfortable in a country pub as in his grand dining room.

The Countess, Lady Matlock, was quite a surprise.

Elizabeth had been expecting an older version of the Lady Rowena, but instead she found a softly spoken slight woman.

Lady Matlock’s presence was as delicate as her voice.

Her soft-spoken words carried a gentle authority that commanded attention without demanding it.

The small white dog perpetually nestled in her lap seemed an extension of her serene demeanour.

Lady Rowena was practically attentive to her needs, Elizabeth got the impression she was ill.

Lady Rowena’s older sister, Lady Henrietta’s smile never quite reached her eyes.

When she insisted that Georgiana play for them, there was a hint of command in her voice that made Elizabeth wonder if she was used to always getting her way.

Her perfectly coiffed hair and impeccable posture spoke of a woman who prided herself on appearances above all else.

There remained only the earl’s eldest son and heir and his wife, the Viscount and Viscountess Milton, who entered the room a few minutes later.

Lord Milton was the spitting image of a younger Lord Matlock, but where his father’s face creased with laughter lines, Lord Milton’s remained smooth and serious.

Thomas Milton, Viscount Milton, carried himself with the weight of future responsibility, his keen eyes constantly assessing the room as if already preparing for his eventual role as Earl.

Lady Milton’s unremarkable features belied a sharp intellect. Though she spoke little, when she did, her words were carefully chosen and insightful. Her eyes, constantly observing, missed nothing, and Elizabeth had the distinct impression that this quiet woman knew far more than she let on.

Elizabeth was beginning to feel more than a little out of her depth, not something that happened often.

She had never been in the same room as so many titled people before.

The rest of her family she could see were also struggling a little.

It was a relief when they heard a carriage at the door and they were no longer the sole guests.

Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, Mr Bingley, his sisters and Mr Hurst all entered through the door.

Mr Bingley had never met the rest of the family either and the introductions were done again. The Lady Rowena was doing her best to forward conversation on all fronts, as was her brother, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Mrs Bennet barely seemed to get a word out, so overwhelmed was she, for which Elizabeth was grateful.

She had worried her mother would say something embarrassing.

Mr Bingley talked cheerily, as did Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and by the time they had entered the dining room they were all much more comfortable.

The candlelight flickered across the polished silver, casting dancing shadows on the crisp white tablecloth. Lady Matlock’s diamond necklace caught the light, sending tiny rainbows across her pale skin.

Elizabeth was sitting between Mr Darcy and Lord Milton, opposite Colonel Fitzwilliam and her Aunt and she had a much more pleasant evening then she would have expected sitting next to Mr Darcy. He was a true gentleman throughout the entire meal.

The dinner was exceedingly fine.

The rich aroma of roasted pheasant wafted through the air, intermingling with the delicate scent of fresh flowers adorning the centrepiece.

Elizabeth found herself leaning towards the Colonel as he spoke, drawn in by his charm. Catching herself, she straightened abruptly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Mrs Bennet was seated by Lady Milton and Lord Matlock. As far as Elizabeth could tell, they were having a pleasant conversation about Lady Milton ’s children. Miss Darcy was seated by Elizabeth’s aunt, opposite Elizabeth, and she was pleased to see they were also speaking comfortably of music.

As the main course was served, Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice how Mr Bingley’s eyes constantly sought out Jane. Her sister, usually so composed, seemed to glow under his attentions. Elizabeth smiled to herself, hoping that perhaps Jane’s happiness was finally within reach.

Elizabeth savoured the perfectly cooked beef and rich wine, the opulence of the setting not lost on her.

When the Colonel leaned in to share a confidential joke, Elizabeth subtly shifted her chair, putting a few more inches between them. The move felt both necessary and painful.

“Are you enjoying the winter in town, Miss Elizabeth?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked her.

“I am,” she replied. “However I am not sure I would enjoy it every year. I do enjoy the country more, I do have to admit.”

“I am sure you will get used to it with time. There are certain advantages of being in town.” Mr Darcy said. “I believe you mentioned that you love the theatre?”

“I do. We went to see a play only last night. It was very good.”

“And you would not have found such a good one in Hertfordshire I think?” Mr Darcy leaned a little closer, his voice lowering slightly.

Elizabeth felt a flutter of surprise at his proximity. “That is true,” she admitted. “I believe visiting London during the season would be the best way to enjoy it for its beauties and then turning to the country for the rest of the year to enjoy what it has to offer.”

Darcy’s eyes lit up with unexpected warmth. “You paint a very charming picture, Miss Elizabeth. I find myself in complete agreement.”

Darcy laughed loudly at this, “Yes, you paint a very charming picture.”

“Well you two might be content to move from London to the countryside and then back again. But I would like to see the world.” The Colonel said.

“It is a better job than Richard that you are in the army.”

“While you go from Pemberley to town, I will be travelling to France and the rest of the continent.”

Elizabeth laughed as they continued to bicker for a few minutes.

As Elizabeth laughed at another of the Colonel’s witty remarks, she caught sight of Mr Darcy watching them.

His brow was furrowed slightly, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the tablecloth.

When he noticed her gaze, he quickly smoothed his features, offering her a small smile before turning to speak with Lady Matlock who was seated on the other side of him.

“Stop it,” she chided herself silently. “Remember your situation. Remember Mr Collins.”

The Colonel’s easy manner and intelligent conversation stood in stark contrast to Mr Collins’ pompous declarations. Elizabeth pushed the comparison from her mind, guilt gnawing at her conscience.

She noticed Jane casting concerned glances her way, no doubt aware of Elizabeth’s growing rapport with the Colonel. Elizabeth forced herself to look away, reminding herself of the promises she’d made.

She ran her fingers along the intricate embroidery of the silk tablecloth, marvelling at its smoothness. The warmth from the nearby fireplace caressed her skin, a stark contrast to the chill she had felt upon entering the house.

Realising she’d been monopolising the Colonel’s attention, Elizabeth deliberately turned to include Miss Darcy in their conversation, ignoring the twinge of disappointment she felt at doing so.