Page 22

E lizabeth felt the carriage slow as it approached the imposing facade of Matlock House.

Her stomach tightened with anticipation and dread.

She smoothed her gown, the deep rose silk that Mrs. Abernathy had chosen.

She had worn minimal jewellery, just her mother's pearl earrings and the single pearl drop on a thin gold chain her father had gifted her for her birthday last year.

She had a vague hope that this visible lack of wealth would make her appear unsuitable for a man of Mr. Darcy's standing and that his relatives would instantly protest the marriage.

A vain hope, most likely, but she could not help it.

The carriage door opened, and there stood Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Bennet," he said, extending his hand.

Elizabeth placed her gloved fingers in his, feeling the strength in his grip as he assisted her down. "Mr. Darcy. How kind of you to meet us."

"I wished to ensure you were properly introduced to my aunt and uncle," he replied, maintaining hold of her hand a moment longer than strictly necessary. "They have been most eager to make your acquaintance."

"I am certain they have," Elizabeth murmured, unable to keep a hint of irony from her tone. No doubt the countess was curious about the country nobody who had somehow entrapped her nephew.

Behind her, Colonel Fitzwilliam was assisting Arabella, and then Mr. Abernathy helped Mrs. Abernathy down the carriage steps.

"Darcy!" Mr. Abernathy called jovially. "Your aunt's exhibitions are always the talk of the season. Most kind of her to include us."

"She values discerning appreciation of the arts," Darcy replied, his gaze returning to Elizabeth. "Which is why I believe Miss Bennet will particularly enjoy today’s display."

She raised an eyebrow. "You presume to know my tastes, sir?"

"I observed your interest in the classical sculptures at the masquerade," he said quietly.

"My goodness, you were paying attention."

A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "I did boast rather baldly of my observational skills when we walked in the park, Miss Bennet. Did you not believe me?"

She was startled into a little laugh.

The group proceeded up the marble steps, where a liveried footman opened the grand doors to reveal a foyer awash in classical beauty.

Soaring ceilings arched overhead, painted with delicate clouds and mythological figures that seemed to float in an azure sky.

The floors were inlaid with geometric patterns of contrasting stone, polished to such a sheen that their reflections rippled beneath them as they moved.

Niches in the walls housed small classical busts and statuettes while larger pedestals displayed more contemporary pieces.

A particularly striking marble Icarus in mid-flight dominated one corner, his wings outstretched, his stone face expressing both fear and exhilaration.

All of this, and yet each piece had its own place, tasteful, restrained, inspiring. Elizabeth could not help but approve.

Footmen in livery stood at attention near a grand staircase that curved upward in a slow, graceful sweep.

A woman in perhaps her early fifties approached with graceful purpose. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, was arranged in an elegant coiffure in which was nestled a thin gold and diamond tiara. Her deep blue gown rustled softly as she moved.

Beside her walked a distinguished gentleman with shrewd eyes and a jovial countenance.

This must be the countess and the earl.

"Darcy," the woman said with a smile. "You have brought your guests."

Mr. Darcy stepped forward. "Aunt, Uncle, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy of Heatherington Castle and Netherfield Park, their daughter Miss Abernathy, and their friend, Miss Bennet."

The countess’s keen eyes assessed Elizabeth with undisguised interest. "Miss Bennet. I have heard much about you." She extended her hand. "My nephew tells me you have an appreciation for sculpture."

Elizabeth curtsied deeply. "I do, Your Ladyship, though I claim no expertise. I merely admire the skill required to capture a fleeting moment or expression in stone."

The countess nodded. Approvingly, Elizabeth thought.

Lord Matlock stepped forward, taking Elizabeth's hand with cheerful warmth. "So, you are the young lady who has captured our nephew's attention. I daresay if you can make Darcy smile, you must possess remarkable qualities indeed."

She lifted an eyebrow. Surely he was aware of how the engagement had come about?

"Uncle," Mr. Darcy said, a hint of warning in his tone.

Lord Matlock laughed. "Do not mind me, my dear. Politics has taught me to speak with diplomacy."

She turned her head towards Mr. Darcy. “So not like you, then,” she said, repeating his words from the Abernathys’ dinner.

All he did was chuckle softly. “No.”

"With diplomacy, he says,” the countess scoffed, but there was true fondness in her voice. “Not nearly often enough." She turned back to Elizabeth. "Tell me, Miss Bennet, are you familiar with the theories of the picturesque? I find Gilpin's perspectives particularly compelling."

Elizabeth felt a flutter of excitement. Her father had several volumes by William Gilpin in his library, and she had devoured them.

"Indeed, Your Ladyship. I find Gilpin's distinction between the beautiful and the picturesque has influenced and improved how I view landscapes, both in nature and in art.

I particularly appreciate his discussion of roughness and irregularity as sources of visual interest."

The countess’s eyebrows rose slightly, clearly pleased. "Most young ladies speak only of art in the most general terms, but I see you have actually read Gilpin."

"And Price," Elizabeth added. "Though I find myself drawn more to Knight's perspective that the picturesque lies in the observer's educated eye rather than in fixed qualities of the landscape itself.

" She stopped, realizing that she was monopolizing the conversation.

"But forgive me, I am perhaps too enthusiastic. "

"Remarkable," the countess murmured, casting a glance at Mr. Darcy that Elizabeth could not decipher.

Lord Matlock chuckled, shaking his head. "It is all as incomprehensible as Greek to me, I am afraid. Give me a good debate on the regency any day."

"We are soon to have a regent, I hear," Mr. Abernathy said.

"We are indeed," Lord Matlock replied. "Early February. Lord help us all."

Lady Matlock’s hum was a warning. "No politics today, please."

"Yes, my dear," Lord Matlock said with a genial smile.

"My husband claims ignorance," Lady Matlock explained, "yet somehow always manages to select the finest pieces when we visit galleries. He has what the Italians call 'buon occhio'—a good eye."

"I know what I like," Lord Matlock said with a shrug. "No theory required. That fellow over there, for instance.” He gestured to the Icarus. "He speaks to me. Something about reaching too high and the consequences thereof. A lesson many in Parliament could stand to learn."

"Ah, you see?" The countess smiled. "He pretends indifference yet extracts precisely the intended meaning."

Elizabeth found herself warming to the couple. They were very grand but seemed to genuinely respect one another. And they were very welcoming to her.

"You must see the new acquisition in the Blue Room," the countess said. "A remarkable marble nymph by Canova's protégé, Raimondo Trentanove. Most evocative."

Trentanove had been a good deal more than Canova's protégé for at least a few decades, Elizabeth thought, but she was greatly anticipating viewing the nymph.

"Helena has transformed our home into something of a museum," Lord Matlock said proudly. "Though I draw the line at the Egyptian mummies. I cannot understand the rage for unwrapping parties.”

The countess rolled her eyes affectionately. "As if I would do such a thing during a meal."

"Afterward, however . . ." The earl allowed his words to trail away, and Mr. Darcy and the colonel laughed.

The noise of people arriving filtered in from the hall outside.

"We are greatly anticipating your salon, Lady Matlock," Mrs. Abernathy said sincerely. "It was very kind of you to invite us."

"Not at all," Lady Matlock replied, placing her hand lightly on Elizabeth's arm, a gesture both proprietary and supportive. "I am only sorry my eldest son is not yet in town to meet you. Before we join the gathering, might I have a private word with Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth felt a momentary alarm but composed her features into a polite smile. "Of course, Your Ladyship."

Mrs. Abernathy gave her a lingering look before she was escorted out of the room. Elizabeth believed she was being warned to behave.

Mrs. Abernathy knew her very well. But even Elizabeth knew better than to play games with a countess.

Lady Matlock guided Elizabeth to a small antechamber just off the main foyer, closing the door firmly. Once inside, she released Elizabeth's arm and turned to face her directly, her expression unexpectedly gentle.

"Miss Bennet, I wish to speak plainly with you," Lady Matlock began. "You have been sheltered thus far from the worst of society's reactions to your engagement."

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. "I assure you, Your Ladyship, I did not set out to—"

"I am aware," the countess interrupted smoothly.

"I have spoken with my nephew and know the circumstances of his offer to you.” Her gaze was steady, assessing.

"You will hear whispers. Ladies will speak behind fans, making comments just loud enough for you to hear.

They will question your background, your education, your worth.

They will insinuate that you ensnared my nephew through vulgar means. "

Elizabeth lifted her chin. "I am prepared."

"You must face them with strength, Miss Bennet. Not with anger or tears or even surprise, which they will interpret as weakness, but with composure and wit.” Lady Matlock's tone was not unkind, merely practical. “Can you do this?"

Elizabeth drew herself up slightly. "Mrs. Abernathy has already asked me as much, Your Ladyship. I can."

"Good. Know that I will be observing, but I will not intervene unless necessary.

Nor will I permit my nephew to rescue you at the first sign of difficulty.

" The countess’s expression softened imperceptibly.

"You must establish yourself on your own merits, Miss Bennet.

Only then will they begin to respect you as the future Mrs. Darcy. "

"I understand," Elizabeth replied, though her stomach tightened at the thought of what lay ahead.

The countess led Elizabeth back to where the others waited. Mr. Darcy stepped forward, his expression concerned, but his aunt shook her head minutely, and he subsided.

"The other guests should be arriving now.

Shall we join the gathering?" Lady Matlock said, her voice once again the perfect blend of command and graciousness.

“I should like to introduce you to several particular friends of mine.

" Though her voice remained genteel, Elizabeth detected within it an unmistakeable note of command that brooked no opposition.

With Mr. Darcy following closely behind, Elizabeth found herself being led through the grand archway into the Gold Room, where the number of elegant guests who had entered while she was sequestered with the countess necessitated a momentary pause.

Heads turned, conversations halted, and Elizabeth felt the weight of dozens of evaluating gazes settle upon her.

The countess, however, appeared not to notice the attention their arrival had caused.

Her grip upon Elizabeth's arm tightened only slightly as she guided her directly towards a cluster of elegantly attired ladies.

"Lady Worcester, Lady Spencer, Mrs. Fitzherbert, and Mrs. Bridgewater, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire, who is to marry my nephew."

The countess spoke with such serene authority that Elizabeth could only marvel at it.

There was no hint of apology, no subtle qualification, simply a statement of fact delivered as though it were the most natural occurrence imaginable that Mr. Darcy should choose to marry her.

The ladies offered their greetings with varying degrees of warmth, but Elizabeth noted that not one dared to show open disapproval in the face of the countess's sponsorship.

As they moved on to the next distinguished group, Elizabeth realised with a mixture of gratitude and chagrin that Lady Matlock had just executed something like a fiat.

By personally presenting Elizabeth to the highest strata of society as Mr. Darcy's chosen bride, she had effectively silenced the most damaging sort of gossip before it could properly begin.

After making several more introductions, Lady Matlock patted Elizabeth's arm.

"I believe you shall fare well enough on your own now, Miss Bennet.” With that, she gracefully withdrew, leaving Elizabeth alone as Mr. Darcy was engaged in conversation with his cousin and a gentleman Elizabeth did not recognize.

Elizabeth turned to look at the painting behind her, a knot of misgiving growing inexorably within her breast. Nothing was unfolding as she had intended.

She had planned to appear meek and insipid, to demonstrate her unsuitability for the role of Mrs. Darcy.

It was a good plan, but she found herself unwilling to implement it.

The Matlocks had shown her nothing but kindness, had welcomed her despite the circumstances of her engagement.

She could not repay them with deliberate ingratitude. She simply did not have it in her.

Not ruthless enough , Arabella would say approvingly, but Elizabeth could only feel conflicted.

Her gaze drifted across the room to where Mr. Darcy stood, his tall figure unmistakable even amongst the elegant crowd.

He was watching her again, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion that caused her heart to flutter in a most inconvenient manner.

Even if he did not want this marriage, he and his family had treated her with unfailing courtesy and a growing warmth.

Elizabeth took a steadying breath, then turned from the painting with resolve.

She could not shrink from this challenge when she knew she could prevail.

Whatever her sentiments on being forced to wed Mr. Darcy, she would not intentionally bring shame on him or his family for choosing to be kind to her.

Straightening her spine, she turned to meet the ladies walking past.