Page 61 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)
Elizabeth stood at her husband’s side in the grand entrance of the ballroom at Matlock House, the chandelier’s light setting her silk gown and diamonds aglow.
The necklace and earbobs, his mother’s, glinted at her throat and ears, delicate and finely wrought, set with diamonds that sparkled with every slight movement.
Fitzwilliam had fastened them himself in their chamber, pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her earlobe, his breath warm against her skin.
She had leaned into him, and his arms had encircled her waist. He kissed her temple then said, “We must go down, my darling. I promised Aunt Helen we would join her early.”
They descended the staircase, her arm resting gracefully upon his. The three sisters waited on the landing, eager to go down.
“Lizzy,” Lydia whispered. “You are beautiful !”
Georgiana chimed in. “Brother, you look like a prince.”
Elizabeth glanced up, amused. “My prince,” she whispered. “All mine.”
He grinned down at her, eyes alight with mischief. “I feel thoroughly claimed, like a prize at the village fair.”
Together with the Earl and Countess, they greeted the stream of guests. Elizabeth found herself introduced to members of society she had only read about in scandal sheets. The air was rich with perfume, silk, and candle wax.
When at last their duties at the door were fulfilled, Fitzwilliam offered her his arm. “The first set is mine,” he said low. “Save me the supper set and the final as well. Also, any waltz.”
The music swelled. Darcy led her onto the floor, and they began the opening dance, and others soon joined. From then until the evening's end, Elizabeth scarcely left the floor.
The three sisters remained by Lady Helen’s side. Between Darcy, Richard, Philip, and Uncle Henry, each girl was well escorted for the sets permitted, though Lady Helen stood guard like a general over her troops, dismissing any presumptuous suitor who dared approach.
After each dance, her partner dutifully returned Elizabeth to her husband’s side.
She noticed a small group of young women watching her, their expressions a blend of assessment, disdain, and envy.
Lady Olivia, in particular, cast her such a look of fury that Elizabeth half-expected smoke to rise from her ears.
“What is Lady Olivia’s grievance?” she asked Fitzwilliam under her breath.
Darcy’s lips twitched. “Aunt Helen held a dinner party before I went north. Lady Olivia was among the candidates .”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “The Lady is beautiful. And she would have a sizeable dowry, too.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “And no conversation. Ten minutes was enough.”
Elizabeth was drawn off for another dance, this time by Lord Terrington, a charming man of good breeding and well-practiced wit. She laughed at his teasing as they spun across the floor.
As he led her back to Darcy, he asked, “Do you have an unmarried sister, Mrs. Darcy? If she is half as delightful as you, I should like to meet her.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “The tall fair-haired schoolgirl beside Lady Helen is my sister, though she is not yet out, nor will she be for another two or three years. The brunette in white standing next to her is my other sister, and she, too, has yet to make her debut.”
He turned to inspect the young ladies. “Which blond? The one in blue silk or white?”
“Miss Darcy is in white. The one in blue is my sister.”
He returned his gaze to Elizabeth, voice suddenly lower. “Your sisters are also beautiful, Mrs. Darcy. But I confess, I’ve a fondness for brunettes, especially those with copper in their curls and mischief in their eyes.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “You are a shocking flirt, my lord.”
“I am,” he admitted. “But I think you enjoy it.”
They reached Darcy. Her husband’s expression hardened, and he claimed Elizabeth’s arm with unmistakable possessiveness. As Lord Terrington retreated, Darcy leaned in.
“Have a care, darling. He’s a known rake.”
She stifled a grin. His possessive streak pleased her more than she cared to admit.
At supper, they were joined, regrettably, by two of the “diamonds” Lady Helen had once paraded before Darcy: Lady Emma Stanton and Lady Diana Fletcher. The latter wasted no time.
“Mr. Darcy,” Lady Diana said, her voice sharp. “You never called after the Fitzwilliam dinner. I had assumed you showed an interest.”
Lady Emma frowned. “Diana.”
Darcy flushed to his cheekbones. Elizabeth pressed her lips together to contain her amusement.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Diana, the dinner was intended as much for my cousin Richard as for myself. Aunt Helen is determined to see him married.”
“But why invite me,” she pressed, “if you did not intend to pursue the acquaintance?”
Lady Emma interrupted sharply. “Diana, you are not married after three seasons because you behave like this. No gentleman desires a fishwife.”
Lady Diana stood, red-faced, and flounced away.
Darcy exhaled. “Thank you, Lady Emma, for saying what I could not.”
But Lady Emma was not finished. “Mr. Darcy, why were we selected for that dinner in the first place?”
Darcy replied candidly. “The guest list was arranged entirely by my aunt. Lady Helen determined it was high time I married, and I obeyed her summons, as did all the young ladies.”
Lady Emma’s eyes narrowed. “And then you left town entirely.”
“To follow Miss Bennet to Scotland,” he said simply. “And I remained until I had made her my wife.”
She studied Elizabeth a moment. Then, turning back to Darcy, said, “You and I would not have suited. Thank you for being so honest.” She stood and curtsied. “I wish you every happiness.”
When she was gone, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and took her hand. “Do you see what you rescued me from, Elizabeth?”
She chuckled. “It was my pleasure, my darling, though I suspect you now owe me something quite extravagant in gratitude.”