“That is as Mrs Michelson said, but—and pardon me if I seem obtuse—I do not understand why.”
Lady Staunton leant a little closer to Elizabeth and spoke in a hushed voice. “My husband, Sir Aubrey, and I only married at the end of last summer. This will be our first society ball. We did not expect it to be an affair of any great moment until Mr Darcy assured us of his attendance, guaranteeing us a far more esteemed event than we could ever have hoped for. To have you both there would be truly something.”
“Mr Darcy will be there?” Elizabeth blurted, unable to contain her consternation at the revelation that thiswassomehow to do with him.
“Why yes,” Lady Staunton replied. “He has been so wonderfully supportive ever since that unfortunate business a few years ago. I daresay you are familiar with it.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“You are one of very few in that case.” She sighed heavily. “Some years back, Sir Aubrey was infamously used by a man connected with the Darcy family. The late Mr Darcy’s godson, I understand.”
“Mr Wickham?”
“Yes. You know him, then?”
“A little.”
“Then you know what he is capable of, and I need not be concerned that I will shock you. Sir Aubrey had only just been raised to his knighthood when they crossed paths. Thanks to Mr Wickham’s schemes, my husband lost almost everything and was left humiliated in the eyes of all his friends.”
Elizabeth could hardly keep pace with all the twists and turns of the conversation, but this was shocking indeed. It was another blow to Mr Wickham’s credibility, which was fast sinking in her estimation. “I am truly sorry to hear it.”
“Thank you. It is a thing of the past, I am happy to report—and with no little thanks to Mr Darcy. He pledged to support Sir Aubrey in society until his reputation was recovered, and he has been as good as his word.” She sucked in her breath suddenly and gave a nervous laugh. “But I cannot believe I am trying to convince you of this! What will you think of me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…you do not need me to tell you what an excellent man Mr Darcy is, do you? You are clearly already well aware.”
Elizabeth shook her head firmly. “Madam, I cannot say this any clearer—there is no understanding between Mr Darcy and me. None at all.”
Lady Staunton sat back, looking chastened. “Forgive me, I should not have spoken so plainly when I know you have yet to acknowledge it openly.”
“No—no, there is nothing to acknowledge!”
Lady Staunton nodded, closing her eyes briefly to emphasise the indulgence she evidently believed she was bestowing. “I do not blame you for wishing to keep it a secret. He is one of the most eligible men in the country. Your alliance will be talked about endlessly. But if I promise to say nothing about it, will you come? I should be eternally grateful, for such prestigious guests cannot but see my husband finally respected in the sphere to which he was rightfully raised.”
There was clearly no point in arguing; the woman was immoveable in her misapprehension. The most obvious way to convince her would be to refuse the invitation, and yet… Elizabeth looked at her aunt, still in happy conversation with Mrs Michelson, whose husband brought so much trade to Mr Gardiner’s business. Then she looked at Jane, whose complexion was still ever-so-slightly pale and would most certainly benefit from an hour or two of dancing. Refusing Lady Staunton would do neither of them any favours.
She had to wonder whether accepting could truly do that much harm. If Mr Darcy was to be there, she could simply pretend not to know him, as she had promised, and then nobody could continue to think them attached.
This logic did not eclipse the unexpected rush of anticipation she felt at the prospect of seeing him again. She heard herself accept Lady Staunton’s invitation almost before she had decided to do so but found, as the room joined in with celebrating her decision, that she was not sorry for it. She only began to doubt herself when the two visitors took their leave shortly afterwards, and Lady Staunton paused in the door to say, “And I absolutely insist that you play the pianoforte for us at some point in the evening. You will delight us all, I am sure.”
The door closed behind them, and Elizabeth exhaled heavily. “Something tells me I may come to seriously regret agreeing to this.”
19
THE CYNOSURE OF ALL EYES
“Darcy! You are most welcome, my friend, most welcome!”
Sir Aubrey’s effusions made Darcy suspect the man was drunk, until he entered the main room of the house and re-assessed the cause. The small February ball—projected to be an understated affair on account of it being so early in the year and its hosts not yet being fully redeemed in the eyes of theton—was an absolute crush.
Sir Aubrey drew abreast of him in the doorway. “Lady Staunton and I are indebted to you. You said you would help restore our reputations, and you truly have.”
“You owe me nothing, Aubrey. This was your due.”
Darcy was unsurprised to see Lord Stewart doing the rounds; such an inveterate gossip would never refuse an opportunity to meet the up-and-coming of the approaching Season. He was more surprised to spot the Earl of Chertsey. Looking around, he noticed other faces from the first circles—not many, but enough to attest to the Stauntons’ unequivocal success.
“Though I must say, it looks as though you did not need me.”
