She could not easily forget her doubts, profuse as they were, yet here was proof he did at leastcarefor her. Surely, with Elizabeth gone,she had every reason to be hopeful for a new beginning? Of course, Elizabeth would need to be actuallygone. She stood up and pulled the bell for Lacey, who was sent directly away again to inform the housekeeper the new mistress wished to speak to her.
Half an hour later, Jane was alone again and indeed feeling eminently more hopeful. By nightfall, Netherfield would be short of a maid, but she would be free to commence her new beginning without the impediment of suspicion.
Friday 17 July 1812, London
To his new sister’s credit, Fitzwilliam could not deny she put on a lavish ball. Derwent House had been transformed into a sort of enchanted forest, every cornice, mantel and mirror festooned with greenery.
His grandmother harrumphed, stepping away from a trailing spray of ivy that brushed her shoulder. “If you had such a burning desire to be out of doors, I wonder you did not put on a picnic rather than a ball, Lady Ashby.”
Fitzwilliam stifled a snort.
“Philippa has done admirably,” objected Lady Catherine, the stupendous feather in her headdress bobbing indignantly. “At leastoneof the additions to this family is sure to make a favourable impression.”
“Sister!” Matlock groaned.
“Do not ‘sister’ me, Reginald. And do not say I did not warn you when Darcy’s scandalous alliance brings shame upon us all.”
“The scandal of which you speak seems to me largely of your own making, Lady Catherine,” said Mrs Sinclair. “Perhaps if you refrained from advertising Mrs Darcy’s purported insufficiencies to the world, you might better survive the ignominy of being her aunt.”
“I sincerely hope she does not exhibit any of her insufficiencies this evening,” Lady Ashby said in disgust. “I would have no scandals at my ball!”
“I am inclined to agree with Grandmother,” Ashby said apathetically. “Nothing is drawing more attention to Darcy’s marriage than all of us standing about discussing it. Besides, she cannot be wholly deficient, else Darcy would not have married her. He is not in the habit of brooking mediocrity.”
“Here is your chance to judge,” Matlock said, signalling the Darcys’ arrival with a nod.
They all ceased arguing and turned to observe the approaching couple. Fitzwilliam mouthed a silent oath. He had ever considered Elizabeth handsome, but this evening, in a gown unlike any he had seen her wear before, her hair arranged exquisitely and in her countenance something…different, she was resplendent.
“What the devil has he done to her?” he murmured.
“Naught I would not have done had I got to her first! Bloody hell!” Ashby whispered back.
Never had Jane seen such opulence than was on display in Lord and Lady Ashby’s ballroom. The quiet purr of refined music suffused the chamber, and sumptuously adorned guests made elegant the art of flirtation. A far cry from Meryton’s crude and disorderly assemblies, it filled her with pride to behold the world into which she had arrived.
Into that world then obtruded her sister, appearing on a crest of silence succeeded by a wave of urgent whispers, bringing an abrupt end to her complacency.
Despite the first three days of her marriage having turned out to be extremely agreeable and Bingley nary raising an eyebrow at her dismissal of the maid, Jane yet dreaded seeing any symptom of regard when he was reunited with Elizabeth. To her chagrin, her sister arrived looking astonishingly well, in a gown and jewels that would have seen Mrs Bennet calling for her smelling salts.
Jane continued to watch until the Darcys had spoken to their relations and moved to the refreshment table, only then daring to look at Bingley to judge how he had been affected. Alas, the dimness of the ballroom’s periphery made his features indistinct, and she was unable to determine aught but the unwavering direction of his gaze.
“You look exceedingly well, Jane,” Mr Darcy said, turning from the refreshment table to hand her a glass of wine.
“Thank you,” she replied, as pleased by Bingley’s silence on thematter of Elizabeth’s appearance as by Mr Darcy’s compliment on hers.
“May I have the honour of dancing with you this evening?”
“Of course. I should be delighted.”
“You have anticipated me, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, arriving to join them. “Might I, too, claim a dance, Mrs Bingley?”
“Why, yes, of course.”
“It is my ball,” Lord Ashby announced, appearing with his wife beside the colonel. “I shall have my share of the dancing.” Then, quite mistaking where the conversation had been tending, he turned to Elizabeth and asked her for the next set. Jane did not miss the manner in which Lady Ashby glowered at him. She quite sympathised.
“The next is mine, Ashby,” Mr Darcy said, quietly but firmly.
“You have had this stunning creature all to yourself for three days, man. I think you could be a little more generous.”
“The next is mine,” Mr Darcy repeated.
