“No objections. If you wish to know the most eligible young ladies in London, Almack’s is indispensable. On Wednesday evenings, it is the very centre of the fashionable world—at least, according to Brummell.”
“But I have not attended in some time, nor have I secured a voucher this Season.”
“Leave that to me. I knew Brummell in the army, and I recently rendered him a service after a most unfortunate duel.He will grant me any favour—though we must not delay, for his influence is not what it once was.”
Chapter 9
The following Wednesday, Darcy and Fitzwilliam accompanied Beau Brummell to Almack’s. It required only a visit to one of the patronesses, Lady Sarah Sophia Fane, for Brummell to obtain the desired result.
“She is such a leader of London society: daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland—married to the fifth Earl of Jersey,” Brummell told them just before they arrived in King Street.
“She is the young Lady Jersey—not to be confused with her mother-in-law, the Dowager Lady Frances Jersey, who was the Regent’s mistress some years ago.” Brummell laughed. He knew all the gossip of the ton. It was essential to remain in his favour; otherwise, one might easily become the subject of those same intrigues, and that could ruin a life.
“Is this your first appearance there?” Brummell asked Darcy.
Darcy tried to appear at ease amid the excessive elegance the gentlemen delighted in displaying. Owing largely to Brummell, all who attended were required to dress according to a strict code. The proper attire for a gentleman at Almack’s consisted of knee-breeches, a white cravat, and a chapeau-bras.
“A few years ago, I used to go, but not lately.”
Darcy was far from enjoying such an assembly. He was even sorry to have asked his cousin for the favour, but it was now too late. They had to pay their respects to Lady Sarah Sophia Fane. Then, once the doors were closed at eleven o’clock, they would be invited to supper or into the gaming rooms.
Having decided not to eat, they strolled among the guests, greeting acquaintances. Darcy was surprised by the number of people the colonel knew, and remarked jokingly, “I did not know you were so popular a figure with the ton.”
“My dear cousin, I have to choose a wife with a certain fortune, while you may concern yourself with beauty, elegance, or wit.”
Looking round, Darcy recalled Bingley’s observation that the people at London balls were not so very different from those in Meryton. Unfortunately, he had been right.
In those elegant, coveted, and admired rooms, the same situation prevailed. They might be more stylish, but the mothers were still anxiously seeking husbands for their unmarried daughters. There were certainly stricter social rules, but sadly the gossip was often the same, and the malice was deeper than elsewhere.
“Come,” Fitzwilliam said, “allow me to introduce you to some beauties, and you may ask them to dance. I have observed that, when a gentleman they favour requests a dance, there is always an available set—even on a full card.”
Brummell informed them that there were more than five hundred guests.
“A great many enchanting young ladies,” Fitzwilliam murmured as he introduced Darcy to young ladies and their mothers, who were impatiently waiting for the dancing to begin.
There were a few families Darcy already knew—in many instances, only the father, since most of the daughters were notyet twenty. In one or two cases, he recognised the young girls as acquaintances of Georgiana’s. He wondered how his little sister and her friends had so suddenly found themselves in the marriage market.
He danced, but without any real pleasure, merely from politeness. One of his partners seemed to be looking elsewhere as they danced, incapable of attending to him or of being agreeable. Most likely, the gentleman she wished to see was not dancing.
He admired some ladies as he might admire china porcelain—elegant and carefully preserved—yet in such a ballroom, it was impossible to know more. If he had harboured any hope of finding someone to admire, it seemed clear that Almack’s would not provide her. After they had wandered through the rooms and spent some hours drinking with the gentlemen, the colonel introduced him to Lady Grace Camoys. This time, his cousin looked so pointedly at Darcy that he understood this to be no ordinary introduction. Again, Darcy was struck by how well the colonel knew him. Lady Grace was indeed, as her name suggested, a graceful young woman with a sweet smile and unaffected manners.
Darcy bowed, then noticed, with admiration, her natural curtsey and the slight blush on her cheeks. He wondered whether it was a sign that she liked him…or not. After speaking with her mother for a while, as custom required, he asked her to dance. Lady Grace looked at her card and found a place for him. It was a country dance, and Darcy could scarcely suppress a smile.
It was well known that, when there were many couples involved—as there were that evening—there were intervals in which the dancers stood with little to do but flirt, look around, or listen. For Darcy and Lady Grace, it offered an excellent opportunity to become acquainted.
“Do you often come to these balls?” Darcy asked, looking into her blue eyes. She was not shy, yet she possessed a kind of reserve that distinguished her from the many young ladies who seemed determined to attract notice by any means. Some wore eccentric or heavy jewels; others appeared in gowns of almost absurd elaboration. Many were led from room to room by mother or father, and he had even seen one young lady speaking so loudly that a patroness had been obliged to interfere. But Lady Grace wore only a delicate tiara as ornament; her beautiful gown, trimmed with fine lace, displayed her excellent figure to advantage. She spoke softly, almost in a half-whisper, and her beautiful smile did the rest. She was an enchanting creature.
Her card was clearly full, but when he had asked whether she would honour him with a dance, she had nevertheless made room for him. It was common enough for a lady to reserve several dances for one gentleman. Yet, she agreed to dance with him in one of the later sets, and that small artifice betrayed her interest. And he was interested in her. He could scarcely imagine that, so soon after Rosings, he might again look with attention upon the face of a young lady. And yet it proved the best remedy.
While they danced, he remembered the dances at Netherfield. For a moment, pain seized him again, but then Lady Grace curtseyed, and he forced himself to attend to her bright eyes and conceal his sadness. He would not think of Elizabeth again. She was a closed chapter in his life; he was not Bingley.
Lady Grace was a young aristocrat who shared his view of life. They had the same education and the same values. He did not wish to think ill of Elizabeth—she was an extraordinary woman—but she was not for him. That reality had to be faced.
∞∞∞
Throughout the Season, he continued to see Lady Grace. He invited her family to dinner, and they met at the theatre. Within a few weeks, he knew that she adored the theatre, and that she might often be found at Covent Garden or Drury Lane, where they had boxes. Unlike many others in attendance, she followed and enjoyed the plays; she did not go merely to be seen.
Each time he met her, Darcy found himself more attracted by this elegant young woman, whose mind was occupied with something better than small talk and gossip.
