The Colonel set down his cup with a thoughtful look. “I think you are braver than most officers in His Majesty’s service, Miss Bennet. To walk boldly into a man’s world is no small thing.”
Elizabeth blushed, chuckling. “You exaggerate, Colonel. I am but a small part of Lady Jersey’s world. Yet I am grateful for it. And now I have the pleasure of making new acquaintances—of meeting Miss Darcy, whom I hope to see often in Town.”
Georgiana’s face lit up in response. “I should like that very much. I do not know many ladies here—only my cousins and a few family friends. If you would… that is, if you would permit me, perhaps you might call upon me at Grosvenor Square,or allow me to accompany you when you visit a gallery or museum?”
Elizabeth’s heart warmed at the request. “I would be delighted, Miss Darcy. We might even persuade the Colonel to join us, if he finds the study of antiquities to his taste.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “I vow, Miss Bennet, I am at your command. Though I own, the only antiquities I understand are the rules of whist.”
Laughter rippled through the group, and from across the room Lady Matlock looked over, her expression softened by quiet satisfaction at the sight of her son and niece so happily engaged.
“Would she do for Richard—her dowry?”
“None. Her only fortune is herself,” said Lady Jersey. “But that would be fortune enough for any man, if she would have him.”
* * *
Chapter 6
Piccadilly, November 1812
Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied Georgiana and Elizabeth to the newly opened Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly. Their footsteps echoed through the grand vestibule, bouncing off the polished marble and soaring walls. Georgiana, wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed, clung to Elizabeth’s arm, her gaze jumping from the painted hieroglyphs to the sparkle of gilded lotus columns. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had witnessed little of such spectacle during his years in service, found himself quietly astonished.
Elizabeth leaned in, her voice a low note of wonder. “What an extraordinary place, Miss Darcy! It truly feels as though we’ve been transported to another world.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled, watching Georgiana trace the air with her gloved finger, mimicking the unfamiliar script on the walls. “Indeed, Miss Bennet, I believe London has outdone Egypt itself tonight.”
Beyond the main walkway, thePantheriondiorama drew their attention—a lush panorama of exotic palms and immense African animals: an elephant, grander than any at the Tower Menagerie; a tall giraffe, its head brushing the canopy; a striped zebra; and several creatures none of them could name. Georgiana gasped as the mechanical rhinoceros slowly turned its heavy head, while two dazzling birds flashed scarlet and blue. “They look almost alive,” she whispered.
Elizabeth’s curiosity led her to a display of papyrus scrolls and a case of amulets, their gold andlapis lazulicatching thegaslight. She turned to the Colonel, eyes alight. “Do you think, Colonel, there’s any real magic left in these ancient things?”
He laughed. “If there is, Miss Bennet, I suspect it’s working tonight. Look at Georgiana—she’s thoroughly enchanted. To see her laugh again, after her troubles at school… Her brother, always so careful, sent her there on Miss Bingley’s advice, only to discover Miss Bingley was considered a terror by the school staff.”
“Miss Bingley, surely not! I’ve heard of a woman by that name,” Elizabeth said. “Does she have a brother? A Mr. Charles Bingley has just taken Netherfield Park, near my father’s estate at Meryton.”
“I believe it’s the same family. She holds herself very high… but I fear I’ve said too much already. It’s not a subject I should dwell on, as someone dear to me may have developed an unfortunatetendrefor her.” He paused, a hint of regret flickering across his face. “But come, Georgiana’s found artefacts Captain Cook brought back from the South Seas. Some of the weapons are said to be fearsome—clubs over six feet long, their wood so hard even a bayonet can barely mark them. Would you indulge me, Miss Bennet? As a soldier, I can’t help but be fascinated.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If you do, sir, you must let me enjoy the baskets and bark cloth mats. As a woman who spends her time netting purses and covering screens, I find them far more interesting. Truly, I’d rather see the collection of pearl shells used as money by so-called savages. Though, I suspect, they’re no more savage than the French think the English to be!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam led the way, stopping at a case where spears and shields stood upright, their lacquered surfaces gleaming beneath the light from the clerestory windows. He pointed out a long, notched club, dark as mahogany. “The workmanship is remarkable,” he observed, his hand hoveringreverently above the case. “Imagine the stories these could tell—voyages across vast oceans, perhaps even fierce battles on distant islands.”
Georgiana’s shyness faded as she examined a row of carved masks, her brow knit with curiosity. “Did you ever see anything like this abroad, Richard?”
He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “No, Georgiana. My campaigns were far less exotic—mud, smoke, and little else. But I would have given much to see the wonders that Cook did.”
Elizabeth, meanwhile, knelt by a low platform where mats, baskets, and strings of shell currency were displayed. She picked up a basket, admiring the precise weaving. “Such patience and skill! I think these artists could put the best ladies’ academies to shame. And look, Miss Darcy—see how the shells are threaded?” She lifted a strand, letting the dull pearly fragments slip through her fingers. “Imagine the fortunes that might change hands—if only London tradesmen would accept such coin. Perhaps I should convince Lady Jersey that these would free the bank from the Royal Mint’s tyranny.”
Georgiana joined in, smiling. “I’d like to pay my brother for my new music books with these, instead of shillings. He’d be dreadfully confused.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked, glancing at both young women. “I believe your brother would accept any currency, Georgiana, if it made you happy.”
Suddenly, a hush fell as a steward announced the start of the magic lantern exhibition in the adjoining gallery. Lanterns painted with scenes of pyramids and pharaohs would soon cast their wonders onto a great white screen.
Elizabeth rose, smoothing her skirts. “Shall we go, Colonel? Miss Darcy? I’ve never seen anything like it, and I confess, I’m eager to be further amazed.”
* * *
“William, must we really go back to Pemberley? I was having such a wonderful time in London. Just last week, Richard took me to the Egyptian Hall, and next Wednesday, we planned to visit the Spring Gardens exhibition—the one held by the Society of Painters in Oil and Water Colours. Their pamphlet promised paintings, drawings, and sculptures by more than forty women artists. I would so love to see it.”
