Once again, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still. “Y—you said we were to stay at Darcy House, that the Gardiners would accommodate my sister Phillips?”
“Indeed, Mama. I am assured there are more than sufficient bedrooms. Jane will stay with the Hursts in Hanover Street, who have kindly offered accommodation to Mary and Mr. Collins as well.”
“B—but, the Duke of Leinster will also be in residence. Oh my, my dearest child. I had never realised, I did not know that Mr. Darcy was so high. Please, please, my darling, do not lose your liveliness, I couldn’t bear to see you trapped in an unequal marriage. I know your disposition, Lizzy—you could scarcely escape discredit or misery.”
Elizabeth took her mother’s hands. “Dearest Mama, you should pity Fitzwilliam, for he truly finds thetonsnobbish and elite, and disdains social frivolity. Once he found what Lady Jersey was planning, I feared I would have to drag him to the altar.”
“Lady Jersey? Why is she involved in your wedding?”
“She is my sponsor, ma’am. I am the private secretary to Lady Sarah Child Villiers, Countess of Jersey, who is head partner of Child & Co.; I myself am a partner in the bank. While I might have little consequence in my own right, marrying Mr. Darcy has elevated us both to the highest sphere of society. I cannot say I applaud it, but when I introduce you to Lady Jersey, you will find she has the strongest sense of humour and takes the keenest delight in a good joke.”
Elizabeth took her mother’s hands in hers. “Do not fret, Mama. Think of Lydia all grown up, and you may have someinsight into Lady Jersey’s character—though, I daresay, the lady is a little more circumspect.”
* * *
Almack’s Assembly Rooms were glowing when Elizabeth, on Darcy’s arm, entered from King Street. The patronesses, as ever, stood guard at the door, allowing only those with an invitation to enter. Elizabeth had changed into a gown suitable for dancing, for her wedding dress of delicate, shimmering silk included a demi-train which trailed behind her. The ceremony itself was but a blur—she had entered St. George’s Church as Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet, and left as Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. On the steps of the church, as they waited for their chaise to arrive, she reached up and gently kissed Darcy on the cheek. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, you make me so happy.”
She wore a Grecian robe of cherry-blossom crepe over a white satin petticoat, with a satin bodice ornamented with white beads and drops,à la militaire; the same continued down the front of the dress. It was a little daring—the dress was shorter than usual, the hemline falling just above her ankles, showing off her decorative silk stockings and white satin slippers.
She had never danced with Darcy—and the first was a waltz! Darcy, unperturbed, took her right hand in his left, placing his right hand around her waist.
“If you wish it, Elizabeth,” he whispered, “place your left hand on my shoulder. I shall lead, and you follow my steps.”
Never had they been so close before—certainly it was scandalous, yet the closeness sent a thrill through her body. She caught the scent of him—sandalwood and amber. Elizabeth looked up into Darcy’s face; indeed, his eyes were flecked with gold. “I can scarcely believe that society countenances suchpublic intimacy,” she murmured. “Do you think, Fitzwilliam, that everyone is looking at us?”
“Notus, my dear, everyone is looking atyou. You are the most beautiful woman in the room.”
The band changed their tempo, and the couples who had come to the floor whirled around the ballroom. It was breathtaking, exhilarating—Elizabeth threw her head back and laughed. Lord and Lady Jersey swung past; the Duke of Leinster chuckled as he led a young, fair-haired woman across the floor—Georgiana; Lord and Lady Matlock, perfect in their steps; Jane and Bingley in close embrace.
Elizabeth had tears of joy in her eyes when the music came to a gentle stop. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, can we ask that every set is a waltz, and that my card is full—for it is only you with whom I wish to dance this evening.”
* * *
Chapter 29
London
Bingley was shown into a dark, oak-panelled chamber that spanned the width of the building, the room illuminated by three front-facing windows. Along the centre of the room stood a long, polished mahogany table supported by two immense pedestal pillars. He was directed to a chair opposite the windows, the glare from the morning light shining in his eyes.
A door, which he had not noticed, opened, and an older gentleman entered. Bingley stood and bowed. The man took a chair opposite him; his expression was difficult to determine, shadowed as it was against the bright light streaming in from outside. Shortly thereafter, a fashionably dressed woman entered, followed by a clerk, who took a chair against the wall.
“Mr. Bingley, what brings you to Child & Co.?”
“Elizabeth? Mrs. Darcy?—you are most unexpected.” Bingley sank into his chair. While he knew his sister had some acquaintance with the bank, he had never realised she held such a high position.
“Mr. Harry Smith, my colleague, is a senior partner,” said Elizabeth, “whereas I am only a partner, though also Lady Jersey’s private secretary. It is Harry whom you must impress today—my role is entirely different.”
“E—Mrs. Darcy?”
“My apologies, Mr. Bingley. Often, we are acquainted with our clients through society or family. While my connection to you may appear to your benefit, in truth, it is quite the reverse.Let me explain… You are my brother by marriage to my dear sister Jane. While the bank is certainly a commercial enterprise, such personal relations are ever foremost in our dealings. We would never take profit at the expense of family.”
Harry Smith was nodding, looking keenly at Bingley. “Mrs. Darcy is correct, Mr. Bingley. As she said, you are at a disadvantage. Child’s will not risk your wife’s future happiness were you to fail in your undertakings to the bank. You wish to expand your manufactory in Cheshire? At Child & Co., under Mrs. Darcy’s oversight, your business, your accounts, and your financial projections will be subject to the highest level of scrutiny. If that is acceptable, then we may proceed.”
Bingley looked at Elizabeth—not his sister, someone else. He should not be surprised—he had seen this person, the steel within her, in Derbyshire, when she had rebuked him for his shameful behaviour toward Jane. He straightened his shoulders.
“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Smith. Let us proceed. Now, let me show you the accounts for the past twelve months and the projections for this year. In my possession, I have statements from my bank in Manchester…”
* * *
