Lady Lucas smiled, predatory and self-satisfied. Elizabeth shivered—she knew that look. Mrs. Bennet wore it every time a wealthy bachelor crossed Longbourn’s threshold.
“Oh, John has always possessed the most elegant manners.” Lady Lucas preened, her gaze sweeping over the gilded moldings of the drawing room with the practiced eye of an appraiser. “Sir William and I have always remarked that he requires only a grander sphere to truly shine. And with your shared history, Elizabeth—why, you two have been close since the nursery! It seems a particular gift of Providence that he should be in London during your very first Season. John does so enjoy the museums, the parks, and the theater,” Lady Lucas warmed toher bragging. “John was just saying the other day how much he admires a lady who appreciates the arts. Weren’t you, John?”
“I… ah… yes, quite so,” John mumbled, looking like he wanted to disappear into the upholstery. “The arts are very… artistic.”
Elizabeth bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Poor John Lucas, conscripted as a suitor. She would have to find a way to discourage Lady Lucas’s schemes without humiliating him.
“I agree, Mr. Lucas,” she said kindly. “The arts bring such joy and meaning to life. I am sure you will have no shortage of stimulating conversation on that topic with the ladies of London.”
From the music room, the Broadwood’s deep chords crashed into a complicated Handel duet, slicing through the stifling air of matchmaking.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth.” His neck craned toward the music room. “I believe I hear someone playing Handel.”
“Indeed, Mr. Lucas,” Elizabeth seized upon this opportunity to extricate poor John from his mother’s matrimonial ambitions. “My sister, Mary, and Miss Georgiana Darcy have been laboring over that piece for days, preparing for the next musicale. It is an exceptionally ambitious arrangement. I fear they may need a reliable page-turner. Perhaps you might oblige them? I know they would be most grateful for your assistance.”
John looked at her as though she had just opened the gates of paradise. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. I would be happy to lend my services.” He rose hastily, bowing to the ladies. “If you will excuse me, I shall go and offer my aid to the musicians.”
Lady Lucas’s eyes widened with the avid brightness of a woman who had just learned that her hosts moved in circles she had previously only read about in the society papers. “Georgiana Darcy. Mr. Darcy’s sister. Well. How very fortunate for Mary.And how kind of Mr. Darcy to allow such intimacy between the families.”
“Mr. Darcy’s kindness is not the point,” Elizabeth said. “Mary has earned the partnership through her own accomplishment.”
“Naturally.” Lady Lucas rearranged her features into an expression of maternal pride. “How good of John to be so solicitous of the musical ladies. He has always been such a thoughtful, obliging boy. Are you well acquainted with Miss Darcy?”
“She lives next door,” Elizabeth explained. “Although she is not yet out, she performed with Mary at a musicale at Lady Harewood’s salon.”
“Not out?” Lady Lucas’s teacup remained suspended in midair, her mind visibly calculating the sheer weight of a Darcy alliance. “Well, she must be a massive prize when she is presented to theton. A girl of her consequence—and living next door! Why, Elizabeth, the proximity alone is a grand advantage. John was just saying how much he admires a young lady of quiet, domestic habits. With his inheritance of Lucas Lodge securely settled upon Sir William’s passing, he is uniquely positioned to offer a stable, respectable establishment to a lady who prefers the country air to the chaos of town.”
Charlotte lowered her porcelain cup to her saucer with a slow, deliberate click. She caught Elizabeth’s eye, her expression a perfect blend of silent apology and wry, long-suffering sympathy. She knew precisely how heavy her mother’s hand could be when it chose to drive a wedge into a wealthy drawing room.
“Miss Darcy is entirely devoted to her studies and her brother, Lady Lucas,” Elizabeth said. “Her future presentation is entirely a matter for her family, and I assure you, she is far too young to be considered an object of anyone’s immediate marital calculation.”
“Yes, of course, but Miss Mary is thriving in London amongst the stimulating society, and I have no doubt she will attract attention with such an accomplished friend by her side. How is your sister, Jane, faring?”
The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to discuss Jane and Mr. Bingley. She fanned herself. “Jane is well, but resting after a promenade. The crowds and horses raise dust that does not suit her as well as the country air.”
“Ah, your elder sister tends to be of a sickly nature,” Lady Lucas reflected. “Quite unlike the robust natures of your younger sisters and their frequent walks to Meryton. I see them pass Lucas Lodge regularly on their jaunts into town. The officers have not yet decamped to Brighton, you see.”
A dry, aristocratic cough echoed from near the hearth as Lady Sophia lowered her volume ofCecilia. “Pray, Lady Lucas, I should like to hear about the delightful Meryton. I have a correspondent in that part of the world—a lady of excellent connections—who frequently informs me that the society in your neighborhood is remarkably vibrant. Are the militia quartered there, or is it a usual station? I would think they should be more useful at a seaside location, should Napoleon’s Navy breach the channel.”
“Oh, I couldn’t say how troops are assigned, but Colonel Forster informs us that the young men will indeed decamp later this summer. However, the presence of redcoats does make our small society quite merry… what with all the card parties and assemblies—not to mention the gentlemen’s shooting and riding activities.”
“And how are my parents?” Elizabeth asked, redirecting the conversation away from the officers her two youngest sisters were so enamored by. “I fear I have been a negligent correspondent since coming to London. My father has notwritten, and you know how erratic Lydia and Kitty can be with their letters.”
“Well.” Lady Lucas settled back in her chair, a gleam of gossip in her eye. “Your mother is in the most tremendous spirits, Elizabeth. She has been buying lottery tickets, which your father disapproves of but cannot prevent, and she has told Mrs. Long and Mrs. Philips and anyone who will listen that she intends to come to London with or without Mr. Bennet’s permission, because, she says, her eldest daughters require a mother’s guidance in navigating the Season, and she will not be kept in Hertfordshire like a prisoner while her girls are launched into society without her.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. “Wait? What is she planning?”
“As soon as she has sufficient funds. And she’s been playing the numbers most assiduously.”
“But what about my father? Does he agree?”
“Your father reportedly said, ‘Mrs. Bennet may go to London, to the moon, or to the devil, provided she goes quietly,’ which she did not take as the refusal he intended.”
“Mr. Bennet is holding the line,” Charlotte said. “For now. But your mother is persistent, Eliza, and your father’s resistance has limits.”
“Very specific limits,” Lady Lucas agreed. “Two bottles of port and a promise to be left alone with his books. Mrs. Bennet knows this. She is working on him.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand to her temple. The headache was coming. Her mother, laying siege to London, would soon be in Lady Sophia’s drawing room, exclaiming over the curtains, critiquing the meals, and telling everyone that Lizzy had fifteen thousand a year, with earls and viscounts circling, and Mr. Darcy managing her fortune. Was this not wonderful for Lizzy and all her girls?
