Yes, ilex-ferox, my location for Longbourn is based on Smith's triangulation in all my stories. Thanks for picking me up on 'psalter'. I decided not to reemploy JA's irony when describing Sir William's knighthood.

Thanks for the info on lend/loan, FD4me. My dictionary says that loan is the correct verb with lend etc used in a number of dialects, particularly northern. Both are used in Australia but we got corrected at school if we used 'lend'. So I have had Kitty use lend and Jane (who was corrected by a master) use loan. Would any other Brits care to weigh in on this topic?

Yes, Marabel, the forks in the English language and culture in the colonies are very interesting—sort of like time capsules. The US has an older, Georgian and pre-Georgian aspect to it, along with mixes from other European nations (eg cookie from Dutch). I suppose trunks were originally strapped to the back, hence the word. Australia is more Regency in nature than the US, having been settled in 1788, fairly close to Byron's birthdate. So, at some point, carriages must have got a distinct component for storing goods called the 'boot'. India, too, has a distinct Regency flavour to its English. I believe they still use the term 'dickie' interchangeably with 'boot', but I think that's more Edwardian because there were fold-out dickie seats in the boot of some early sports cars.

Suggestions for the title of Chapter 3 were:

"Dressed to Impress" by FatPatricia515,

"Ells of shot silk", "A visit to the seamstress", "A lady in need of new gowns" by Laure Saintyves,

"Frills and Furbelows" by ilex-ferox,

"Putting on the Glitz" by Deanna27,

"Shot silk on tick" by FD4me,

"French accent and red silk" by Irena-314.

"Frills and Furbelows" seems about right, ilex-ferox.

Chapter 4 Prelude

The day of the Netherfield ball had been a whirlwind and it was still only six in the evening. The two eldest Bennets had gone early with their mother to Luton for the final fitting of Lizzy's gown. The younger Bennets had declined to accompany them. Kitty and Lydia were working feverishly on furbishing their gowns, having discovered on their first trip that they could look at the extended range of fallals* in Luton but not purchase them. Disdaining all worldly goods, Mary had gone back to her tracts*.

Upon their arrival at the dressmakers, the Bennet ladies had discovered that Madame Fenelle and her girls had wrought wonders, sculpting the silk into a striking iridescent confection.

But all Lizzy could see in the mirror after donning the new stays and the gown were those rosettes, drawing attention to the alarmingly low-cut neckline. My goodness! I have a décolletage!

"Is it not a little revealing?" she asked tentatively.

"Heavens, no!" cried Mrs Bennet. "Why, they cut dresses much lower in my day! I remember when your aunt Philips stepped on my train at the regimental ball..." she added with a titter, but declined to elaborate on this anecdote when confronted with Lizzy's raised eyebrow, so reminiscent of her father.

"It looks very well, Lizzy!" intervened Jane hastily. "Not unbecoming at all."

"Indeed, I assure you, ma'am," said Madame Fenelle. "It is of the first respectability—just how the gowns are being worn now in London."

A pair of pink silk gloves, of the second colour in the silk, were produced and matching slippers—for only two extra guineas. Lizzy protested that her ivory gloves and slippers would suffice, but Jane and her mother would not hear of it. Madame was right, declared Mrs Bennet, the pink was just the finishing touch needed to make an ensemble of the first stare*.

So the gown had been suitably praised and carefully returned to its bandbox for the journey home, with Mrs Bennet promising that they would return on the following Friday to commission more gowns.

This had perturbed Lizzy, for they had not yet heard from her aunt Sempronia, although Lizzy had taxed her father for a little more information on the Baroness Mickleham—or at least as much as he was willing to divulge. Lizzy was even beginning to hope that they might not get a response from her aunt; that she might be able to convince her father to let her continue living in Hertfordshire with Jane rather than be thrust into a friendless existence in London. She was sure all the females would be like the Bingley sisters—all climbing over one another to snare a rich husband and ready to scratch each other's eyes out. And if her aunt Sempronia did not reply, and her father insisted on the lodgings, then what better companion to take with her to London than Jane? Lizzy felt she was coasting downhill on a runaway carriage, with forks in the road branching ahead of her and no time to choose her way before the carriage lurched on regardless. An anxious feeling resided uncomfortably in her stomach, but perhaps it was just the excitement of the Netherfield ball.

Lizzy was determined, however, that Jane should not be short-changed by her generosity in making the down payment on the gown, whatever her own problems. When a polite enquiry to Madame had elicited the names of the best emporia* for gloves, they had walked down the street in search of a pair to do justice to Jane's golden gown. Having spent the entirety of her last quarter day's money on a new pair of boots, which she could not regret since they had kept her feet dry on the wet walk to Netherfield, Lizzy had been forced to ask for an advance from her papa to repay Jane. The Bennet ladies had acquired a beautiful pair of golden lace mitts from the second shop they entered, which kept an astonishing array of hats for the London trade and a smaller range of other goods for local consumption.

They had returned not long ago from their second trip to Luton, which had taken the best part of the day. There had been just enough time to attend to an extended toilette worthy of an occasion such as a ball. This involved the washtub in the scullery rather than the bowl and ewer in their chambers, used for their daily ablutions.

Lizzy now stood in front of the mirror after Sarah had put the finishing touches to her hair. At last she was able to tear her eyes away from the distracting rosettes at her breast and view the whole.

"Oh, Lizzy! You look beautiful!" breathed Jane.

"I am humbled to admit, Jane, that you and Mama have better taste than I do. I would never have ordered such a dress, or such gloves, but I must concede that the overall effect is quite pleasing."

"You look ever so pretty, ma'am!" exclaimed Sarah.

"Are you girls ready yet?" asked Mrs Bennet, picking up her skirts to hurry in. "Well!" said Fanny, coming to an abrupt halt, unable to credit her eyes. "I do swear you look almost as good as Jane, Lizzy!"

"You cast me quite in the shade*, Lizzy," averred Jane.

Lizzy smiled and shook her head.

"I would not go so far as to say that!" objected Fanny. "You need to eat a little more and stop walking yourself to a stick over hill and dale," she advised, "before you will rival your sister!"

Lizzy's smiled widened and she raised one eyebrow a fraction at Jane.

"Where is my jewel box, Sarah?" asked Mrs Bennet, casting about. "I gave it to you once you finished my hair."

Sarah produced the box, which she had sat on the dressing table.

"I have just the thing, Lizzy!" said Mrs Bennet, pulling out several layers to rummage in the bottom. "Your uncle Edward gave it to me the year I came out. I used to wear it quite frequently when I was young, for I did not have much in the way of jewels then."

She pulled out an elaborate pendant necklace of amethysts*, with several smaller stones grouped around a larger gem, and finished with a single pearl drop. It was threaded onto an edged wisp of chiffon.

"Mama, it is beautiful!" exclaimed Lizzy. "Why have I never seen you wear this?"

"But everyone knows that blondes should not wear amethysts, Lizzy! They look insipid! Your father bought me more appropriate jewels for my colouring, so I have not worn it for years!" Fanny said as she placed the necklace around her daughter's slim throat.

"It should be worn high, Mama," advised Jane, "like a choker, so that it does not interfere with the rosettes."

"I believe you are right, Jane," concurred Mrs Bennet, tying it high at the back and finishing it with a bow.

"Just like a princess!" sighed Sarah, clasping her hands together as if in prayer.

"And you, Jane, shall wear my pearls!" declared Mrs Bennet, pulling them from the box.

"No, Mama! You should wear them yourself!" declared Jane. "Let me have the topaz you are wearing."

After a token protest, Mrs Bennet conceded when Jane pointed out the Lizzy and herself would match better with the coloured gemstones around their necks. Some citrine earrings were found to match the topaz drop, for Jane's ears were pierced like her mother's. Jane pulled on her mitts, the ladies arranged their shawls, and everyone declared themselves satisfied.

Upon descending the stairs, Lizzy finally knew her ensemble had transcended to the next level when Lydia was uncharacteristically struck speechless.

But it was her Papa who gave the greatest compliment, declaring, "My dear, you look very beautiful!" before bowing to kiss her glove. "And you too, Jane," Mr Bennet added belatedly. "But we already knew that."

The coach ride to Netherfield with Kitty and Lydia was positively raucous. Assaulted by the noise, which neither of her parents seemed inclined to check, Lizzy's thoughts turned inwards to dwell on her future and churn the possibilities. With only a single likeness of her aunt, taken in miniature some thirty years ago when she was still living under her father's roof in Surrey, Lizzy had some difficulty imagining the baroness. Aunt Sempronia was two years older than Mr Bennet and two years younger than their elder brother Basil who had met an untimely death. Mr Bennet had not spoken to his sister since their great rupture. He had heard in some roundabout way that his sister had a single son, though what his age would currently be, he could not guess. He supposed his nephew to be somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five, remembering the source but not the timing of his information.

Apparently the younger brother and sister had once been close, in league against their obnoxious older brother who was to inherit the chief of the family wealth, mostly through the entail of Longbourn. When their father had died a year after Mr Bennet had gone up to Oxford, Sempronia had had little choice but to join him there. Basil, who had been living modestly on his expectations in London, had returned to the family home with a new wife and announced he had no room for his sister. She had set off unaccompanied on the mail coaches for Oxford via* London.

Of course, Mr Bennet had related, Sempronia could not stay with him in his rooms. They had found a garret in the cottage of a widow in the nearby village where his sister could stay at night. While clean and tidy, it was a far cry from the small estate where she had formerly lived. The only book the widow kept was an almanac for planting her vegetable garden. Not unnaturally, Sempronia had spent every waking hour in her brother's rooms. She arrived every morning, just after the gates were opened. Mr Bennet and Mr Pickering always saved something from their breakfast for her: an apple, a piece of toast or a lump of cheese—whatever they could inconspicuously stow in their pockets. During the day, she had tidied their rooms, washed their clothes, and read their books while they attended lectures and tutorials. They, in return, had smuggled some luncheon to her. She left the college just as the gates closed to visitors at sundown, to sup with the widow.

The romance with Mr Pickering had come on gradually. Sempronia had arrived shortly after Candlemas in their first year. As the summer drew nearer and the days became longer, she stayed later in the evening, arguing lightheartedly with them about what she had read in their books. Mr Bennet remembered it as one of the best times of his life. Pickering had gone home to his parents in Devonshire for the summer term. When he returned at Michaelmas, late one evening, he had announced to Mr Bennet the epiphany he had had during the break—there was no finer lady in all England than Sempronia, for not only was she pretty, she was as smart as any gentleman; nay, smarter than some of them who had barely passed smalls*. They courted for two terms. By the time Candlemas had come round again, they were engaged.

Thus it went on for almost a term until the night of the dean's dinner. During her time at Magdalen, Sempronia had got to know the dean's wife, one of the few ladies who actually lived at the college. That was how Sempronia came to be invited to the dean's annual dinner, to which several recent donors to the college and some notable alumni had been invited. When one of the wives of the guests was taken ill shortly before the dinner, it was Sempronia's beauty and wit that led her to fill the place at High Table*, wearing a dress that the dean's wife had lent her for the occasion. Hailing from Mickleham in Surrey, Sempronia had been seated next to the new Baron Mickleham, who had no connection to the place beyond the recreated baronetcy*. He had been raised to the peerage for services to the City, or more likely, for providing an enormous loan to the Prince Regent*. The baron had apparently been instantly captivated.

Mr Bennet would not speak of the unravelling of his sister's engagement to Mr Pickering, becoming sullen once he reached that point in his story. The least said about it, he declared, the better. So Lizzy had stored away her new information, having gained an understanding of why her father and his sister had originally been close, but still insatiably curious to know more of her aunt.

Lizzy had inured herself to Kitty and Lydia's twittering during the journey but when a shriek from her sisters pierced her reverie, Lizzy realised they had arrived at last at Netherfield. The outburst had been elicited by several mounted officers who had passed their carriage in the driveway. It finally roused Mr Bennet from his lethargy to draw his censure. Mrs Bennet immediately excused her daughters' behaviour on the grounds of their youth and the excitement of the occasion. Even she, giggled Mrs Bennet, was all atwitter.

Kitty and Lydia were out the carriage door before the footman had a chance to lower the step. The other Bennets followed with more decorum, with Lizzy and Jane emerging last, assisted by their father's hand. Having never worn silk before, Lizzy was at pains to ensure her gown did not snag on the door. As soon as her slippers were on terra firma, Lizzy saw that the Bingley sisters had formed a receiving line at the top of the steps with their brother. Both had adopted elaborate coiffures with ostrich feathers. Neither Mr Hurst nor Mr Darcy were in evidence.

Lizzy waited patiently while her mother fussed over herself and Jane, straightening their shawls and tugging at a fold in the hem of Lizzy's gown. But before Lizzy could take a step towards the manor house, she and Jane were intercepted by two of the officers, Lieutenant Wickham and Captain Carter, who complimented them both gallantly and immediately requested their hands for the first dances. Having already promised the first two to Mr Bingley upon his invitation of the Bennet family to the ball, Jane was happy to oblige with the next. Lizzy, whose hand had not already been solicited, laughingly dispensed her favours—the first two to Captain Carter and the next two to the lieutenant. She could only attribute her newfound popularity to her silk dress, for she had never before been accosted by a partner prior to actually stepping into the ballroom. Satisfied, the officers bowed and rejoined their junior fellows who were talking to Lydia and Kitty with animation, while glancing sidelong with awe in Jane and Lizzy's direction.

After Lizzy exchanged a happy glance with Jane, whose eyes had already returned to Mr Bingley, the sisters resumed their progress, urged on by their parents who followed them. Carefully mounting the steps, Lizzy appreciated that Caroline and Louisa had taken up their outfits a notch from the Meryton assembly and now looked like they had escaped Aladdin's cave with as much booty as they could wear.

Polite nothings were exchanged by members of both parties. All the while Lizzy felt extremely uncomfortable, though she could not attribute it to anything in particular the Bingley sisters said. As she picked up her skirts to step into the vestibule, Lizzy decided that she was merely sensible of all the ill will that had been directed at her by Caroline and Louisa during her stay at Netherfield and conscious that nothing had really changed. Casting these thoughts aside, Lizzy resolved to enjoy herself and determined to first find her friend Charlotte Lucas so that she might show off her dress.

Elizabeth's entry was arrested just inside the door where she encountered Mr Darcy and was immediately transfixed by his gaze. He was standing stiffly in the foyer near the base of the stairs, seemingly frozen with one foot hovering above the marble of the vestibule floor, like he had just discovered it was boiling oil. His eyes were fixed upon her, his gaze so intense that Lizzy stopped momentarily in her tracks without thinking, like a startled deer. She was immediately bunted forward by her mother, dropping her fan. Suddenly animated, Mr Darcy raced forward to retrieve it.

There was more awkwardness when Lizzy reflexively bent down to save him the trouble. She knew her error immediately—she should let him do the gentlemanly thing by restoring her fan to her. Lizzy stopped herself halfway and then realised the consequences of her second mistake—her breasts heaved in her stays as she straightened, just as Mr Darcy stood up likewise. His eyes fell upon the rosettes then darted sideways. He blushed deeply. Lizzy saw him take a deep breath, then force his eyes back to hers.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, holding out the fan. "You are looking well tonight. May I ask if you have a dance free?"

Now Lizzy was truly astonished. Mr Darcy had actually condescended to ask her for a dance! She replied with remarkable aplomb. "Certainly, Mr Darcy. My fifth is free, after Lieutenant Wickham."

Lizzy watched curiously as Mr Darcy flushed red again, though this time she saw his lips thin and a muscle in his jaw tic. She immediately recognised not embarrassment, but anger. He gave her a curt bow and withdrew.

She watched his broad shoulders disappear in perplexity. What have I done to annoy him now? she wondered.

Footnotes

*fallal—cheap or showy ornament, gaud. The origin of fallal is unclear. It may be an alteration of furbelow "a ruffle or flounce; a piece of showy trimming." Furbelow is a variant of falbala and of other related words in Provençal and some Italian dialects. All three words (fallal, furbelow, falbala) entered English very close together at the beginning of the 18th century. Word of the day dictionary dot com 7th Jan 2017

Tracts—a religious pamphlet or, more specifically in Mary's case, extracts she is copying from a book of sermons.

*first stare—very fashionable

*emporia—large retail stores selling a variety of goods. A forerunner of department stores.

*cast in the shade—to outshine someone with your brilliance, in beauty or wit.

*elaborate pendant necklace of amethysts—it's on the Pinterest board!

*via—by the way of, ie all the mail coaches used London as their hub.

*smalls—the matriculation exams for Oxford, more formally known as Responsions.

*High Table—a table on a raised platform in the dining room where fellows and dignitaries were seated.

*recreated barony—if a peer dies without an heir, the title becomes extinct. However, the Sovereign can choose to recreate the peerage by giving it to someone else.

*Prince of Wales—the prince was enormously extravagant from the time he was given an independent establishment at 18. From the time he was 21, the parliament granted him an annuity of £50,000 (roughly £5 million today). In 1795, the Prince of Wales's debts, amounted to the extraordinary sum of £630,000 (equivalent to £59,733,000 today (Wikipedia). He would have been roughly 26 at the time of dinner. The money conversions are based on data by Clarke & Gregory (2017).