On that December eve, everyone of import found themselves in Almack's on Kings Street. Silk and muslin whirled around in the golden glow of candlelight. Feathers and silken flowers woven in ladies' hair trembled with each motion. The silver buckles on gentlemen's shoes glinted merrily. Heels clacked against the parquet floor in the intricate pattern of the dance. The air was filled with music, perfumes, relief and expectations.
Britannia ruled the waves! They paid the price at Trafalgar, and now John Bull could slumber in peace at last. Blood muddied the frozen fields at Austerlitz, and now the eyes of Europe turned towards Pressburg, breath held, awaiting the news.
Lady Anne snapped her fan shut.
"Look at our sons," said Countess of Matlock, her gaze focused on the group of young men at the refreshment table. "What a rare sight, young Darcy in a company!"
"If it were not for Richard's endless pestering about him dabbling into our governess's business, he would have stayed home with Georgiana." Lady Anne allowed herself a thin smile. "To be honest, I cannot blame him. We have arrived only two hours ago, and I am already tired to the bone."
"You have got the excuse of being forty-five, my dear. That is not his case."
They watched the young men talk over the glasses of red wine. Richard was in the middle of a wild story (very likely to be inappropriate to most audiences). Edward, Viscount Milton, laughed softly at his younger brother's tale. Fitzwilliam listened to his cousin with fascinated horror, yet with each nod he encouraged him to continue. Soon, Barbara joined her husband's side, and Edward did not waste any time to take her hand in his, lifting it to his lips. They made a sweet picture, Lady Anne told her sister-in-law.
"Well, try sharing a residence with them," the countess chuckled. "The sweetness gets sickening after a while. The promise of grandchildren is the sole reason why I suffer them mooning over each other in my presence."
"Well, Albertina, the price of knowing the grandchildren are truly yours is quite high I suppose."
"I almost walked on them in the library, Anne."
"Horrendous. I hope there was no danger to the books?"
"To the entire shelf."
"Quite adventurous, the pair of them."
The reel was announced as the next dance. Both ladies watched the debutantes move between their gentlemen in the discreet search of their next partners. Richard whispered something to Fitzwilliam and both young men headed towards the floor; one with all the joie de vivre, the other like a French aristocrat climbing to the guillotine. Viscount Milton, of course, led his Viscountess to their spot in the formation.
"I wonder with whom they would dance," said the countess. "I am not concerned for my Richard at all. On the other day he danced with Countess of Sefton – and by the end of the quadrille the esteemed patroness and the mother of ten children was giggling like a schoolgirl. But your Fitzwilliam, he is such a reserved soul, one must wonder."
"There is no need for your musing any longer. He paired with Helen." Lady Helen Fitzwilliam was the second-eldest daughter of the Matlocks; still unmarried at twenty-one she was getting dangerously close to spinsterhood. Now the fact that she was led to the dance floor by the heir of Pemberley made some of the young gentlemen to take notice.
"Hm. They look rather charming together," said the countess with a mischievous tone. "Two reclusive scholars with little patience with crowds, who would have thought."
Richard, the ladies observed, was currently in the whirl with the beautiful Lady Jersey. Of course.
"I refuse to entertain any notion of him marrying any cousin of his. I have done that mistake once and ever since then we all pay the price."
"I am not Cathy, dearest." The countess laughed. "Although, the way your sister tells the story makes one believe the vow was witnessed by the King and the archbishop, signed by blood, the license confirmed, and the only thing left to be done is the bedding."
"If he ever succumbs to the pressure and marries that sickly runt, I am getting him a mistress to recompense him myself." Lady Anne opened her fan. "Anne cannot properly grow a tape worm in her belly, let alone a child. Catherine would be kindest to her daughter if she were to give up any notions of marriage. Before you accuse me of being too harsh, remember I am of a slightly stronger constitution, and childbearing almost killed me. Anne would not survive long enough to bring the first to life."
"Well, that is a far too good argument to topple." Lady Matlock grinned mischievously. "Now, if we were to join our families, Richard and Georgiana might some day make a very pleasant couple."
"He is a soldier. Let him first survive French bullets and French disease, before we make any promises, hm?"
And thus, both ladies walked to the chairs lined along the walls. Mr. Darcy smiled at his wife once they got closer. He rose from his seat.
"I wondered whether you got lost, my dear."
"With one of the Almack's patronesses by my side? Hardly." The esteemed trio sat down comfortably and for the moment engrossed themself in the elegant display of dancing prowess.
"I do not doubt you have already assessed the chances of our progeny," remarked Mr. Darcy with a grin. "Pray, any news on the subject?"
"None. Your son has exclusively danced only with married ladies, or the cousins whom he chased when they both wore skirts." Lady Anne shielded her mouth with her fan, to protect the dignified reputation of Fitzwilliam Darcy. "Mr. George Darcy experienced some difficulty in reigning in his face.
The reel reached the end. The men, again, released their current partners and set to search for the other ladies with whom they would dance minuet.
"I wonder how long the peace would last this time," said the countess, her eyes glued to her Richard.
At twenty-two, the second-born son of the Sixth Earl of Matlock had graduated from the Royal Military College and bought his first commission as a lieutenant two years ago. He had only recently returned from the campaign in India, putting his mother's worries to rest for the time. He arrived with plethora of gifts, lifelong disgust towards the East India Company, and the unshakeable conviction that all food should taste like gunpowder on fire.
"Richard is a strong lad," said Mr. Darcy. "Sharp-minded and quick. He will manage, dear sister."
"He plans on becoming a captain." Lady Matlock frowned. "I told him I wished him to take holy orders, but did he listen? No."
"Well, ambition suits young men," Mr. Darcy chuckled. "Although I would pay a pretty coin to hear his sermons."
"That is called blasphemy, sir, and it is generally frowned upon." Lady Anne turned back to her sister-in-law. "Perhaps pushing Thomas or James towards a less dangerous career would prove to be more fruitful."
"I hope Thomas would see reason, even though convincing him would be difficult when Richard prances around with his tales of siege of Puna. But Tommy is in Eton still, there is time aplenty."
The minuet was soon to begin, and the three parents watched their sons and daughters walk to the formation on the floor. This time, both Richard and Fitzwilliam danced with debutantes from good families, both young women prettier than roses. Richard's easy countenance surprised no one. Fitzwilliam's expression was rather stiff – but at least he looked like he was trying to be amiable.
Small victories. The sight was lovely, nevertheless.
. . .
The Bennets decided sixteen was old enough for Jane to leave the childish things behind and enter the new and exciting world of being a young miss free to dance, flirt and marry. As such, she was in an urgent need of the latest fashions, Mrs. Bennet decided, and so she proposed that Jane should travel with her aunt and uncle to London for the necessary purchases and culture, would that not be great?
Ever since Mrs. Bennet had declared Jane old enough to participate in Meryton's society, young Lizzy had become Jane's most dedicated guardian.
Wherever Jane went with the slightest hesitation, Elizabeth ran headlong, chasing away any possible danger. The elder sister was grateful, for she was yet to find any peace in the sudden change of her surroundings. Thus, when Mrs. Bennet announced the plan, Elizabeth simply packed her things and went to help Jane. Forcing her to stay behind was considered too much work by the parents, and the Gardiners did not protest.
Now, the two sisters held each other tight in their sleep, and Mrs. Gardiner could not help herself but worry that perhaps sixteen was too young for Jane to cast off the protection of childhood. The eldest Bennet daughter shared her tragedy with Helen of Troy; Jane's beauty made the men feel entitled to her attention, and the lack of dowry only heightened the allure of her muslin robes without needing to succumb to the parson's mousetrap.
Mrs. Gardiner shut the door.