Author's Notes: We now skip ahead about three months in time, though there will be some mention of events that have taken place in the interim. We are now in late April. Also despite the chapter title this is not the same chapter as the one originally "Luck is Sometimes Even Less of a Lady"; it takes place earlier the same day, and I felt it worked better for this than the original which is actually the next and last chapter before the epilogue.

Weirdly, yesterday's update did not go to the top of the list. Was it because I updated less than 24 hours after the previous chapter? I mean it was maybe an hour short of a day. Anyway, here's hoping that this update makes the top, and if you missed it, just click on back for chapter 9. Also, any reviews would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 10

Luck is Sometimes Even Less of a Lady

Fitzwilliam Darcy, husband for a mere two weeks, reluctantly left his currently quite delightfully disheveled wife in order to let her begin her preparations for the ball they would be attending that evening, the first social engagement where they would appear as man and wife. While he hardly wished to emerge from the blissful haven of their home as yet, he did unfortunately recognize that he could no longer ignore the outside world, especially Lord and Lady Gordon who had been close friends to his own parents and who had made such a point of inviting him and Elizabeth to their ball. Of course he realized that he and Elizabeth were currently of high interest because of either the perceived disparity of the match or the fact that while the ton were familiar enough with the Darcys of Pemberley, they had never heard of the Bennets of Longbourn, thus making the former Elizabeth Bennet very much an unknown quality.

Howsoever it was, he did know that there was no better opportunity or place to introduce his bride than the Gordons' Ball as they had such a large guest list that the two of them would mostly be lost among the more notorious guests, and they would have a number of natural allies, the host and hostess being the most important of them all. And he had no fear of Elizabeth not doing well. She was far more at ease in social situations than he, and she never let matters of rank or position intimidate her.

She had shone so very brightly in her visit to London in February, especially when meeting his relations. He had been somewhat unnecessarily worried about how that would turn out in light of his very unhappy interview with his aunt Catherine in Kent. She had ranted and threatened to ruin them both in the eyes of society, but in the end he believed he had convinced her of the pointlessness of any such schemes, though he soon discovered that she was so determined that she went directly to her brother to enlist his support.

Unfortunately for her, he had already made his aunt and uncle Matlock fully aware of his engagement including those matters that others might consider detriments but which mattered not in the least to him, and his uncle knowing his stubborn nature and his aunt being quite happy to have her nephew engaged to a woman of apparently good character, ended up sending Lady Catherine back to Kent with a flea in her ear and a determination to treat Elizabeth with all that was due to their nephew's intended. Their determination was perhaps helped by the fact that Lord and Lady Matlock had never gotten on with Lady Catherine while Darcy's mother had been a favorite with both of them, so it was an easy choice to support their favorite nephew over Matlock's shrewish sister.

Darcy regretted that Lady Catherine had continued to behave in such a way as to make the breech between them likely to be permanent unless she could bring herself to make a sincere apology, which seemed highly unlikely as he had never known her to admit herself to be wrong. He could only be grateful that his uncle had made it clear that she was not to approach his intended as apparently was her original intention, and he could only wonder at the pressure his uncle had brought to bear on her as she tended to be very single-minded and determined in her aims. He most greatly regretted that he had not been able to delay the trip long enough for Mr. and Mrs. Collins to get properly settled into their new home before his aunt learned the news.

Of course, while he was grateful for his relatives' support, he could wish that they had done so with a bit more restraint, at least in the family party which followed Elizabeth's initial introduction to his uncle and aunt. They had behaved with all decorum then, so he was rather taken aback at the rather brash and overly enthusiastic welcome she received at the dinner. While he intellectually understood it was a sign of their embracing her into the family fold, he was somewhat embarrassed to remember his former opinions on the Bennets' behavior when his own family could be just as unrestrained (though admittedly they were mostly well behaved in public).

There was good fortune in that because Jane had become engaged to Bingley the day after the Collins' wedding and they had agreed to a double wedding in April, Mrs. Bennet believed or was convinced that she had too much to do to go to London with Miss Bennet and Elizabeth and left them to the capable hands of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though according to Elizabeth she had sent quite a long list of instructions on the best warehouses to shop for materials for the girls' wedding clothes amongst many other requirements. However, it did mean that he had to see his family's worst traits on display before Elizabeth's most sensible relations.

It was not so bad as it could have been, after all they could have shown dislike or indifference, and to be honest, most of them were reasonably well behaved. It was his uncle and his aunt's sister whose behavior he found the most trying, though his cousin John had his own moments. At dinner, Darcy could have done without his uncle telling Elizabeth about his younger brother Oliver, especially with his too oft told joke that Oliver was so enamored with titles and so bitter about being a younger son that Lord Matlock felt that he would have preferred to be borne a woman so he could be Lady Olive all of his life. Darcy was thankful that the worst of his excesses were kept to the separation of the sexes so that only Elizabeth's uncle was a possible witness, and he had been kept well distracted by Viscount Rivers and Col. Fitzwilliam during the most trying time. Lord Matlock did praise Elizabeth, but he could certainly have been more diplomatic.

His praise of her spirit and wit was decent enough, but Darcy wanted to groan or call his uncle out when he said, "Your Miss Elizabeth may not be the fashionable beauty her sister is, but she has a fire to go with those eyes and that figure that makes her far more appealing to a man with passion of his own. I have to say you surprised me. I always thought that once you settled down to marry, it would be someone as perfectly coiffed and proper as Henry's Barbara. Lord, you would think with a name like that she would have more spirit. God knows how he managed to sire an heir off her; they are both so in love with propriety I expect he knocks three times before entering and then stumbles about in the dark before reaching her."

Darcy kept his expression as impassive as possible at this, wishing himself away and especially back with his intended.

"I do not think it is so surprising," his cousin John chimed in. "It is not like he ever took advantage of his opportunities for willing feminine company before he married; no wonder that once he spoke those vows he would get to business, though I doubt he ever properly cuts loose even there." He looked at Darcy with a slight leer. "You seem to have chosen a far livelier bride for yourself, so perhaps you are not quite so dull a soul as Henry. I can imagine..."

"I would thank you not to apply your imagination towards anything considering my intended," Darcy said, icily. "She is not like the women you tend to consort with."

John just grinned as his uncle still had his own opinion to deliver.

"John is still too young for matrimony," he said, basically waving away any insult on either's part. "In any event, I hope you know what you are doing. With a lady like that, if you are not properly prepared, she will wear you down good and proper. I wager she has a natural aptitude for a wife's duties and will be a very quick study." He accompanied the statement with a wag of the eyebrows.

"Uncle, I would have you remember that the lady's uncle is here and that I do not appreciate either of you speculating on Elizabeth's... wifely aptitude," was all that Darcy could vouchsafe to say before walking over to Rivers who was in conversation with Mr. Gardiner and Richard, discussing, of all things, fishing.

His eldest cousin had few interests beyond the estate, and he looked at his time in town as a necessary burden to cultivate proper contacts for the future. He and his father were polar opposites in nearly everything but in accepting the responsibilities of their birth. Where his father was bold and boisterous, the viscount was serious and somber and his wife shared those characteristics. Father and son got on reasonably well most of the time, but Darcy found that they tended to revert to arguing their differing positions on estate matters or legislative issues more often than not, which while not entirely unwelcome could become tedious, since they were both men used to getting their own ways. Unlike his cousin, Darcy found himself more drawn to personalities that contrasted with his own rather than those that were as reserved. In any event, he was pleased that the Viscount was treating the Bennets and Gardiners with the civility that they were due, not that he truly had expected anything less of him. Rivers might look down on them from his superior position, but he would never be less than scrupulously polite, especially considering that there would soon be a connection (however, little he might care for it) via matrimony, and Darcy knew that Rivers' wife would behave the same, though perhaps with a little more warmth.

There was little more mortification as his uncle allowed himself to be drawn into the discussion of fishing, one of the other few things he and his son had in common though as usual they had different opinions on the best ways to go about it. Nonetheless Darcy was relieved when they could finally join the ladies in the drawing room as he was concerned with what was happening with Elizabeth when he was not there to shield her. He had no real concerns about his aunt Matlock as she in some respects rather resembled Miss Bennet in her rather serene outward comportment, though she had a soul of steel cultivated through years of dealing with the ton. He wondered if Miss Bennet had that capacity as she seemed rather too inclined to think well of everyone whereas his aunt only appeared to do so.

Unfortunately, his aunt's sister, Miss Prudence Graves, had a personality rather more closely matched that of her brother-in-law than Lady Matlock. She had her own oft told aphorisms of being meant to go to her "grave a Graves" as well as being "Prudence by name, prudent by nature," and her absolute favorite trotted out on every possible occasion, that "a lady in possession of a good fortune is not in want of a husband." All of which were brought out either before or during dinner.

However, worn out sayings were not nearly as trying as his hearing her ask Elizabeth if she was truly certain she wanted to marry, even if he (Darcy) was a good sort of man, as she seemed a sensible woman who could do quite well standing on her own. If Elizabeth were thinking of matters of fortune, Aunt Graves said that she was looking for a like-minded woman to make her heir since obviously she was not going to have any children of her own. Nevertheless, he took great comfort in Elizabeth's response that she was indeed certain that she wanted to marry him, that in fact he was perhaps the only man who could have turned her mind seriously to the subject, but she did have a friend who seemed to think of marriage as a more of a means of security than a particularly happy estate, and that perhaps Elizabeth could introduce her friend to Miss Graves some time in the future that they may discuss their philosophies on the best recourse for a single woman.

Not so bad was the end of the conversation that he heard as he entered the drawing room, though he did feel a momentary dread when he saw that Elizabeth was ensconced between his two aunts. Surely Aunt Graves would not have continued importuning Elizabeth on the subject of matrimony or rather the avoidance of it even if it was her hobby horse. However, it soon became clear it was another topic on her mind.

"Penelope," she was saying. "You are quite fortunate that you never had daughters, lest your old bear insist on them being named Nausicaa or Calypso, or even heaven forbid, Scylla or Charybdis. As it was you did not even notice what he was up to with your sons' names until after he had named John."

"They are hardly unusual names, Prudence," his Aunt Matlock had replied. "Nor could he be guaranteed enough sons to fit. Also it has certainly not harmed them, nor have they taken on the worst traits of their namesakes."

Ah, yes, his uncle's insistence on naming his sons after the sons of Henry II, so particular to his kind of humor, and in particular not something so easily noted until pointed out as he had clearly skipped Henry's eldest offspring. However, Darcy would fain to point out that Henry was diligent in his duties as befitted a young king; Richard was a soldier, though not so in love with war, while Geoffrey bore a more slight resemblance to Henry's first illegitimate son of that name than his namesake by choosing the church as his profession, and John was a barrister, which perhaps linked up a bit to Magna Carta. Loose ties all told really and no more peculiar than the Graves' father whose offsprings' names all started with the same letter.

Thankfully, by this point, it seemed his relatives had made the worst of their excesses and there was little left to be endured. Even more thankfully, Elizabeth had found his relatives'... eccentricities more amusing than trying, only saying that it was pleasing to know that they seemed somewhat equitable in the matter of... exuberant relations.

~o~O~o~

George Wickham— well, he was not Wickham any more, was he?— looked at himself in the mirror. He was dressed in the height of fashion, rivaling any man in the brilliant cut of his clothes. His ruffles and cravat were gleaming white, his coat the bluest of blues with the shiniest of buttons, and his sapphire tiepin and cuff links glittered in the candlelight, as did the signet ring that Maria had presented him with as a token of their marriage. The fact that he felt like a stiff-backed peacock, meant little. After all, he had been well-informed of his wife's preferences, and he could hardly complain when he knew he would outshine many a more well bred man. After all, is this not what he desired most in life, a comfortable and secure living as a gentleman of leisure. Staring in the mirror, he wondered if his waistcoat was not a bit more snug than when he first tried it on. Surely not; he could hardly have put on weight so quickly, even if they had a rather fine chef.

"Mr. Montcraven, sir," the voice of Drake, whom George had grown to loathe despite his skill at his work, interrupted his thoughts. "The mistress wished me to remind you that she expects you downstairs in ten minutes time."

Always so precise, my wife, George thought, no wonder she presented me with a watch just after she gave me the signet ring. "Thank you, Drake," he said with asperity. "That is all."

"Yes, sir," Drake said, with that disdain disguised as deference that drove George mad.

Oh, his manner was always correct, even punctilious, but George knew well enough the low opinion Drake had of him, having become quite familiar with how a well-bred servant could convey disapproval with a slight change in tone or expression as well as their manner in discharging their duties.. Any suggestion or even order of his was often met with, "I believe the mistress prefers it this way," or "madam believes this suits you better." Or he would merely say, "yes, sir," and simply do as he had done before as if that is what George told him to begin with. The worst of it was that he could do nothing as his wife continued to insist that Drake was ideal and would hear no opinion to the contrary.

For some time George had begun silently cursing the death of the first Mr. Montcraven's uncle for making Drake so readily available to his wife, as he felt he would have had more sway with a new valet. Not since old Mr. Darcy had died before giving him the reward he was sure he would have received had he ever regretted a death more. But unfortunately there was nothing he could do to change the situation. It was especially regrettable that he could not trust Drake to aid him in any little maneuvers to get around his wife's strictures as he knew the man would report any suspected infraction to her.

Four months of marriage. Four months and he felt as if it were four years. Oh, in some ways it was quite comfortable. Regular meals of the finest caliber. Mixing with members of the ton; though that was not quite the delightful experience he anticipated, as he was very much treated as if he were Maria's favorite lap dog rather than her husband. Too many knew he was the son of the Darcys' former steward and made it clear that he was accepted on sufferance and expected to be amusing to justify their efforts. Maria had somehow managed to maneuver his acceptance into her first husband's club, not one of the highest order, but higher than his former status would easily allow. He wished he could have made it into one of the clubs with proper gaming as there were only low stakes games and a rather determined settling of scores at the end of them.

However, he did know that his wife was of a rather conservative bent when it came to finances, and he supposed it was just as well that he could not play high as his wife had proven quite serious about not supplementing his allowance, and his one attempt at pawning his snuff box had led to the humiliation of him finding it on his dressing room table with a note saying that the cost would be taken out of his next quarter's allowance. She never bothered to confront him directly, but she certainly made him pay for it in her demands in the bedroom.

Drawn from his reverie by the not quite silent closing of the servant's door (George knew Drake did that on purpose as he could be silent as the grave when it came to entering unexpectedly), George let himself wonder again why his wife made such a fuss about getting ready for the evening. However, he had already learned that it was his head in the noose if he did anything so crass as actually enter her room during her preparations. He had done so once early on only to receive a vicious tongue lashing on a gentleman's place when evening preparations were being made.

No, his role was to stand at the foot of the stairs and heap adulation on her appearance. She was a most particular woman indeed, and as a new husband it behooved him to remain in her good graces, most especially if he wanted her to increase his allowance any time in the near future. He was optimistic despite the discouragement he had already received from her. He had to be, as he had already run through the amount she had given him and felt how little amusement apart from her he would have until the next quarter unless he could get some form of advancement. It really was not fair that she took his attentions as her due rather than the flattery and cajolery they were meant to be; it made things far more challenging than they should be.

It also did not help that she was absolutely particular about her appearance and did not welcome anything that might muss or otherwise disarrange her careful preparations. Her hair, her gown, her face, her jewels. The most he could manage was a kiss to the hand and even that could sometimes be rejected. Nevertheless, he did what was required and went downstairs in order to feign admiration at the proper time.

"Dearest, you are a vision," he said, as she started down the stairs. "A veritable queen." Cold and controlling, and that shade of blue makes you look like an ice statue; it really is perfect.

When he reached out to take her hand for a kiss, she stepped back from him, and he sighed. No touching then. That would make things more challenging.

"Mind the gown," she said. "It is too early in the evening for wrinkles."

"Of course, dearest," George said. "I would not dare disturb such perfection." Not if I want to get something from you tonight. I hope the Gordons' ball is everything you want or I really am in difficulties.

~o~O~o~

Elizabeth Darcy looked in the mirror, astonished at her own transformation. Her new ball gown was the loveliest she ever owned and her hairstyle more elaborate than any she had ever had, though she had to laugh at the thought of how much work it was to make it seem so loosely held together. She felt as if she looked very much the part of Mrs. Darcy and hoped that she would make her husband proud this evening. All that remained was the necklace her husband had presented her with earlier in the day. She turned to speak to her maid only to see her slipping out the door.

"If you will permit me..." Her husband's voice was suddenly in her ear.

Elizabeth wondered how she could have been so lost in thought as to miss his entrance. But his presence was most welcome.

"You are enchanting tonight, Mrs. Darcy," Darcy said as he lifted and fastened the emerald necklace around his wife's neck. "Not that you are not always." He leaned forward to kiss her neck, letting his arms slide around his wife. "However, the green suits you particularly well." His expression was warm and very appreciative.

"It matches your own green coat quite nicely," she said as she turned in his embrace. "And you are handsome as always, Mr. Darcy." She felt very fortunate to have such an attractive and attentive husband.

"Can we not remain at home, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth?" he asked, nuzzling her ear, his hands sliding up her waist. "I prefer not to share you yet."

"If I recall aright, Lord and Lady Gordon are old friends of your family. Do you really wish to offend them by not attending?" she asked, though she too would far rather remain at home. She had never suspected how very wanton marriage would make her, though he had certainly stirred rather warm feelings in her during their engagement. But the truth was that even after their activities earlier in the day, she could feel herself melting in his embrace yet again.

"If I say yes..."

"I'd say you were being disingenuous," Elizabeth interrupted, before nipping at his earlobe.

He tried to repress a small groan, which pleased her. "Not so much disingenuous but distracted by your charms," he said, before kissing her.

As his kisses began moving down her throat, Elizabeth managed to say, "Your own charms are far too distracting, but I would be a poor wife if I did not insist we keep our engagements." She grasped his face in her hands, trying to regulate her feelings. One of them had to remain sensible. "We must go, but once we return home..." She kissed him.

"Then may we leave early, my love?" Darcy said with a small sigh of resignation. "Surely, there is nothing that requires we remain until the end." He nuzzled her throat a bit more.

"Well, perhaps," Elizabeth said, her arms slipping around him.. "But you will have to do your duty very well." Though as his kisses were distracting her and her hands almost unconsciously drifting downwards, she thought, Well, perhaps just adequately, but I cannot say that right now.

"I intend to, though I far prefer the thought of a husband's duty to his wife. Now that is a duty that I truly delight in performing." His own hands had started roaming, distracting her further.

"And you do it quite well, sir, and I look forward to our return home so that we can increase our proficiency," she said, enjoying his caresses a little longer. However, when she found herself contemplating just how late they could be, she pulled herself together before reluctantly pushing him back. "Nevertheless," she said, forcing determination into her voice as she recalled herself, "we cannot neglect the less enjoyable duties for the more pleasant ones, and as this is my first proper entrance into your world, I will require your support as you require mine."

That did seem to make him recollect himself. He looked at her rather intently. "You know that you can depend upon me for whatever you require. I will not let you down."

"I know you will not," she said with a smile. "Shall we take our turn at astonishing society with our utter felicity and perfect harmony?"

"Madam, I most look forward to it," he said, offering her his arm.

~to be continued~

Next Up: Chapter 11 - Taking the Trouble to Practice. This is the chapter with the Gordons' Ball, and the final return to old material, with a few significant changes.

End Notes:

I know I'm not the first or even the best at giving Darcy a rather boisterous family on the Fitzwilliam side, but I do so enjoy it when he has relatives who behave with a similar lack of decorum as Elizabeth's, although honestly I think Lady Catherine more than balances the Bennets all on her own when it comes to appalling behavior.

And as I've been spending a bit too much time in an anachronistic version of the twelfth century while writing a sequel to another story and Col. Fitzwilliam is so often named Richard, I was rather struck with the notion of giving that naming a somewhat quirky reason. Anyway as I'm writing for fun I do tend to stick to fanon conventions with names so also using the Earl of Matlock as well, and if I'd bothered with naming Mr. and Mrs. Bennet they would be Thomas and Fanny. Somehow I need to write a story with the extended Fitzwilliam family here, as I actually have a lot of backstory and personality development for all four of the brothers that just didn't belong here, as this story was already longer than I intended to be when I got around to the idea of adding this bit in.

And Aunt Prudence popped up almost fully formed with the first bit that came to me being the line about a single woman in possession of a good fortune not being in want of a husband. I wanted a rather blunt lady, who while being single still managed to attain the independence of a widow. I think she has a few characteristics of Emma as well as Mrs. Jennings without the matchmaking urge. She's more an anti-matchmaker really, as she really has absolutely no interest in sex and sees no reason for anyone to enter the state if they don't have to (so maybe a touch of Mr. Woodhouse as well). Seriously, I have got to find an excuse to use some of these characters more.

Also, the references to Nausicaa, Calypso, Scylla, and Charybdis all come from the Odyssey, which has Odysseus' long-suffering and faithful wife, Penelope, fending off suitors at home while he takes the long way home (and is not so faithful— damn the double standard— though honestly no matter what the text may say, I suspect Penelope's faithfulness was a lot more about protecting her son's kingdom than anything else. Yeah, I'm cynical). Nausicaa was the daughter of King Alcinous who ends up providing Odysseus with safe passage back to Ithaca. Calypso was a nymph who fell in love with Odysseus and kept him prisoner for seven years until Hermes got her to let him go. I might have used Circe the witch who turns his crew into pigs, but I liked using the more obscure Nausicaa rather than giving in to my general love of alliteration. And of course, Scylla and Charybdis are the classic rock and a hard place. Scylla being the rock or rather technically a six-headed sea monster who devoured whatever was within reach, and Charybdis being a whirlpool which drank down and spat up water three times a day.

And I've just realized that it might be a good idea to explain Lord Matlock's joke about his brother Oliver's obsession with titles. Probably it isn't, but I'm going ahead anyway. So basically, the daughters of earls all get the courtesy title of Lady that they can keep all their lives unless they marry up and then they take their husband's rank. So we have Lady Anne Darcy and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (as the wife of either a baronet or a knight, whichever Sir Lewis was — most likely baronet as I think she's too much of a snob to go lower— without her courtesy title, she would simply have been Lady de Bourgh). However, while the eldest son would usually have a courtesy title, in this story it being Viscount Rivers, the younger sons would basically be plain Misters (unless like the Colonel they had some other title) except in written address, when they would be the Honorable. So Oliver being the younger brother has always been just plain Mister, and being a man (and having four nephews between him and the earldom), unless he received a knighthood or some such thing (and he's too snooty and useless for a knighthood — he's lucky he was left a minor, unentailed estate of his own), he will not be getting a title of his own save by the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Only a short scene with the Montcravens here as I really don't like spending much time with them. Wickham's not all that happy with getting what he wanted and that's pretty much enough for me. I wish I had a better touch with humor as I rather imagine Maria's "don't touch me" reactions as being like those of Madeline Kahn's character in Young Frankenstein. "Taffeta, darling!" Alas, I'm afraid I don't have the comic chops to pull it off.

And definitely I intended to contrast the cold vibes of the Montcravens with the warmth of the Darcys. Also this is about the best I can do in writing their married life as I'm still working on developing writing romantic interactions (there's a part of me that's always a bit uncomfortable with the writing, though not the reading). I just hope that I have managed to convey that they are very happy together and have a hard time keeping their hands off each other.


As always, all feedback is welcome, and the only reward I get.