Back to Rosings and Lydia's story. Or how to begin an invasion waltzing...
Chapter 12: Lydia's last ball
Kent, Hunsford August the sixth / Brighton August the first.
"No! I won't wear that frock. It's dull, it's ugly and it's coarse..."
She shot a reproachful glance to Mary.
"Why is it you to be here and not Kitty? She, at least, wears pretty things."
"It's my prettiest dress" protested Mary. "I brought I to wear it at dinner with Lady Catherine. If it does not fit you, give it back and take another one."
"Everything else you brought is gray or brown. I hate gray and I despise brown."
"Go and get your luggage then. The French will perhaps give it back to you. Go on flirting shamelessly with this d'Arcy and he'll get you everything you need. That' what happens to..."
Jane put her foot on the attempted slander. She would not let Mary say such things. Not for Lydia and not for anybody else.
"The luggage is lost" said she. "There's been looters in Brighton. Mr. d'Arcy apologized for it..."
Lydia, unaware of what Mary had been about to say, looked at Jane.
"Why not your blue one? It's rather pretty, that one..."
"You've already tried it, Lydia. The bosom don't fit. We'll never let you wear it without a refit and the seamstresses are just now unavailable, what with the invasion and so..."
Lydia looked toward the heavens.
"That's a very bad excuse. Those French are not quite as ugly as everybody says. They were even quite gentlemanly."
She fluttered her eyes toward Charlotte.
"I even danced with d'Arcy, he's quite the Waltz dancer. Let me breathless and head spinning..."
"How could you..."
Jane stopped Mary's question with a forceful gesture.
"No, not yet! She will tell everything when she's dressed!"
She tossed the dull, ugly and coarse dress toward her sister.
"There's no other choice, Lydia, it's this one or nothing and I won't accept nothing as an alternative!"
Lydia took the dress and began to put it on, a pout on the face.
Jane could only sight that this test was behind them.
Lots of others to come.
"It was the most extraordinary ball I ever witnessed. The only bad surprise was the absence of the Crown Prince. For the rest, it was heaven on earth!"
To show her enthusiasm Lydia could only stand up and make a few waltz rounds around the dinner table.
Forgotten was the dull, ugly and coarse dress in the wake of her marvelous memories.
Jane forced herself to remain silent.
It was also the evening where the French --and Him-- came ashore. But this part of History was clearly not worth remembering for Lydia.
Mary, never the best diplomat, had no such scruples.
"Till the arrival of the French, I suppose. Afterwards it was a direct step into Hell, wasn't it?"
Lydia shot her a contemptuous look.
"Of course not, d'Arcy was quite the gentleman. He let the ball go on until the last possible moment. It was only when the first guests who were trying to leave made difficulties and refused to be imprisoned quietly that he had to interrupt the party. Who would have thought that the earl of Wilchester had such a wild streak in him. He draw his sword and would not surrender. He had to be shot on the spot. The detonation spoiled everything, blue coats came immediately swarming the hall. Had he had a little more diplomacy, we could have danced till the morning..."
Mr. Collins very much the cautious and subdued individual Jane had witnessed at d'Arcy's table, risked a question.
"But these were the French invaders! They werer invading Brighton at just that same moment, were they not?"
"Of course they did! But they did it with absolute stealth and silence. We, in the inside of the theater, never guessed anything."
"How considerate of them" teased Charlotte. "Perfect gentlemen not to spoil your ball..."
Lydia's smile didn't disappear.
"Weren't they? And d'Arcy! What a wonder of a man. He's quite the opposite of his cousin. Tall, yes but all smiles and charm. He danced with every Lady at the ball and spoke with every one... Oh, how it was surprising when he finally told the truth..."
He could not believe it.
The guards had let him enter the theater. They had looked at his uniform --the red and golden Consul frock under a black cape with golden embroideries--, saluted and opened the door.
He was quite amazed.
He just wanted them to surrender quietly but given the opportunity to enter, he took it. His men knew exactly what to do and being within could give him the opportunity to save a lot of lives.
And the less the corpses tomorrow morning, the better the chances to launch a successful bloodless campaign.
He gave his cape and his hat to the servants at the cloakroom. His sword he could keep.
He was glad of this last part. If worst came to worst he would need it.
He glided into the great ball room and acknowledged a salute of the two sentries who played guard at the entry.
Immediately, glances came his way.
He smiled, nodded and bowed as often as necessary and, at one time, a man parted the crowd to meet him.
Richard Fitzwilliam, second son of the earl of Matlock and colonel in the horse guards. Horse guards who were, right at this very moment, herded toward the beaches where prisoners would be hold till morning gave the barges an opportunity to embark them.
They both bowed.
"General Anneley sends me to ask if you wouldn't be a Darcy? I must agree with him you have quite a likeness to my cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy. Not counting the eyes, his are grey while you have extraordinary blue eyes..."
D'Arcy bowed once more, this time to acknowledge the common ancestry.
"Probably because he and I are indeed cousins..."
Richard Fitzwilliam was rather amazed by the accent of his fellow cousin. Not quite a common accent but an accent nevertheless.
"Had we the honor of being introduced?"
"Not yet, colonel. I'm Geoffroy d'Arcy" replied d'Arcy. "From Arques, Normandy. The French branch of the family."
Richard erased his smile from his lips.
"Sorry for your parents. The late countess d'Arcy gave me the account of what happened. She believed you dead. She died a few years ago and to the shame of my family I must confess that she died in rather dire conditions in London."
"As you see the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I was a very long way from home and it was only a few years ago that I learned that my fellow Frenchmen have decided to cull their aristocracy. And as for mama, I have learned everything about the circumstances she died. I know exactly that you are not to blame in the least..."
"Happy to hear that some news get out correctly..."
The colonel took his cousin by the elbow.
"Please, follow me, the general is eager to make your acquaintance. You're quite a stunning figure with your long black hair. Pirate's image?"
"More or less" said d'Arcy. "The Ladies are quite fond of my eyes and my hair."
"I would have bet on it!" He made a gesture to show his cousin the throw of the crowd. "The most beautiful ladies of England are here tonight. If you have projects of love, you should not come empty handed of this party..."
"I'm sure of it, my dear cousin" said d'Arcy. "This is not a night that I'm going to end empty handed!"
They came along a group of officers with Ladies in attendance.
Richard Fitzwilliam walked toward a rather fat and bald man wearing a general's uniform.
"General," said colonel Fitzwilliam, "you were right. It is a D'Arcy. But of the French branch. Probably the last of the name still alive."
The general bowed followed by his fellow officers and by the curtsying ladies.
D'Arcy acknowledged their welcome with a bow of his own.
"What brings you to Brighton, Sir?" asked the general. "Apart from the pretty young ladies who flock around us..."
D'Arcy nodded in the direction of those young or not so young ladies who had responded to the general's mot d'esprit with a little laugh of their own.
"Apart from the Ladies, I was here to meet the future King George the Fourth. It was said he would be here. I was in hope to have the opportunity to kidnap him... For a few minutes..."
The general made a face.
"He's stricken by the gout. Couldn't leave London. Couldn't even come here in his favorite place. You'll have to go all the way to London to have a chance to see him. Hope you didn't come from the Town?"
"No, I'm coming from France... I came ashore a few hours ago not far away from here."
He grimaced.
"I'm quite disappointed. It would have been a great accomplishment to get this interview with the Prince of Wales. It would have saved me a lot of time. Now, it will have to wait."
He smiled at the company.
"The duty having disappeared, I'm free to enjoy myself. Which of you pretty young Ladies will be bold enough to dance with this French invader?"
There were bold young Ladies enough.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was not a very happy man this evening.
A thousand times would he have preferred to be out there, controlling the sentries and joking with his sergeants.
But his duty was to pamper general Anneley and the general loved it to be pampered a lot.
He could do nothing but follow the old fart, look at his glass and refill it as soon as it was empty and, if possible, herd as much pretty young Ladies to his general as possible.
Thank God that for this last peculiar duty he had now the prodigious help of d'Arcy.
His eyes searched him and soon found him dancing with yet another young Lady.
He was a d'Arcy, strikingly handsome and good looking, no doubt on that. But he was clearly no Pemberley Darcy, that was very evident indeed. This one had probably not the tenth of Fitzwilliam's fortune but he had ten time his social skills.
Had he been in search of a rich heiress, he would already have found more than one.
Even Lady Brent, a twenty two years young widow from Lancaster, said to be fabulously rich and quite independent, had made a pass toward the striking Frenchman.
Richard had made a little attempt, a few months ago and had earned a rather satisfying night but also a clear advice not to try to suit her.
"I'm free" had she said. "And I'll never again give up my freedom..."
So much for a woman's word.
Richard could only smile when he saw the glances his fellow officers cast on d'Arcy. They had all recognized that here was a real player. He moved like a tiger, smile like a tiger and feasted on Ladies' hearts like a tiger.
Loosing business to be only a cat in his vicinity.
Rchard Fitzwilliam was sure that, coming morning, he could probably get entrances he never ever could have dreamed of only on saying that he was this d'Arcy's cousin.
And than he heard the shot.
Very few people did hear it, but he saw a dozen of his fellow colonels look up and around with a suspicious expression in the face.
Darcy had heard it, he knew it by the way he herded his current dance partner toward the edge of the dance floor.
He saw him kiss the lady's hand and climb up the stage where the musicians were playing.
He spoke a few words with the leader of the band and placed himself a few paces at the side.
When the dance came to an end, the leading musician made a sign and d'Arcy moved to the edge of the stage.
Of course he had everybody's attention within a few seconds.
Colonel Fitzwilliam got hold of his very personal general and lead him at a few yards of the stage where d'Arcy was waiting.
"What's up, cousin" said Richard. "Some news we have to know?"
D'Arcy answered him with a nod and a smile.
"One could say so, cousin, one could say so..."
He lifted his arm and very soon every body went silent.
"Thank you, Ladies ad Gentlemen" said d'Arcy. "I'm very sorry to interrupt our lovely party but I have the bothersome duty to ask the officers in this room to surrender quietly. I would be very upset with you if one of our lovely Ladies would be in harm's way because of some reckless behavior on the part of any of you..."
General Anneley was the first to come out of his surprise.
He burst out in laughter...
"Capital, dArcy, that's monstrously funny. For a moment, I even believed it."
Soon quite a lot were following the lead of the general and laughed.
Not colonel Fitzwilliam.
He was near enough to see d'Arcy eyes.
And those were not the eyes of a jester.
Those were the eyes of a Tiger preparing himself for the kill.
After a while, the laughter subsided.
D'Arcy bowed.
"Sorry, general, but I fear my sense of humor has been greatly exaggerated. I'm a rather serious man and not much of a prankster. "
He lifted his right arm and pointed toward the door.
"If in doubt about it, please ask my aide-de-camp, Général Murat who is waiting at the door with his men. He's there to take hold of your swords but he will be very happy to answer all your questions. Excuse his accent, his English being very crude and very recent. But I know him to be a very good-natured and patient man so do not hesitate to ask."
Everybody turned around and the first cries could be heard from the back of the dance floor.
"Once more gentlemen," said d'Arcy, "please be reminded of the attendance of so much gracious Ladies. We are all gentlemen and their well-being should be at the center of our preoccupations."
One of the lieutenant, being just at the bottom of the stage put his hand to his scabbard. D'Arcy sword was at his throat before he had even put it out. (Unsheathed it?).
Richard had seen nothing from d'Arcy's move.
At one moment he was standing looking at the crowd, the other he was crouching in front of a very surprised young lieutenant.
"I would very much advice you to let this saber glide back in his scabbard. I know that most Ladies do not like seeing heads roll on dance floors. Even lowly lieutenant's heads!"
The demonstration was sufficient.
Nobody made another attempt.
"And that's the way my last and most exciting ball ended. We were all herded out of the theater. The officers went to one side, I suppose toward the beach since I heard a French officer giving orders as to embark them in the morn, and we, Ladies toward buildings were we were handed covers and the coats from the theater."
She looked at her sisters and Maria.
"Of course they handed us coats which did not belong to us. They just dropped them on the floor, for us to sort them out. There was quite an uproar and lots of very unwomanly behavior."
She smiled very shyly at Jane as if to excuse herself for what she knew has been very unseemly behavior.
"I fear I plunged into the frail with quite an energy. I got myself a very flashy and warm coat and a rather great cover. I liked the coat very much."
After a few seconds she exhaled heavily.
"But I didn't keep it."
She looked up defiantly at her sisters.
"I traded it with Duchess Waintree's cape. It was a very shabby and used old one and it was way too small for her. And she being so much older and fa... Corpulent, had not been able to fight like the others. She was quite upset with what she got. Had the others known her she would probably have gotten a better share, but we were without light and most of us did not know each other. At that time, I didn't know who she was, but she reminded me of mama... I could not let her freeze in this chilly damp august night with that handkerchief of hers, could I? So we traded the coats and shared the one cover I recovered..."
She was quite relieved that Jane finally smiled at her and came over to hug her.
Next chapter: Pemberley love