Hello my dears! So happy I pushed through the difficulties I've been having with motivation the last few days to get you another chapter. I really hope you like it as much as you have previous chapters. I'm trying to move this story along without jumping the shark, as they say.
On another note, guess what I have been receiving off and on all day? Notifications. Old ones, like from the last few weeks - just about from the start of the wonky server issues FFN has been having. Of course, I am still seeing the error message when I sign in, but getting the notifications tells me without a doubt that the issue is not on my end. Maybe one of these days they'll really get it fixed, but until then, i guess we will all just have to muddle through and keep checking back periodically for updates.
Chapter Seventeen
The next three days were filled with activity.
Elizabeth, Mary, and the children returned calls to their relations, visiting the homes of the Parkers, Fitzwilliams, Scarboroughs, and Winterbournes on Saturday and Monday—Cate and Jane's families they saw on Sunday after church at Faulkner House. During each visit, while the little ones played together, the parents finalized plans for the musical party, which they would hold at Stashwick House in the afternoon on Monday fortnight, giving the children plenty of time to practice. Every musical child in their large family was to exhibit, and there would be a grand luncheon afterward.
Invitations to the theatre were also issued by Elizabeth to those who had not been at the Bingleys' dinner party, so that it would not be just herself, Mary, Cate, and Stephen in the Stashwick box with Darcy, who had accepted her invitation to join the family rather than sitting with Bingley; Jane's reply to her note expressed disappointment that they would not be seated together, as Bingley felt obligated to share a box with his sisters.
How I do wish you could put aside your dislike of Caroline and Louisa, she'd written. It will appear very odd that I do not sit with my sister.
Elizabeth had shaken her head and penned another note to Jane, saying, I am truly sorry, Jane, that we shall not be viewing the play from the same box. I might be able to tolerate their unending snobbery if they were not so very obvious in their attempts to use my rank and connections to further themselves in society. I believe I made it clear before Henry and I even wed that I would not allow them to abuse your connection to the nobility through me.
At the Fitzwilliams,' Antoinette had thanked her for including her and Theo in the outing, as she had been trying to convince him to take her and he had been resisting her pleas.
"Now mon cher mari has no excuse, for ze whole of our family will be there!" she had said cheerfully, at which Colonel Fitzwilliam had playfully rolled his eyes and whispered to Elizabeth that he liked to tease his dear wife with refusals even when planning to do exactly what she wished. He said he would also carry her invitation to his brother, and Elizabeth paid a solo call to Lady Disley on Monday to invite her and the earl as well.
"We shall be at risk of bursting the seems of the box again with so many of the family going to support your re-entrance to society, my dear," the countess had said warmly.
Elizabeth was relieved she had managed to arrange for so many to join the outing to the theatre, as she was sure to need their support. It would be her first public appearance since losing her husband, and there would be stares. There would be whispers and speculation. There would be those who would want to speak with her, either to get a look at how she had changed or to solicit her interest in something—and all for the sake of gossip to be spread about like wildfire. Few, if any, of the people they were likely to meet would feel any genuine concern for the wellbeing of herself or the children.
She was also secretly relieved that having so many relations in the box would mean she had less attention to give to Darcy. Oh, she did not regret inviting him to spend the evening with her and their mutual relations, but he had been on her mind far too much of late. It was disconcerting to think of him so much, to be distracted by his dimpled smile passing across her mind's eye when she was meant to be concentrating on something else entirely.
As she was dressing for the theatre on Tuesday evening, Isabella came into the dressing room. "You look beautiful, Mamma!" she cried softly. "And you as well, Aunt Mary."
Elizabeth glanced down at the white gown she wore; the tulle overdress was embellished with dark crystals and beads that shimmered when they caught the light, especially the leafy pattern that adorned the hem. White satin gloves and a pair of dark grey slippers completed the look of her first ensemble that was not a mourning color.
Though she would continue to wear lilac and lavender, as she had always liked those colors, Elizabeth knew she would begin to wear them less often now. It felt … good … to be out of mourning colors.
"Thank you, Bella," she replied, returning her gaze to the mirror and sitting straight so that her maid could place the matching feathered turban on her head.
"I wish I could go to the theatre," her daughter bemoaned. "I think I should like to see a play—you know I like to read them."
"Yes, I know you do," Elizabeth replied. "And I confess your father and I had been thinking you and Harry might be old enough to attend the theatre."
When Kiran had finished pinning the headwrap in place, Elizabeth turned to Isabella with a smile. "Let us make a bargain, dearest," she began. "Continue doing well in your studies with Mrs. Wilson, and practicing your harp for the musical party, and I shall take you to a play that very week."
Isabella beamed a smile. "Oh, thank you, Mamma!" she said as she came over to embrace her. "I shall do my very best to be a good girl and I shall practice every day—I will even go and practice more right now!"
Elizabeth returned her embrace and kissed her cheek, then said, "You certainly may if you wish, but remember that you must be in your room and dressed for bed in an hour."
"Yes, Mamma," Isabella replied, then she danced in a circle and headed out of the room.
Mary chuckled from across the dressing room. "Isabella is very happy.''
Elizabeth stood from the chair at the vanity and turned to her sister, whose maid was just finishing pinning her hair. "You do not think I erred in making the promise? She is only nine."
"Certainly not—you are her mother, and you know what you are about," Mary replied. "The only impediment I foresee is whether there is a play that will be appropriate for taking a child to see."
"True enough," Elizabeth mused. "Not to mention the behavior of the patrons… You know as well as I it is not always appropriate for public display, let alone a child's eyes. But, as I have made the promise, I cannot go back on it now. I suppose I must hope one of Shakespeare's plays will be on that week."
As soon as Mary was ready, the sisters went to check on the children to make sure they were well settled in for the evening. Harry promised to look after everyone and wished them joy.
"I'm happy for you, Mamma," he added.
"Happy for me?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. I know you like plays. Papa used to take you all the time when we came to London. You should get to do the things you enjoy again."
Elizabeth embraced her son, having felt a twinge of emotion at his words. "My dear boy, so must you. Enjoy your drawing and your games and just be a boy again. Papa would not want us to be sad forever, nor would he have you grow up too soon."
"That's what you said before," Harry murmured.
Elizabeth stood back and set her hands on his shoulders as she held his gaze and said, "And I shall keep saying it until it sinks into that stubborn little head of yours and you start listening."
She reached to muss his hair, managing to catch him this time before he ducked away from her. She and Mary then departed; Elizabeth stopped to say a final goodnight to Isabella as they made their way to the ground floor, where Simmonds informed them that the carriage already waited at the curb. After their warm winter cloaks were donned, they quit the house and climbed into it.
Elizabeth drew a breath as the carriage pulled away from the pavement. "Here goes nothing," she murmured.
"You will do very well, Lizzy," said Mary. "Nearly every adult in your family will be there to support you—not to mention you might set your bodyguards at the door to turn visitors away if you wish it."
Elizabeth laughed. "Do not tempt me, Mary. I am well aware that there is more socialization and business done than actual attention paid to the performance, but I truly only go to see the play and spend an evening in the company of my relations. I fear being bombarded by visits to our box by some of my acquaintances or those of the family."
"It is unfortunate we shall not have Jane and Charles with us," Mary said.
"I agree," Elizabeth replied, stifling a sigh as she added, "I know that I could be more generous to his sisters, Mary, but really… As you said, you'd have thought that after nine years of my polite refusals, they would get the message that I will not allow myself to be used to increase their own popularity."
"If they stopped being so blatantly ambitious, would you then consider them worthy of your notice?" Mary asked.
Elizabeth bit back the sharp retort that came immediately to mind, as her sister's words were true. To the peers and gentry of the ton, she had made it clear that she did not care for Lady Dornan and Mrs. Hurst by issuing repeated invitations to their brother but none to either of them. They had attended charity balls she had hosted, to be sure, but on those occasions, they were but two out of hundreds.
The carriage was not long travelling across the city, and almost before they knew it, the Stashwick coach had joined the long line of carriages waiting to reach the pavement in front of the theater. When nearly ten minutes had passed and they had moved only twice, Elizabeth groaned softly and muttered, "The one thing I have never liked about such outings as this are the interminably long lines. I've half a mind to get out and walk."
Mary chuckled. "Lizzy, do be serious. It is cold out and we are still a block away."
"What does that signify? You know I like a good walk, even in the cold."
"Far be it for me to sound vain, dearest, but think of your shoes. It has alternated between snow and rain all day, and if you walk a block in them, they will be soaked through, if not ruined entirely. Not to mention you would be forced sit through five acts and the pantomime after with wet, cold feet. Do you want to fall ill?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Certainly not—though I remind you, Mary, that I have a particularly robust constitution. I do not think I should come down with a trifling cold if I did walk."
It was another ten minutes before the sisters were at last in front of the theatre. They disembarked with the help of the second driver and were accompanied inside by the two bodyguards who went everywhere with Elizabeth. In the lobby, they were met by the Fitzwilliams and the Disleys.
"My dear young aunt, it is so good to see you out and about at last!" the colonel greeted her warmly before bending to kiss her cheek.
"My dear old nephew, you saw me just yesterday afternoon," Elizabeth teased in return.
Lady Disley stepped up to her then, and after she also kissed her cheek, said to her, "It really is good to see you out among society again, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth drew a breath. "It… feels good. I'm still a little nervous, which I loathe, but I am sure the feeling will subside eventually."
Antoinette and Lord Disley offered their greetings, to both Elizabeth and Mary, and then the earl suggested they make their way to the box. The small party were about halfway to the stairs when they were approached by Lady Castlereagh.
No, she is the Marchioness of Londonderry now, Elizabeth thought.
"Upon my word! Lady Stashwick, how marvelous to see you here tonight!" the other woman greeted her.
"Lady Londonderry, always a pleasure," Elizabeth replied genially.
"How have you been, my dear?" Lady Londonderry pressed. "And how are your dear children?"
"We are about as well as can be expected, given the loss we suffered," Elizabeth replied. "But our hearts are mending, one day at a time."
Lady Londonderry smiled sympathetically. "I am so very pleased you are well enough to come to town and grace the ton with your presence once again—though I must say, my dear, that I am quite put out with you, for I have had it from Lady Jersey, Lady Cowper, and Countess Lieven that you dined with them on Tuesday last week, but this is the first I have seen of you!"
Elizabeth forced a smile, then parted her lips to reply, but was defended by Lady Disley before she could speak.
"Madam, my sister has just come out of mourning for my dear brother about a fortnight past," he said smoothly. "It is a slow journey from mourning to renewed liveliness; you must trust that she is taking her first steps back into society at a pace which does not distress her or her children."
"I am sorry to have missed you at the luncheon last week, my lady," Elizabeth said. "Aside from that call, which I felt it would be too impolite to decline, I have only made calls to and received them from family."
Lady Londonderry arched an eyebrow. "Only family? How very strange you should say so, for I heard on Friday evening that you were seen entering the home of Mr. Darcy that afternoon."
Vexation, anger, and alarm coursed through Elizabeth, but she had not spent nine years as the wife of a peer for nothing. No trace of her discomfiture was visible on her countenance; in fact, she copied the other marchioness's supercilious expression perfectly.
"And why should I not?" she retorted. "He is the nephew of my sister by marriage, after all, which makes him extended family—and if your source told you I was seen entering Mr. Darcy's house, then they will have certainly also told you I was escorting my sister Lady Winstead, the elder three of my children, and the elder two of hers as we called on both Mr. Darcy and his daughter."
"If you will excuse us now, Lady Londonderry," said Lord Disley firmly, followed by a curt nod and a pointed turn away from the lady, drawing his wife along with him.
"We should like to get Lady Stashwick to the family box before too many arrive and overwhelm her, Lady Londonderry," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with cordial cheer. "I am sure you understand."
"Of course, Colonel," she replied.
"It was a great pleasure to see you again, my lady," Elizabeth offered, hoping to smooth any feathers Lord Disley may have ruffled.
They were seated in the box—with Elizabeth's bodyguards stationed at the door as Mary had suggested—before any of them spoke.
"Upon my word," snapped Lady Disley. "I am affronted on your behalf, my dear Elizabeth, that she would come at you in such a manner. The audacity of the woman, to suggest that you would be visiting William—"
Her angry words ended abruptly when her husband took her hand. "My dear Frances, do calm yourself. You see that Elizabeth is calm, do you not?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "Only just, my lord," she replied. "More talk would be generated by my becoming upset in public that Lady Londonderry should suggest an assignation between myself and Darcy."
"Even if you were having an assignation, so what?" said Fitzwilliam, who received a slap on the arm from his wife for his blasé statement. "What? My dear Antoinette, Will and Lizzy are consenting adults, both of whom have lost a spouse. If they should find comfort with one another, so much the better for both."
"Thank you, Colonel," Elizabeth said firmly, "but I have no intention of finding 'comfort' with Darcy—or anyone else. Though I own that I worried my spending time in his company would lead to errant speculation."
"Now Elizabeth do not be so hasty, my dear," said Lord Disley. "You were a second wife, and as such I daresay Henry would not begrudge you taking a second husband. You and Darcy are both eligible, the fortune is splendid on both sides… I have seen how well you get along, and Stephen told us the other day that all the children are getting along splendidly. Clara could use some brothers and sisters, which she would certainly have in my nephews and nieces, not to mention you are still quite young enough to—"
"Richard, that is quite enough," said Lady Disley. "You will distress dear Elizabeth yourself with such talk."
"That is the least of my intentions, my dear," her husband assured her.
The next several minutes saw the arrival of the rest of the family, including Darcy. Elizabeth greeted him warmly but did her best to ignore the disappointed look in his eyes when he realized that the seat on either side of her had been claimed. She would not—could not—allow herself to be affected by him, as it would only lead to the spread of more gossip.
The noise in the theatre had been steadily increasing as patrons took their seats, to which the family in the Stashwick box contributed no small amount. Elizabeth contented herself with talking to the other ladies of the party, especially Diana and Adelaide, though she noticed that the more the boxes around them began to fill up, the more people there were noticing that theirs was occupied at all. She knew that the family had been extended an invitation to use the box even if she and Henry were not with them, but that Lady Disley had decreed they would not disrespect Elizabeth or Henry by using it during the former's year of mourning.
Until you are ready to share it with us again, my dear, she'd written in a letter, the Stashwick box at Drury Lane shall remain closed.
When the orchestra pit began to fill and the musicians started tuning their instruments, Elizabeth turned her attention to the stage. She had come to see a play, and she meant to pay attention to it. She was glad for having decided to come out, for in spite of the myriad distractions going on around her, her attention was riveted on the performance, which she found delightful. The talent of the actors was superb, and she felt all their happiness and sorrows.
Before she knew it, they were at intermission. The gentlemen of the party offered to fetch drinks for the ladies, and while they were gone, several people—including Jane and Bingley—came to visit and pay their respects. More than one mentioned that they had heard about her visit to Darcy's house, some confessing that they had got the news from Lady Londonderry while others only said that they had "heard it somewhere." Others still gave her winks and sly smiles, intimating how clever she was to use the children to get the most eligible widower in London.
"But then why should you not become attached, for you are the most eligible widow!" cried one fellow, a peer whom Elizabeth knew perfectly well Henry had never gotten along with.
It vexed her exceedingly that one innocent visit to the man's house had sparked such foolish talk. Elizabeth politely brushed off the comments, even laughed at a few, but inside she was seething. She'd always hated this aspect of society in general, and upon becoming a peeress by marriage, she'd developed a greater understanding for the extreme discomfort Darcy must have felt on his first exposure to Meryton society at that assembly. It was most discomfiting to be made the center of attention just because you were handsome and wealthy—and in her case the penniless country miss who had somehow managed to capture the heart of a marquess.
Perhaps it was time, she mused, to take her leave of London. A visit to Longbourn to see her parents and her little brother was just what she needed to escape the nonsense.