Chapter 10

What gross ignorance had Mary assuming that Lady Herncastle's dinner party in her own home was a formal event, or that alone had been her debut. That evening had been no more than a trial. This evening, in the house, in the courtyard of one of Lady Herncastle's friends, Lady something or other, was the real event. Some fifty or more guests were seated before her, not including the Starlight Circle themselves. Georgiana trembled, but said nothing, of the large audience. Everyone received a musical program, and a good number, though not all the Starlight Circle, were represented and received an assigned place in the program.

1. Miss Henrietta Sothern

2. Mrs. Prudence Bowman

3. Mrs. Maryann Jenson

4. Miss Bella Quinn

5. Mrs. Eva Jacoby & Miss Leah Jacoby, (a duet)

6. Miss Alissa Judge

7. Miss Sadie Andrews

8. Miss Louise Longsbury

9. Mrs. Maryann Jenson

10. Mrs. Isabella Maynard

11. Miss Henrietta Sothern

12. Miss Mary Bennet

Along with their names in order of performance, the titles of their musical pieces were also named but mostly unimportant. Most of these people in the audience, with any musical education, knew all of them, except for Miss Bennet's selection. Lady Herncastle, or someone else, must've taken the liberty; for Mary had yet to officially give her opus a name. Yet, there she read it, on the program: Miss Mary Bennet, Pulchritudo Ignotus in C Minor. According to the intelligence given by Miss Sothern and Miss Andrews, where one was placed on the program and the frequency, was a matter of great significance during these professional engagements. The musician listed first and last in the program was considered to be the best performers, or performer—for sometimes the best appeared first and last. Since Mary was a new addition, and she was intended for display, she displaced Rietta in the final place only by one. Miss Sothern still received high marks, being first and second to last. Repeated performances also conferred honour, regardless of ranking. Though not all of the Starlight Circle were represented that evening, it was explained that Lady Herncastle rotated according to their quality of performance, as well as the wishes to the musicians. For sometimes the choice of the musicians, where they'd perform or how often, dictated their professional engagements.

It was enough to make Mary light-headed for the entire time seated. Thankfully, this event was held on the terrace, half out of doors. The lady's piano forte had been temporarily moved from its usual place in the house to the terrace, as well as the harp. The musicians would supply the rest. Mr. Darcy attended to them both, finding them seats, making small talk with fellow guests while Mary focused on keeping her nerves calm. Unfortunately, being the last one in the program, she could not just do her piece and get the whole thing over.

"You mustn't worry. You'll be perfect," assured Georgiana. "Tell her, brother!"

"She's right, Miss Mary," he replied. "We're all very proud of you. So is Elizabeth. She was very sorry she could not see your success in person."

"You all have high expectations. I'm not so talented as that, I assure you. I did not invent music, after all," shrugged Mary. There was a tremor in her hands and stomach, very like the nauseous shakes during her miseries.

"Shall I fetch you some wine?"

"No, thank you."

Their hostess of the evening gave herself a couple minutes of introduction and welcome to her guests, with acknowledgement to Lady Herncastle for sponsoring their evening's entertainment, and promised the audience the moon and the stars of tonight's musical talents. Without further ado, Miss Henrietta Sothern. Her friend or 'friend', Mrs. Bowman, did not prove false in her expression that she sang the best of any singer in the society. Reflecting on her performance at the Netherfield ball, this had been the image she had so desired and fallen so sadly short. Henrietta Sothern had a seraphic voice, and clothed in an ivory organdy and a collar of diamonds at the throat, she did not belong among mortals. Glancing towards into the audience, the performance of her hands and vocals inspired some sneers of disgust from the fair Miss Quinn, as well as some rude remarks from Mrs. Jacoby to Mrs. Maynard, which Mary overheard from behind. "A pretty creature, I've always said, but all too perfect, an Aphrodite in her own mind. One day, all that beauty and perfection will be her curse."

Mary could have been just as nasty and biting in her criticism of the duet of matron and sister-in-law. These women thought highly of themselves, without a doubt, and they would not be convinced otherwise, even though Miss Jacoby struck a wrong note once during her performance. Miss Sadie Andrews was mistress of the harp; the execution flawless and her countenance all that was serene. Perhaps the only distasteful thing was, at the very end, when applause went up, she rose and bowed and smiled and looked almost surprised that she should receive any applause. Better suited for acting than music, but what else could be said aside from that? Mary enjoyed hearing her expert soft touch on the harp strings. Miss Longsbury, as Lady Herncastle told her before, was not a popular choice, but she had the advantage of being the most memorable. For she was the only violinist! Shorter than average for other ladies, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age, and red-haired, she may not have measured up to traditional standards of 'beauty.' If any such low opinions existed in the audience, her performance punished prejudices; she strummed like she was an expert of twenty or thirty years. This young woman had earned her place in the Starlight Circle.

Finally, when it came to her turn and her name was announced, Mary dutifully rose and approached the piano. It was merely repetition, it ought to have been, from the night of Lady Herncastle's dinner. Yet, all the same terror returned, especially now that her audience included lords and ladies, her family, nobility. Now knowing also, the fickle and jealous temper of the Starlight Circle, made her feelings all the worse. All the house was silenced by the newcomer, settling with a very forced serenity to the instrument, unfolding her musical score that was not needed. In these few seconds, her music fumbled to the ground. The crowd did not flutter, but this caused some gasps and muttering among her peers. Miss Quinn and Mrs. Jenson had their fans opened, smiling behind them. Would've been better for her to ignore them, though they sat in the front row. It just so happened, sitting two rows behind them, to their right, a mixed group of men and women sat, including the man who'd been introduced as the green cravat, Mr. Cummings.

Averting all glances from the crowd, Mary drew a couple deep breaths, positioned her hands, and started on her first notes. She made the correct notes, but it was far too slow than what was originally written. It should've been moderato to start, but her sonata opened andante. Without thinking, she stopped completely and lifted her hands off. She paused for a second, trying to get command of her mind. At first, this odd termination put off the audience, and some began to worry whether she was well. But before too long, Mary began again, this time, without flaw, without second thought, without any thoughts except her music. When time came to flip the score or turn the page, she did not bother. The soul was lost in the stanzas which seemed to lift from the page, curl, float about her like smoke, waft about her face and her ears, transporting her hundreds of miles away and hours ahead into the daylight hours.

It was not unusual for music to inspire rather fantastical visions. If Mary had not ever experienced such sensations, her time spent at the piano would've been much more dull and dreary. When she was younger and her younger sisters first learning to dance, Mary was not able to experience the dance moves herself; she did, however, fancy herself dancing with the musical notes from the page, like they were her partners in a reel. After all, treble cleft notes had a rough resemblance of a human figure, just a head with a simple stick body. Even though she was rarely asked to stand up for a dance, when she did, it was not with complete ignorance, thanks to such unusual fancies. Lizzy should have laughed to hear her sister describe this self-teaching method.

In such a moment of crisis, it served the much higher purpose of dulling self-perception and natural mortification. There was no thought of the audience and who occupied it, and the audience, those of noble and high birth as well as the intellectually elite, perceived a great deal concealed beneath nervous reserve and unsocialable manners. And Mrs. Bennet would've been delighted to see it, to hear no one present should call her daughter a plain girl. For though she had the same face, very clever friends selected very becoming, very elegant styles in their shopping. At Miss Sothern's direction and insistence, Mary had been knocked unconscious and woken to find herself transformed by a gold and black striped satin, with a touch of delicate black silk puffing from the bust and from the cap sleeves. She had never considered black a fashionable or becoming colour. It had always been, in personal experience, a uniform for mourning. How wrong such notion had been! With gloves ascending to the elbow, designed with holes and tucks to unleash her fingers for playing, she was suitable for a lady's catalogue. Then the hair, curled and twisted, held up high and fastened by a gold hair comb. Of course, Mary still consulted her sister; for the finishing touch, Lizzy had lend her, from the Darcy family collection, a set of pearls, earrings and collar.

All too soon for the guests, the musical portion, that which required listening, had come to a close. Everyone was ready to go to dinner and give their own opinion of the program to the convenience or misfortune of their neighbour. Miss Sothern was by all accounts the best performer, the most accomplished, wonderful singer in the world. The Jacoby duet was interesting, somewhat amusing but shared its moments of intensity, as though the sisters-in-law were trying to outdo one another. Miss Quinn, Miss Judge, Mrs. Maynard—tolerable enough. By themselves or in a room of amateurs, they'd quite shine, but next to Miss Sothern, or even Mrs. Bowman, their performances sparkled dimly. Mrs. Jenson possessed a good voice, but again, hers was also judged lacking, perhaps as a result of playing and singing that particular selection too many times.

While Miss Sothern was praised for being the best of the evening, first class, it came down to Miss Longsbury and Miss Bennet, who received the most praise. Miss Longsbury enraptured so many with such precision and artistic ability. This was only her second season, far, far from the last. And as for Miss Bennet, if her performance did not come so late and close to dinner, a few of them would've cried out for an encore. Even for his seeming aloofness and reserve, Mr. Darcy warmly praised Mary upon her return to her seat. It meant as much to have his approval as his sister's. They were not long all to themselves. Mary found herself quickly surrounded by admiring ladies and gentlemen, which made it rather slow for them to follow the lead of the hostess to dinner.

Rietta found her in the dining hall, and both women congratulated each another for stealing half the hearts of the company. Before anything else should be said though, and before anyone else should, Rietta begged to claim a seat beside Mary. Georgiana claimed the other seat already, so it made for a most agreeable setting at dinner.

"And now, you've had your London debut, Mary Bennet," declared Rietta, sipping on a glass of wine. "How do you feel?"

"I feel… strange. I feel happy, but it does not feel as though this is happening to me," explained Mary. "I feel as though it were happening to someone else."

"You should be happy. Look around you! All these lords and ladies, high and lofty stations are nodding and bowing to you. What a reversal, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Before you came in, I was talking with that family there." Rietta nodded to a separate table, off against the wall, where the young man was seated so close, almost sharing his dinner plate with one of the potted ferns. "Silly man. But I was talking with the elderly lady, Mrs. Ferrars, and her daughter-in-law, about you. They were both just delighted, transported by your music and playing. They've never heard anyone play better. And the younger Mrs. Ferrars hoped that she might engage you in future when they have their next house party."

"Really… Well, to look at her, the elder, I'm surprised she would be pleased. She looks rather formidable."

"Well, I've known the daughter-in-law a short time, perhaps a year or so ago. She was nobody, no fortune or pedigree. If even she could get around the formidable mother and get her son, as well as his money and be recognized in the family, she's not worth fearing at all."

"Rietta, your friends are right, I'm afraid," laughed Mary. "That is wicked talk."

"Oh, all these lords and ladies are ten times more so than me."

"Wicked? Who's wicked?" asked Miss Jacoby from across the table, eyes wide.

"Don't mind me," replied Mary. "I was chiding Rietta for foolish talk."

"It is true. Rietta has a sharp tongue to be sure," giggled the dim starlight. "But you are a dear friend to us all. Of course, we all have to be on our guard, on our best behaviour at all times. Lady Herncastle would rain fire down on any girl who did not behave with utmost decorum at such parties as these, but we must not expect polite society to always be so polite."

"Leah! Must you?" groaned Rietta.

"We are as good as any of them. You know it, I know it; we ought to be proud of it. I see at that table behind you. See that old lady with the pink feather? And that tall, sulky man in the blue coat next to her? That's Mr. Rushworth and his mother. He was married rather recently, but he and his wife did not get on well, and what a scandal—"

"Leah, this is the sort of behaviour that Lady Herncastle will punish if she hears this!"

"Well, it's not his fault; it's his wife's. Poor young man. Though he's not much of a clever fellow, he did not deserve that. And he's free to marry again!"

"Will you tell me, Miss Jacoby," Mary interrupted, "how long did it take you and Mrs. Jacoby to rehearse your duet?" Distraction sufficed to silence gossip, even if it did not affect to silence the mindless chatter. Nobody needed to hear about the failure of that marriage, or the state of Mrs. Churchill's ill health, or how many men were out courting the Honourable Miss Morton. A stranger such as Mary easily deduced that the Jacoby family came of large family and small town, where, much like Meryton, good and bad news of every kind passed through no filter. All joy, grievance, and scandal was worth talking about, even at a respectable table amongst the barest acquaintances.

Towards the end of dinner, Lady Herncastle found them and bid Mary away by a tap on the shoulder. She demurely whispered for Mary to follow, some short distance away, towards the dance hall, slowly beginning to fill with guests.

With all ease and no ceremony: "Sir Douglas, may I introduce my new protegee, Miss Bennet. You already know Mr. Cummings, my dear. Now, it's my pleasure to introduce his good father."

"How do you do, sir?"

"It's my pleasure," declared the kindly older face. "What a splendid performance you gave us tonight, Miss Bennet. My congratulations!"

"I thank you."

"It's certainly one thing to excel at your craft, but entirely another, to create it!"

"Oh no, beg your pardon, sir, but it's not like… like I discovered a new frontier, or re-invented the piano, or…" Why the babbling? Mary felt her tongue just exposing her loss of composure.

"No, perhaps not, however, you've tapped into a mine; such that will supply you for years to come, long after you retire from public life and professional contracts." This cocked her head, churning an entire new thought. Years? "I do hope we've not heard the last of your composing."

"No indeed."

"Are you currently working on any new pieces?"

"I wish I could give you a more decisive answer, but truthfully, I'm struggling in that regard. I work at it constantly, but have written nothing but scraps here and there."

"If it's anything at all like beauty unknown," said Mr. Cummings, "I can only speculate on the quality of your musical scraps."

"Well, the music is beginning. I do not wish to detain you from dancing, Miss Bennet," assured Sir Douglas. "However, may we perhaps continue this conversation at another time, in an official capacity?"

Mary's heart experienced a single, erratic heartbeat, quite like, if it could be compared to that, when a courted girl receives a marriage proposal. How long had she attempted to court the notice of London and every publisher? Now, Grandison Printing, courting her! Acquiescence was mumbled with gratitude, and she struggled to bring her voice and her mind to match with much conversation beyond that. Lady Herncastle smilingly took over, thanked the good man, and proceeded on. Sir Douglas did not stay long, not wishing to be caught up in the dancing couples himself. Mr. Cummings, on the other hand, was not so bashful. Mary was still reeling in delight, almost incapable of comprehending anything else when the green cravat asked her to dance.

"I-I thank you but I rarely dance."

"It's a simple quadrille, and many of these dances they do, very andante."

"Andante? Mr. Cummings, you…"

"Yes. From one to another," he confessed, with a nod to the head.

True to assumption, the music to open the dance was of mellow and light tempo, that the most inexperienced person could be daring. Up until this time, no gentleman, in all her life, had asked her to dance, except perhaps Mr. Collins, a memory hardly worth maintaining in the vaults of her existence. Aside from the fact that his education in dancing lacked, Mary had been battling ill urges and nausea, pain and lethargy the entire evening. She could not step and turn any better than himself, but even in her drugged and drowsy state, she was still conscious of it. Mr. Collins stood up with her out of duty to all his fair cousins, from Jane to Lydia, and kept a strict eye on every movement by Elizabeth. Any attempts at conversation were impossible during the dance, and after, he proved an inattentive listener. Whatever trepidation lingering from that awful first experience dissolved when he offered his hand, and not even yet dancing.

His skill and grace of movement, superior. The feet kept perfect time, and as they were moving at such pace, with the aid of body language, he was able to remind her of the next step when her memory faltered, making it easy to keep with his steps and the other dancers about them. Soon enough, the dance steps were imprinted, and solidified, Mary bowed, twisted, maneuvered through each set at a time with greater confidence. Though she began dreading and hating, now, it was lovely, as pleasant as a walk in the meadows near home. Fancy seized her again, but the musical notes, instead of being dance partners, intertwined with the whole line of dancing couples, with the bars stretching, tightening, and loosening like a giant rope between them. Many might have thought the music a bit sleepy for dancing, but not her.

"Does this agree with you after all, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad. You're a graceful dancer."

"It's been a long time since I've done so… May I say, you too, are a fine dancer, Mr. Cummings." If he noted her blush, it was good of him to make no remark on it, nor to tease her for such a compliment.

"Is it your lack of confidence in proficiency or is dancing simply not in your taste?"

"Perhaps if you'd asked me that a month or so ago, I'd have agreed with the latter."

"Well, I am honoured that you would humour me."

"It's not that I mean to sound proud… mind you, but from where I come, dancing was viewed like a sport, if you will. Dancing here, this sort of dancing, is definitely what I would imagine, a mark of refinement."

"Perhaps a little proud," shrugged Mr. Cummings. "But if you've known no variation, I can understand feelings of indifference. From what part of the world do you come, Miss Bennet?"

"All my family is from Hertfordshire."

"How unrefined! So far from civilization." Oh, he did tease after all.

"My brother-in-law would disagree with you. To him, dancing is nothing special… to put it politely."

"Do I take it your brother-in-law is Mr. Darcy? One of the great landholders of Derbyshire? I'd say he has a right to think that, and to change his mind, and invent a whole new dance if he so chooses."

"Are you acquainted with the family?"

"Hardly. Not well enough to tease him to his face. No, really, I do not say so in mockery. I hope it was not offending. As you can probably tell, I am all for dancing and enjoy it."

"Believe it or not, he is a fine dancer himself. If my sister were present this evening, he'd most gladly indulge her. And of course, he is more than willing to oblige me or his sister."

"May I be so bold as to claim the next one too?"

"I see no reason why not."

She thought for a moment about the presence of the Starlight, and the watchful eyes among them. Of course, given her dance partner, any woman's jealousy weighed only lightly in the decision. Mary expected Mr. Cummings to converse and chatter throughout the dance, but he did not, neither for the first or the second dance. Just like the first dinner, with the first introduction, female eyes across the room followed, and not without cause. Between his fashionable tastes and the natural form, he was a very handsome man. Everything and in every way the opposite of her previous dance partner: tall and lean, a blue-eyed soul, of gentle complexion and soft expression. From the first, right as the dancing began, Mary desired nothing but to hear him talk. If he chose not to while dancing, it wasn't disagreeable but somewhat of a disappointment. For with the dancing, she had nothing to observe but the physical. Not a disappointment in itself, though a vexing distraction, but her wish was for the exploration of the internal recesses. If she could but return to the piano out on the terrace, boldly ask him to play something…

Fanciful and high-minded to wish for more. Once their second dance concluded, etiquette parted them and necessitated the need to seek other partners. Though, perhaps it was not self-conceited, to wonder whether he too took leave with a mutual inclination. Mary had not long to wait, hardly allowed to catch her breath and rest before Miss Andrews and Miss Sothern approached to bring introductions to more young men: a Mr. Stiles, Dodd, Boswell, and Kyndlmore. Pedigree unknown, lively and spirited, boisterously admiring, and honoured above all things to dance with so many beautiful young ladies: all that said while looking at her, all of them. As much as Mary preferred to return to Mr. Darcy and Georgiana, a smiling and persistent Mr. Stiles brooked no refusal. Miss Andrews and Sothern were claimed by Boswell and Kyndlmore. Mr. Dodd succeeded Mr. Stiles, and then Kyndlmore and Boswell. Miss Quinn made quite a fuss and later laughed at having succeeded coaxing Mr. Rushworth to dance, leaving poor Mr. Wynn to the pitying of Miss Judge, Mary, and Miss Darcy. Georgiana did eventually dance, but it took the encouragement and a couple dances with her brother to solidify confidence. Apart from a few minutes at dinner, a few minutes in the gallery, and on the ride home, Mary lamented how little time she'd spent in Georgiana's company, forsaking her for grand company.

"Do not trouble yourself at all," protested Miss Darcy. "I am so glad you were able to mix freely with your new friends. All the company just adored you! If it were not so forward of me doing so, I'd like to have encored you."

"That is too kind. There was so much talent before us tonight. No single one can rightly claim the spotlight."

Mr. Darcy climbed into the carriage, looking a bit tired and less disposed for conversation than earlier in the evening. To all his sister's assertions and congratulations, he merely agreed and smiled dully. Before the driver was signaled to depart, a footman called out and passed a tray and sealed note through the window: "Miss Bennet? From Lady Herncastle, with her compliments."

It was not until reaching home that Mary broke the seal and opened the envelope to discover, not a correspondence, but a banker's note! Her first engagement! Such a wonderful evening that would have to carry her through the following morning. Mary was awakened by an unusual, dull ache accompanying sharp pangs in her right side.

I couldn't resist throwing in a couple cameo appearances from some of Austen's lesser characters, the ones that we could easily associate with elite London society. Probably my favorite Jane Austen novel is Sense & Sensibility. Some people don't care for it as much as her other works, but that's just me.

Hope you all enjoyed Mary's official debut. No more sitting in the corner for her, not while the green cravat is in the room. Don't forget to follow or favorite, and I'm curious to hear any extracts about Mary and any of the OCs around her. Hope you all have a nice weekend ahead, and a good coffee/tea break!