Chapter 3

Darcy House

London

April, 1835

The ballroom of Darcy House was filled with a delicate but distinct floral scent, put off by the dozens of bouquets placed in ornate glass vases in their niches. The crystal pendants of the chandelier sparkled like diamonds, throwing tiny rainbows across the dancers below from the dozens of candles it carried. More candles sat lined up around the walls, the polished mirrors behind them flinging out their light.

A small group of musicians sat at the far end of the room on the slight dais, their frock coats impeccable and their expressions intent as they played a cotillion. Dresses in a myriad of colors flashed brightly over the gleaming parquet floor, gentlemen's coats more muted but no less grand. A low hum of conversation buzzed through the room, their guests standing or sitting gracefully on the couches placed about the edges of the dance floor, holding tea and lemonade in gloved hands.

At the very center of it all, like a diamond set in the midst of a brooch with a host of smaller gems clustered around it, Miss Annabelle Darcy was enjoying her debut on the arm of the former Colonel Fitzwilliam, now the Earl of Matlock. Richard had ascended to the position of earl when his elder brother, sonless, had passed on several years before. His staid tan coat did little to distract from the brilliant belle of the ball, her blonde hair turned golden by the amber candlelight, and her eyes shining bright as stars. Her pink gown whisked around her, her first silk dress in celebration of the momentous occasion, with gold and pearls clasped at her throat to add a bit of shine. She was as lovely as Jane, whom she favored, her mother thought, and impossibly grown-up.

"She is beautiful, Elizabeth," a voice said from next to her.

Elizabeth turned and smiled at her old enemy, who was now both a friend along with being a cousin by marriage. "Thank you, Caroline, she is."

The former Caroline Bingley, now the Countess of Matlock, kept her gaze on her husband and Annabelle Darcy, and there was a strange look on her face which impelled Elizabeth to ask, "Are you well?"

Caroline swallowed and managed a smile. "I do apologize, Elizabeth; I find myself thinking often of Evangeline these days."

It took a moment for Elizabeth to remember that Evangeline, the Fitzwilliams' only daughter who had died as an infant, had been born at about the same time as Annabelle.

"I am sorry. I had not considered how painful this would be," she said contritely.

"Not painful, exactly," Caroline returned. "It is more bittersweet than anything else. I know she is walking Heaven's streets. It is more … well, I always thought I would have another daughter and instead bore four more sons after we lost our Eva. It is very good for succession, of course, but I do wish I had birthed another little girl."

The countess straightened her shoulders and continued, "But of course I love my sons, and who knows, perhaps one of your girls will marry one of our boys, and I will be able to claim one of them as a daughter-in-law. You have such delightful daughters."

Elizabeth chuckled and said, "Thank you. I agree that Annabelle is charming, and so is Deborah. The other three girls are still rambunctious, and I am thankful they have some time before they are launched into Society."

"Elizabeth? Caroline?"

Both ladies turned as Jane Bingley entered the room, dressed in dark blue silk, her blue eyes shining. Mrs. Bingley had aged gracefully, and while there were a few wrinkles around her eyes from laughter, and her figure was slightly thickened after the birth of five children, she retained her blonde hair and exquisite countenance.

"Jane," both ladies said, and Jane smiled and said, "Good evening. Elizabeth, Caroline. Dear sister, the ballroom looks marvelous."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied.

Caroline glanced around and said, "I had better ensure that Peter is not hiding. The poor boy does not particularly like dancing at large parties like these."

She walked off, leaving the two sisters alone, and Elizabeth said, "Are you well, Jane?"

"Yes, very well. I apologize for being late. Rebekah had a loose tooth and was putting up a grand fuss about it. Charles finally managed to pull it out, and then Bekah had a fit because of the resulting blood. Surely, we could have had a nursemaid deal with it, but…"

"It is quite all right, darling," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. She expected no less, of course. Jane had changed substantially from the na?ve young woman who had been ardently committed to seeing the best in everyone, but she was still a generous and giving woman, especially with her five children. Rebekah, the youngest of them all, was an energetic girl of nine summers who kept the Bingleys and their many servants hopping.

The music for the dance came to an end, and the attendees clapped as the earl guided his charge over to Elizabeth.

"Thank you, Richard," she said and smiled up at her taller daughter. "Was that enjoyable, Annabelle?"

"It was, Mamma. Thank you, Cousin Richard."

"It was my pleasure. Now, do either of you know where my wife is?"

"Caroline is hunting down Peter. She feared he was hiding away from the young ladies and their matchmaking mothers."

Richard chuckled and said, "I will go assist her. The poor boy simply must get used to being a viscount and my heir, though I am sympathetic. I never knew that being a younger son had so many advantages."

He marched off with his usual brisk stride, and Elizabeth turned back to Annabelle. Before she could say anything, however, Lady Lydia Harding hurried up to the small knot of ladies and exclaimed, "Lizzy, Mamma is being carried downstairs! I tried to keep her away, but she said that she would not miss Annabelle's debut ball for the world!"

Elizabeth's eyes shifted to the great main doors of the ballroom, which were currently open. The large windows were open as well, allowing a welcome breeze to waft through the crowded room. A moment later, a stout footman entered the room carrying the Bennet matriarch. The lady was nearly seventy now, and she gestured imperiously toward a comfortable chair in the corner.

Annabelle, who was very fond of her rather silly grandmother, hurried forward while Jane and Elizabeth followed the younger woman more slowly.

By the time they reached Mrs. Bennet, she was well settled, with her gouty foot up on a stool.

"Grandmamma," Annabelle was saying when Elizabeth and Jane arrived, "are you certain you ought to be down here? How is your foot?"

"Oh, it is well enough, my dear, well enough! You did not imagine I would miss your coming-out ball, did you? You look exquisite, my dear – just like my Jane did so many years ago!"

"Thank you, Grandmamma."

"I only wish that your sister Deborah was here as well!" Mrs. Bennet fretted. "She is seventeen years old, and it is absurd that she has not yet been launched into society."

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged weary glances. Mrs. Bennet, in spite of the fact that all five of her daughters had married well, still clung to her notions that marriage was necessary for any young woman, and early marriage was better than late.

"Have you seen the twins?" Elizabeth asked, hopeful of distracting her mother's attention, and gestured toward where her two sons, the heir and spare of Pemberley, were speaking with their cousins Beatrice Harding, the daughter of Sir Christopher and Lady Harding, and Gloria Bingley, Jane's eldest child, both dressed in their finest silk gowns.

"Oh, there is Cousin Peter! I promised to dance the second set with him!" Annabelle exclaimed.

She dashed off towards the young viscount, who had appeared in the ballroom with both parents at his side, and Mrs. Bennet said, "Your twins are very good looking, Lizzy. How thankful I am you were sensible enough to have two boys before having a great many daughters. They will ensure that you and your girls are never thrown from your home!"

Pemberley, of course, was not entailed away from the female line, but Jane and Elizabeth merely nodded. Their father, Mr. Bennet, had died a decade earlier, and while Mrs. Bennet had been well cared for by her daughters and their husbands, the loss of Longbourn continued to rankle.

Elizabeth, though she did not say so, was of the view that the estate itself had benefited when Mr. and Mrs. Collins became the master and mistress of Longbourn. Mr. Collins remained a foolish man, but Charlotte Collins was exceedingly practical and wise, and she was also thrifty. Furthermore, the couple's son and two daughters were far more sensible than their father, no doubt due to Charlotte's diligent guidance and instruction.

Longbourn and her tenants were thriving, at least according to her sister Kitty, who had married Samuel Lucas, the heir of Lucas Lodge, some fifteen years earlier. Samuel and Kitty Lucas were presently the master and mistress of Lucas Lodge after the death of Samuel's parents, and Kitty was now the mother of two sons and two daughters.

"Has Mary arrived yet?" Mrs. Bennet demanded, craning her neck to look around at the ladies and gentlemen chatting, eating, and making their slow way to the dance floor for the next dance, which was a waltz.

"No, Mary and her family are not coming to London until next week," Elizabeth explained patiently, though her brow was a trifle wrinkled. Her mother was mostly sharp, but she did seem to forget things on many an occasion.

"Oh, what a pity! I am certain they will be disappointed at missing this ball."

Elizabeth was privately certain that they were not disappointed at all. Mary and her husband, Anthony Quill, came to Town only occasionally, both far happier to live and work at Fawnthorpe than to ‘enjoy' the pleasures of Town. Their estate was, thankfully, thriving now thanks to the diligence of its master and mistress, and the three sons and one daughter of their union were healthy and happy.

"May I have this dance, my dear?" a male voice came from her left and Elizabeth turned and smiled up at her beloved Fitzwilliam.

Gray shadowed his temples and salted his dark hair, but Elizabeth thought it made him look distinguished. His posture remained as upright as ever, and the strength of his arms had not failed him, all the athletic grace that had hallmarked his movements as a younger man was still in his steps. Elizabeth settled her hand lightly on his arm, and they stepped forward towards the dance floor in tandem.

It had not always been so – they had had their share of sorrow and difficulty, of course. They had disagreed, and even fought, but without exception, they had come together again, standing strong and united against the turbulence life had thrown in their path. Eventually, the fights and disagreements had lessened as their trust and mutual understanding had deepened. When sorrows hit, they would turn to each other, he her rock and she his light. And when there were great joys, each would seek instinctively to share with the other.

She took his arm in hers, and they made their stately way out to the dance floor, where they found Georgiana Lockhart already waiting with her husband.

Elizabeth smiled at her sister by marriage. Georgiana's husband, Seth, had been awarded the Hunsford living a decade previously when Mr. and Mrs. Collins had assumed ownership of Longbourn. Now Evan and Anne Buckley at Rosings, and Seth and Georgiana Lockhart in the parsonage, enjoyed a happy friendship, while the children of their respective unions – three sons for Anne Buckley, and two sons and two daughters for Georgiana, rampaged around the mansion. Lady Catherine de Bourgh had passed on after a severe apoplexy some fifteen years earlier, and it was probably just as well – she would have been horrified by children running through the halls of Rosings, and Georgiana marrying a fourth son, and…

Elizabeth chuckled as the music began, and she and Fitzwilliam began gliding through the steps of the waltz.

"What do you find amusing?" her husband whispered into her ear, and she could not refrain from shivering at the sound of his husky voice, still so beloved after all these years.

She twirled around him in time with the music and smiled. "It is nothing, really. I was thinking about how much has changed in the last decades. We were once very young and ardent and, on occasion, rather stupid. I do feel entirely amazed at the kindness and goodness of God in bringing us together."

"I agree," Darcy replied and then, quite indifferent to the couples surrounding them, bent down to plant a hasty kiss on his wife's lips.

"I adore you, Elizabeth," he murmured.

"I adore you too, my love."

The End