24. Twenty-Four

Twenty-Four

E lizabeth’s foot landed on the first step, and her eyes immediately swept upward.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Jane murmured, stepping into the house beside her.

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze drifting from banisters to ceiling—to the new rugs gracing the entry and the hothouse flowers brightening every corner and wall. “They’ve outdone themselves. It feels as though the entire house has come alive.”

From somewhere down the hall, a burst of laughter and the murmur of voices reached her ears. The commotion seemed to come from the direction of the ballroom. Elizabeth’s head turned instinctively, her gaze drifting toward the partially open door at the far end of the corridor.

Bingley, who was directing footmen with the Bennet sisters’ trunks of gowns toward the staircase, caught the movement and smiled broadly. “Ah, that would be Darcy and Fitzwilliam,” he said, gesturing with one hand. “They’re in the ballroom making final arrangements. I think Darcy’s taken it upon himself to ensure the orchestra’s placement is flawless—or at least that’s what he claims. Likely, he just needs something to keep him busy.”

Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. Her gaze lingered on the door, and she thought she caught a faint, familiar cadence to the voices within. Darcy’s voice, surely! The words were indistinct, muffled by distance, but the sound tugged at something deep within her.

For a fleeting moment, she imagined slipping away, finding an excuse to venture into the ballroom. What would he say if she walked in? What would she say? Her fingers curled lightly around the banister, her resolve teetering.

If she could speak to him alone—even for just a few minutes—it might ease the desperate ache that had followed her since London. Her hand twitched as though to take a step, but Jane’s gentle touch on her arm stopped her.

“Come, Lizzy,” Jane said, linking their arms. “The ladies are all taking turns upstairs to dress, and we’ve all so much to do before the evening begins.”

Ahead of them, Kitty and Lydia were already halfway up the staircase, their laughter echoing through the hall as they chattered about ribbons and shoe roses. Elizabeth glanced back toward the ballroom door, the temptation still pulling at her. But Jane was right—tonight, there were no “lessers and betters.” There was no one to trim the candles and sweep the floors while others loitered upstairs. Everyone had a role to play, and she had come to make herself useful.

Besides, Darcy was busy, too. The thought of the embarrassment she might cause him with such a poorly timed intrusion was enough to stop her.

“Yes, of course,” she said softly, allowing Jane to guide her toward the stairs. “There will be time enough later.”

As they ascended, the faint sounds of the ballroom faded, replaced by the bustling commotion of the upstairs rooms. Here, the air was charged with nervous energy. Young women—Sir Thomas’s household—stood in clusters, fidgeting with borrowed gowns, smoothing skirts, and anxiously adjusting their hair.

Elizabeth took it all in with a pang. These women, more than anyone, deserved to feel radiant tonight. Whatever their pasts, tonight they would be honored guests, and she was determined to help them shine.

“ L izzy?” Kitty called from across the room. She was trying to untangle a knot in Mrs. Jackson’s hair, and it looked as though the knot was prevailing. “Would you come help me? I tried to pin it, but I cannot manage her curls, but your hair is a little similar, so perhaps you know better how to manage.”

“Let us have a look.” Elizabeth took the brush from Kitty’s hand and shook her head with a tsk. “Here is your first problem. This brush is all wrong for curls. Mrs. Jackson, what sort of style do you fancy? I think a high twist, with your curls loose to frame your face would look terribly fetching.”

Mrs. Jackson turned her head from side to side, inspecting her reflection. “My husband likes my curls.”

“I think they all do,” Elizabeth chuckled. “That settles it. Oh! We have some primroses here. They would look lovely with your eyes and complexion. What do you think?”

At Mrs. Jackson’s blushing agreement, Elizabeth set to work.

As the sisters moved from one young woman to another, lending combs and sashes and words of encouragement and praise, the atmosphere began to shift. Nervous glances turned into tentative smiles. Lydia was offering ribbons from her own collection, exclaiming, “This blue will be perfect for you! You must wear it!”

“Perfectly chaotic,” Mary muttered as she hemmed a gown for yet another girl. “But there, I daresay you will not trip.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly, pressing a hand to her cheek as she finished pinning another girl’s hair. It was good to see her sisters pitching in, however clumsily. For once, they felt like a true family—a united front determined to make this evening as magical as it deserved to be.

Behind her, Jane was trying to take in the bodice of Elizabeth’s own plum-colored gown for a freckled girl named Clara, who stood uncertainly near a dressing table, her trembling fingers struggling with the buttons so Jane could fit it properly.

“Here, allow me,” Elizabeth said, taking the task into her own hands, since Jane was busy with the needle.

The girl glanced up in surprise. “Thank you, Miss Lizzy. I was afraid I might tear it.”

Elizabeth smiled as she worked the buttons, smoothing the back of the gown once it was secured. “Nonsense. This color suits you beautifully—truly! You shall be the envy of everyone in the ballroom.”

The girl blushed and glanced shyly toward the mirror, as though daring to believe Elizabeth’s words.

A moment later, Elizabeth was tightening the last ribbon on Miss Flora’s gown and stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “There,” she said, smiling. “It fits you perfectly.”

“Miss Elizabeth, is this too much?” a shy voice asked. Elizabeth turned to see Maryanne, a dark-haired young woman holding up a string of pearls with trembling hands. “I have never worn anything so fine.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly, crossing the room to take the necklace from her. “It is perfect, Maryanne. Here, let me.”

As she fastened the pearls around the girl’s neck, Maryanne glanced at her reflection, her face a mixture of awe and disbelief. “Mr. Darcy insisted I wear it,” she murmured. “I told him it was too grand, but he said… he said everyone deserves to feel beautiful tonight.”

Elizabeth’s fingers stilled briefly before she gave the clasp a final turn. “Did he?” she asked softly, her voice carefully even.

Maryanne nodded, her cheeks pinkening. “I… I always thought him so stern. But then he came to the kitchens last evening and spoke to all of us. And he gave each of us a necklace, brought new from London. Every one of us, miss!”

Elizabeth tilted her head to have a better look at the necklace in the mirror. “Did he? That was very sweet of him.”

“Aye, miss. He asked about my family, my hopes… no one ever asks those things.”

Elizabeth stepped back, her throat tight as she took in the girl’s expression—an odd mixture of joy and gratitude that spoke volumes. How many lives had Mr. Darcy touched in ways she had not imagined?

Maryanne caught her lower lip in her teeth. “I picked the pearls. There were others, you know—gold pendants, some with jewels—but I liked these…” She brushed her fingertips over the pearls. “Pearls are for tears, but they don’t have to be for sad tears, do they?”

Elizabeth smiled. “No, they do not. They can just as well be for happy tears.”

Maryanne sighed. “I’ll have to sell them eventually. Mr. Darcy said we might—he said it was to be our dowries, if we wished. I know, it… it seems rather cold to sell a gift.”

“He gave you something beautiful,” Elizabeth replied. “And the beauty is not simply in the vanity of the thing. The beauty is also in the caring—in seeing a kindness to be done and doing it.”

“Aye, miss.”

“Lizzy,” Jane called from across the room, drawing her attention. “Could you help with this bow? Clara keeps turning.”

“Only because I am nervous!” Clara protested with a laugh.

Elizabeth sniffed and squeezed Maryanne’s shoulder as she stepped away. And it was then that she noticed how all the girls were, indeed, wearing some sort of jewelry. More sets of pearls, several crosses set with rubies or amber or other stones. Each necklace was unique, each precious… just like the girls who wore them.

She sighed, her heart full of pride and joy in this man who had showered sweetness on so many who had probably seldom known a kind word in their lives. She crossed the room and joined her sister, and her hands fell to deftly fixing the satin ribbon.

“You have no need to be nervous, Clara. You look glorious.”

“Lizzy is right, Clara,” Jane agreed. “I think I have never seen anyone look so well in that shade, but with your auburn hair, gold makes you look so warm and radiant!”

“Oh, it’s not the gown, Miss Bennet. I’m so worried my Daniel might set up a fuss and refuse to stay in his crib and… oh, miss, who will be watching the children?”

“Ah,” Jane mused with a gentle smile. “Well, as to that, you will hardly believe it, but the vicar’s own wife said she would lend a hand in the nursery. Along with my sister Mary, who found that to be far more agreeable than wearing a ball gown. Is that not right, Mary?” Jane called.

Mary looked up from the lace she was trying to mend for a girl Elizabeth did not know. “Much more rational, and a goodly task for a virtuous person.”

Jane laughed. “There, you see? I daresay even our good vicar could not prevail on his lady to stay away from this evening. And I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam had a rather rousing game of Blind Man’s Bluff organized for the older children—before they are sent to bed for the night with all the sweeties Mr. Darcy brought for them from London, of course. Not to worry, Clara. I think everything is well in hand.”

“Well, that… that is a right treat, miss.” As Clara turned to inspect herself in the mirror once more, the door opened, and a new voice greeted the room. “Oh, my! This is where the magic is happening, I see.”

Elizabeth turned to find another young woman entering, but she was not one of the Netherfield girls. She was tall and possessed of a willowy sort of grace, but her cheekbones still bore the softness of youth. Her morning gown was of expensive make, with soft amber curls framing a delicate face that bore an unmistakable resemblance to… to Mr. Darcy.

“Mr. Bingley said I should come up,” she declared. “He said I might help. Where shall I start?”

Elizabeth tilted her head and stepped closer, a smile teasing her lips. “Wherever you like. Have you much skill with a needle?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “I am very good,” she replied with frank honesty, and very little humility.

“Good!” Elizabeth laughed and leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “Because Lydia is trying to help fit Miss Sophie’s gown, and I’m afraid poor Sophie might become a pincushion.”

The girl giggled. “You must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet. My brother has spoken of you.”

Elizabeth blinked, her composure faltering slightly. “Brother?” She sucked in a gasp. “You are Miss Darcy.”

“Georgiana,” she said brightly. “My brother and I arrived from London yesterday.”

“He, ah…” Elizabeth eased closer, her brow furrowed. “He wanted you to attend the party, did he?”

“Oh, yes. And he wanted me to meet you.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Me?”

“Of course. He said you are most kind and clever. And now I see he was quite right.”

Elizabeth flushed and glanced down, uncertain of how to reply. Jane stepped in, extending her hand. “Miss Darcy, it is lovely to meet you. I am Jane Bennet, Elizabeth’s elder sister.”

Georgiana’s face brightened further as she took Jane’s hand. “It is a pleasure, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth recovered herself and gestured toward the table cluttered with brushes and ornaments. “Well, shall we, Miss Darcy? Let us see if we can relieve Lydia of that needle.”

E lizabeth adjusted the lace fichu on the young woman in front of her, tucking it gently into the top her bodice before stepping back with a satisfied nod. “There. Perfect.”

The girl blushed, her fingers brushing over the delicate fabric. “Thank you, Miss Lizzy.” She dipped into an awkward curtsey before hurrying out to join the others. The door closed behind her, and the room erupted into a brief, shared sigh of relief.

Georgiana, perched by the vanity, turned toward Elizabeth and Jane, a bright smile lighting her face. “Well! That must mean it is our turn. Come with me—I shall lend you my room to dress. It is the least I can do.”

Elizabeth blinked, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “Georgiana, you are too generous. We could not—”

“Not at all,” Georgiana interrupted, rising to her feet. “I insist.” Her tone held a note of steel that was probably a family trait, and she took Elizabeth’s hand as if to pull her along.

Jane laughed softly, looping her arm through Elizabeth’s. “It seems we have no choice, Lizzy. Come, let us not keep her waiting.”

Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze sweeping the room. The hum of activity had quieted, and the last few ladies were gathering their courage before moving downstairs.

“Very well,” Elizabeth said, allowing herself a small smile. “Lead the way.”

Elizabeth stepped inside Georgiana’s room and paused. There, laid out on the bed with careful precision, were the new gowns Aunt Gardiner had bought for them last month—Jane’s rose chiffon and Elizabeth’s moonlight blue silk.

“Flora and Mary brought them up and got all the creases out of them,” Georgiana explained, moving to the vanity where a small assortment of pins and ribbons had been arranged, along with some of the prettiest roses and lilies for their hair. “They wanted to help you, too—they insisted everything be perfect.”

Jane smiled warmly as she stepped to the bed, smoothing her hand over her gown. “It’s as though they knew we would be the last to make our preparations.”

“They do seem to have thought of everything,” Elizabeth said softly.

Jane picked up her gown and swept behind the dressing screen, while Elizabeth stared at her blue gown. Tonight, Darcy would see her in it… and she hoped it would give him as much pleasure as he had given so many others this day.

“Well,” Georgiana replied with a playful twinkle in her eye. “Shall I fix your hair?”

Elizabeth laughed softly, finally lifting the gown from the bed. “If you insist.”

“ L izzy, wait for a moment.”

Elizabeth tucked a stray curl behind her ear as they started for the stairs in their evening gowns. “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all.” Jane fidgeted with her hands. “In fact, it is… the opposite.”

Elizabeth tilted her head and drifted down the first step. “Go on.”

“Mr. Bingley… he has asked me to enter into a formal courtship.”

Elizabeth froze on the step and whirled on her sister. “Jane! He—he has? You are not just easing me this time, are you? This is real?”

“It is! He intends to speak to Papa tonight.”

“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth breathed, her hands flying to her sister’s. “That is wonderful! I could not be happier for you.”

“You mean that this time?” Jane asked, her eyes searching Elizabeth’s. “You did not seem very happy before.”

“Of course I do, and I am! You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I have no doubt Mr. Bingley will do everything in his power to give it to you.”

“Oh, I hoped you might feel that way. I know you have been… uncertain about Mr. Darcy, and I thought—”

Elizabeth shook her head quickly. “No, Jane. I am not at all uncertain about Mr. Darcy. But anyway, this is not about me. You and Mr. Bingley are perfectly matched, Jane. You have my full blessing.”

Jane reached out, clasping Elizabeth’s hands. “I wish you could feel the same joy for yourself, Lizzy. I have seen how Mr. Darcy looks at you. He cares for you, I am certain of it.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed, but she shook her head, her voice faltering. “Jane… I shall not speculate—”

“Why not? You are worth everything he has to offer, and I believe he sees it.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Well. Let us think only on the pleasant things for now. Tonight is about Christmas and joy and caring for others. I shall not attempt to manipulate that poor man again.”

“Oh, quite right, as you should not,” Jane agreed. “But I am not without hope that you, too, will receive a Christmas gift, Lizzy, from someone who seems to care very much for you .”