Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

T he concert series began at last; four concerts over the course of two weeks. They were well received and critically acclaimed. Georgiana's dinner party had succeeded in spreading the word. In truth, attendance would have never been a problem, even if every person of rank and fashion had stayed away. There were as many ‘cits' in the audience as aristocrats. The chapterhouse itself also garnered its share of admiration and interest, to the point where Mr Gardiner found he needed to hire a manager for it.

The day after the last concert, Elizabeth's family met at Jane's home as much to celebrate the success of the concerts as to celebrate their being over and done with. For all their success, it had involved a great deal of work, especially for the Heidemanns. The Darcy family were given a special invitation, as Georgiana had been so helpful and Darcy was, as Uncle Gardiner put it, ‘underfoot all the time'.

At the gathering, the Fieldings announced their departure from London. They had delayed their return to Birchwood Grange in part due to the concerts but mostly to become better acquainted with Elizabeth, who they quietly anticipated would be one of the family before long. Even the prospect of attending Lady Matlock's party could not keep them. They had obligations to their estate, and they wanted to get little Robert out of the city air.

The event also marked the public debut of young Samuel Newfield. Kitty had been churched and was now making her way back into society. Her sisters and aunt had been with her at the birth and visited frequently afterwards, but the gentlemen, aside from Henry, had not been introduced to the child. Darcy would never have guessed that this pleasant, intelligent young woman was the same girl he had last seen careening wildly about the ballroom at Netherfield.

He was standing on the terrace with the other men, ostensibly listening to Henry Newfield describe his latest trial. His eyes were on Elizabeth. She was standing in the garden with her sisters, holding the tiny baby in her arms, cooing softly and swaying gently back and forth as the other children ran and played near them.

It struck him then. Elizabeth had been married almost two years yet had no child of her own. He watched her hold the baby as the other children frolicked around her, calling her name. "Aunt Lizzy, Aunt Lizzy, look at me! Look what I can do!" they called. "Cousin Lizzy, watch this!"

She was their beloved aunt and cousin, obviously wonderful with children. What if she is barren? He wondered whether her childlessness was a great sorrow for her. Elizabeth had great depth of feeling, he knew, but she did not put her emotions on display. Neither of them performed to strangers. He himself might mourn the children they might not make together, but they could adopt children to raise, and Georgiana's son could inherit Pemberley. Nothing would keep him from taking her to wife.

Lady Matlock had created a party as extravagant and dazzling as any more formal ball Darcy had seen. Indeed, it was a ball in exquisite miniature, with a smaller guest list and a shorter duration. Besides Mr and Mrs Gardiner and the Magnussens, there were perhaps twenty or so couples. A few of Lord Matlock's political colleagues had stayed to attend, but most had hurried home to their families and estates. It had been a long session, and they could not get out of the city fast enough. Darcy felt much the same; he ached for the rolling peaks of Derbyshire, but he would not leave town without Elizabeth.

He hovered near the receiving line, eager to see her. She entered the house on her uncle's arm, Mrs Gardiner on his other. She was wearing a russet silk gown that shimmered into copper wherever it caught the light. It brought out the auburn highlights in her hair and the amber and gold flecks in her dark eyes. It was also more revealing than any other gown he had seen her wear.

He took a sharp breath. Lord, she was beautiful. He made to step towards her when a hand on his shoulder stopped him short.

"Down, boy," said his cousin.

"You have never been more annoying than you are at this moment," grumbled Darcy.

"Lucy and I merely want an introduction to Mrs Bancroft," his cousin retorted, "before you take her away to some dark corner and keep her to yourself."

"If you promise not to monopolise her," Darcy admonished. "That is my privilege."

He was not surprised when Elizabeth took to Fitzwilliam and Lucy as if she were meeting old friends. Their style of conversation was similar: intelligent, sparkling, with a bit of raillery just bordering on the undignified. His impatience grew as the Magnussens, followed by the Langleys, joined their conversation. At last, he heard the musicians strike up an introduction to the first set.

"I believe this set is ours, Elizabeth," he said, tucking her hand in his arm and leading her to the floor. "Let us take our places."

They had little conversation; indeed, they did not need any. They danced through the steps as if they danced every day, their eyes on each other, their hands clasping and unclasping, aware only of each other, ignoring others in the dance. But was not incivility the very essence of love?

Soon enough, Darcy was watching Elizabeth dance with Fitzwilliam, then Mr Gardiner, then, to his surprise, Lord Matlock. His uncle rarely danced. The earl's attention to Elizabeth told society that she had the imprimatur of the Fitzwilliam family. Sir Alexander danced with her as Darcy danced with Lady Magnussen, then they switched partners for the supper set and all went into the dining room together.

"I must claim another dance with you tonight, Elizabeth, since my aunt has put the waltz off until after supper. It will be the final dance of the evening."

"Three dances, Darcy! Whatever will people say?" She laughed.

"Does that matter?" he asked as he set a glass of Champagne before her.

Darcy marvelled at the ease he felt. He wished every ball was like this. Perhaps in future, with Elizabeth by his side, they would be. He came to a decision. He would ask Elizabeth for her hand that very night, while they danced the waltz.

The music began soon after they returned to the drawing room. From the instant he turned to her and held out his hand, from the moment she met his eye, took his hand, and smiled, they seemed enveloped in a world of their own. He saw and heard no others, even though they were surrounded by other dancers. He only saw Elizabeth and heard the music. And this time, there were real violins.

Soon, every guest was dancing; dancing their joy in their partner, their delight in the music, and some their relief at being finally able to go home to their cool, verdant estates.

Darcy manoeuvred them to the edge of the room, near the windows. He was silent, searching for the words he needed. How could he express how he felt? He took a breath. "Elizabeth, I fell in love with you almost six years ago. Since then, I have changed profoundly, but my affections and wishes have not." He pulled her closer, and they stopped dancing. "Would you do me the honour, the great joy of giving me your hand in marriage?"

Elizabeth gazed up at him as her smile grew wider and wider. "I will. I will marry you, and I will bore you ceaselessly by repeating how ardently I admire and love you."

"What a great trial that will be. I take it all back."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, wonderful. Now you develop a sense of humour."

They were laughing when screams rent the air, and the music came to a ragged stop. Darcy quickly turned to see what had happened only to see the other guests staring at the window behind them.

There was a man standing up against the window, his fists against the glass, his face contorted with rage. Elizabeth gasped and stepped back, just as Darcy stepped in front of her. Lord Matlock shoved his way forwards, shouting for footmen to catch the intruder. Almost as one, the men in the room surged forwards, but it was too late. The invader vanished into the darkness.

Darcy hurried back to Elizabeth, who seemed frozen in place, her face suddenly pale and drawn. "It was he," she said, pointing a slightly trembling finger to the window. "That was the man who was following me."

Admiral Langley came towards them as she was speaking. "That man," he said, "was Roger Maltravers."