She held to Darcy’s forearm as they followed the line of people. He offered support and comfort merely by his steady confidence, but with each step, Lizzy felt her insides relaxing rather than tying up into the tighter knots that she had anticipated. Occasionally, there was a face she recognized, someone who would nod politely or utter brief words of conversation. Darcy, of course, knew everyone, and engaged in casual discourse as they ascended a stairway of tremendous elegance and entered the armory.
The walls of the ancient guardroom were lined with daggers, muskets, and swords. Lizzy’s fascination with history was piqued, her pace instinctively declining as she swiveled her head to inspect the collection of ancient weapons. She felt more than heard Darcy’s muted chuckle and gazed upward into his serious face. Only a hint of a smile appeared on his lips, but she noted the twinkle in his eyes and also knew why he was laughing at her. They were so akin, she and her spouse, both adoring the study of antiquities. She knew he experienced the same desire to pause and examine the specimens, but of course that was impossible. Here, the Yeoman of the Guard strategically stood to ensure the passageways were kept clear and the traffic flowing. Halting to study as if in a museum was out of the question.
The Tapestry Room was the next chamber. Here, they did stop, and Lizzy would have over an hour to inspect the beautiful weavings and relics of King Henry VIII. There was nothing to do but wait until called, the order according to rank. The windows were opened to the cooler air without, but the heat from the enormous chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling and candelabras blazing hundreds of candles added to the generated warmth of pressed bodies. Nevertheless, restrained conversation passed the time. The residuals of her nervousness dissipated as Lizzy noted two points that greatly eased her: the abundance of giddy, blushing, and clearly terrified young ladies who looked near to fainting and thus placed her minor nervousness into perspective; and the reemergence of her inborn spunkiness and wit as she chatted and bantered with the other guests.
Several times, she noted Darcy’s proud eyes upon her, his constancy and faith reassuring her further. By the time Georgiana’s name was called, Lizzy’s only discomfort came from the increasing pressure within her breasts from the need to nurse Alexander.
Georgiana was pale but composed while her dress was properly arranged by Lady Matlock, and she then began the solitary trek down the corridor to the drawing room Presence Chamber. Lady Matlock turned to Lizzy, smiling encouragingly as she silently straightened the flowing skirt and brushed over the fabric. Lizzy again sensed the strange detachment washing over her, her heart beating slightly faster than normal but otherwise her head clear. She did not glance at Darcy as she exited the Tapestry Room, preferring to focus on the next few minutes.
The corridor was short, covered with a rich red carpet runner that stifled any footfalls, reaching Lord Chamberlain just in time to witness Georgiana completing her perfect backward retreat with a final curtsy before turning gracefully and exiting the room. She looked at Lizzy and actually winked! Lizzy nearly burst into laughter but managed to restrain herself at the last moment. Yet something about seeing her shy sister being so impish in such a situation was the final blow to any shreds of nervousness that remained.
She lifted her chin and with a saucy smile handed the printed card with her name etched in fine script upon it to Lord Chamberlain. An assisting gentleman performed a final straighten to her train while in a loud, strong voice Lord Chamberlain declared, “Elizabeth Darcy, née Elizabeth Bennet, wife to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
Later, Lizzy would have the oddest recollections of the ethereal moment when she was presented to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent. She vividly remembered the crimson velvet and gold lace covered throne sitting upon the raised dais with a canopy of identical material surmounting. For all her life she would smell sweet violet and primrose and envision the bouquets artistically place about the throne room. She would retain only vague images of the numerous royal attendees and could not recall what His Highness wore, but she sharply saw the bright blue of his eyes that were similar to her husband’s and the faintly feminine mouth that lifted in a genuine smile.
He was rather ordinary in appearance, not handsome or remarkable, while also exuding a presence that was unlike anything she had ever experienced at the same time. There was power and majesty that rippled the air about him, an aura of ancient heritage and eminence that awed her. He did not seem as bored as she would have imagined he would be, the ceremony surely excruciatingly tedious from his perspective, and his eyes flickered with polite interest as he watched her execute the proper genuflection. Perhaps he hoped for at least one young lady to topple over, just to bring some excitement to the proceedings! Lizzy did wonder if this were the case as his eyes were distant when she rose, flickering briefly toward a small food-laden table set into an alcove across the room. He did not move a muscle, waiting with regal dignity as she played her part flawlessly, spoke the well-rehearsed words, curtsied to the other royalties flanking the throne, and then swept the train into her right hand as she initiated her smooth retreat.
All in all, the brief seconds before the Prince himself were rather anticlimactic. An attack of hysterical giggles threatened to overwhelm her as she glided back down the short corridor to the Tapestry Room. The sudden rush of relief was unparalleled, her body flushed and head swimming as she entered the room and instantly sought out Darcy. He stood where she had left him, talking with Lord Matlock and Lady Matlock, a ruddy-cheeked Georgiana holding onto his arm. His face was typically composed with only the tiniest of creases wrinkling his brow as indication of his emotions. The second he engaged her eyes he broke out in an atypical grin, his own relief as evident as the exalting pride which lifted his shoulders incrementally higher. He murmured a hasty pardon, crossing to Lizzy with such an expression of joy that for a moment she actually thought he would forget himself and pull her into his embrace. He did nothing of the sort, naturally, stopping short and fluidly raising her gloved fingers to his lips for a firm kiss.
“May we leave now, dearest? I failed to liven the atmosphere by tripping or losing my cap when I bowed, but I may soon incite scandal by leaking all over this ridiculous gown.”
Darcy coughed a laugh, grinning sidelong as he offered his arm. “Indeed, let me take my two favorite women home. I have cause to celebrate and I do intend to, especially after the guests depart,” he finished in a low voice, his meaning unmistakable. It would not be until the night was long over, warm and satiated in bed with Elizabeth pliantly draped over his body, that it would occur to him that for the first time ever, he had not been self-conscious and flustered while at Court.
Chapter Twelve
Georgiana Darcy, Debutante
Darcy’s second season in London as a married man with a glorious wife and perfect son proved to be a joyous relief from the agonizing years of his bachelorhood and worries of Elizabeth’s health that had plagued their first sojourn in Town, but a fresh misery was there as he embarked on the demanding task of chaperoning his debuting sister.