For Darcy, entering the spacious and lofty room lit to dazzling proportions by a staggering number of chandeliers and candles brought back painful memories. He glanced about at the crush of young men and women, all in attire richly adorned and fashioned to display their attributes, noting the fathers and mothers and other chaperones peering speculatively at each person of the opposite sex than their ward, and silently sent a prayer heavenward that he had been so blessed to find his Elizabeth.
Georgiana, on the other hand, noted the plush sofas lining the four walls, the profusion of finely dressed handsome men and beautiful women already engaged in gay conversation, the enormous roped-off area for dancing, the soberly uniformed musicians tuning their instruments, and the raised dais upon which the seven Lady Patronesses held court, and her heart soared.
They wove through the tight press nearest the door, but managed less than ten feet into the room before Miss Darcy was hailed by a group of friends. She squeezed Darcy’s arm, gazing upward for permission, and at his stiff nod she was gone.
The night passed in a blur for Georgiana. She danced almost every dance and rarely sat down. The introductions to dozens upon dozens of highly eligible bachelors were impossible to remember, and she honestly did not care. She wanted to have fun, leaving thoughts of matrimony or falling in love for another day.
Of course, Darcy did not fully believe this, despite his wife’s assurances, and he certainly did not trust the slathering hounds persistently dogging his baby sister’s steps with eyes far too bold for his comfort. Five in the morning could not arrive swiftly enough for him!
Georgiana hardly noticed her brother at first, almost forgetting he was there. However, after hours of his stern mien bordering on a scowl with piercing eyes that marked every move she made, his towering attendance hinging on menace in close proximity to wherever she moved within the enormous hall, and his curt retorts to any comments directed his way by anyone of the male sex, she began to seriously yearn for her uncle or cousin! Thankfully, they were all too happy to accompany her for the remaining Wednesdays until they departed in June.
The Season passed without a single offer of marriage made, although that was clearly not due to a lack of interested suitors. Georgiana embraced the lively diversions of dancing and conversation with far greater ease than anyone in her family would have expected, but her characteristic shyness and reticence nonetheless set her apart from the majority of the flirty, bold females, and kept the randy, rambunctious bachelors from pursuing too vigorously. Of course the image of her frightening brother and his surly reputation may have contributed! Whatever the case, she remained unbetrothed and had a marvelous time. Her step along the pathway of affability and confidence furthered considerably, but none of the gentlemen touched her heart specifically.
Darcy’s relief was monumental. When the final Almack’s Assembly was held and his sister arrived home safely, he physically sensed a cord of coiled tension loosen in his body. Lizzy stood nearby as Georgiana raved on innocently with one eye on her sister and the other on her husband, the tender but humorous smile conveying unmistakably that she knew precisely what he was feeling.
Chapter Thirteen
A Ball at Grosvenor Square
The Matlock carriage slowly rolled through the crowded streets toward the grand Theatre Royal of Drury Lane. It was a spacious carriage, opulent and sturdy, but the five grown occupants in their finery were definitely beginning to feel the effects of close quarters on this sultry evening in late May. The fact that there was nary a hint of breeze added to the discomfort.
“I daresay we could walk to the theatre from here and arrive sooner!” Priscilla Fitzwilliam declared, fan waving steadily.
“The streets of London do seem to congest further with each passing year.” Lord Matlock’s baritone soothed the sharp ring left by the voice of his daughter-in-law. “Not to mention that Spohr’s Faust is a special event drawing large crowds. I am curious to see his interpretation of the classic tale.”
“As am I,” Lady Matlock agreed. “The reports are that it is quite fantastic. A departure from the more familiar Goethe rendering, so I am told.”
“I simply adore romantic operas!” Priscilla gushed. “I suppose it is therefore worth this infernal heat and delay. I only pray my curls remain intact.” She patted the springy clump of hair strategically escaping from the feathered turban, looking to her husband for verification.
Jonathan, however, was staring at his brother with an amused smirk on his handsome face, noting the involuntary wince even though Richard’s attention appeared to be fixed on the passing architecture. “Frankly, all I can dwell upon at the moment is why my brother, who barely tolerates opera in general and abhors German compositions, would insist on accompanying us at all!”
“Do not tease Richard so, Jonathan! I am sure he has his reasons.” Lady Matlock leaned over to pat her youngest son’s knee.
“I may have no great love for the romantic babblings of the German composers, Jonathan, but I can appreciate opera in a general sense. I am quite fond of Mozart, as you know, since I attended several performances with you and Priscilla over the years.”
“Indeed, but Mozart is in a class by himself.” Jonathan continued to gaze speculatively at Richard, who ignored him altogether while peering out the window. “You do not even speak German.”
“Neither do you very well, yet here you are,” Lord Matlock interjected. “It is all about appearances, son.”
Lady Matlock laughed. “Perhaps for you, my dear, but some of us do actually enjoy the music and story.”
“You speak fluent German, madam, which shall add to the spectacle. I, however, shall be employing all my vast resources of strength to avoid falling asleep and making a fool of myself before all of London society!”
“Do not fear, husband. I shall pinch you if necessary.”
“Will you pinch Richard as well, Mother? He will surely require your assistance.”
“I suddenly feel as if twenty years has been peeled away and I am again forced to play moderator to my two squabbling boys!”
They all laughed, even a nervous Richard pulling his attention from inner musings to the chatter of his family as they clattered ever so slowly toward the theatre.
The milling crowds along Russell and Catherine Streets were thick, necessitating the driver to halt nearly on the walkway opposite the main entrance. Richard’s eyes scanned the press of brightly bejeweled bodies glittering in the glare of gaslight, as always when he searched for Darcy, looking for that one head which seemed to rise above all others. It was Dr. Darcy he found first, momentarily thinking it his cousin until he noted the toothy grin and bellowing laugh almost audible over the cacophony from where he stood yards away. Richard shook his head with a smile and resumed his quest, easily spying Darcy seconds later, where he stood tall and silent behind Elizabeth on the walkway by the right hand corner of the building.
Leaving his parents and illustrious brother to greetings from the gathering luminaries, Colonel Fitzwilliam eased to where Darcy stood, pulling him a pace away. With no preamble, he asked in a hushed whisper, “Anything yet? Have you seen her?”
“Good evening to you as well, Colonel. Beautiful night for the opera, do you agree?”