Miss Amy Hughes spoke for the first time, stunning them all when she proclaimed, “I have met her.”
“Miss Amy! How dare you keep such juicy information from us!” chastised Miss Laura. “Pray tell us.”
Miss Hughes blushed. As the youngest of the group, just eighteen and out in society only this past year, she was more reserved. “It was in Madame du Loire’s salon a few weeks ago. I was there for my fitting. Mr. Darcy escorted Mrs. Darcy in and then left while she shopped.” Her blush deepened and she leaned forward, whispering, “He actually kissed her when he left!” This time their gasps were sincere and, if they had been so bold as to admit it, stemmed primarily from jealousy.
“Did you speak with her?” Miss Stanhope asked, all listening with rapt suspense.
“Yes. We were there for over an hour. She was delightful. Witty, charming, and beautiful.”
Miss Mills interrupted with the declaration that the Vernors had arrived. Sir Cole at that moment was greeting Mr. Vernor and his wife, Bertha with her brother and sister-in-law next in line. Lord and Lady Matlock were approaching as well. Out in the drive a long line of carriages slowly edged forward, the Darcy carriage among them. By the time the Darcys alighted, the young women had welcomed Miss Bertha, avoiding any further mention of Mr. Darcy, while maintaining their surveillance.
Lizzy had vanquished her trepidations. Her delight in the atmosphere surrounding the festively decorated home, zeal to dance with her husband, eagerness to become acquainted with the other young married women of Derbyshire, and general encompassing bliss had successfully enthused her. The usually stoic and uncomfortable Mr. Darcy discovered that, for the very first time in his entire life, he actually anticipated a ball. It was therefore with boundless pride and a beaming smile that Mr. Darcy entered the grandly embellished foyer of Melcourt Hall with his radiant bride on his arm.
A mild hush fell over the room as nearly every eye in the place fell on the couple, both of them well aware of the scrutiny. Darcy paused theatrically, delighting in the attention for indubitably the only occasion in memory and probably the last. The caesura spanned mere seconds, but the desired effect was obtained. Within minutes the word raced through the manor that the Darcys had arrived.
Sir Cole welcomed the young couple effusively, Lizzy charming him instantly. Lord and Lady Matlock hovered nearby and greeted Lizzy warmly, further causing a stir. If the redoubtable Matlocks so approved of the new Mrs. Darcy, then the rumors of her inappropriateness that had spread throughout the region surely were ungrounded.
“Elizabeth dear, you are breathtaking,” Lady Matlock pronounced with a kiss to Lizzy’s cheek. “Nephew, allow me the honor of introducing Mrs. Darcy to the Vernors. Mr. Vernor, Mrs. Vernor, my niece Mrs. Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy, it is a delight to see you again,” Mr. Vernor bowed. “I do trust your first month at Pemberley has been pleasant?”
“Immensely so, Mr. Vernor, thank you for inquiring. Mrs. Vernor, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Darcy had greeted Gerald with enthusiasm and turned to his wife. “My dear, this is Gerald Vernor, an old friend, although he did tergiversate and attend Oxford. Mr. Vernor, my wife, Elizabeth Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy, it is a joy to meet the woman who captured my wayward friend’s heart.” Lizzy laughed and curtseyed, sensing immediately the same open amiability in the son as in the father. He lightly touched his wife’s elbow, “My wife Harriet Vernor.”
Harriet Vernor was a tall woman, slim but slightly mannish in her build, with an unattractive horsy face but yet startling green eyes. As soon as she spoke, however, her homeliness faded. Her voice was dulcet and rich, and she spoke with an easy humor and pithy wit. Lizzy liked her instantly, and the two fell into an effortless conversation as the group moved into the main hall.
The following forty-five or so minutes were expended in a flurry of introductions, as seemingly the entire population of Derbyshire drifted toward the Darcys. The Matlocks remained near, lending nonverbal support to their niece, while Darcy, although remarkably more extroverted than usual, nonetheless cut an imposing figure. Few were brave enough to cross the formidable Mr. Darcy.
In general, the inhabitants were gracious and welcoming, willing, apparently, to delay a hasty judgment regarding the new Mrs. Darcy. The thinly veiled insults and condescending glances were rare and met with the glare and particular set to the jaw displaying annoyance from Mr. Darcy, which none wanted directed their way. Harriet amused Lizzy with a running acerbic commentary whispered in her ear. By the time the strains from the orchestra commenced, Lizzy’s mind was a muddle of names. Therefore, she was ecstatic to have her handsome husband claim her for the first set. She had promised Lord Matlock the second set and Mr. Vernor the third, but the remainder were all for Darcy.
The orchestra chose a moderate minuet to warm up the crowd, followed by a lively cotillion. Lizzy and Darcy had a marvelous time. The opportunity to completely erase the unpleasant aspects attached to the memory of their disastrous encounter at the Netherfield Ball was crucial. Neither of them could now deny the attraction they had felt even then, nor did they wish to. Yet for months afterwards Darcy had tried to blot her from his mind, and Lizzy had refused to even entertain the notion of enchantment with Mr. Darcy.
Tonight they allowed their love and mutual enthrallment to wash over them. Lizzy noted that indeed Darcy was an excellent dancer! So tall and elegant and graceful, every touch of his hand piercing through her gloves, the intoxicating whiff of his cologne as he glided near, intense gaze boring into her, the tiny lift to his lips now recognizable as humor and veneration, and the soothing timbre of his voice as he prattled nonsensically each time they passed all combined to far surpass any dancing experience of her life.
“I love this dance,” he began.
Lizzy smiled. “Indeed, most invigorating.”
“So many couples.”
“It is an accommodating room.”
“Pemberley’s ballroom is larger, however.”
“Do you intend to talk all through the dance, Mr. Darcy?”
“I have been advised it is proper etiquette to do so… Do you not agree, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Only if one’s partner is worth conversing with.”
“I see… am I classified as worthy or unworthy?”
“I believe I need more evidence to judge… pray continue, Mr. Darcy.”
On and on it went, Darcy never losing his train of inane babble, even when parted for a turn with the next lady in line. Lizzy watched him from the corner of her eye, frequently making contact with his gaze, as they moved through the set. He spoke little to anyone else, except for one young woman approximately Lizzy’s age whom he greeted with a soft smile. She, oddly, was a deep shade of pink and decidedly uncomfortable, puzzling Darcy.
“Who is the young lady in yellow?” Lizzy asked when again engaged with her husband.
“Miss Bertha Vernor, Gerald’s sister,” he replied softly with an edge of bafflement in his voice.
“You unnerved her, it appeared.”
“I cannot imagine how… I have known her all her life… she is like a sister to me.”
Lizzy laughed, “My love, you are impossibly obtuse!”
“I beg your pardon, Madame!”
“I can almost guarantee she does not see you as a brother.” Darcy’s confusion increased for a full minute before he finally grasped her implication, after which he blushed profusely, covering his discomfiture with the Darcy scowl. The dance ended with Lizzy’s tinkling laugh as she took his arm and steered him to the bowl of wassail.
The next sets were the shorter quadrilles. Lizzy danced the initial two parts with Lord Matlock while Darcy squired his aunt. The Earl made few attempts at conversation, the fast pace and intricate steps of the dance demanding all his attention. Lady Matlock apparently was quite diverting, as Lizzy could see her husband struggling to remain reserved and focused. Lizzy danced the middle parts with Mr. Gerald Vernor, Darcy partnering Mrs. Vernor. Lizzy and Darcy finished the set together.