by Jann Rowland
A glance to the side revealed the haughty person of Lady Eugenie Clark, with Miss Yates by her side. While the lady appeared as she had the first occasion Elizabeth had seen them—which had been unchanged in each subsequent instance—Miss Yates was altered. Gone was the insipid disinterest, the reliance on her aunt’s ability to speak for her, and instead her expression showed cold fury.
“This is what we must expect, I suppose,” said the girl, in an affected tone, yet one lacking any strength of character. “When one invites the lower classes to mingle with them, one cannot be surprised when they attempt to usurp the position held by their rightful betters.”
Elizabeth declined to speak to them, instead turning her attention back to the dance. It appeared Lady Eugenie was not about to allow herself to be so summarily dismissed.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” asked the woman, her voice shrill and displeased.
“I apologize, Madam,” said Elizabeth, “but we have not been introduced.”
“Do not feign misunderstanding,” snapped Lady Eugenie. “I am well aware Lady Anne has informed you of my identity.”
“Perhaps she has,” replied Elizabeth, “but that does not change the fact that we are not acquainted. Perhaps you should apply to Lady Anne if you wish to speak with me, for I am not in the habit of giving consequence to those ladies who will not even show the good manners of requesting an introduction.”
“I have no need to know you!” spat Lady Eugenie, while at the same time Miss Yates gasped and exclaimed: “Such insolence!”
Lady Eugenie shot her niece a quelling look which cowed the girl, though her baleful glare never waned. Her niece silenced, Lady Eugenie’s malevolence once again found Elizabeth.
“Perhaps you do not know who I am, or it may be your witlessness has led you to misunderstand what it means to be in company with those who are your betters.”
“Or perhaps you have confronted me with the purpose of trying to intimidate me,” replied Elizabeth. “I know exactly who you are and what power you hold—should I be blamed for refusing to allow you to intimidate me? It would be best if you simply leave me be, for I am a guest in this house, which is, I am certain you must remember, the home of an earl.”
At that moment behind Lady Eugenie, Elizabeth could see Lady Anne approaching with Lady Susan and had no illusions about how they would see this jumped up woman attempting to browbeat her. Lady Eugenie, however, did not take the warning she imparted.
“I shall see you ruined if you persist in speaking to me in such a manner!”
“As always,” said Lady Susan when she had come close enough to overhear, “your opinion of your own power far exceeds the reality.”
Startled by the sudden words, both of Elizabeth’s tormentors jumped and whirled to see the sisters looking on them with no hint of friendliness in their countenances. Had Lady Eugenie been as haughty and confident as she attempted to appear, the sudden pallor would not have fallen over her, pale skin akin to the color of a sheet. The woman continued to sneer, but it was clear to all present it was nothing but bluster.
“No one will be ruined, Lady Eugenie,” continued Lady Susan while the baroness was engaged in trying to recall her wits. “If, however, you mean to persist in accosting my guests, perhaps we shall see what stories those of society will invent when your ejection from my home is known to society.”
For a moment the ladies stood and stared at each other, the baroness attempting to discover the resolve of the other two women. After a moment of this, Lady Eugenie seemed to come to the correct conclusion, for she turned to address her niece.
“Come, Clara,” said the woman, “let us depart. It is clear there is nothing for us here.”
“But Aunt,” the whining voice of the younger woman floated back to them, “she is not good enough to marry Mr. Darcy. He was to be mine!”
The two women moved far enough away that they could be heard no longer, leaving Elizabeth to laugh, in which Lady Anne and Lady Susan joined with a will. For a moment, none of them could say anything for their hilarity.
“Perhaps we should allow her to have a go at William,” said Lady Susan. “It would be amusing if nothing else.”
Lady Anne huffed, her amusement forgotten in the face of affront. “To think that woman was filling her insipid niece with the notion of marrying my son! William would never even look at the likes of her.’
Though it was clear she agreed, Lady Susan shook her head in disgust and turned to Elizabeth. “I hope those two harpies were not distressing you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “I knew their insults would be ineffectual.”
“That is a good word to describe them,” said Lady Anne. The woman smiled and put a hand on Elizabeth’s back. “It is unfortunate, but I doubt they will be the last. Should you have any trouble with any other ladies tonight, or any other night, be certain to come to Susan or me. We shall set them to rights.”
“Do you not know?” asked Elizabeth, affecting a haughtiness similar to Lady Eugenie’s. “My courage rises at any attempt to intimidate me and shall not be taken away by the likes of those two colorless women.”
The ladies again laughed. “That is well, for I believe you will require that fortitude in the coming days.”
Well did Elizabeth know it. Though many had been welcoming of the Bennet sisters, there were many more she could not trust to behave with the same degree of kindness. But Elizabeth would not concern herself. She knew the extent of her mettle.
As the strains of the supper set floated over the company, Lady Anne was given all the satisfaction of watching her son dance with the young lady she was certain he would marry. It had been difficult, for William had made it so, and at times Elizabeth was not any better. But it had all worked out. Catherine’s ruffled feathers would take some time to smooth, but in the end, Anne was certain she would understand the benefits of Anthony for her daughter and accept that which she could not change.
“What a good night this has become!” said Georgiana from her side. “After Elizabeth informed us of William’s actions in Hertfordshire, I had not thought to see this happy ending!”
“And yet, Elizabeth is forgiving, and not so unaffected by him as she might have liked to assert,” replied Anne.
The pair passed close by to where they were standing, and Anne grinned at Elizabeth as she glided past. Elizabeth’s cheeks pinked a little, though it was clear she was enjoying herself and happy. Perhaps the young woman could not state with a certainty she loved William, but Anne knew the feeling was there, simmering under the surface.
“Anne and Anthony appear happy too,” observed Georgiana, drawing Anne’s attention to the other couple further down the line.
“Our efforts were for her benefit as well,” said Anne. “Though I do not think either would have been unhappy, I foresee a future in which she, too, obtains her heart’s desire.”
“Then we did well,” replied Georgiana. Then she turned a mock glare on her mother. “However, I would beg you not to obtain a taste for matchmaking, Mother. I believe I can find my own partner well enough without assistance.”
Anne laughed and drew Georgiana close. “As long as you find a man with whom you are well suited and can be happy, you may be assured of my support, dearest. If you choose awry, then you can expect my interference.”
Though Georgiana glowered a little at that, Anne’s grin did not dim a jot, and soon her daughter was laughing along with her. They turned to their watching of the couples, only a few words passing between them as they watched.
Georgiana was correct. Anne decided; they had well done. Who would ever have thought they would find the perfect woman for William in the wilds of Hertfordshire, far from the center of society? And yet they had, and Anne could only be grateful for it. There was work to do in the future, but for now, she allowed herself to bask in the success of seeing to her son’s happiness. And she knew he would be very happy, indeed.
Epil
ogue
Pemberley was everything her new family had told her it was. The peaks in the distance, the long valley in which it stood, offering a myriad of paths for Elizabeth to explore, the proximity to the quaint market town of Lambton—all these factors were highly in favor of a place which had become Elizabeth’s favorite place on earth. And in it, she found a home, a loving husband, a mother who supported and helped her, and a sister who was as dear to her as the sisters of her birth.
Georgiana was no longer at Pemberley, having met and married a young man of considerable fortune the previous season. Though it had been difficult to see her leave for her new home, Elizabeth knew she was happy, and took comfort in that knowledge. William had found it even harder to endure, for what man thinks any man is good enough for his baby sister? With Elizabeth and his mother standing united in their support of Georgiana, he had given way—not that there had been any question of his capitulation—but Elizabeth had seen his pensive mood on more than one occasion during his sister’s courtship.
“Elizabeth!” exclaimed a voice as she entered the house from the back gardens.
With a smile, she handed her bonnet and pelisse to a waiting maid and looked up to see her husband striding toward her. The pensiveness she had noted during Georgiana’s courtship was long gone, and in its place was vexation. Elizabeth could not blame him, for exasperation often seemed her constant companion these days.
“Yes, William?” asked Elizabeth, reaching out to accept his hand, allowing him to draw her close. “Has Cassandra escaped from the nursery again?”
A snort was William’s response. “Cassandra is with her governess at present, though I do not doubt she is testing her as we speak. If I had known what sort of children we would produce, I might have thought twice before offering for you.”
It was a well-worn jest, and Elizabeth laughed along with her husband. “Yes, perhaps you should have considered the matter more carefully. If you had asked my mother, she would have informed you of what kind of a child I was.”
“Do you think she would have?” asked William. “Surely she would have avoided any subject which would have put her daughters in anything but the best possible light.”
“Ah, but my mother thought it was charming. Or, at least she thought so in hindsight, for I can well remember infuriating her as a child.”
William offered his arm, and they turned and moved further into the house. “Alas, I doubt it would have changed anything, for I was much too in love with you to consider any impediments.”
A smile was Elizabeth’s response and she looked up at her husband with devotion. Though most of society would not credit it, the man was loving in private, though he kept his mask on in public where others could see. Elizabeth could not imagine feeling more cherished if she had married the most demonstrative man in the world. They had their share of arguments, but they had promised early in their relationship never to say anything to hurt the other, and to ask for clarification instead of wallowing in misunderstanding. Thus far it had worked for them, as their marriage was as loving now, three years after their wedding, as it had been when they said their vows.
“At present, Cassandra is perfectly behaved,” said Darcy. He showed her a grin and added: “I suspect, however, she will not be for long, for that look of mischief is alive in her eyes. No, at present I am vexed with your youngest sister.”
Elizabeth sighed and they shared a commiserating glance. It had been a surprise when Lady Anne had proposed to take her family in hand and teach them proper manners soon after Elizabeth and Darcy had returned from their wedding trip. Elizabeth had not been eager to hand them off to her, for it was not her responsibility to see to the Bennet family. But the lady had won them over with good sense arguments and eagerness to be of use.
“As you know,” said she when Elizabeth protested, “your family is part of who you are, Elizabeth. As it stands at present, your younger sisters can never be seen in society, and if some of those who wish for mischief seek them out, tales of their behavior could spread throughout London quickly. It is not my purpose to cast shade on them, but it would be best if they were in society, showing all and sundry you have nothing to hide.”
When Elizabeth looked on her with skepticism, Lady Anne had laughed and patted her shoulder. “Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth. I do not think it will be as difficult as you believe. If they give me difficulty, I can count on Susan’s help, for she and Hugh will not wish your family to be a detriment, if they cannot be a credit.
So, Lady Anne had, one by one, taken her family into her protection and taught them how to behave. To Elizabeth’s great surprise, Mrs. Bennet’s reformation had been easily accomplished, for her mother was so in awe of Lady Anne that she did as she was asked without question. That was not to say that Mrs. Bennet had changed to the extent that she was an informed and rational woman— she remained flighty, though her nerves were a thing of the past. But she now knew to hold her tongue in company, for Lady Anne had explained to her at some length how her words could be perceived.
“You have taken away my source of amusement, Lizzy,” her father had commented on one occasion. “Your mother is now so well behaved that there is little at which to laugh.”
Such words had struck Elizabeth as rather improper, and she replied, saying: “Would you prefer the return of the woman who embarrasses you at every turn?”
“Mrs. Bennet rarely embarrassed me,” was her father’s irreverent reply. “I had rather grown inured to her ways.”
“All jesting aside,” Mr. Bennet hastened to say when he saw Elizabeth’s annoyance, “she is rather more tolerable to live with. Though I suppose I could take offense that your mother-in-law is doing what I could not, I shall be philosophical and appreciate her efforts instead.”
Then whistling a jaunty tune, Mr. Bennet strode away toward the library. He was rarely removed from its confines when in residence at Pemberley, and more than once Elizabeth had caught William in there with him, avoiding the chaos the rest of her family sometimes caused. She supposed she could not be angry with him, for she knew he loved her despite her improper family.
With Mrs. Bennet’s improvement, the rest of the girls should have been easy. Mary was no trouble, for she only needed a little guidance. By the time Elizabeth returned home from London, the changes in Mary had already been striking, for her father’s attention and tutelage had taught her there was more to life than Fordyce, and as she was intelligent, her insights into the works Mr. Bennet had coaxed her to read were well considered and enjoyable. When she had been introduced to one of William’s friends the year after Elizabeth’s own season with Lady Anne, the man had been so taken by her that he had asked for a courtship within weeks of making her acquaintance.
“Well, that is a surprise,” William had said upon hearing the news.
“Why so?” asked Elizabeth, curious as to his meaning. She knew he was not slighting Mary, for he had long found her the most tolerable of her sisters other than Jane,
“The night of our argument with Lady Catherine, Hardwick sought my promise to introduce him to your sisters. I agreed, but never thought he would marry one.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It seems we Bennet girls are irresistible to men of society.”
“Perhaps you are, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy catching her in his arms and silencing her with a kiss which made her breathless.
By contrast, Kitty had been only a little difficult. Kitty was not so ungovernable as Lydia and being removed from her sister’s influence had done wonders for her temper. She had come out the year after Mary, meaning the coming season would be her second. Though she had no firm suitors during her season, she had informed Elizabeth that she was content for it to be that way, for she did not feel she was ready for marriage. Between Kitty and Georgiana, a firm friendship had been established—Kitty was visiting Georgiana’s home at present and would meet them again when they descended on London for the season.
That left the final Bennet sister . .
. . Elizabeth and Darcy’s steps had led them to the music room, and Elizabeth could hear the discordant sound of the pianoforte being played very ill flowing from the room. At the same time, a bevy of complaints reached her ears from the girl who sat at the instrument. Sharing a grin with William—though his was more akin to a grimace—Elizabeth pushed open the door and entered the room.
“Lizzy!” exclaimed Lydia as soon as she caught sight of them. “I cannot imagine how you endured these lessons, for I have done nothing I hated more in the entirety of my life!”
“In fact,” said Lady Anne before Elizabeth could respond, “if you had only a little more patience, you would do very well. I dare say you have almost as much talent as your elder sisters. It is your application of that talent which is an issue.”
“I do not understand why I must learn to play anyway,” groused Lydia. “It is not as if I am fit to be heard by anyone other than family.”
Though Elizabeth had witnessed her mother-in-law losing her temper with the final Bennet daughter more than the other two combined, in this instance she remained calm. “No, I dare say you will not play in company at all after your coming out. It will take more practice before you are fit to do so.”
“Lizzy,” said Lydia, her voice nothing less than a whine. “Why must I do such silly exercises when they do me no good at all? I want to go to London and dance at parties and balls and see and be seen. This is all nonsense—I have been out in society for more than three years.”
“Perhaps you would prefer to wait another year for your coming out?” asked Mrs. Bennet, who sat near to Lady Anne. “It would be no trouble to delay your coming out until you are nineteen and better qualified to control your outbursts.”
Lydia cast a resentful glare at her mother as she always did when Mrs. Bennet spoke to her in such a manner. The girl had not taken her mother’s defection well, for whereas Mrs. Bennet had indulged her in anything, her new outlook on life had made her determined her daughters would do her credit. At present, Mrs. Bennet was perhaps harsher with her daughter than the woman who was seeing to her education.