Sharon Lathan - In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

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. 

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.

The usual pressure of business matters left languishing for the bulk of the winter, with the residual effects of the Derby mill fire to contend with, kept him busy during the daylight hours. Long hours sequestered with Mr. Daniels, various conferences with purchasers of Pemberley’s products, meetings with Duke Grafton and his shipping partners, and sundry new endeavors to diversify and invest the Darcy wealth were a constant drain on his time. Of course, he loved the challenge and excitement of commerce in all its forms, so did not remotely think to bemoan the obligation. Social commitments were chosen wisely due to their infant son’s requirements. It was a valid excuse utilized by Darcy to refuse the bulk of offerings extended. Darcy would have been perfectly content to spend each and every night alone with his wife and son with only a handful of intimate gatherings to upset their isolation. His wife, not surprisingly, disagreed with this option, not only for her personal delight in socializing and theatrical entertainments, but also for her keen desire to advance her husband’s prestige. Darcy thought it was ridiculous, but Lizzy insisted, so short, well-planned excursions were frequent.

As the previous Season had proven, having a wife gracing his arm at the endless soirees and galas greatly eased his discomfort in social situations. For the most part Darcy discovered that he could enjoy the events to a degree, although it would be common to note him standing apart from the fray in silence or reserved conversation. As was typical from the time he first entered Society as a young man, he warred between a desire to escape to the serene confines of Derbyshire while simultaneously embracing pleasure in the pursuits he enjoyed that could only be found in London, and the diverse intellectual conversation amongst his peers. However, it was less of a struggle now, and he was again surprised to note the increased freedom and joy he felt in all aspects of his life.

In fact, it may have been close to perfection if not for Georgiana.

Oh, not Georgiana specifically, but the emotional trauma involved in her introduction to Society was enormous. Darcy would be forever grateful to Lady Matlock for her invaluable assistance, not certain he would have survived the process otherwise! In general Darcy was not the type of man, or guardian, who apportioned his responsibilities. However, as in the case of debuting at the Court of St. James, the influence and knowledge of Lady Matlock also proved instrumental in acquiring the necessary sponsorship for admission to Almack’s Social Club.

Acceptance by the Patronesses of Almack’s posed an entirely different set of hurdles.

James Darcy had submitted his son’s name for the Season following his eighteenth birthday. Darcy had pleaded with his father to spare him the trauma, but the elder Mr. Darcy was firm. His son would appear at Almack’s Club, the concept of rejection unfathomable. Besides, where else would he find an appropriate marriage partner? Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to Pemberley and the Darcy fortune, was not rejected, and dutifully attended dozens of assemblies over the years, maintaining his yearly subscription as expected. He enjoyed the balls at Almack’s as much as he did any others—that is to say not much—but he was wise enough to recognize the importance. In his ceaseless quest to discover the shadowy woman of his dreams, Almack’s was the logical place to triumph. Also, as the years unfolded, he came to realize that his participation and cultivation of a positive reputation would aid Georgiana’s inclusion when the time came. As much as he personally abhorred a large portion of the game, it was the way of his world.

One never knew the conversations that took place in the upper room where the seven Patronesses gathered to review each applicant. Why some were accepted and others not was often abundantly clear due to some glaring deficiency in the candidate or the family, but at times there seemed to be no logical reason. The power wielded by the Countess of Jersey, the Countess de Lieven, the Marchioness of Londonderry, Lady Cowper, Lady Sefton, the Austrian Princess Esterhazy, and the Baroness Willoughby de Eresby was absolute and irrefutable. Their good opinion once lost was indeed lost forever, and the shame was profound.

Thus it was with tremendous relief when, on the morning following the presentation at Court, the courier arrived to deliver the voucher printed with Georgiana’s name endorsed by the Countess de Lieven in her finely scrolled signature. Darcy held the ticket in his hand as he walked to the parlor where his sister and wife relaxed with Alexander, the initial flare of bursting pride steadily waning. Despite a previous vague fear that his sister may be rejected, it was now that his real apprehensions began.

Georgiana took one look at the paper in her brother’s hand and launched from her chair with a squeal of delight. Darcy suddenly felt bereft of air. She danced about the room gleefully, receiving hugs from Lizzy, while Darcy thought he might faint. Or cry. For the first time it truly penetrated his mind that his “baby” sister was a woman. It was quite probable that by the end of these months in Town, she could be betrothed and taken away from him.

Why it had never dawned on him in precisely this light, he could not say. But there it suddenly was, and he peered into her radiant face as she chatted exuberantly about dances and handsome suitors, seeing the child of his imagination no longer. His heart constricted with a piercing cold rushing through every cell of his body. Visions of the typical Almack’s atmosphere with the unwed of both sexes on the prowl, flirtation blatant and bold, declarations and proposals rampant, rapid courtship the motive, and plotted assignations common caused him to search for the nearest chair!

In her exuberance, Georgiana was oblivious to her brother’s distress. His wife noted his reaction and was amused, but also aching for what she knew was a difficult epiphany for the overly protective man.

“Talk to me, love,” she whispered to him later that afternoon when he joined her in their bedchamber for Alexander’s meal. The four-and-a half-month-old curled his fist around his father’s index finger, both hands lying atop the swell of breast currently providing the babe’s nourishment.

“Do you have any idea how foolish I feel? I have watched my sister mature with enormous pride these past few years, especially under your tutelage. I have plotted her entrance into Society with a precision Colonel Fitzwilliam would be hard pressed to match. I have even considered the appropriate qualifications for her future husband. Yet for all that, I did not envision her actually with a man.” He released a pained snort, shaking his head. “How pathetic is that? But I cannot deny that the image of my sister clasping onto the arm of some stranger is like a knife in my chest.”

“If it is any consolation, I honestly do not think this is a picture you will be forced to witness in the near future.”

“How can you be so sure? I hesitate to bring it up, but she has been known to fall in love, or what she thought was love, in a hasty manner.”

“You know even more than I that the circumstances surrounding Wickham were unique. It is unlikely that the adolescents or other gentlemen haunting Almack’s will be quite so devious.”

“Perhaps not in the same way or with the personal incentive, but my sister will be highly prized in the marriage market. Which, as much as I abhor the fact, is largely why Almack’s exists.”

Lizzy laughed, gazing into her husband’s worried eyes. “Oh really? Is that why you went? To seek out a prized bride?”

He grimaced, and then chuckled. “You know it was. What else would induce me to suffer the trauma of such a place? Alas, you were never there, so my agony was prolonged.”

“Poor Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, and do not forget it,” he said, leaning to place a soft nibble on her earlobe before straightening and resuming the gloomy topic. “I may have disdained the game, Elizabeth, but the reality is that every gentlemen and lady attends Almack’s not for the dancing. It is to flirt and size up whether a prospective partner is appropriate. Emotions are high with that kind of atmosphere. Desires are encouraged to run free. Everyone is gay and beautiful. It is easy to fall in love there.”