Teaching Eliza, page 13
Master Hughes offered himself up for the first set of practices. He was a wonderful dancer and with him leading her around the room, Lizzy felt the steps she had just learned become a natural response to the music. So confident was she that she could find no reason to object when Master Hughes suggested that Darcy now take his place, so he could stand back and observe.
But when the professor stepped close and carefully placed his hand between her shoulder blades, Lizzy felt the room begin to sway around her. The proximity of the professor’s body impinged on her senses so much more than had the dancing master’s. Was it Darcy’s height? She had not before realised quite how tall he stood, for now, so close to him, she noticed that her head reached only up to his shoulder, and she could not turn her face up sufficiently to meet his eye without feeling ridiculous. The breath caught in her throat and she might have stiffened briefly, for Darcy stepped back slightly to allow her more space, smirking as he did so. He did not allow his hand to fall from her back and silently offered his other for her to take.
“It is customary, Miss Bennet, for the lady to place her hand on the gentleman’s shoulder; however, you may also choose any comfortable place on his upper arm. Lovely!”
Somehow, Lizzy managed her way through the steps of the dance, moving her feet and arms, and pirouetting appropriately around the space in the music room, but her awareness was only on the man who moved with her. His presence was somehow overwhelming, eclipsing every other thing in the room. The touch of his hand now just above her waist, then shifting position to slide up her back, seared through her senses; his other hand, gloveless in the privacy of the house, cradling her own, felt like hot coals and frozen ice, all at once. These sensations had not happened when she danced with Master Hughes… why did the professor affect her so? It must be, she allowed, the threat of censure should she fail, but she could not ignore the very small voice that insisted that perhaps, just perhaps, she found his proximity too pleasant and alluring. No , she told the voice, that would never do . Their arrangement was one of business and they must, inevitably part ways at its conclusion; besides, she did not like the rude and overbearing man at all! And still she thrilled at the dance and let his careful touch burn her skin.
They stopped moving when the music ended, and Master Hughes made his accustomed coos and compliments, though his words were meaningless sounds to Lizzy’s ears. It was only when Professor Darcy turned to her and bowed, murmuring in a deep voice, “You dance beautifully,” that she returned to herself and, blushing deeply, answered suitably.
“Thank you, Professor. You are easy to follow. I could have danced all night.”
“Let Miss Bennet rest a moment,” the colonel called from the keyboard. “She is flushed, and must certainly wish to sit and take some water.” Relieved at the respite, Lizzy hurried to the side table where a pitcher and some glasses stood waiting, As she sipped thankfully, she glanced over to the professor, and was not certain whether she was pleased or bothered to see that he, too, looked affected by the dance. Fridays would be, she determined quite interesting indeed!
EIGHT — A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
~
AT LAST, AFTER SO MANY weeks of repeating vowels and enunciating consonants, practising phrase modulation and rehearsing conversations, Professor Darcy announced that it was time for Elizabeth to be set free into the society of Fashionable London, or at least, be allowed to venture ever-so-tentatively into it, on a very short leash. He had, he declared over luncheon one day before the Italian master arrived, arranged for Eliza and the colonel to take tea the next morning with none other than the Countess Malton.
Lizzy ought to have been confident and assured, and perhaps a few months prior, she would have been so, for the Lizzy of Longbourn had little notion of how inadequately she had been prepared to mingle with the highest ranks. That former Lizzy would have laced up her stays a small degree tighter and held her head high while striding forth to meet the countess, oblivious as to her inadequacies.
But the Lizzy of London was a different Lizzy: more accomplished, to be certain, and better spoken and well-drilled in the minutiae of socially acceptable comportment, but fully aware of what she still lacked. Knowing in theory how to hold a teacup differed so greatly from being presented with one in the company of nobility. Conversation with Darcy and the colonel, no matter how much they might correct her addresses and patterns of speech in the comfort of the familiar library, could not equal the necessity of performing those tasks exactly to perfection in the house of an earl! The colonel and Darcy had grown up in such company and thought little of it, but she, the Lizzy of London, had never been introduced to someone of such exalted rank, and she suddenly, and unaccountably, felt herself shrink from the challenge. Paling, she whispered, “A countess… oh no, sir! I am not ready. I still have so much to learn! I should embarrass you terribly, and I would never be able to redeem myself!”
But the colonel offered a warm, comforting smile, and added in his robust and cheerful voice, “Fear not, dear Eliza. Mother is a pet, and will adore you at once.”
“Mother?” She could hear surprise and confusion war in her voice.
“Did I not tell you, Eliza?” the professor quipped in his offhand manner. “The countess is Richard’s dear mama. She shall not bite. It is her at-home tomorrow, and she has graciously agreed to host us.”
“You might have told me, sir!” Lizzy had to hold onto the table before her, fearing she might swoon. Her face felt drained of all blood and her distress must be obvious, for the colonel called for a glass of water for her. Turning to him she stammered, “I had no notion. I have always only known you as Colonel Fitzwilliam. I did know your father is an earl, but had not heard the name… I…”
“No apologies necessary, Miss Eliza! This really has been a shock to you.”
“I know I am not ready. I might have believed, before I met you, that I was equal to all society, but being here in London and learning exactly how much I do not know has been most chastening. The pretty manners my mother taught me are fine enough for the country, or for my aunt and uncle’s good company at Gracechurch Street, but they will not nearly do before a countess, even though she be the good colonel’s mother!”
“Be easy, Eliza,” the colonel’s voice was reassuring. “Mother will be kind, and we shall arrive before any other company, so you may become comfortable in her presence. Shall we not, Darcy?” He fixed his eyes on his cousin. Darcy’s raised eyebrows and tilted head suggested that this was not something he had planned. He stepped out of the room for a moment, calling to Mrs. Pearce, presumably to arrange for an earlier first meeting.
“Really, Eliza, don’t fuss so!” he said as he walked back to his chair, throwing himself upon it in the utmost faith that it would not collapse beneath his assault. “Richard’s mother knows all about you and knows what to expect. You are, despite your atrocious accent and background, of a suitable station to take tea with her, especially considering your connection with the colonel and myself. Are you satisfied?” She nodded, although she was still apprehensive.
“Good then,” he asserted, sitting up properly for a moment, before leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, his elbows firmly planted on the tabletop. “Now, remind me what topics are safe for conversation. We have discussed this on several occasions.”
Her courage rising with the attempt to intimidate her, Lizzy felt herself grow equal to the occasion. She adopted a very serious expression, so false in its sincerity that the colonel had to suppress a most unmilitary snicker. “Until I am sufficiently immersed in the local society to know of the particular topics to pursue and to avoid, I am to keep to two subjects: the weather and everybody’s health. ‘Fine day, my lady. How do you do?’ Does that meet with your approval, Professor?”
“Yes, yes, very good. It won’t do to let yourself go on things in general. This will be safe.”
“Will that not restrict her too much, Darcy?”
“Oh, not at all, Richard. No one will want to hear her say much, anyway. Any of your mother’s guests will be only too happy to spend the time talking about themselves. All Eliza need do is smile and listen.”
Richard looked aggrieved, then nodded. “Sadly, there is some truth in that.”
The note Darcy had requested from Mrs. Pearce was written, sealed, and delivered by messenger to Lady Malton that very hour, and a favourable response was received. It was thus that Miss Elizabeth Bennet made her first foray into society the following day, attended by Professor Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, precisely one hour before the countess’ official visiting hours were to begin.
Darcy’s grand carriage stopped before the front entrance to the townhouse. The journey was only a few short blocks, a distance almost doubled from what a man could manage on foot due to a park between the houses, whose paths could be traversed by pedestrians. Darcy, however, had decided on taking the carriage. His decision was based partly on the wet and unsettled weather, which had been a frequent topic of conversation during his lessons each morning. Arriving in a carriage also gave greater consequence to the visit, as well as having the unintended result of adding to Lizzy’s feelings of inadequacy. Within moments of departing the mews behind Darcy House, they had arrived.
Lizzy stepped out of the carriage, assisted by Darcy, and stared at the edifice before her. A few short steps led to a large covered portico, above which massive towering Corinthian columns soared to the upper storeys of the house. A series of modest balconies with decorative iron balustrades adorned the facade of the second storey on either side of the columns, which themselves framed a larger central balcony. These must be the main bedrooms and private sitting room for the earl and countess. The third storey was plainer, with no balconies, although the decorative eye that had envisioned the lower levels of the house had insisted that the stone work remain pristine, allowing the columns to be perfect and impressive in relief. The house was a grand and beautiful thing, far too fine for a country girl of her background, and she began to shake as she stared up at its magnificence.
“Don’t be silly, Eliza. It is only a house,” Darcy sighed as she trembled against the elbow he had offered her. “You have been in my own home plenty of times and have never quaked like this before!”
“I have never entered through the front of your house, sir,” she managed to squeak out, “and your mews and back courtyard are no more intimidating than my uncle’s. But this…” she stared up in disbelief, “this is more than I had imagined.”
“Be brave, Miss Eliza,” the colonel comforted from her other side. “It is just a house, no matter how grand on the exterior, and Mother just a woman, like yourself.”
“Hardly!” she whispered, but drew strength from the man’s kind words and walked proudly up to the steps, a fine-looking gentleman on either side of her. Oh, if Lydia could see me now! she thought with smug humour, and a smile crept over her face.
At that moment, the door opened, and a formally dressed butler stepped forward to greet the arrivals. Lizzy felt a momentary gust of courage and she kept the smile where it was, hoping to act as if being ushered into an earl’s house were just part of her daily routine.
A large marble-floored entrance hall greeted her, adorned with columns that matched their Corinthian counterparts on the exterior. The walls were painted a soft eggshell white, which set off the gleaming marble, and a wide semi-circular staircase floated upwards to a balcony on the upper floor, off of which passageways led, presumably to the sitting rooms and main suite. Set into the walls on either side of this marvellous staircase were a series of doorways, through one of which the newcomers were ushered to divest themselves of their winter clothing. The butler and a waiting footman helped the guests with their outer garments and hats, and then led them down a short passageway to the drawing room that led off the main entrance hall.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, Professor Darcy, and Miss Bennet,” the butler declaimed, his voice firm and strong.
A tall, slim woman of about fifty-five years rose from her sofa and walked quickly across the richly carpeted floor. She clasped the colonel on either side of his face and kissed each cheek, in the fashion of the French. “Richard, darling, you have stayed away too long! What does it take to bring you home? Is Darcy’s house so much more to your liking than mine, dear?”
“It is, Mother, for Darcy’s house often enjoys the presence of Miss Bennet.”
All eyes now turned to Lizzy. Mrs. Pearce’s efforts with the mantua makers and hair designers had been more successful than anyone might have imagined. Lizzy was dressed exquisitely, with ideal degrees of finery and modesty. Her pale yellow silk dress floated over her figure and fell in perfect folds to the floor, where the tips of her matching shoes could just be seen below the ruffle of her petticoat. Tasteful amounts of lace ornamented her beautifully cut frock, and an elegant necklace of pearls decorated the porcelain skin of her slim neck, matched by ear bobs that dangled delicately from below her coiffure. Her hair, too, was done to perfection. The smile she had managed to maintain lent her an air of good humour and confidence, and her bright eyes shone with excitement and, perhaps, a small amount of terror. She looked marvelous.
“Mother, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, Lady Malton, my mother.”
With great poise, Lizzy executed an elegant curtsey and greeted the countess. “Lady Malton, how do you do?” Her pronunciation was clear and exact, if slightly too careful to be completely natural. “How kind of you to let me come.”
“It is a pleasure, my dear, to have such a charming lady for tea. Richard neglected to tell me how lovely you are. See, Darcy can hardly keep his eyes off of you! And as for you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, you might allow my son to visit his mother on occasion. It is good to see you, Nephew.” He also received a kiss on each cheek, looking quite disgruntled at the gesture.
“Always a pleasure, Aunt.” He flicked his fingers across his cheek, as if hoping to wipe off the kiss. “Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to be out in society. You know our scheme—”
“Are you so determined, Fitz, to foil Catherine’s plot to have you wed Anne, that you would risk this sweet girl’s reputation?” The look she gave Lizzy was sympathetic, but also held a note of disapproval that the girl herself would allow the plan.
“‘Tis not only Lady Catherine, Aunt. Every scheming mother in Town, and her parade of daughters, like ducklings at the pond! I long to evade them all! And as for Eliza here, how better to make a grand entrance into the first circles than on my arm? And then, when she is the darling of London, she can throw me off.” His voice fell at the last few words, almost as if he had not truly considered them before. He paused for a brief moment and furrowed his brow, then resumed his blithe recitation. “She will, of course, be scandalous, but we will arrange for the rumours to work so that she is scandalous in the most delicious ways, and she will be more of a darling than before. There is nothing that can go amiss. But, first, she must have her practice. And that, thanks to you, dear Aunt, is why we are here.”
“I see you are committed. Do be seated, Miss Bennet.” Lizzy gracefully sat down upon the blue sofa to which the countess had gestured.
“Now, as you have heard, Eliza’s accent is quite adequate, but she knows nothing of the idle chatter of silly daughters of dukes and viscounts. Therefore she will limit her conversation to health and weather.” The countess looked about to object, but Darcy continued, “I trust I may count on your assistance?”
“If I must, but Darcy—”
Before she could complete her response, the door flew open, and a man strode in. Elizabeth was half-hidden behind the countess and could not immediately take the measure of the newcomer, but she imagined it could only be a resident of the house, and so it turned out to be.
“Alfred,” the countess exclaimed, “I had no notion you were to come down for our at-home! You are always ‘out’ when our guests arrive.”
“Mother, Richard, Darcy,” he greeted his family. “Richard told me there was to be a special guest today, and I hoped to meet her. Has she arrived? Is she as pretty as Richard intimated? I shall have to be on my best behaviour, I suppose.”
The countess stepped aside to reveal Lizzy, who now rose to her feet to greet the stranger and be presented. The gentleman she saw was fine and tall, with all the affectations of the aristocracy. He was very finely dressed, albeit in a selection of hues that the Beau would certainly disparage. Eggshell-white trousers fell in perfect lines to his polished slippers, and a striped blue and gold waistcoat emerged from beneath an exquisitely cut coat of soft mauve. From the lapels of his coat, an elaborate knot decorated an embroidered cravat, which in turn disappeared into collar points so high the man could scarcely turn his head. Lizzy could not help but compare his peacock-bright garb to the professor’s understated elegance in black and dark green, or to the colonel’s serious military garb of scarlet and brass.
The gentleman’s hair was tousled to the ideal degree, which must have taken his valet some considerable time to arrange, and not a single one of those hairs was out of place, but they shone golden and perfect in the bright sunlight that suffused the room. Lizzy could not help but let her eyes flicker over to the professor, whose own mane never quite obeyed his commands of perfection, to the wayward lock that gave the serious Professor Darcy a dash of roguish charm.
The countess made the introductions. “Alfred, Viscount Eynshill. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The viscount stood perfectly still, his eyes riveted to Elizabeth. “What vision is this, to transfix me so?” he whispered, turning his entire upper body in his brother’s direction—for such were the restrictions of his fashionable collar points—but not allowing his gaze to wander for a moment from Elizabeth’s face. Eyes wide, he finally bowed in Lizzy’s direction, executing a motion so graceful and effortless that he must have spent hours practicing before a looking glass. “Miss Bennet. A delight. An unfathomable delight.”
