Page 48 of The Slipper Scandal
The countess rolled her eyes affectionately. "As if I would do such a thing during a meal."
"Afterward, however . . ." The earl allowed his words to trail away, and Mr. Darcy and the colonel laughed.
The noise of people arriving filtered in from the hall outside.
"We are greatly anticipating your salon, Lady Matlock," Mrs. Abernathy said sincerely. "It was very kind of you to invite us."
"Not at all," Lady Matlock replied, placing her hand lightly on Elizabeth's arm, a gesture both proprietary and supportive. "I am only sorry my eldest son is not yet in town to meet you. Before we join the gathering, might I have a private word with Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth felt a momentary alarm but composed her features into a polite smile. "Of course, Your Ladyship."
Mrs. Abernathy gave her a lingering look before she was escorted out of the room. Elizabeth believed she was being warned to behave.
Mrs. Abernathy knew her very well. But even Elizabeth knew better than to play games with a countess.
Lady Matlock guided Elizabeth to a small antechamber just off the main foyer, closing the door firmly. Once inside, she released Elizabeth's arm and turned to face her directly, her expression unexpectedly gentle.
"Miss Bennet, I wish to speak plainly with you," Lady Matlock began. "You have been sheltered thus far from the worst of society's reactions to your engagement."
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. "I assure you, Your Ladyship, I did not set out to—"
"I am aware," the countess interrupted smoothly. "I have spoken with my nephew and know the circumstances of his offer to you.” Her gaze was steady, assessing. "You will hear whispers. Ladies will speak behind fans, making comments just loud enough for you to hear. They will question your background, your education, your worth. They will insinuate that you ensnared my nephew through vulgar means."
Elizabeth lifted her chin. "I am prepared."
"You must face them with strength, Miss Bennet. Not with anger or tears or even surprise, which they will interpret as weakness, but with composure and wit.” Lady Matlock's tone was not unkind, merely practical. “Can you do this?"
Elizabeth drew herself up slightly. "Mrs. Abernathy has already asked me as much, Your Ladyship. I can."
"Good. Know that I will be observing, but I will not intervene unless necessary. Nor will I permit my nephew to rescue you at the first sign of difficulty." The countess’s expression softened imperceptibly. "You must establish yourself on your own merits, Miss Bennet. Only then will they begin to respect you as the future Mrs. Darcy."
"I understand," Elizabeth replied, though her stomach tightened at the thought of what lay ahead.
The countess led Elizabeth back to where the others waited. Mr. Darcy stepped forward, his expression concerned, but his aunt shook her head minutely, and he subsided.
"The other guests should be arriving now. Shall we join the gathering?" Lady Matlock said, her voice once again the perfect blend of command and graciousness. “I should like to introduce you to several particular friends of mine." Though her voice remained genteel, Elizabeth detected within it an unmistakeable note of command that brooked no opposition.
With Mr. Darcy following closely behind, Elizabeth found herself being led through the grand archway into the Gold Room, where the number of elegant guests who had entered while she was sequestered with the countess necessitated a momentary pause. Heads turned, conversations halted, and Elizabeth felt the weight of dozens of evaluating gazes settle upon her. The countess, however, appeared not to notice the attention their arrival had caused. Her grip upon Elizabeth'sarm tightened only slightly as she guided her directly towards a cluster of elegantly attired ladies.
"Lady Worcester, Lady Spencer, Mrs. Fitzherbert, and Mrs. Bridgewater, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire, who is to marry my nephew."
The countess spoke with such serene authority that Elizabeth could only marvel at it. There was no hint of apology, no subtle qualification, simply a statement of fact delivered as though it were the most natural occurrence imaginable that Mr. Darcy should choose to marry her. The ladies offered their greetings with varying degrees of warmth, but Elizabeth noted that not one dared to show open disapproval in the face of the countess's sponsorship.
As they moved on to the next distinguished group, Elizabeth realised with a mixture of gratitude and chagrin that Lady Matlock had just executed something like a fiat. By personally presenting Elizabeth to the highest strata of society as Mr. Darcy's chosen bride, she had effectively silenced the most damaging sort of gossip before it could properly begin.
After making several more introductions, Lady Matlock patted Elizabeth's arm. "I believe you shall fare well enough on your own now, Miss Bennet.” With that, she gracefully withdrew, leaving Elizabeth alone as Mr. Darcy was engaged in conversation with his cousin and a gentleman Elizabeth did not recognize.
Elizabeth turned to look at the painting behind her, a knot of misgiving growing inexorably within her breast. Nothing was unfolding as she had intended. She had planned to appear meek and insipid, to demonstrate her unsuitability for the role of Mrs. Darcy. It was a good plan, but she found herself unwilling to implement it. The Matlocks had shown her nothing but kindness, had welcomed her despite the circumstances ofher engagement. She could not repay them with deliberate ingratitude. She simply did not have it in her.
Not ruthless enough, Arabella would say approvingly, but Elizabeth could only feel conflicted.
Her gaze drifted across the room to where Mr. Darcy stood, his tall figure unmistakable even amongst the elegant crowd. He was watching her again, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion that caused her heart to flutter in a most inconvenient manner. Even if he did not want this marriage, he and his family had treated her with unfailing courtesy and a growing warmth.
Elizabeth took a steadying breath, then turned from the painting with resolve. She could not shrink from this challenge when she knew she could prevail. Whatever her sentiments on being forced to wed Mr. Darcy, she would not intentionally bring shame on him or his family for choosing to be kind to her. Straightening her spine, she turned to meet the ladies walking past.
Chapter Fourteen
"Miss Bennet?" A silken voice broke into her thoughts. Elizabeth turned to find herself addressed by a woman who was quite literally looking down her nose as she spoke. "We were introduced at the Plimpingtons’ masquerade, before all the . . . unpleasantness. I was in the Aphrodite mask.”
