Georgiana?”
Darcy offered his arm to his aunt. “She awaits us in the Yellow Salon, ma’am, among the multitude of dishes she deemed appropriate for your welcome.” He looked back over his shoulder to his cousins and uncle adding, “Including some ‘bracing’ teas and coffees, which, should it be desired, I shall be pleased to supplement with even stronger fare.”
Upon his hearing the last, the Colonel’s countenance underwent a glorious transformation. “Lead on then, Fitz! Must not keep my cousin waiting!” Darcy laughed and escorted his aunt and relatives up the stairs. They entered a room painted in the palest of lemon and edged with a creamy white plaster wainscoting artfully shaped in the form of twining ivy vines and roses. The hearth’s mantel was also faced in the same manner, the sides rising to enclose a magnificent mirror, which caught and reflected the airiness of the room and the delicate chandeliers of gold and crystal. Designed by the late Lady Ann, the Salon had the happy capacity to project warmth in cold seasons and refreshing coolness in summer and thus was one of the favorite gathering places in the house. Dressed as it was for Christmas, its effect on the visitors was immediate, and as Georgiana came forward to greet her family, she appeared an angel amid the festive reminders of the season.
“My dear, dear, child!” exclaimed Lady Matlock before Georgiana had even risen from her curtsy. “What magic is this! You have grown into a young woman while your brother has buried you in the country!” She dropped Darcy’s arm and went to her niece. Gathering her niece’s hands in her own, she turned to her nephew. “Fitzwilliam, why has your sister not been in London?”
“Ma’am!” Darcy protested. “She is but sixteen years old.”
“Sixteen! Only sixteen! Well, there it is; but it must not continue so. It is not good for a young lady to know nothing of London and Society before her first Season. Whatever can you have been thinking, Fitzwilliam?”
“Aunt, please…you must not be cross with my brother,” Georgiana hastily intervened. “It was my own desire to stay quietly at Pemberley.” She smiled into her aunt’s disapproving eyes. “But he has kindly insisted I accompany him back to London after Christmas.”
“As well he should, my dear.” Lady Matlock bestowed a rueful smile upon her nephew. “I should not wonder you have had little time or opportunity to chaperone a young girl at your age, Darcy,
and
keep after your cousin.”
“Mater!” objected Fitzwilliam.
Lady Matlock ignored her younger son. “You shall bring her to me when His Lordship and I return to Town. She must be introduced to D’Arcy’s fiancée as soon as possible.”
The response of brother and sister to her announcement was all the lady could have wished. “Fiancée?” Darcy and Georgiana exclaimed in unison as they rounded on their cousin, who received their congratulations with a stiff smile.
“Oh, Alex, how wonderful for you!” Georgiana continued.
“Yes, well…of course, you are right,” D’Arcy replied, then sent his sibling a warning look before adding, “Lady Felicia is all I could wish for in my viscountess.”
“The daughter of His Lordship, the Marquis of Chelmsford,” Lord Matlock interposed, “is unexceptional, a credit to her family and, soon, to ours as well. It is an excellent match.”
Darcy eyed his cousin intently as Alex accepted his hand at the news. Lady Felicia Lowden was, in his experience, all and more than his uncle had praised. She had been, in fact, the toast of the previous Season, celebrated for her beauty, conversation, ancestry, and fortune. Darcy had been one of the favored, escorting her to the opera and several balls, but he had soon apprehended that the lady required more admiration than one man could be expected to bestow. Not a man who aspired to make up one of a court, he had ceded his place to those who were so content, although not
Darcy offered his arm to his aunt. “She awaits us in the Yellow Salon, ma’am, among the multitude of dishes she deemed appropriate for your welcome.” He looked back over his shoulder to his cousins and uncle adding, “Including some ‘bracing’ teas and coffees, which, should it be desired, I shall be pleased to supplement with even stronger fare.”
Upon his hearing the last, the Colonel’s countenance underwent a glorious transformation. “Lead on then, Fitz! Must not keep my cousin waiting!” Darcy laughed and escorted his aunt and relatives up the stairs. They entered a room painted in the palest of lemon and edged with a creamy white plaster wainscoting artfully shaped in the form of twining ivy vines and roses. The hearth’s mantel was also faced in the same manner, the sides rising to enclose a magnificent mirror, which caught and reflected the airiness of the room and the delicate chandeliers of gold and crystal. Designed by the late Lady Ann, the Salon had the happy capacity to project warmth in cold seasons and refreshing coolness in summer and thus was one of the favorite gathering places in the house. Dressed as it was for Christmas, its effect on the visitors was immediate, and as Georgiana came forward to greet her family, she appeared an angel amid the festive reminders of the season.
“My dear, dear, child!” exclaimed Lady Matlock before Georgiana had even risen from her curtsy. “What magic is this! You have grown into a young woman while your brother has buried you in the country!” She dropped Darcy’s arm and went to her niece. Gathering her niece’s hands in her own, she turned to her nephew. “Fitzwilliam, why has your sister not been in London?”
“Ma’am!” Darcy protested. “She is but sixteen years old.”
“Sixteen! Only sixteen! Well, there it is; but it must not continue so. It is not good for a young lady to know nothing of London and Society before her first Season. Whatever can you have been thinking, Fitzwilliam?”
“Aunt, please…you must not be cross with my brother,” Georgiana hastily intervened. “It was my own desire to stay quietly at Pemberley.” She smiled into her aunt’s disapproving eyes. “But he has kindly insisted I accompany him back to London after Christmas.”
“As well he should, my dear.” Lady Matlock bestowed a rueful smile upon her nephew. “I should not wonder you have had little time or opportunity to chaperone a young girl at your age, Darcy,
and
keep after your cousin.”
“Mater!” objected Fitzwilliam.
Lady Matlock ignored her younger son. “You shall bring her to me when His Lordship and I return to Town. She must be introduced to D’Arcy’s fiancée as soon as possible.”
The response of brother and sister to her announcement was all the lady could have wished. “Fiancée?” Darcy and Georgiana exclaimed in unison as they rounded on their cousin, who received their congratulations with a stiff smile.
“Oh, Alex, how wonderful for you!” Georgiana continued.
“Yes, well…of course, you are right,” D’Arcy replied, then sent his sibling a warning look before adding, “Lady Felicia is all I could wish for in my viscountess.”
“The daughter of His Lordship, the Marquis of Chelmsford,” Lord Matlock interposed, “is unexceptional, a credit to her family and, soon, to ours as well. It is an excellent match.”
Darcy eyed his cousin intently as Alex accepted his hand at the news. Lady Felicia Lowden was, in his experience, all and more than his uncle had praised. She had been, in fact, the toast of the previous Season, celebrated for her beauty, conversation, ancestry, and fortune. Darcy had been one of the favored, escorting her to the opera and several balls, but he had soon apprehended that the lady required more admiration than one man could be expected to bestow. Not a man who aspired to make up one of a court, he had ceded his place to those who were so content, although not
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