Much to Elizabeth’s annoyance, the first two weeks of their London visit was entirely taken up with assembling the proper gowns and all the appointments and furbelows for the grand presentation at St. James’ Palace. Kitty was wildly excited, and squealed and screamed every time another package was brought into the house, which, what with beaded slippers, satin sashes, diamante head-dresses, lappets to secure ostrich-feathers, hoops, turbans, and draperies, was not unseldom.

Georgiana bore it all with more equanimity, submitting to the dictates of her aunt, Lady Catherine, about every portion of her dress; and Anne de Bourgh was even less affected, rarely varying her silent demeanor and sullen air.  Lady Catherine, for her part, was almost as voluble as Kitty, and despite her disdain for Elizabeth’s young sister, there were moments when the pair seemed to be almost in agreement, as they were the only two who really took an excited interest in the event.

Lady Catherine’s purpose became obvious to Elizabeth, as the planning of the ensembles went forward. Her Ladyship was in her element because she would be the center of all eyes, in a position of importance at the court, as the person presenting three such young ladies as the sister, sister-in-law, and cousin of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley; and alas, Mrs. Darcy too.

For there was no help for it. They were told on all sides that it was entirely necessary and proper that Elizabeth must be presented to the Queen and to Society on her marriage, as a young married woman of her position, should be. She saw no necessity for it, Mr. Darcy did not care about it, but Lady Catherine, having been convinced by custom, was imperious in her certainty, and after conference with her husband, Elizabeth felt it was best to submit quietly on such an unimportant matter, rather than risk a ruction with Lady Catherine.

It also occurred to her that her presence on the evening might help to smooth any distressed or agitated feelings Georgiana or Kitty might have, though she could not presume to be of any use to Miss de Bourgh. So she submitted to standing for long periods being fitted, thankful that the early part of her expectancy was over, and she felt equal to the demands of society and fashion.

As a young matron, she would wear a hooped gown (old-fashioned hoops were a Court requirement that the elderly Queen Charlotte insisted upon) of sapphire satin with silver tassels, and a turbanned headdress with the Darcy sapphires. The young ladies would all be attired in white satin, Anne with silver lace adornments, Georgiana with lilac tissue, and Kitty with pink crepe. Lady Catherine herself, of course, was to be more magnificent than all the others together:  she was having fashioned a ruby velvet gown that clung severely to her stately figure, with gold spangling and gold fringes, and the de Bourgh parure of rubies, tiara, and stomacher, necklace and bracelets.  

“I hoped,” Elizabeth sighed to her husband as they were getting ready for bed after a long, long dressmaker-filled day, “to be spending time with the Gardiners, walking in the park, and going to the picture-galleries.  That is what I hoped from a visit to London.”

“Are you very much disappointed?” asked Darcy, concerned, putting his breeches on a chair and reaching for his night-shirt.  ”If you are, we must put a stop to all this.”

“To stop it!” she exclaimed. “Are you mad, to think there is any force on earth that could stop Lady Catherine?  And what about all you have had to spend on this fanciful outfitting? For I have noticed that all the bills have been sent to you,” she finished unhappily.  “Whereas I would not wish to waste your money for the world.”

He shrugged. “At least Lady Catherine is paying for Anne,” he said.  “But I don’t care about the cost, unless it makes you ill or unhappy, Elizabeth.  That must not be.”

“Oh, do not worry about me,” she answered with a little laugh. “It is of no great import. Goodness knows, Kitty is in a perfect Elysium of her own desire, and I do not believe Georgiana can be spoilt.”

“No, I am sure of that,” he agreed.

“So let it go forward. The horrid evening is almost upon us, and we will soon be rational again.”

“Will we?” he said with a smile, and pulled her down to lie beside him.

*****

It was over. Elizabeth had been presented as the wife of Mr. Darcy, and the three young ladies had made their curtsies as well. Now there was a grand collation, beneath all the crystal and glass candelabra of St. James’s Palace, and Elizabeth could sit on a small and uncomfortable ornate French chair and eat ices.

Darcy stood by her, and they were able to amuse themselves with sotto voce comments, since Lady Catherine was not near them; she had found a group of her contemporaries, doughty older ladies, and they were sitting at a card-table, nodding their high feathers, sparkling their jewels, waving their fans, and bragging about their children.

“My Anne,” Lady Catherine said, “is the most remarkable girl; there is not another in the kingdom who can surpass her for real nobility, and she is sure to be snapped up in her first season.”

“She has no title, has she?” loftily said Lady Engadine. “Now my Maria is a Countess in her own right.  With her fortune, she is sure to go sooner than your Anne.”

“Really, I beg to differ with you both,” put in Viscountess Marchbanks. “My Caroline has both beauty, nobility and wealth, and she is young. Only eighteen. I always think that when young ladies come out when they are elderly, there is something wrong with them.”

“Wrong!” gasped Lady Engandine. “Why, Maria is barely over twenty.”

“Twenty six,” said the Viscountess curtly. “I know, because your governess came to us after she had finished Maria’s education – these seven or eight years ago. And Anne de Bourgh must be the same age.”

“Yes, yes she is,” hastily said Lady Catherine, not wishing to reveal that her daughter was much closer to thirty. “But what of it? She is the most delightful girl in the kingdom, and any young man would be fortunate to get her – though of course I would not part with her but to some one of rank and fortune.”

All three ladies looked rather grimly at Anne, who was sitting listlessly at her mother’s side, having refused all partners.

“Anne, this is absurd, I must have you dance,” hissed Lady Catherine at her. “I shall bid Darcy to find you a partner.”

“I am too tired, mama,” said Anne indifferently. “And I do hate it so.”

At that moment, a young man who had been standing nearby and watching the ladies for some little time, approached Lady Catherine, and bowed politely.

“Excuse me, I believe – tell me if I am in error, but you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the widow of Sir Lewis, are you not?”

“That is true – I am,” she answered in some surprise.

“Well – my father knew him many years ago. They were at school together, and I remember him saying that Sir Lewis was the finest young fellow in the world. To think of meeting you here!”

“Oh, is that so?” said Lady Catherine, with something close to a simper. He was a very handsome young man, in his late twenties, with dark curly hair and expressive eyes. “Whom do I have the honour? – “

“I am Sir Maurice Townley,” he said with a charming air and bow.

“Maurice? That has a French sound to it.”

“Yes; my mother was a French countess. My father of course was of the Townleys who have lived in Bedfordshire time out of mind; of very good estate.”

“Is that so? Are you acquainted with the Huntingtons?”

“Oh yes! I was at Oxford with the eldest son.”

“And are you an eldest son?” the Viscountess put forth directly.

“Alas, no; Townley Castle is my brother’s property, and care.  But I have been well provided for, and have my own property, an adjoining estate, where I breed horses.”

“What brings you to London, and to Court?” interrogated Lady Engandine suspiciously.

“Ah, a farmer must take a wife!” he said with a deprecating air. “And where better than here could I find a wife of the best bloodlines, the highest breeding?”

“You speak truly, Sir Maurice,” conceded Lady Catherine. The ladies fell silent for a moment and looked sideways at one another, sure that this paragon would ask one of their daughters to dance – but which one?

“If I may,” he said smoothly, with a beautiful bow before Anne, “this is your daughter, Lady Catherine, and I must confess that I came this way because I was so bewitched by her uncommon modesty, and beauty of a lady-like kind that you so seldom see.”

Lady Catherine and Anne looked nothing alike, but they now wore identical open-mouthed expressions.

“I notice,” he said to her earnestly, “that you have not danced; and I cannot blame you, for where is a candidate suitable for your hand – even for the span of a single dance? But I must entreat you – dare I? to stand up for me, for ever so short a time. It would mean worlds to me.”

His dark eyes looked deeply into hers, and Anne stood like an automaton and gave him her hand. He swept her away, and soon they were revolving with the couples in the center of the room, in a new and shocking dance from Vienna called the Waltz.  Anne did not know it, of course, but with Maurice’s arm around the waist, steering her, she followed, mesmerized. The ladies watched speechlessly.

Elizabeth was not struck that way.  “My love,” she asked, “who is that very handsome man, waltzing – waltzing of all things – with Anne?”

His eyes narrowed. “I have no idea,” he said, “but I don’t like the look of him at all.  I shall find out at once.  If he is not a rogue I have never seen one.”

He strolled over to where Lady Catherine was sitting, leaving Elizabeth to distractedly watch her two charges, Georgiana and Kitty, who were enjoying themselves with their partners, two young men who were the sons of neighbors in Derbyshire.

“What is the name of the gentleman with whom Anne is dancing, Aunt Catherine?” interposed Darcy.

“Why, Darcy, how good of you to take an interest in your cousin. That is Sir Maurice Townley, of the Bedfordshire Townleys, to be sure.”

“I see.  And do you know any thing about them?”

“I cannot exactly recollect at the moment, but we will look him up in the book when we get home.  Do you know the family?” she turned to the other ladies.

But they only made negative replies, cast down their eyes, and tried to conceal their smiles. They were as certain as Darcy that Townley was a rogue, and with such an one, Miss de Bourgh’s fate would be sealed, to her discredit.

“Lord Stenmouth is Bedfordshire born. I see him over there, and will make inquiries.”

Darcy stalked over to a knot of older gentlemen directly, and was finished talking to them before Anne and Maurice completed their second dance.

Returning to his aunt, he bent and spoke urgently into her ear. “Aunt Catherine, Stenmouth knows nothing of such a family, and suspects that this young man may be an adventurer. I must insist that you not permit Anne to dance with him again.”

“Nonsense! Nonsense! I never saw such a charming young man, and with what manners.  They  positively announce his gentle breeding.”

“Manners!  Aunt Catherine, you cannot be too careful after such a warning. What if he is a penniless fortune seeker?  Would you wish Anne to dance with such a man?”

“He cannot be that.  He is as well dressed as you yourself are,” she said, looking pointedly at his waistcoat and neck cloth, which were simple evening wear, not over ornamented.  “Indeed, rather better. I think I am a good judge of character, Darcy, indeed am far famed for it.  Therefore I must insist you mind your own business, which is Georgiana.  I will not have you interfere in what may be a – a most promising friendship.  I assure you he was very much struck with Anne!”

He looked at her incredulously. “And does that not make you suspicious?” he asked.  “What is it that attracts him?  Her appearance – or her having been presented at Court, as coming from a very great and wealthy house?”

“What of that?  He would not be here if he was not worthy of an invitation to Court himself.”

“My dear Aunt – if you were to know how every one in the room got here, you would not say such a thing. All manner of riffraff find a means of admittance to Court.”

“You will allow me to judge for Anne, myself.”

“Very well.  I have warned you, I will say no more.”

Troubled, he returned to Elizabeth, and they watched anxiously as the pair danced succeeding dances with an inappropriate exclusivity that began to attract comment.

“I hope,” said Elizabeth, “that at least this evening will be an end of it; we will go home, and this man will be heard from no more.  Dear me! This is unfortunate.”

“Most,” said Darcy unhappily.

At the end of an evening, at which Anne looked more and more strangely exalted, and her mother puffed with pride, as their party stood to go, Maurice Townley whispered a long aside to Anne, and made his bows and then his exit.

Darcy sighed.  “Well at least,” he said, “there is an end to that.  And good riddance to him.”

“Darcy! How can you say such a thing,” said his aunt, her eyes brighter and more animated than he had ever seen in her before.  “I will have you know that our dear Maurice will be calling upon Anne tomorrow, and that I have every intention of inviting him back for a visit to Rosings!”