Carrie Bebris: Suspense & Sensibility

A look of concern crossed his countenance. "Your mother provided her with numerous new gowns for the season. What misfortune befell them?"

"The unknown preferences of a duke."

Concern gave way to confusion. "Which duke?"

"Any duke. She has high hopes of meeting an unattached peer tonight and turning his head. All chance of her future happiness, therfore, now rests entirely on several yards of pink silk and lace trim."

"I pray they are up to the charge." He looked again at the clock, then cast an impatient glance toward the staircase. "She shall not meet anyone if we never leave our own townhouse."

"The soiree will last for hours, and I am certain we will not be the only guests to arrive late. Most of the ton does not share your strict definition of punctuality."

"They might form a more tolerable group if they did."

"But then who would take note of them? One cannot make a grand entrance to an empty room."

"Precisely why I prefer to arrive in a timely manner, before an affair becomes crowded."

Her husband, she knew, did not care to draw attention to himself, nor to endure the tiresome company of those who did. He favored small gatherings of intimate friends over large assemblies of near-strangers, intelligent conversation over mindless gabble. His willingness, therefore, to sponsor Kitty for a full London season demonstrated affection for Elizabeth surpassing any that mere diamonds or other baubles could represent.

Tonight’s event, she suspected, would be just the sort of crush Darcy dreaded. She’d heard that the Middletons’ parties were always crowded affairs, the length of the guest list inspired more by the baronet’s gregarious nature than a realistic understanding of how many people his rooms could comfortably accommodate. Sir John, who had eight children of his own, took great pleasure in gathering young people together and wanted to include everybody in everything. Upon meeting Darcy and learning that he and Elizabeth had two young ladies in their charge, the baronet had insisted that the four of them attend Lady Middleton’s soiree.

She wondered whether Darcy realized what he had gotten himself into by accepting the invitation. "Have you any idea how many guests the Middletons expect?"

"Sir John called tonight’s party a small get-together, so I anticipate a pleasant evening."

Poor Darcy.

She wrestled a few moments with her conscience over whether to warn him of the probable scene ahead, but decided against spoiling his night any sooner than necessary "Did Sir John say whether his eldest sons would be there?" The Middletons had two sons in their early twenties — John, named after his father, and William.

"They will. They have no titles, however — will Kitty still wish to meet them?"

"Kitty wants to meet every eligible young gentleman in attendance."

He regarded her warily. "Elizabeth, I trust your sister will comport herself in a dignified manner?"

"Of course she shall." She prayed.

Since the elopement of their youngest sister, Lydia, last August, Elizabeth and Jane had worked hard to curb Kitty’s more foolish tendencies and check the undisciplined behavior in which she’d been allowed to indulge with Lydia. Kitty now, her sisters hoped, comprehended the difference between cream-pot love and genuine regard, and understood that genteel conduct solicited more respectable attention from gentlemen than did brazen flirtation.

"Kitty has learned from Lydias poor judgment, and benefits trom the steadier influence of our company," Elizabeth added. "Sometimes entire weeks pass without a single mention of officers or red coats."

"Yes, it seems she has moved on to dukes."

"You cannot fault her for harboring the same aspirations as every other young lady in town." A servant arrived with Elizabeth’s wrap and helped her drape it over her arms.

"Georgiana anticipates the evening more soberly."

"Your sister has experienced previous London seasons, so the prospect of a society affair does not hold the novelty it does for Kitty. Yet despite her natural reserve, I believe Georgiana, too, looks forward to increasing her limited acquaintance this evening."

"Her present circle is quite large enough."

"Darcy, you have shielded Georgiana from the fashionable world since the day she came out. You cannot sequester her forever."

He turned, avoiding her gaze by inspecting his appearance in the trumeau mirror. "I do nothing of the sort."

Behind him, she raised a brow. He saw the accusation in her reflection.

"I merely restrict her exposure to men whose motives or merit I question," he clarified, setting his hat down on the table to adjust the shoulders of his coat.

"That is to say, any men at all."

He faced her and shrugged. "Am I to blame if all the gentlemen one encounters these days are rowdies who lack purpose? Or worse — rakes and rogues who engage in less than noble behavior?"

She sighed, knowing that a single conversation could not surmount Darcy’s natural protective instincts toward his sister, nor his self-reproach for what he considered an inexcusable failure of watchfulness on his part. When Georgiana was but fifteen, even before she was officially out in society, she’d almost eloped with a fortune hunter — the same ne’er-do-well who had eventually seduced Lydia. That another, more sophisticated friend of theirs recently had been similarly deceived by another "gentleman" only increased his mistrust.

"Not every potential suitor is a secret scoundrel, Darcy. Honorable men yet exist."

"I should like to know where." Though he spoke lightly, she could read disillusionment in his eyes.

"I found one."

She crossed to the table, lifted his hat, and placed it on his head. As she met his gaze, she offered a playful smile. "Unless you really married me for my vast fortune?"

"Nay," he said, taking her hands in his as she lowered them.

"My superior connections?"

"Mistaken again." He held her gaze and returned her impish grin. "In fact, I believe it was you who drew in me."

"Indeed? I had no notion of my own talent for scheming. To what do I owe my success?"

"Your honeyed tongue. Who could resist being told that he was full of arrogance, conceit, and selfishness? Or that he was the last man in the world whom you could ever be prevailed upon to marry?"

"With enticements like that, you must have wondered that no one had whisked me to the altar already."

"I wondered only whether I could change enough to lure you there myself."

She studied him a long moment, grateful that they had found their way past early misunderstandings and to each other. "First impressions are not always accurate reflections of one’s character, are they?"

"No. Thank heaven."

They arrived at the Middletons’ quite late, even by fashionable standards. Kitty practically leapt from the carriage when it came to a stop in Conduit Street. They entered to find the formal receiving line ended and their hosts circulating among the guests.

To Kitty’s obvious delight and Darcy’s equally evident despair, the event was indeed a squeeze. The rooms were packed so full of people that Elizabeth wasn’t sure how anyone managed to converse, let alone dance. Yet strains of music from the next room indicated that couples made a noble attempt amid all the noise and heat.

"Have you ever seen so many people of consequence in one place?" Kitty exclaimed. "And so many gentlemen! Elizabeth, surely there is someone here to whom you can introduce me?"

Elizabeth scanned the room but saw not one familiar face. Luckily, she was spared the necessity of replying with a disappointing negative by the approach of an older man with a ruddy, genial countenance. "Is this our host?" she asked Darcy "Indeed."