Page 3 of Her Whole Heart
Elizabeth shook her head. She had not told Jane her plan before because she could not be certain her sister would agree. “Not unless you wish it. But I shall not. If we do not find husbands, Uncle Gardiner will find us a house in the country somewhere. We have enough money to live nicely on the interest, and Papa will not exert himself to retrieve us. Even if he did, Uncle Gardiner would prevent it.”
“He is not in town this season, nor will Aunt Gardiner be.”
“But he will return before the end of it. That was his promise. June.”
Jane’s gaze was fixed on the floor of the coach. “What about the girls?”
She meant Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. “If they feel they will not be polluted by living in a house with their greedy, ungrateful sister, they may join us, of course.”
For once, Jane did not attempt to soften Elizabeth’s words. She stared straight ahead and asked, “Then—we are free?”
Elizabeth laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. “We are free.”
Chapter Two
London, January 1811
Four grand chandeliers hung from a lofty ceiling, thousands of crystal prisms and mirrors refracting the warm light of hundreds of candles. Elizabeth tilted her head back to admire them before glancing at her sister.
“Are you happy?” she asked and squeezed Jane’s hand.
Jane squeezed back before releasing it and using both hands to smooth her already perfect skirt. “It is stunning,” she said, a little breathless. “Just as I imagined.”
It was not precisely what Elizabeth had asked, but she would not press.
The gowns they had commissioned from Mrs. Bird of Great Charles Street were extraordinarily fine compared to the remade dresses they had worn at home the past few years. It had been difficult to part with so much money all at once, but seeing how well they fit in this evening made it worth every shilling.
They walked a little farther into the ballroom. Girandoles flanked the floor backed by mirrors, musicians were warming up their instruments,servants were walking about with wine in fluted glasses on silver trays, and women in gowns of every colour sauntered past on the arms of their husbands, fathers, brothers, cousins. They snapped open their fans, nodded their heads at those they knew, and cast looks over their shoulders to see who else might be in attendance.
“Oh, Iamsorry,” Amelia said as she came up behind them. “My uncle and aunt were detained at the end of the receiving line, and they wished to introduce me to some of their friends.”
At seventeen, Amelia was one of the youngest members of a very large family—her aunt was the first of eight children and Amelia’s mother had been the last. The earl and countess had been pleased for Amelia to have some friends near her own age about. Beyond that, Elizabeth could not make the Carlisles out. But then, she and Jane had been in town only since the day after Christmas, and it was now just the week following Twelfth Night, barely a fortnight. Enough time to have the gowns they ordered in November delivered and fittings completed, but not much else. These things took time.
“We were simply admiring the room,” Jane said.
“I have never seen the like,” Elizabeth added.
“Yes, do you not adore the chalk?” Amelia asked with a giggle.
The chalk was to keep the dancers from slipping on the waxed floors, but it had been used to draw an enormous family crest that depicted a stag with its antlers lifted high, a strong oak, a sunburst, and a flowing river. It was a transitory piece of art.
“My aunt says that balls here are always very grand.”
“Even when it begins in November, the season cannot really be considered open until Lady Ashford throws her January ball,” Lady Carlisle agreed as she joined the girls and cast her gaze about to determine who of her acquaintance was nearby. “Well, we have now been greeted by the hosts,exchanged courtesies, and surveyed the room, girls. Shall I do my duty as your chaperone and introduce you to some eligible young men from good families so that you may dance all evening?”
Amelia clasped her hands together with excitement. “Yes, please, Aunt.”
The countess led them to a young man standing with another young lady. “Mr. Loughty, Miss Loughty,” she said with a nod. “This is my niece, Miss Hamilton and her friends, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Ladies,” Mr. Loughty said with a bow. While the women exchanged courtesies, his eyes raked over Jane slowly.
“The Miss Bennets are our guests this season,” Lady Carlisle told Mr. Loughty. “The earl and I are quite taken with them.”
Mr. Loughty’s eyes snapped back to the countess. “I am sure they will be very charming company, my lady. May I be so bold as to request the hand of each of the ladies for a dance this evening?”
Lady Carlisle nodded regally.
Miss Loughty watched her brother out of the corner of her eye and cast an apologetic glance at Jane. “He is a terrible flirt,” she whispered, adjusting her spectacles, “and a gossip, but otherwise quite safe. It is fortunate you are claimed by the Carlisles, Miss Bennet, for it will provide protection not only from flirts but the rakes as well.” Miss Loughty was a small, slender girl with a freckle at the corner of one eye. She was not unattractive, but neither did she have anything compelling about her. Yet the words she had spoken did not sound like jealousy. They sounded wistful. Resigned, even.
