Page 75 of The Scarred Duchess
Elizabeth looked about the exquisite suite in Darcy House that Georgiana had led her to. “I hope you find it favourable.”
She grasped Georgiana’s hands. “It is absolutely lovely.” And it certainly was. The walls were a delicate pale blue with cream accents. The furniture—a grand four-poster bed, a dressing table against the opposite wall, and a cushioned chair—was polished mahogany. It was perhaps more beautiful than the chamber she had had at Matlock House, where Jane remained with the countess, readying for her royal presentation and the rest of the Season’s busy schedule of events.
“We chose this suite specifically for you,” said Georgiana. “That window overlooks the back garden. You shall see greenery, even during winter.”
“We?” she asked.
“Yes, Brother and I. As your father and mine are friends of long-standing, it is inconceivable we would have you anywhere but the family wing.”
“What a thoughtful gesture. Thank you.”
“We have assigned Jessica as your lady’s maid.” Sheclasped her hands together in front of her. “I have yearned for a sister!”
“We are good friends, but not true sisters, sweetling.” Elizabeth noticed Georgiana’s eyes grow large. “Did I say something remiss?”
“No,” she replied with a large smile. “Sweetling is Brother’s endearment for me. It pleases me you are both of a like mind. Tea is at half past the hour. I shall see you then.”
The door closed as the second Bennet daughter voiced her query. “I am of a like mind with Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, am I?” she said to no one.
Elizabeth wondered at the thought, having yet to meet her friend’s exemplary brother.
In the Queen’s drawing room at St James’s Place, the Lord Chamberlain twice struck his sceptre upon the floor.“Lady Matlock introducing Miss Jane Lily Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.”
Queen Charlotte smiled at her friend and her young protégée. Earlier, at a private tea, Lady Matlock had spent her fifteen minutes lauding her young lady’s character. She had said nothing of the young lady’s accomplishments nor her beauty, a signal the girl’s prospects required Her Majesty’s approbation.
Miss Bennet moved flawlessly across the chamber floor, everything right and proper save for one thing: a veil had been included in her court dress. Struck by the oddity of the fashion choice, the Queen turned to Lady Matlock. “What can we do to induce Miss Bennet to favour us with a smile?”
The countess clearly understood her unspoken commandand whispered in the girl’s ear. Miss Bennet looked down towards the floor as Lady Matlock removed the hat and veil. Then the young lady looked up.
Queen Charlotte blinked. Had Lady Matlock intentionally withheld the effect the young lady’s beauty would have on the court?I believe she would, wretched friend.
Miss Bennet’s allure was supernatural. It was not her golden hair, piled high in a perfect coiffure that defied gravity. Nor was it her eyes, bright blue like the sea on a sunny day. No, it was her face’s perfect ivory colour, accented by two slightly discoloured lines—scars, apparently—that emphasised her beauty. She was an empyrean painting, a masterpiece vouchsafed to this mortal world byIl Divino.
Dispensing with protocol, she approached the exquisite creature and voiced her approbation in her native German. “Such a future you shall have, my dear child!”
Then she reverently cupped the young woman’s face and kissed her forehead. “Ethereal, my dear. You are ethereal.”
Jane sat across from Lady Matlock in the carriage; her court dress prohibited anyone to sit in close proximity within the confines of the vehicle. Her thoughts were of the Queen and her surprising declaration.
“Jane?”
Her reverie broken, she focused upon Lady Matlock, who was gazing fondly at her.
“Do you understand what happened today?”
Jane shrugged. “Her Majesty has made me the enemy of every young lady seeking a husband and the target of every rake seeking a conquest.” She turned back to the window.
Lady Matlock leant forwards and grasped her hand in both of hers. “It is disappointing to hear you speak with such bitterness. You have protection. Lord Matlock has seen to your safety, has he not?”
“He has. I am very grateful.”
The carriage wheels rolled in rhythm with the clopping of horse’s hooves. Lady Matlock again squeezed her hand. Jane looked up.
“You are an accomplished woman. A worthy woman. A beautiful woman.”
Jane tried not to shake her head; she failed.
“Why can you not believe it? Accept who you are and what you offer?” Lady Matlock’s voice grew softer. “The marks that tormented you are no longer prominent on the outside, but perhaps they were not the cause of your disbelief. Mayhap you should consider the scars that lie within?”
