Page 39 of Lord Lonbourn's Daughter
Performing tonight was the renowned Italian opera singer Angelica Catalina, who had escaped Napoleon’s captivating admiration in Paris in favour of London in 1806. Ironically, she had dressed as a nun, a disguise which could hardly have been less fitting.
Her fame had preceded her among the ton. She was currently performing at the King’s Theatre in Haymarket as Susanna in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro with tremendous success. Lady Jersey had been fortunate indeed to secure an exclusive evening with a selection of arias. But then again, few people dared to deny the influential Lady Jersey—not even the exotic opera singer.
Signorina Catalina bore a striking resemblance to Elizabeth with her curly hair, large dark eyes, and elegant nose. Even the lively expression was duplicated, though no amount of powder and rouge could conceal that she was more than a decade older. Darcy was captivated and kept comparing the two, his wife always emerging victorious. He was lost in thought as to why Elizabeth’s countenance resembled the Italian. Could she have Italian ancestry? He must remember to ask her as he knew little of her mother’s side of the family.
Signorina Catalina’s fame was by no means undeserved. He was enthralled from the moment her full, rich, and magnificent three octave soprano floated across the room. She had quite possibly the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. Music tended to bind him into a trance-like state of oblivion that he relished at the moment.
Letting go of all his concerns and just being in the present was one of the reasons he enjoyed Georgiana and Elizabeth’s performances so much. In addition to the love he felt for the two most important ladies in his life.
The short hour she performed was over much too quickly, jolting him out of his reverie.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Elizabeth?”
“Oh yes, though I doubt I enjoyed it as much as you.”
She smiled teasingly, but the amusement was not reflected in her eyes. She was exhausted, and he had dragged her to a musicale. He was an ogre.
“We should leave early tonight to allow you to retire. You look tired.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched, and he frowned. She was about to reply when Lady Jersey swooped in and whisked her away to be introduced to the magnificent Angelica Catalina. Lady Jersey was not a lady to be gainsaid because she simply did not listen. The opportunity to be the first to entertain and introduce the newMrs Darcywas too tempting for her to forgo.
Darcy was left behind to fend for himself amongst a throng of gentlemen, each wanting to wish him joy upon his recent stumble into the parson’s mousetrap. He cast his wife a longing look as her lithe person was hauled off into a crush of tittering ladies he had absolutely no inclination to join.
He shook hand after hand and was slapped on the back, served with an abundance of thinly veiled innuendo. It was what he hated the most about these things; even though he would not mind some advice, the information he sought was not what was delivered. He could not very well ask Admiral St Vincent how soon one could importune one’s wife after taking her maidenhead or enquire of Lord Argyll whether marital relations should be contained to one’s own home. He had questions in need of contemplation, being married for only three days, yethe had no one to whom he could make such private enquiries. Richard and Bingley were the only two men he could imagine sharing such intimate thoughts with, but neither of them was married.
“I would have guessed you would choose the older sister, Darcy. She is a classical beauty with a serene disposition. Did you accidentally enter the wrong chamber when you ruined her?” Lord Ruther was exclaiming in a failed attempt to pry under the disguise of levity.
“No, you would not want a serene wife, Darcy, you will be much happier with the vivacious Lady Elizabeth. Like ebony and ivory those two sisters. Excellent quality. They are both exceptionally beautiful yet so different in both appearance and disposition.”
“Thank you, Mr Murray, I am quite content with my choice.”
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Elizabeth did not fare any better. She mustered some levity to appear gay and content. Snide remarks reached her ears about the brevity of her courtship and hasty marriage. She chose to pretend she had not heard as they approached the middle of the music room where Angelica Catalina was holding court for a cluster of slobbering young bucks. She really was beautiful, though time had drawn lines around her eyes. It was not strange that her husband had appeared so utterly besotted.
“Signorina Catalina! You simply must let me introduce you to Lady Elizabeth, wed but three days ago to the esteemed Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”
“Oh yes, I remember Mr Darcy. Who would not? Such a handsome gentleman. Oh my, do you not think that there isa striking resemblance between us, Lady Jersey? We could be mistaken for sisters.”
Signorina Catalina grabbed Elizabeth’s elbow and pulled her to her side to let her admirers and Lady Jersey compare the two. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. There might be a slight resemblance in hair colour, and both had dark eyes, but Elizabeth’s were green while Signorina Catalina’s were hazel. The uncharitable thought that they resembled mother and daughter more than sisters was quickly dismissed. It was unlike her to feel contrary towards another lady, but Signorina Catalina immediately vexed her.
Besides, she could be of no interest to the famous opera singer. Unless it was not her in which the lady was interested. Her husband had been enthralled when the lady entered the stage, and she had just admitted that he was previously known to her. They must have been introduced as she remembered him without even laying her eyes on his person. A deeper connection between them seemed unlikely; she was certain that Mr Darcy had entered their marriage as innocent as herself albeit more enlightened. They might have kissed. Could they? No, Elizabeth was not going to think of that. She would not allow her imagination to run wild and conjecture ghosts in broad daylight. She was an indifferent acquaintance. Well, perhaps not indifferent but certainly not close or Darcy would not have brought his wifehere. Or would he? Was he angry with her for speaking her mind earlier? He had not been pleased when she had valiantly argued that Jane’s engagement to Mr Bingley should be announced in the papers. It would bring respectability to the hasty nuptials if they were declared openly in advance. He had not offered any explanation for withholding the announcement but pronounced that he had his reasons. Could he have held hopes that the amiable Mr Bingley might marry hissister when she came out next year? The thought did not sound implausible in her mind; it could be true. What other reasons could he have? Jane was all goodness of heart and beauty of countenance, combined with excellent connections and dowry. Her fortune was not among the largest of the ton, but she had an estate that yielded five thousand a year. With the interest from her assets combined with Mr Bingley’s fortune they would be just as well off as Mr Darcy. Could he resent Mr Bingley’s elevation in society? No, she could not picture him as petty towards his friend. It must be in regard to his sister. Would she be broken-hearted? She had heard nothing about any deeper connection between them, but that did not infer there had been none. She had not even seen them in the same room together and therefore had no way of knowing.
“Lady Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth startled out of her thoughts. “Excuse me, I am a little fatigued.”
“Say no more, Lady Elizabeth, we perfectly comprehend what those early days of marriage are like.” Lady Jersey smirked, making Elizabeth blush profusely.
It was an assertion she could neither deny nor confirm without revealing what she would not and could not. Keeping up the pretence of happiness was exhausting, hiding the concerns for her sister and Miss Darcy.
Elizabeth was utterly relieved when she espied her husband coming in determined strides towards her. It was to be hoped he was coming to take her home as he had mentioned half an hour ago. He had been flitting about town all day; not that she had any idea where he had been or what he had done, but he must be tired.
“Lady Jersey, thank you for a lovely evening. Signorina Catalina, I have rarely heard anything that brought me more pleasure. Elizabeth?”
He held out his arm as if she were a dog he was calling for. Not a word was mentioned, nor did he ask her whether she wanted to go home. She understood that it was his intent, but he could not know her wishes. Had he not been about to remove her from her current situation, she might have rejected his offered arm, but as it was, she was desirous to go home. She let her hand rest as lightly as possible on the proffered limb before thanking Lady Jersey for her hospitality and Signorina Catalina for her excellent performance.
The carriage ride home was silent. Elizabeth gazed out onto the dimly lit street, illuminated by the crumbs of light cast from the windows of the passing houses and the lamps on their carriage. She looked up to see whether it was a starry night, but it was impossible to tell; the window was too opaque.
