A Sister's Curse

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A Sister's Curse Page 17

by Jayne Bamber


  “But what if Uncle Henry insists?”

  “Would such a thing move you to bind yourself to someone you did not love?”

  “Certainly not! I have known true love, Lizzy....”

  “I am so sorry, Jane. My heart aches for you for losing your love, and for myself a little, because I do not even know if I believe in it.”

  11

  Despite being in very fine looks and having received an abundance of enthusiastic praise from Rose before leaving home to attend the Twelfth Night ball, Elizabeth’s evening was off to a rather disappointing start. In fact, she was quite racked with horror from the moment she made her entrance with her uncle. Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Henry greeted them, with John, Richard, and Charlotte at their side.

  Richard approached Elizabeth after she had greeted her aunt and uncle, and he took her hand, eyeing her appreciatively. “I understand my sister’s costume tonight,” he said. “I did not know she meant to coordinate with you and your sisters, but the effect is quite exquisite. A robin, a raven, a peacock and a swan.”

  “You have seen my sisters?”

  “They are here already,” Charlotte replied. Dressed as a swan, Charlotte was absolutely stunning. Her uncharacteristically flattering gown, made of ethereal white silk and lace, was complemented by the splash of black feathers in the center of her mask, with longer white plumes splaying out in an elegant arrangement.

  “Waiting for you, as we all were,” Richard added with a wink. He kissed her hand, and then asked for her dance card. She handed it over to him, and he penciled in his name for the second set.

  Uncle Henry glanced over, and before Richard could hand her the dance card back, Uncle Henry had taken it and the little pencil, and began scrawling down a few extra names. He met Elizabeth’s wide-eyed gape of astonishment with a teasing smile. “Do not worry, my dear, I have spoken to a few gentlemen on your behalf. I shall introduce you when the time comes.”

  Elizabeth stammered some protest and glanced up at Uncle Edward, who merely nodded at the earl. Ignoring Elizabeth, he turned to Richard and said, “You may have a second set with her, after supper, if you wish it.”

  Richard took the dance card from his father and handed it directly back to Elizabeth. Chewing his lip a moment, he said, “I shall seek you out later – I leave it to you to decide if you wish it.”

  Elizabeth’s only response was to glare at him, and at her uncles as well, before taking Charlotte’s arm and storming off, into the ballroom. She was, for once, too mortified and angry to say anything at all.

  “I thank you for the rescue, Lizzy – there was no one else left to greet who I should wish to meet with. Are you well, Cousin?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, tightening her grip on Charlotte’s arm as they slowly entered the ballroom together. “I shall be.”

  “Come now, Lizzy, it is not so very bad to be a desirable partner. You have thirty thousand pounds, and are the niece of an earl!”

  “I have twenty thousand pounds, but is that all I am to these people?” Elizabeth waved her cousin off. “No, do not answer me, I have no wish to hear the truth at such a moment. I shall simply have to muddle through until supper, and then I suppose I might have some choice. Or perhaps I might sprain my ankle in the first set!”

  “What an idea! Might you take me down with you, if you have a fall?”

  “And save you from dancing the second with Mr. Steventon? Never!”

  “He is not so very bad – when he is silent, he is quite a sight to look at. But then, he inevitably starts speaking….”

  Elizabeth laughed softly, for they were approaching her mother and sisters. “What dreadful luck,” she whispered, “for it is a masquerade, Charlotte – I shall not be able to look upon his handsome face at all – I shall only be able to converse with him, and you know his conversation is his greatest defect!”

  They were very near the Darcy ladies now, and Mary rushed forth to take Elizabeth and Charlotte by the hand. “There you are! Oh Lizzy, how splendid you look! And is not Jane looking simply divine? I even feel rather pretty myself, though I am sure I am the last one amongst us who should have been the peacock. I am sure every man in the room shall end the night in love with one of us!”

  Elizabeth knew not what to say to such a speech, but was spared having to formulate a reply by Jane, who squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as she greeted her. “Oh, Jane, Elizabeth sighed happily, “How well you look!”

  Jane’s costume was by far the most delicate. Her silk gown was pale gray, with intricate red and orange embroidery across the bodice, and red feathers trimming her neckline. Her mask was on the smaller side, with just a few small white feathers and a red jewel in the center.

  Jane replied with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I confess it is rather good to be back in grey this evening. I – I am sorry, I do not know why I said that.”

  Elizabeth smiled back, and gave her sister a reassuring pat on the arm. “Trust me, I feel the same,” she whispered. “I contrived to wear black, after all. And yet, it has not put anyone off at all.” She winked at Jane and Mary, showing them her dance card, which was already half full.

  Mary and Jane produced their own, which looked much the same, and Lady Anne sighed. She had hung back as her daughters greeted one another, and now she frowned at the sight of the dance cards. “I am sorry, girls – my brother is quite firm, once he sets his mind to something.”

  “I suppose it must a family trait,” Elizabeth replied with a grin.

  “I do wish we might dance with Mr. Bingley,” Mary observed. “And dear Mr. Collins, too.”

  Elizabeth could not help but smile at Mary’s optimism, and Jane’s gentle blush. “Our uncles liked both of them at Christmas – of course you will be permitted to dance with them if they ask you,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Oh yes, I am sure our brother would approve,” Jane added.

  “Where is your brother?” Elizabeth glanced around.

  “He went to the card room as soon as Aunt Catherine informed him he must open the ball with Cousin Anne,” Mary laughed.

  As Lady Anne smiled weakly at Elizabeth, Jane whispered, “I cannot make out Cousin Anne’s costume at all. There she is just over there.”

  Elizabeth instantly knew what her sister meant. Though Anne’s costume was ostentatious in the extreme, she could not make out what her cousin was meant to be. A queen, perhaps? Daring indeed! Not wishing to say anything unkind, Elizabeth turned her eyes back to her mother, filling the silence with a laugh. “I am so very pleased by your costume, Mamma.”

  Lady Anne wore a gown of shimmering mahogany silk, with downy brown feathers lining the trim and sleeves, and a few of the same feathers arranged in her hair. A simple red satin mask completed the ensemble, and she looked every bit the mother hen.

  The ballroom had begun to fill up; like so many of the earl’s fetes, it was going to be quite a crush. It was not long before the three sisters were each claimed by their partners as the music began, and though Elizabeth could only steel herself for the coming tedium, she was determined to be pleased that at least her sisters did not look so very unhappy.

  After the opening set, Richard led Jane toward Elizabeth, who had extracted herself from the voluble Mr. Steventon and was lurking near the refreshment table with her second glass of wine. The two were all smiles as they approached Elizabeth, who did her best to appear equally cheerful.

  “Richard has been regaling me with tales of your youthful folly,” Jane said with a bashful smirk.

  “A rather bold move, Cousin, as I might pay you back a hundredfold, I am sure.”

  “I daresay we are in the midst of one of my tales of folly even now,” He said with a wink, gesturing to his ridiculous costume. He was dressed as a dandy, his narrow-waisted tail coat rendering his silhouette very lean, as the narrow sleeves accentuated his muscle. And yet, the ornate blue and gold embroidery of the tail coat and satin striping at his waist coat, coupled with form-fitting breeches was rather l
urid, evocative of a fashion not seen in twenty years are more.

  “Not as shocking as Shakespeare,” Elizabeth chided him, “but very near.”

  “Whatever would Beau Brummel say?” A lady and a gentleman had appeared behind them, and from Jane’s warm greeting Elizabeth deduced it was the Bingley siblings. Miss Bingley, her posture haughty as ever, was dressed in a shimmering orange gown covered with a rich blue velvet pelisse, and a mask covered in blue feathers and jewels. “Why, Jane,” she said with tittering laughter, “we are certainly birds of a feather, are we not?”

  “What a fine coincidence. You are a… parrot?”

  “A kingfisher, my dear,” Miss Bingley replied boldly.

  “And you are a king, I think?” Elizabeth spared a brief grimace for Miss Bingley before addressing Mr. Bingley.

  “Richard the Lionheart, at your service,” Mr. Bingley said with a sweeping bow.

  Beside them, Richard looked cheerfully affronted, and puffed up his chest. “Now see here….”

  Mr. Bingley held up his hands and laughed. “I surrender! That is, I shall not draw swords, but I had hoped Miss Darcy would help me make a hasty retreat to join the dance.”

  “I am engaged for every set until supper, but I shall save you that one if you wish,” Jane replied meekly.

  Elizabeth had not the pleasure of hearing her sister’s reply, for Richard loudly cleared his throat as the music started up again, and reminded Elizabeth that she was promised to him for the next set, leading her away with a nod to their companions.

  Though she spent the dance with Richard too agitated to fully enjoy herself, determined not to think upon their last conversation together, it was still one of her better sets of the evening, for her subsequent three partners were all gentlemen on her uncle’s list, and each more unpleasant than the last. Mr. Leigh had warts and a leer, Mr. Clifton, who danced abysmally, waxed poetic in ranking her just below both of her sisters in matters of appearance and comportment, and her partner for the supper set, Lord Chawton, lavished her with praise that bordered on proposition.

  Passing the supper with such a dreadful companion was almost as much of a punishment as standing up with him, and though Elizabeth did her best to make her sentiments known to the man, he persevered in believing she was just as enchanted by him as he claimed to be with her. It was not without considerable effort that she was able to detach herself from the cad as she returned to the ballroom, and he detained her a little longer yet to kiss her hand flamboyantly. “Fare thee well, for now, my fair lady raven,” he said, attempting a seductive look before she hurried away in disgust.

  ***

  Darcy managed to evade the first half of the ball, lurking in the card room with the old married men. He congratulated himself on the achievement as he joined his cousin John for supper, taking a seat in the corner where he might observe without being much observed himself. John and Darcy spoke but little, as was often the case between them without Richard present, and yet it was a companionable silence. Happily, he was able to observe his mother and his two sisters from across the room. Lady Anne was chatting with Sir Edward and Lady Phyllis, and he was pleased to see her looking very cheerful.

  Near their mother, Jane was listening intently to something Bingley was speaking of, and Darcy was gratified at the sight of them together. Though Darcy was not one prone to oversentimentality, he was exceedingly fond of Charles Bingley. Theirs had been an unlikely friendship, struck up in their days at Eton. Darcy had long surrounded himself with friends too like himself, serious and diligent in their studies, young men from fine families who knew what was expected of them, the price of their privilege. Bingley was nothing like Darcy’s regular set, but he was so much more. He was ambitious and energetic. He had not been raised with the gravity of his future responsibilities weighing on him, but rather witnessing his self-made father rise in station. But behind this new-money optimism, there was a true wealth of good character, sincerity and affability, and above anything, loyalty.

  Bingley was the kind of friend his parents had always wished Wickham could be to him, a man who could smile at Darcy’s scowls and laugh him into better cheer. After Darcy lost his father and Richard went off to war, it was Bingley who held Darcy together, both with enough conversation to keep him quite sane, and a persistently hopeful outlook on life.

  Seeing Bingley with Jane felt right. If anyone needed his reassuring, amiable presence, it was Jane, and Darcy hoped she would at last be moved to put aside her grief for Wickham, a man who did not deserve her devotion.

  Darcy finished his meal and was on the point of leaving the room when his uncle approached him. “There you are, my boy! You have been hiding from us all night; waste of a damn good costume, I say! William the Conqueror indeed; you will not even face the ladies! Your Aunt Catherine is determined you shall dance with Anne.”

  Darcy grimaced. The costume had been all Bingley’s idea, and though it had seemed amusing at the time, in truth he had felt rather ridiculous since arriving. He wore a deep crimson tunic that hung to his calves, velvet with darted gold embroidery, and a lion emblazoned across the chest. His boots and gloves had been painted to look like a suit of armor and a gold and red cape trailed down his back. The helmet was real – a relic on loan from John, who had found it in the attics at Matlock years ago and used it in a number of antics over the years. The golden crown attached was merely paper, Mary’s contribution to his costume.

  John pulled himself out of his usual sardonic languor and leapt to his feet, taking the helmet off of table and popping it over Darcy’s head. Darcy lifted up the visor and fixed his cousin and uncle with a droll look. “I am quite ridiculous.”

  “That is the spirit,” John cried. “Off to battle with you!”

  The earl clapped Darcy on the back. “Come on then, the ladies only want to dance, not run you through!”

  As the earl steered Darcy back toward the ballroom, Darcy happened to glance around and caught sight of a breathtakingly beautiful woman. She had been seated on the other side of a large marble pillar that had obstructed her from his view, else he might have stared at her through the entirety of the meal. He watched as she left the ballroom, visibly eager to detach herself from her dinner partner. Without realizing what he was about, he broke away from his uncle and drifted toward the beauty in black.

  No, it was not black, not entirely. Her form fitting silk gown was covered with an iridescent gossamer netting, embroidered with gold and violet, making the black gown shine brilliant blue and purple in the candlelight as she moved into the ballroom. She wore an elaborate black wig, her curls held up by little gold and silver pins shaped like stars, and there were delicate white stars adorning the bodice of her gown and her black feathered mask as well.

  As Darcy drew nearer, she had just managed to extricate herself from Lord Chawton, a rake of the first order who had only been invited because he was a political ally of the earl. He was also more than ten years older than Darcy, and the way he clutched the young lady’s hand as he kissed it was revolting in the extreme.

  “Fare thee well, for now, my fair lady raven,” Chawton said to the woman before moving away. She abruptly turned and moved the opposite way, putting her into Darcy’s path, and as she moved past him she muttered, “I am not a raven.”

  “You are a starling,” Darcy blurted out as she walked his way, and she looked up at him with surprise before breaking into a smile.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Nobody has noticed it, and I thought it was so clever of me.”

  Darcy smiled and stepped closer as the delightful creature began to laugh at herself. “It is a fine costume, and plain to me what you had intended.”

  “That is kind of you to say, sir.”

  “Perhaps, as I am the first to guess it correctly, you might favor me with a dance, Miss…?”

  Her eyes sparkled, and though the beautiful starling did not volunteer her name, she offered him her little white hand. As he led the radiant starling to the set
, he could not keep his eyes off of her. The elaborate mask shielded much of her face, but for her remarkably expressive eyes and a delicate pair of rosy lips. It did not matter to him – he was already convinced that under the mask she was very likely the most beautiful woman in the room – she was certainly very shapely, and her dressmaker must have known what they were about.

  “You said you felt rather clever about your costume,” he prompted her as they began to move through the steps of the dance.

  “Oh,” she said, twisting her lips into a mischievous smile. “I suppose it is something of a rebellious impulse on my part.”

  “Rebellion?” Darcy grinned, though it was hidden by his medieval helmet. “You seem rather satisfied with yourself.”

  “In my family, one must claim what victories they can. They are... difficult, at times.”

  He laughed. “I know just what you mean. So, your costume is a triumph. I suppose you mean you have outshined all your sisters?”

  “No indeed, that is quite unlikely to ever happen, nor would I wish it,” she replied. “I meant to say that there is a hidden meaning to my costume, intended for my own private amusement.”

  As Darcy turned in time with the other dancers, he smiled to himself at the impertinent candor of his partner – he had never undertaken such banter with a beautiful woman, and could only marvel at her artless charm. He considered her words – secret rebellion against her difficult family, perhaps not something a gentleman should condone… and yet her poise rendered her quite flawless. And then it struck him.

  “I believe I must venture a guess,” he said. “Are you a great reader?”

  “I should think I am,” she said with a wide smile.

  “Laurence Sterne?”

  She gave a single breathless laugh and then nodded, as if embarrassed. “The Hotel at Paris. It is one of my favorites.”

  Keeping time with the music, Darcy and the starling placed their hands together as they spun. “‘I can’t get out, said the starling.’”

 

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