Her aunt laughed. “I doubt this, Lizzy. It is not in your nature to be unappreciative or influenced by luxury. Embrace his love and allow him to express it. I believe it is good for both of you. Mr. Darcy is altogether more buoyant and amiable, and you have a steadiness and peace hovering about you. It is refreshing to see you both so well matched. I reckon I need not ask how the physical aspect of your relationship fares,” she continued in that forthright manner of hers, “as it is clearly written upon both your countenances and obvious in your demeanor.”
Lizzy unwittingly assumed a dreamy expression. “Aunt, it is everything you told me and more. William is… amazing, wonderful, gentle, and passionate. I am so very blessed and satisfied.” She blushed then but her aunt chuckled.
The Lathrops arrived around six. Mr. Lathrop was much shorter than Darcy, about the same height as Lizzy, stocky with a ruddy complexion, blond hair, and hazel eyes. His wife Amelia was the same height as her husband, full figured, plump, with green eyes, fiery red hair, and a profusion of freckles. Darcy greeted his friend with delight, ushering them inside the manor rapidly as snow was beginning to fall. Introductions were made in haste as all parties, especially the Lathrops who were fatigued from their extended journey, needed time to freshen up before dinner.
Lizzy counted this meal the first official feast of the season and had planned accordingly. There were ham, turkey, and pheasant, an abundant variety of vegetables and breads, pastries and pies and puddings. The large table was laden to capacity, the guests animated, and the atmosphere celebratory.
Lizzy sat Mrs. Lathrop to her right. It was apparent that the young woman was weary, yet still she was talkative and pleasant. Her lovely Scottish lilt was musical and husky. Conversation flowed and Lizzy was drawn to her outgoing, candid nature. She was quick witted, spirited, and occasionally verged on crudeness, but Lizzy liked her.
Per protocol, the ladies and gentlemen separated after dinner for a spell, Lizzy hosting her guests in her newly redecorated parlor. Between the irrepressible Amelia Lathrop, the unpretentious Violet Gardiner, and the clever Elizabeth Darcy, the naïve and shy Georgiana received a lesson in humor and scintillating repartee!
The party gathered together again in the music room where Col. Fitzwilliam was induced to accompany Georgiana with the cello. Darcy stood behind the seated Lizzy with his fingers lightly resting on her neck, unaware that Mr. Lathrop stood behind his wife in the identical inadvertent pose.
“Col. Fitzwilliam,” Lizzy declared, “you play beautifully! I am tremendously impressed.”
The Colonel bowed. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy; you are very kind. I fear I am rather out of practice. The only opportunity I have to indulge my meager musical talent is here at Pemberley.”
“My husband claims to be as poor a proficient on the violin, yet now I begin to speculate he may not have been totally forthright. How would you evaluate his skills, Colonel, as one artist assessing the other?”
Richard smugly appraised his faintly frowning cousin. “Ah, Mrs. Darcy, you place before me an interesting dilemma. If I judge his talents paltry, then we shall all take pity and not wish to embarrass him by prevailing upon him to play, thus depriving us entertainment, but he shall thank me and be in my debt. If, however, I laud his gift, extolling the unsurpassed skill he wields, then all shall beseech him to grace us with a tune to our delight but I shall likely be soundly pummeled once alone.”
They all laughed. Mr. Lathrop chimed in with his soft voice, “I shall save you, Colonel. Darcy has not seen me for many months so would not likely horsewhip me.”
“Do not be too confident, Lathrop,” Darcy interrupted with a growl.
Undeterred, Mr. Lathrop continued with a grin, “Darcy often played at Cambridge and is quite good, although he abhors performing for crowds. Except for that one time, remember, Darcy?”
All eyes were on Darcy, brows raised in question. Richard stifled a chuckle and Mr. Lathrop was grinning broadly. “This is blackmail, old friend.” Darcy said, trying not to smile.
Mr. Lathrop spread his hands innocently, “Simply a reminder of what is possible with the appropriate… influences.”
“What manner of influences, Mr. Darcy, pray tell?” asked Mrs. Lathrop with a dimpled smile. All were staring at Darcy with varying degrees of humor with the exception of Georgiana who was frankly baffled.
Darcy cleared his throat. “Very well. Georgiana, play ‘Largo’ by Handel and then ‘Minuet in G’ by Bach.” Darcy took a moment to tune his instrument, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, and then indicated to his sister that he was prepared.
Lizzy waited with bated breath, anxious to hear her husband, yet feeling tremendous remorse that her thoughtless teasing may have led him to humiliate himself. She acutely recalled her own chagrin at having been coerced by Lady Catherine to display her weak pianoforte abilities. Darcy, however, was reticent by nature and therefore more apt to embarrass.
Upon the first strains, she knew her fears were groundless. Darcy was no virtuoso but he was talented, far surpassing what she had imagined based on his assertions. He and his sister played beautifully together and the entire room was spellbound.
The applause was sincere and lengthy. Darcy bowed and then turned to his cousin. “Richard, one more with your assistance.” Colonel Fitzwilliam took his place at the cello and smiled at the sheets placed before him by Darcy. Georgiana indicated she was ready and they launched into a sterling rendition of “Ode to Joy” by Beethoven, eminently apropos for the season.
Georgiana’s skill and stamina were put to the test this night. The impromptu concert led to a swell of hidden talents brought to light as the guests’ boldness and merriment increased. Lizzy and Mrs. Lathrop lifted their voices, as did Mr. Gardiner, who revealed a pleasing tenor. Mr. Lathrop chimed in on occasion with an unexpectedly deep bass belied by his soft speaking voice. The crown of the evening was Mrs. Lathrop raising her beautiful Scottish alto a cappella for three folk ballads: “I Once Loved a Lass,” “Mary Queen of Scots’ Lament,” and “Blow the Candle Out.”
Lizzy sat at her vanity, Marguerite having been dismissed, absently brushing her hair as she smilingly recalled the evening’s events. There seemed no doubt all had enjoyed themselves, and therefore the night could only be credited as a resounding success.
Lost in her reverie, Elizabeth did not notice her spouse’s entrance until he gently took the brush from her hand and assumed the task. She smiled brightly at his reflection in the mirror. He loved to brush her hair, so his usurping was rapidly becoming a sort of ritual. Lizzy closed her eyes and sighed with contentment.
“It was a successful evening, wouldn’t you agree, William?”
“Unquestionably. Our guests were well fed and marvelously entertained. I harbored no doubts whatsoever that the Mistress of Pemberley would triumph admirably.”
“Thank you, love, however, I deem that a greater portion of the acclamation should go to Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of Pemberley’s outstanding staff. And no small amount of praise to you, dear husband.”
“I? Elizabeth, I did nothing but attend and partake.”
“Nonsense. You were a gracious host and stunned us all by your performance on the violin.” She looked at him then via the mirror with a playful lift of her lips. “You misrepresented the truth, dear husband. With only one brandy consumed you dazzled us with your skill. I was amazed and delighted, despite your previous assertions to the contrary!”