It was tremendous fun and was added to the entertainments utilized to wile away the hours between Christmas and Twelfth Night. The Matlocks and Bennets even joined the lessons upon occasion. In the comfortable environment of his own ballroom and surrounded by familiars, Darcy displayed his feline grace and dancing expertise. It was an eye-opener to most in the household, even those closest to him, as such fluency was a rare spectacle. Caroline was stupefied, her past dances with Mr. Darcy leaving her with the opinion that, for all his stellar qualities, the man had no balletic facility whatsoever! Lizzy delighted in the activity. Not since their impromptu dancing on the pier at Caister-on-Sea had the lovers embraced in rhythmic twirls and steps outside of their bedchamber. All the frivolity mollified Lizzy and Darcy in their mild sadness over not being able to attend this year’s Masque.

The final session during the early afternoon of the fifth of January, the day of the Masque, was purely for enjoyment. The Matlocks, Gardiners, and Bingleys had returned to their respective homes, the remaining Pemberley inhabitants eventually breaking from the light-hearted amusement to seek rest in preparation for a late night.

Georgiana gently grasped Richard’s elbow as they exited the ballroom. “Cousin,” she whispered, cheeks flushed as she eyed the retreating bodies nervously, exhaling in relief when none noted them hanging back. “I request a moment of your time.”

Richard smiled. “Why so formal, Georgie?” He lifted her chin until meeting her gaze. “What disturbs you, little mouse?”

“Will you ever cease calling me that?”

“Probably not. What is it?”

“I… want to ask a favor of you… for tonight.” Richard nodded encouragingly. “Will you stay close to me? Ensure I do not err in any way or make a fool of myself or do anything untoward?”

Richard frowned. “Why in the world would you think this possible, my dear? You are a proper lady, graceful and beautiful, decorous, a perfect Darcy in every way.”

“That is precisely the point!” She flared, pacing away a couple of steps then turning to him with teary eyes. “I am a Darcy and as such the expectations are so high! People will be looking at me, judging, waiting for me to misstep. And if I do… I do not want to disappoint William or any of you.”

He crossed the short distance, placing tender hands onto her shoulders. “Listen to me, dearest. Firstly, I am your guardian, a position I take quite seriously, as well as your cousin and friend. Of course I will be there for you, my sweet mouse. As will your uncles, Aunt Madeline, and the Bingleys. You will be amongst friends of Derbyshire. This is an excellent introduction for you and you will perform brilliantly, I know it! Do not fret so.”

“But I do not know anyone else! I never made friends with other girls, except for Bertha Vernor and Amy Hughes. I wish I could be as frivolous as Kitty,” she finished in a rueful tone.

Richard laughed. “As much as I admire Miss Kitty, you are not so blithe and should not wish to be other than who you are. Did you not relax and enjoy yourself at the dances in Wales? Father and mother said you loved it and were fabulous. They were proud of you and I know their recommendation is what swayed your overbearing brother’s protectiveness into allowing your attendance at the Masque. You requested to attend with enthusiasm, or so I was informed.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It is a good idea. Georgiana, let me assure you that Derbyshire events, for all the outward pomp and circumstance, are not all that formalized. I have attended thousands of balls, cotillions, soirees, military receptions, and the rest. Trust me, Sir Cole’s Masquerade is a relatively carefree extravaganza. You will have a marvelous time, I promise.” He offered an arm, steering toward the door. “Besides, you will have that ridiculous mask to hide behind. Pretend you are an exotic lady of the orient, a world-traveling Princess deigning to mix with the mere mortals of this quaint Shire, imperiously granting your expert dancing capabilities to the country bumpkins with two left feet, bestowing precious smiles and prized witticisms uttered in dulcet tones to the fortunate, flirting outrageously with fluttering fan and batting eyelashes as they swoon at your feet…”

And on it went down the corridor, with Georgiana’s nervousness mostly evaporating in the face of her cousin’s nonsense.

“Are we still waiting on the ladies?” George boomed, breezing through the open parlor doors, scanning the room, and quickly noting the absence of Kitty and Georgiana.

“Did you seriously expect them to be prepared prior to you?” Darcy inquired with a laugh. “You truly are innocent of a woman’s ways.”

“Humorous, Mr. Darcy.” Lizzy sniffed. “George, you are supremely handsome in that outfit. I believe you and Richard will be competing for who is the most sought after bachelor.”

George wore a formal sherwani in emerald green with elaborate gold embroidery covering the front—far more sedate than the majority of his outfits but impeccably tailored and exotic nonetheless. Richard, of course, was in full dress uniform, resplendent in red and white. Both men cut striking, if very different, figures. The gallant bows directed Lizzy’s way in response to her compliment were identically flamboyant however, except for the crisp military heel click that Richard added compared to George’s tip of an invisible hat. Darcy groaned dramatically, shaking his head.

“I must disagree with you slightly Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet spoke with a grin from his casual stance near the fireplace. “As debonair as I am certain Dr. Darcy would be considered in most quarters, I do have it on good authority that nothing quite sets a female’s heart to racing as a man in uniform. Watch your p’s and q’s, Colonel, or you may end the evening inadvertently engaged to a plethora of ladies.”

“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Bennet. I shall be cautious.”

“Perhaps I should advance the rumor that my garment is the official uniform of the Indian army. A man my age must resort to devious means and grasp onto any advantage possible.”

“Do the Indians have an official army, Dr. Darcy?” Mr. Daniels asked in confusion.

“Only in Punjab, but do you imagine that most of the naive girls of Derbyshire know this?” He grinned lecherously.

“My uncle. Godfather to my son. I am so proud.” Darcy declared dryly, the room erupting in laughter.

Voices and giggling interrupted further banter, a sudden flurry of colorful fabrics appearing at the wide double doorway. Mrs. Bennet led the pack, breathlessly fluttering in with voice raised over the din, “Oh how I wish I were young again! So marvelous, a Masque! Mr. Bennet! Look at our little Kitty. Is she not a vision of perfection? Wealthy suitors will be falling at her feet, I am sure of it!”

Katherine Bennet, nineteen years of age, rosy dimpled cheeks and sunny smile, was indeed a vision. The chosen turquoise gown was superbly fitted to accentuate her generous bosom and each voluptuous curve. Her hair was styled with a mass of curls held in check by a thin, jewel-encrusted tiara. Of all the Bennet girls Kitty most resembled her mother in both figure and character. Not overly intelligent, but with a sunny disposition and infectious smile that easily captivated men and women alike. Kitty would never lack for friends or suitors, although the acceptability of such acquaintances may be suspect, as Kitty did not possess a discerning nature. Like her mother, she had a tendency to blurt without thinking, to avoid any activity requiring extensive reasoning, to speak and laugh boisterously, and to ignore many of the finer nuances of etiquette and propriety. With maturity and positive outside influences some of the worst of these characteristics were tempering, but it seemed unlikely that Kitty would ever attain the level of grace and elegance that high society demanded. However, unlike her mother, she was rarely somber or distressed. All was gay and delightful to her. Georgiana Darcy, eighteen years of age, tall and slender, was equally a vision. Apropos for her stature and natural regality, the gown of thick maroon velvet lent an air of heightened prestige and maturity. The alterations of the past year were glaringly obvious to all who knew her, but never as forcefully as at this moment. Georgiana stood at five foot eight inches tall, figure svelte but with a curvaceousness that Lizzy only now in her maternal state had acquired. She was well proportioned with an ample bust line, delicate waist, long limbs, and sloping neck. Eyes slightly deeper blue than her brother’s, hair golden blonde, features dainty, and skin fair combined for a vision of loveliness.