Therefore, the fervor of interest was high. No one knew when or if she would formally make her entrance, but every last person prayed they would be present when she did. Thus it was with the crowd currently amassing in the grand foyer and reception hall of the Royal Theatre. Would this be the night? Of course, as with all society events, there were always a plenteous number of glittering personages of eminent importance to ogle and fawn over. The appearance of the Prime Minister, the famous boxer John Jackson, and the Russian Ambassador Count von Lieven with his wife, the famous Countess von Lieven, had already fanned the fires of excitement.

When the Darcy carriage finally crept to the front of the line, word had already begun to spread. Naturally, curiosity was high, but the talent involved with sating one's inquisitiveness while not observably appearing to do so was an art form well honed by the elite. Lizzy, ignorant of this skill, was hence spared the blatant stares which she had been expecting, enabling her to relax as she mounted the steps on her proud husband's arm.

A dashing and softly smiling Darcy escorted both his wife and sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam, resplendent in dress uniform, gladly lent his arms to Mary and Kitty. Lord and Lady Matlock stood outside the massive doors under the Corinthian columned portico in conversation with an elegant couple. The Earl noted their approach first, turning with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, and Miss Darcy.” Lord Matlock bowed, greeting them all with proper hand kisses, Kitty and Mary blushing furiously.

Lady Matlock kissed Lizzy's cheek. “Elizabeth, dear, you are radiant. Please allow me to introduce you to Ambassador von Lieven and his wife Countess von Lieven. Your Grace, Countess, this is my niece, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Lizzy was nearly rendered speechless. She had heard of the Countess, a patroness of Almacks and hostess of one of the most elite salons in London, not to mention notorious as the mistress of Metternich. She was stunningly beautiful, exotic with almond-shaped eyes and raven hair. Her husband was as impressive as she, tall as Darcy but heavily bodied and sporting a full red beard. They greeted Lizzy warmly in their accented voices. Lizzy, thankfully, managed to speak calmly, natural charm and wit rushing to the forefront.

“Mrs. Darcy, the fortunate woman to capture the heart of the elusive Mr. Darcy of Pemberley!” Madame von Lieven proclaimed in a husky intonation, flicking her folded fan on Darcy's arm. “We were worried for you, Mr. Darcy. A man such as you should not remain a bachelor for so many years.” Darcy reddened as she tittered musically. “What a delight your surprise marriage has been! I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Darcy, for providing a wealth of titillating gossip for my salon.”

Darcy, blushing, bowed regally. “Happy to have been of service to you, Countess.”

“No no! The joy is entirely mine, kind sir. I must repay. Mrs. Darcy, you and Mr. Darcy absolutely must grace us with your presence. I shall send an invitation round and refuse to accept your decline!” She giggled again, fluttering her fan before her face as she turned to her silent husband. “There I go yet again, dear, as you incessantly accuse. Selfishly regarding only myself!” She turned back to Lizzy, who frankly did not know what to think of the effervescent and flirty Countess. “You see, Mrs. Darcy, by guesting you at my salon I shall be all the rage! As will you be, too, of course. To receive an invite to my salon is a prized acclamation.”

“I shall breathlessly await your kind offer, Countess. We will be delighted to accept.”

Conversation flowed along with numerous introductions. Lizzy met so many titled gentry and other members of society that the names eventually melded into a jumble. They slowly weaved their way inside, the mass of people loitering in the massive lobby and staircases talking, laughing, and flirting. Theatre events were valued for the social contact far above the production itself. To be seen in one's finery and conversing with a notable was the prime motive for attendance. The news that Mrs. Darcy had been invited to Countess von Lieven's salon spread like wildfire. Couple this endorsement with her charisma and attractiveness, association with the Matlocks, presentation, favorable reception by a plethora of prominent personages, and Darcy's smiling pose, and her entry into the ton was secured.

The Bingleys and Gardiners were eventually located, chatting amiably with the Lathrops on the second tier balcony. Lizzy delightfully embraced her aunt and uncle. They had been overjoyed and awed by Darcy's invitation to join him in the Darcy box. Lizzy had never seen her aunt fuss so over the proper gown and accoutrements! While the women effused over dresses and jewels, Lord Matlock pulled Darcy to the side.

“Fitzwilliam, I wanted to warn you. Madeline received a letter from your Aunt Catherine today. It was primarily full of her usual nonsense until the last paragraph. She rather nonchalantly mentioned that she had heard of Elizabeth's pregnancy. I was suspect, as you barely announced your blessed news to us, and the manner of her casual remark seemed, well, too casual, if you take my meaning. You know your aunt! Have you written to her?”

Darcy was frowning. “No, Uncle, I have not. The truth is I had given it minimal consideration as yet.”

“How do you suppose she discovered it?”

“That I believe I can ascertain. Elizabeth is dear friends with the wife of the vicar at Hunsford if you recall. She wrote to her while we were in Hertfordshire, as we had recently been apprised of Mrs. Collins's expectant state. I did not ask, however, I would imagine Elizabeth told her our joy as well. That husband of hers is a doltish sycophant who would run to Lady Catherine with the news.” He smiled dourly. “We have had evidence of his interference in the past.”

“Whatever the case, I thought I should give you the heads up.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

They turned back toward the ladies, Bingley and Lathrop joining them as Lord Matlock spoke, “By the way, William, are you going to accept Duke Grafton's offer?”

“I would be a fool to decline it. The honor in him asking to mix bloodlines is astounding.”

Lathrop whistled. “Well done, Darcy! Grafton's thoroughbreds are some of the best in the country. How did you finagle that? Whip him at faro?” They all laughed.

“Hardly. You know me better than that. My luck at cards is nearly as atrocious as at dice.”

Richard coughed, pretending to murmur under his breath, “Or darts.”

Darcy ignored him. “I will assuredly accept his offer. He has asked me to ride to his estate next week. I have yet to tell Elizabeth, though, so let us speak of it no further. Perhaps, Stephen, you could accompany me? You too, Bingley, then the ladies could freely entertain each other as a soothing balm to their aching hearts in our absence.”

“And you will not feel so guilty for deserting your bride, eh cousin?” Richard was grinning.

Darcy scowled at his cousin. “Just wait, Richard. Your day will come and I shall laugh all the way to the altar.”

The bell rang, signifying the imminent start of the program. The Darcy box was spacious, comfortably able to seat nine. Elizabeth and Darcy were joined by the three girls, the Gardiners, and the Bingleys. Richard and the Lathrops would be sitting with Lord and Lady Matlock in their box located next to Darcy's. As Elizabeth was entering to sit, a tap on the shoulder caused her to turn, spying the smiling face of Harriet Vernor.

“Harriet, dear! I was beginning to worry. You are coming to Darcy House after?”

“Naturally, dear Elizabeth, we will be there. I shall speak with you at intermission, yet I had to say how amazing your gown.” She leaned in to whisper, “Everyone is talking about you, sweetie. You have dazzled the leeches of the upper crust!”

“Harriet! Shame on you!” Lizzy chided with a laugh and slap of her fan, but Harriet merely winked and joined her husband with an airy wave adieu.

Darcy was waiting for his wife behind the curtain, lightly clasping her elbow to lead her to their seats in front. “The Vernors arrived, I see.” He brushed her gloved fingers with his lips as she sat, settling himself beside her. He handed over her new opera glasses as Lizzy whispered what Harriet had said. He smiled, stifling a laugh behind a cough, replying, “How could they not be dazzled, beloved? You are the most beautiful woman here.”

Lizzy graced him with a brilliant smile. “You, Mr. Darcy, are prejudiced or blind. Yet I shall accept the compliment.”

As the lights dimmed, he bent for a quick kiss to her temple. “Thank you for wearing jasmine tonight, my heart. You are ravishing and delectable. How I shall attend to the performance is beyond my comprehension.”

In truth, he attended raptly, as did Lizzy. Others may haunt the theatre for the socialization, but the Darcys honestly delighted in the spectacle. The seats were superb, with visualization so perfect that Lizzy had little need for her glasses. Darcy held her gloved hand throughout, absently raising her fingers to his lips for soft caresses, inclining for occasional whispered commentary. Once, Lizzy twisted to meet his eyes for a comment of her own and without thought they briefly kissed, eyes locking for merely a second before returning to the stage. All this was noted by the various curious onlookers, some of who were shocked and abhorred, others who found it sweet and romantic.

The performance was spectacular. Intermissions were abounding with further introductions and invitations. The gentlemen brought refreshments for the ladies, Darcy especially concerned as it was quite balmy inside and he fretted over any residual faintness. Lizzy, however, felt wonderful. It was warm and her new fan was utilized, but no dizziness ensued.