saddles during the ungentlemanly display, and returned for the third day of the foxhunt only to avoid offending their neighbor.
Darcy glanced at his cousin to determine whether he, too, remembered the incident, but Fitzwilliam had engaged Miss de Bourgh in muted conversation. Just beyond Lady Catherine’s peripheral vision, Anne nodded and took the colonel’s proffered arm.
Elizabeth, standing opposite the couple, also noted the exchange. “Is your son here this evening?” she asked the viscount. Her query drew Lady Catherine’s attention toward herself and thus even further away from Anne.
“He is in the card room. Neville does not care for dancing.”
“Nor does my daughter,” Lady Catherine declared. “If Anne chose to dance, she possesses so much natural poise that she would make a lovely figure. Indeed, she would be a credit to any partner. But Miss de Bourgh is a level-headed young woman who sympathizes with your son’s disdain for frivolity. Is that not so, Anne?”
Anne, however, had escaped auditory range of her mother and was heading away with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Somehow, the couple had also managed to shed themselves of Mrs. Jenkinson, who remained behind.
“Wherever is she going?” Lady Catherine asked Mrs. Jenkinson.
“I am not certain, my lady. Miss de Bourgh merely said I was not needed.”
“The room is rather warm,” Elizabeth said. “No doubt Colonel Fitzwilliam escorts her to refreshment.”
“The air is indeed close,” her ladyship said. “I wonder that my nephew did not invite me as well. I could do with some lemonade. Riveton always serves excellent lemonade — not that tepid water they try to pass off as lemonade at Almack’s. A good lemonade requires the proper proportion of tart and sweet to adequately stimulate the palate. You must sample Riveton’s lemonade, my lord. Let us join Miss de Bourgh and the colonel.”
“Actually, Aunt,” Darcy interjected, “I was about to invite you to accompany me to the card room. Your lordship as well, if you are inclined. Perhaps we can find a game of whist.” Darcy had no interest in cards this evening, let alone becoming trapped at a table with Lady Catherine for a period of time, but he hoped the temptation of a game would provide sufficient distraction to grant Anne a set or two on the dance floor.
“Quadrille,” his aunt declared. “You know I favor quadrille.”
“I believe Neville plays quadrille,” said Lord Sennex. “Or is cassino his game of choice? No, no — I think it is quadrille. Yes, I am almost certain of it. Well, no matter. Whatever he plays, there may be an opening at his table. That would provide you an opportunity to renew your acquaintance with him, Mr. Darcy.”
“I would be pleased to play cards with Mr. Sennex.” In truth, Darcy had little desire to court the friendship of a man given to fits of temper, but he would tolerate his company if necessary to occupy his aunt. “However, should insufficient openings exist at his table, we can form our own.”
“If your lordship plays, we would then require a fourth.” Lady Catherine regarded Elizabeth appraisingly but without enthusiasm.
“Perhaps Mrs. Jenkinson could complete your table?” Elizabeth suggested. “She is the more experienced quadrille player.”
As Anne’s paid companion, Mrs. Jenkinson’s primary responsibility was attending Miss de Bourgh. Her secondary duty was serving Lady Catherine’s convenience, an obligation that commanded as much if not more time and exertion. Among other functions, Mrs. Jenkinson spent many an evening at Rosings rounding out her ladyship’s card tables.
“Mrs. Jenkinson should see to Miss de Bourgh.”
“Miss de Bourgh is well attended by her cousin at present,” Elizabeth said. “I will inform her of your whereabouts upon their return.”
“Tell her to come to me. She can take Mrs. Jenkinson’s place at cards.”
Darcy offered his arm to Lady Catherine. As they departed, Elizabeth caught his gaze with a smile.
“Enjoy your game.”
“Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy steer Lady Catherine out of the room. No sooner had the small party crossed the threshold than the musicians struck the opening chord of the next tune. She scanned the arranged couples for Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and discovered them not yet on the floor. They stood behind the gentlemen’s side of the longways set, also waiting for Anne’s mother to disappear from view. Once safe from her ladyship’s surveillance, the couple hastily joined the bottom of the set.
Anne cast a final look over her shoulder toward the doorway. Apparently satisfied that her mother was not about to charge out and promenade her right off the floor, she indulged in a conspiratorial half-smile at her partner. The two made a charming couple. Colonel Fitzwilliam cut a striking figure in his formal dress uniform; the decorated red coat with blue facings, gold lace, and gold buttons created a presence that lent handsomeness to his otherwise unremarkable features. Anne held herself with all her customary dignity, but there was a lightness in her stance not ordinarily displayed. Her face reflected expectation and delight as she watched the top couples complete the dance’s opening figures.
Elizabeth was not the only one to notice Anne’s enjoyment. Lady Winthrop, a longtime friend of the Fitzwilliam family, also observed the cousins.
“I do not think I have ever seen Miss de Bourgh in such high spirits,” Lady Winthrop said.
“Nor I, and the lower couples have not even joined the dance yet.”
Anne watched the top dancers closely, no doubt committing to memory the order of figures and studying their execution. Lady Winthrop’s eldest daughter led the dance, partnered with a gentleman Elizabeth did not recognize. Both were accomplished dancers, performing the figures flawlessly and with contagious enthusiasm.
“I am not acquainted with your daughter’s partner,” Elizabeth said.
“We were introduced only briefly, but my daughter and her friends were all information regarding the gentleman within ten minutes of his entering the room. He is Mr. Henry Crawford, and his catalogue of charms includes an income of four thousand a year and an estate named Everingham. He attends tonight as a friend of Admiral Davidson.”
Elizabeth had met Admiral Davidson, one of Riveton’s neighbors, earlier in the week, and recalled his having mentioned houseguests. “Mr. Crawford does not reside nearby?”
“His house is in Norfolk. He accompanies his uncle, Admiral Crawford, who visits on business with Admiral Davidson. My daughter tells me that Mr. Crawford and his sister were raised by the uncle in London.”
“Is his sister also present tonight?”
“No. Miss Crawford is not part of the admiral’s traveling party.”
Miss Winthrop and Mr. Crawford cast off and moved to the bottom of the set, taking their new place immediately below Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Their progression afforded Elizabeth a better view of Mr. Crawford. He was shorter than the colonel, perhaps five feet nine or ten, and had dark hair. His features were on the plainer side, but what nature did not provide he made up for with a genial expression that rendered his countenance pleasing to look upon.
As the music continued and the dance incorporated the set’s formerly neutral couples, Elizabeth wondered how Miss de Bourgh would perform. Fortunately, the first three figures were simple ones. Anne completed them charmingly, exhibiting all the grace her mother had boasted. Her step was smooth and light; her expression reflected concentration but not anxiety.
The next figure was longer and more complex, involving Anne with not only her own partner but also their neighboring couple. Now temporarily partnered with Mr. Crawford, Anne moved with less assurance. She faltered, and a flush crept into her cheeks.
Mr. Crawford said something to her and offered a smile of encouragement. His kindness seemed to restore
