Chapter Twenty-Four – The Final Ball

Mary set aside the lengthly letter from Mrs Bennet, having read it several times. It was the sixth letter she had received from her mother, one for each month that had passed since Mrs Bennet apologized and came to understand her mistakes fully. As were the previous letters, this one was clearly laboured over, with paragraphs dedicated to Mrs Bennet re-learning the piano and though it was not her joy, she was beginning to understand Mary's joy when she got a piece just right. There were no intrusive questions about her marriage, only wishes for James' continued good health and suggestions for evenings together that might be a little different but still enjoyable. Mary would write back to her later, after the big event of the week happened. She had to go, and she would not miss it for all the rubies in India.

In three days, Kitty would make her first steps into Society as an adult. She had decided that like Elizabeth, she would cease to be Kitty and step up to her full name. Miss Katherine Bennet's debut was well supported, and Mary was sure that her sister would do well in her own way. Katherine was not the nervous girl who had entered seminary, afraid that she wouldn't live up to her sisters. She had confidence, and Mary was proud of the growth she had done in the last five years.

There was a knock at the sitting room door, and at her bidding, James stepped into the room. He offered her a wan smile. "I'm home at last. It has been a very long day, and I have missed you."

"I've missed you as well," said Mary, standing and crossing to him. "Come tell me about it, and I'll tell you about Mama's letter."

"I rather like that," said James. Mary rang for a maid, and when she arrived, Mary ordered a plate of sandwiches and tea, as was their tradition. They sat together on a sofa and looked at one another, happy that finally they had a moment.

"As I have not really seen you in three days, I am not sure where to begin," said James.

"Perhaps with an overview of your earliest patient?"

"Ah yes. A case of measles. I made very sure to clean my hands and equipment after I left that household, as I do not wish to spread it and cleanliness seems to help, and also to reassure my patients. There was not much I could do but make the patient comfortable, as they were very advanced in their sickness. I know why they did not call earlier, but I wish I could have done more."

"I am sorry to hear that. I know that losing patients is hard on you."

"I feel guilty for a week or so, and then I try harder with my next patients to try and prevent it from happening. But death comes for all of us, eventually, and that is something that I must at some point accept or I shall tear myself to pieces over every death."

The tea and sandwiches arrived. Mary poured them tea and settled the sandwich plate between them. "What about the next patient?"

"A seamstress with a sprained hand. I am concerned about the circumstances under which the sprain occurred, but there is little I can do other than help her leave her husband if necessary."

"Are there children?"

"No, thank God. It will be easier to remove her and make a plan to help her live her life." A beat, and another bite of sandwich. "I met with Darcy and Bingley for a quick lunch, and they told me that plans for Katherine's ball are coming along quite well, and that their wives are finishing the last details of the ball."

"They are quite right. I have been busy with that as well, and I helped Katherine with choosing her music for the evening." She was silent for a moment. "It is still very strange to call her by her full name, rather than by her childhood nickname."

"I imagine it would be."

"Tell me more of your day."

"I sat with an elderly patient of mine for the last time. She was alone in the world and wanted someone who knew her to be with her in her last moments. I do not mind deaths like that, where the person has come to terms with their life and are ready to die. It was very peaceful. I ensured that she would be cared for."

"That was kind of you," said Mary, taking his hand. "But I feel that you have had a very difficult time."

"Very true. I then saw two other less urgent cases that could have become very bad without treatment. And now I am home, telling you about my day and how much I have missed you."

She squeezed his hand. "I am glad that you are home now. Will you be able to come to Katherine's ball?"

"I won't miss it," promised James. "I will finish seeing patients at noon, have a nap here and then meet you at Darcy House."

"Good. I would like to dance with you at least once."

"I look forward to hearing what you and Kitty – sorry, Katherine – have chosen for the dancing."

"My mother will be there."

James started. "She will?"

"Yes. Katherine confirmed it today. She arrives tonight and will stay with the Gardiners, then come and help us in the morning."

"How are you feeling about it?"

"Hm. I regret not having her at my ball a little bit, but what's done is done. Katherine has made the gesture, and I think Mama knows not to throw it away. It will be the first coming out ball she has attended among her daughters."

"Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy didn't have her there either?"

"Mrs Darcy did not want her there. Too much anger, and Elizabeth is proud. Mrs Bingley wanted her there, but Mama decided that Lydia needed her more."

"I am always sorry that there is so much bitterness between you and your sisters and your mother. I wish that you had known more love."

"I have learned what I do not wish for in a marriage and to be as a mother from her. That is a great gift, and I treasure it. I am sad for the time lost, and the moments that we can never get back, but I can only change the future, not the past."

"Only you could take an experience so negative and make gold from it."

"I am fairly certain that Jane has this talent as well, but nonetheless, I am happy that it is a skill of mine. Finding the good in the bad helps me with my sadness and anger caused by the bad in life."

"And you are healthier for it." They both reached for another sandwich and realized that the plate was empty, as was the teapot. They rose and James took Mary's hand. "I am exhausted. And tomorrow will be another long day. Shall we?"

An excited Katherine met Mary at the door the next morning when she arrived. She greeted Mary and pulled her towards the parlour that had become the planning room. "Mama and Elizabeth are talking to each other, and they are not fighting or being as sharp with one another. You must come and see!"

"That is quite the change," said Mary, trying to hide her growing hope. "Katherine, have you also been receiving monthly letters from Mama?"

"I have," said Kitty. "While I do not quite have a reasonable connection to Mama, I feel this is a good start. She discusses art with me, and asks about my thoughts on poetry and a few short stories."

"I feel much more at ease with how our family connects since we confronted Mama," said Mary. "I am very glad that happened. But enough about that. How are you feeling?"

"Quite nervous," admitted Kitty. "I know that once I am dancing everything shall be well. But it is the receiving line that worries me."

"You have a good memory for names and faces. I think you will be more prepared than you believe."

They arrived at the parlour where the planning was taking place. Mary noted the tension in the air in the stiffness of Elizabeth's grip on her cup, Jane's darting eyes and Mrs Bennet's chatter about some inconsequential thing that had happened in Meryton in the week prior to her arrival. Mary glanced at Katherine, who shuffled her feet. "It was going better than this when I left."

"Dear Mrs Fanshaw!" chirped Mrs Bennet. "How well that sounds! It is difficult to believe that you have been married for almost a year. How are you getting on?"

"Quite well, thank you Mama," said Mary, taking a seat near Elizabeth. Katherine sat on her other side. "And you? How was your journey into town?"

"I have never liked travel, the roads are so dusty and bumpy," said Mrs Bennet. "The snow was most inconvenient, all mud and slush. It was terrible, and I am so glad to be here now."

"It seems you had quite the ordeal," observed Mary. "I do hope that you are alright."

"My nerves are delicate, but I shall be fine," said Mrs Bennet. "I brought my strongest smelling salts in case I have an attack."

"That is wise, as your health is important."

"Thank you, my dear."

Mary glanced at Katherine, who was twisting her handkerchief into thread, before turning back to Mrs Bennet. "I received your letter yesterday. You mentioned that you were practicing the latest Kuhlau concerto. How are you finding it?"

"It is quite pretty, is it not?" said Mrs Bennet. "I enjoy it very much."

Elizabeth caught Mary's eye and pursed her lips. Jane continued to sip her tea and avoid eye contact. Mary took a cup from Elizabeth and turned back to her mother. "But the fingering, you mentioned that you were having some trouble. Perhaps you could play for us, that we might be able to show you how to make it easier for you?"

"Oh, of course," said Mrs Bennet. She huffed a breath and crossed to the piano, where she sat and revealed the keys. She shuffled through the sheet music for a moment, frowned, and then said with a set smile, "I shall have to play from memory."

She then began to play, and Mary winced, along with Katherine and Jane. Elizabeth did not move a muscle as she listened. Within the first few bars, it became apparent that not only was Mrs Bennet unclear on her fingering, but that she was unfamiliar with the piece indicated earlier and was actually attempting to play a song from the stack of music on the piano. Mary stared at Mrs Bennet in dismay for a moment before turning to Elizabeth. "I do not think that Mama was writing those letters."

"She likely was not," said Elizabeth quietly. "She could not recall half of what she had written to me. And she had been assuring me that she was gaining an interest in flora. That is not something one forgets when one has an interest in it."

"Her letters to me have had a disconnect from her visits," added Jane under the cacophony. "I should have said something, but I was not sure – I did not wish to accuse without proof –"

"Well girls, what did you think?" asked Mrs Bennet, a smug smirk pulling at her lips. The sisters exchanged looks.

"It was certainly very bracing," said Mary. She looked her mother in the eye. "Mama, I feel that perhaps you need to practice pianoforte more and tell tales less."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Mama, six months ago you wanted to improve your relations with each of us," said Elizabeth. "Since then we have received letters from you that relate to our interests. Thinking about it, I do not know how you have managed a thriving social life, botany studies, art, music and your own interests. I would like to clear up the discrepancy, as it interferes with your stated desire to reconcile."

Flustered at being called out so directly, Mrs Bennet stuttered, "Well, that is, perhaps I did not write the contents alone. Your Aunt Phillips helped a bit, as did Mrs Collins."

"I see," said Elizabeth.

"We want your words, Mama, not others' thoughts," said Jane. "You are still welcome, but we need honesty and kindness from you. Please, Mama, I know you can."

"I do not know what it is that I have done wrong," said Mrs Bennet haughtily. "I have done my best, and still it is not enough. Well! The ingratitude! I shall take my leave of you all, and I shall not attend this ball." She rose and stormed out of the room, calling for her things and wailing about having vipers for daughters. Katherine looked at her feet, fighting the urge to fidget. The slam of the front door heralded the exit of their mother.

"Were we too harsh?" asked Jane.

"No, I do not think we were," said Mary. "And I think that perhaps Lydia learned a few things from Mama that were very unnecessary."

"We were perhaps a little harsh," admitted Elizabeth. "But I think that she has not changed and as such, I must do what is necessary to protect my family from harm."

"Charles and I were talking about perhaps buying our own estate, perhaps in a county not too far from Pemberley," said Jane. "Nothing is final, but I am also uncomfortable with Mama and the way she spreads others' business around the town."

"I am sure that Fitzwilliam and I would be happy to help with finding a suitable place, should you wish it," said Elizabeth. "But we are here for Katherine. Are you alright?"

"No," said Katherine. "I am disappointed for the most part. And upset for expecting different. What do I say when people ask why she is not at the ball? I think it is known that she is in town."

"You could say that she is ill, or has a headache, or is dealing with an emergency at home and cannot be distracted," suggested Mary. "I said that she was ill for mine."

"I did not bother with excuses, really," said Elizabeth. "I simply said that she had urgent matters to attend to at home, and they could not wait."

"No one asked me," said Jane. "They laughed at me instead."

"At your own ball?" said Mary, scandalized.

"Oh Jane," said Katherine sadly. "That is so sad."

"It is," agreed Jane. She straightened up and set her cup down decisively. "But it shall not be at your ball, because we will not let it be so. Katherine, where is the book? We should go over what still needs doing and what has already been done."

"I'll go fetch it," said Katherine. She stood and went up to her bedroom, where she had been going over details the night before. She knew every page, every scrap of material, every space for pressed flowers from the night itself. She hugged it to her chest as she trotted back down the stairs to the room where a much calmer Jane and Elizabeth sat while Mary talked about a spot of difficulty she was having with one of her compositions. Katherine let a little giggle out as Mary described almost having the perfect note when a maid had come in and she'd spilt her tea across the initial draft of the piece.

"I suppose it is humorous now," said Mary dryly as Katherine sat back down, "but it very much was not at the time. Luckily, I saved most of it, so it is almost ready to present to you. I just need to do the last twenty bars or so."

"You're writing a song for me?" said Katherine, surprised.

"Well, yes. It's my gift to you, sort of a letter to who you have become from where you started. Just music, not words."

"That is beautiful," said Jane. "I am anxious to hear it."

"We left off the planning at the last little details," said Katherine, opening her book. Her sisters leaned forward to look at the pages as she flipped through them. After about an hour of hashing out plans, Jane excused herself to see to Samantha, who was in the nursery and likely missed her mother. The three remaining sisters chatted once she left, finding comfort in the familiarity they shared with one another. When Jane and Mary left after dinner, Katherine went back up to her room and looked through her box of correspondence. The letters from Mama were set side by side across her writing desk.

Katherine stared at them. She wanted to be civil with her mother, wanted to have some connection still. But it seemed that Mrs Bennet had decided that her daughters were not worth working for. And so, Katherine would not forgive. She had wanted to, if Mrs Bennet truly changed her ways. But it would not be so. Katherine sighed and wrapped the letters in a handkerchief that she would not particularly miss and tucked them in the bottom of the box.

Georgiana and Lydia came by the next morning, having secured permission from their respective headmistresses. The younger girls caught Katherine up on their daily lives and what they were learning. Lydia, now in her second year of formal schooling, was interested in the maths and sciences and how the world functioned. Georgiana had decided to branch out from music a bit and attempt poetry, most of which she admitted to not being happy with.

"It is like when you were learning piano," said Katherine. "First you made noise. Then you made sound. And then, after much practice, you made music."

"I shall keep practicing then," said Georgiana. "I may not become a great poet, but perhaps I can entertain my family and friends with little verses."

"And when you do become known for your amusing correspondence, I shall be able to say that I know you," teased Lydia. "But I shall never share what was written to me. If you choose to write to me."

"We are sisters," said Georgiana thoughtfully. "I suppose I can include you in my address book."

The three girls laughed. This is what family should feel like, mused Kitty. This warmth, this welcome, a hearth that could be carried with her in memory and in moments such as these. She had missed having this; after Mr Bennet died and the family was parted in so many ways, they forgot to make time for laughing together. It was nice to share this again with sisters.

The chatter continued until just before noon, when they were reminded that Lydia and Georgiana were to return to school, and that Katherine had to collect her gown from the boutique. The three girls hugged one another goodbye in the front hall, but stalled in their leaving as Elizabeth made her way downstairs for the first time that day. She also hugged Lydia and Georgiana and reminded them to write.

Once they had gone, Katherine asked, "Are you feeling well? Usually we cannot get you to have a lie in unless you are unwell."

"I was feeling a bit poorly this morning when I woke, but I am much better now," Elizabeth assured her. "I shall not be ill for your ball."

"Are you quite sure?" fretted Katherine. "We could summon a doctor, perhaps even Dr Fanshaw, if you truly needed it."

Elizabeth took Katherine's hands and squeezed them. "Do not worry about me. It was likely something that disagreed with me, or perhaps the passing of ill-humour from Mama's visit. Tomorrow is your day, and you need to focus on that. Shall we collect your gown?"

"I think so," said Katherine, delighted at the idea. Worry bubbled in the pit of her stomach, but Elizabeth took good care of herself. It was very unlikely that she was truly ill, and Elizabeth was usually truthful.

They took one of the carriages to the modiste, one of the smaller, plainer looking ones. Katherine watched the streets as they passed, remarking on what she saw as they drove. Elizabeth listened quietly, occasionally replying. On one of the streets, there were people begging, and being ignored and walked over. Katherine described this to Elizabeth with horror. "How can people treat each other so badly?"

"Some believe that they are superior based on the circumstances of birth," said Elizabeth, "or because of some self-serving accomplishment. They question those without such fortunate circumstances about their lack of success. Such people make up a fair percentage of the Ton."

"Are we awful people, to live in comfort while others starve?"

"I do not know. Or rather, I know and am deeply uncomfortable with the answer. I comfort myself with the knowledge that I do everything I can for the people entrusted to my care. That has to be enough. I do not have the influence to change everything for everyone. But I can make things a little easier for someone."

"Is that what it means to be a lady? To be of the upper classes?"

"It should be, if it is not the generally accepted philosophy."

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the modiste, and the two women were handed out. As the entered, the modiste's assistant bustled over to them with a warm smile of welcome. "Good afternoon, ladies. How might I help you?"

"We are here for Miss Katherine Bennet's gown," said Elizabeth. "The final fitting was last week and few changes needed to be made."

"Oh yes, Miss Bennet's gown!" said the assistant happily. "Yes, it's ready for you. Would you like to try it on before you leave?"

"Katherine?"

"Yes, please. I should like that very much."

The assistant led them to a private room and went to fetch the gown. A moment later, she returned with it cradled in her arms. The assistant and Elizabeth helped Katherine into the gown, the assistant showing Elizabeth a few of the gown's tricks to help it stay together and get on and off comfortably. Once the gown was on, Katherine was permitted to look in the mirror. She gasped and twirled on the spot, watching the skirts as they swirled around her, catching the light. Elizabeth's approving nod made Katherine smile even brighter.

"I love it," she gushed. "It suits me so well. I have not tried this cut of gown before, so I was nervous, but it looks lovely."

"The choice of fabric is what makes it, I think," said the assistant. "It drapes beautifully, and the colour is exactly the right shade for you. I rather think it speaks to the lightness and ephemeralness of youth, and the happiness that comes with it."

"It rather does," agreed Elizabeth. "We must have a portrait of you done in this dress. Not a massive one, but it seems a waste to not have this preserved."

"Did you have a portrait done in your debut gown?" asked Katherine.

"I did. It lives in Mr Darcy's study, next to the portrait of his mother at her debut. And next to mine will be Georgiana's unless she wants it for her own rooms."

"Why keep them there?"

"For personal reasons. It makes him happy to have us there, and that is what matters."

"Oh. I am sorry, that was a very personal question."

"It was, and you are forgiven for asking it. Mary also had one done, and hers hangs in her library. It is rather beautiful, and captures Mary quite well."

They helped Katherine out of the gown and carefully boxed it for transport. Elizabeth thanked the assistant for her help, and the modiste herself came over to chat for a moment. Katherine also thank them both for the beautiful gown, expressing her delight at the prospect of wearing it the following night. The other ladies in the store smiled and nodded at the controlled excitement radiating off Katherine. One of the ladies commented on her excitement for her first ball many years ago. Her daughter, who appeared to be preparing for her own debut, listened carefully while running her fingers over a bolt of silk. The door opened and another mother and daughter entered, and the modiste sent her assistants off to help the other ladies in the shop. Katherine and Elizabeth said their farewells and returned home.

Once they were home, Katherine begged off of more planning and went to draw in one of the sunnier rooms of the house. Elizabeth was glad to be home, and gladder still that everything was ready as it could be at this point. Whatever emergencies came up tomorrow could be dealt with as they arose. Everything had been thought of that she knew of: food and drink ordered, music selected, flowers ordered, gown retrieved and invitations long since sent. Those who said they would come would arrive or not, that was out of Elizabeth's hands. Though that reminded her, she needed to speak to Thompson and Mrs Madison about Mrs Bennet.

Finding her heads of staff was rather straightforward: they were in the kitchen going over the order for the next night's supper with the cook, Mrs Hammond, and comparing it to the list that she had sent out earlier in the week. Elizabeth caught their attention with a little cough.

"I do apologize for interrupting," said Elizabeth, "but there is something that should be mentioned to the staff before tomorrow's ball. My mother, Mrs Bennet, is no longer permitted in this house, and as such, if she should try to attend, please remove her."

"I am sorry to hear that, ma'am," said Mrs Madison. "We'll make sure that the staff know, and take care of things as we know best."

"Thank you," said Elizabeth, relieved. "Has the food order come in?"

"Indeed it has ma'am and we were just doing the count to make sure that everything came," said Thompson. "So far, everything looks proper, but we are doing a thorough check."

"Please let me know if anything is amiss," said Elizabeth. "Oh, there should be an extra jar of pickled cucumbers. Please set it aside, as I have become rather fond of them of late."

"Of course," said Mrs Hammond. "If there's anything else you might want, or very much not, we'll be happy to find it for you."

"Thank you again," said Elizabeth. "I think I shall be leaving this in your hands for tonight." She offered them a warm smile and went up to her bedroom. A nap was in order, and then supper with her family, and then perhaps an evening with Fitzwilliam to discuss the book they were reading. She fell asleep quickly, and woke feeling mildly better to find her husband sitting on the bed next to her, petting her hair, and looking very worried.

"Katherine mentioned you had not been feeling well this morning," said Fitzwilliam, "and you've been quite tired of late. Are you well, Elizabeth? I know you dislike being fussed over, but if you are ill, then we must take care of you."

Elizabeth sat up. "I cannot be cross with Katherine for telling you, as she was very worried as well. I am as well as can be, I suppose. I do have some news for you."

"What is it?"

"We're going to be parents."

Fitzwilliam froze, eyes wide. "Oh. Well that explains the exhaustion."

"It does, yes."

"Elizabeth. Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"I waited a month or so to tell you, just in case I was wrong. But I wasn't, and the midwife said that I should feel the baby move soon."

"You're expecting. We're going to be parents. And the baby will move soon?" Fitzwilliam twitched as though he longed to pace the room, while at the same time wanted to be close to his wife. "I'm so happy. So very happy. Terrified, of course, but happy."

"So am I." Elizabeth leaned against him. "Terrified and happy. We're going to have to redecorate the nursery."

"And announce it." He wrapped his arms around her. "When should we do that? Not today, obviously, we cannot steal Katherine's moment from her."

"I was thinking in a few weeks, when things have settled a little. I would not take Katherine's moment away from her, and she deserves to have the attention on her for a while."

The next morning was a flurry of activity as last minute finishes were put in place. The floral arrangements were brought in and placed in the ballroom in the spaces Elizabeth and Katherine had decided on. The kitchen bustled with activity, with pots of soup and trays of appetizers being whisked around and the main roast watched to ensure thorough cooking. Elizabeth kept Katherine close to her to help with handling the little emergencies, such as being a candle short for the supper room – take one from the brown guest room, if there is one, no one's used that room in ages – and the disappearance of a quarter wheel of cheese. The wheel had been as small one, and Mrs Hammond was modifying her recipe to account for the lack of cheese. Elizabeth decreed it to be in Mrs Hammond's hands, and that if it was really a problem, they could probably ask the neighbours and send them back cheese with the next food order.

It was midafternoon before Elizabeth shooed Katherine upstairs to get ready, and went to her rooms for a soak in the tub to ease the headache she knew was coming. A bath, a plate of pickles and half a pot of tea later, Elizabeth called for her maid and got dressed for the evening. The maid did her hair while Elizabeth selected jewelry for herself and wrote a short note to go with a box containing earrings, a necklace and a bracelet for Katherine. Her appearance put together, Elizabeth went to help her sister get dressed.

It became apparent that very little getting ready was happening. Jane and Mrs Jones were trying to soothe Samantha, who was crying quietly, and Mary it seemed was downstairs negotiating with a delivery person who was trying to get a carpet through the front door. Elizabeth was fairly certain that she had not ordered a carpet, nor had anyone else of their acquaintance who might send a carpet to them for safe keeping. Mary seemed to have it well in hand. Katherine, on the other hand, appeared to be ashy grey and was shaking slightly as she sat on the bed.

"What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked, sitting next to Katherine.

"What if no one likes me?" whispered Katherine. "What if they laugh at me like they did with Jane? What if Mama shows up?"

"Well," said Elizabeth, "I believe that Mary is currently dealing with Mama attempting to sneak in wrapped in a carpet. She has the situation completely under control. As for not liking you and laughing at you, become iconic and then they will have to like you."

"I am not made to be iconic," said Katherine.

"I think that whether you are iconic or not depends entirely on what you feel you are capable of. I think that you are capable of being the star of your own ball, and many more things."

Katherine nodded. She was still shaking, but she looked a little more lifellike than she had before. "Alright. Let's get me dressed."

Jane passed Samantha to Mrs Jones and the sisters got to work, helping Katherine with the many layers and making sure that everything sat just right. Jane spent a good five minute marvelling at the gown and all its details before they managed to get it onto Katherine. The older two managed to get Katherine to sit at the vanity and Elizabeth presented her with the box.

Wide-eyed, Katherine took the box. "For me? What is it?"

"Open it."

Katherine opened the note first, reading through the message that Elizabeth had penned an hour before. Tears glittered at the corners of her eyes and she flung herself into Elizabeth's arms. "Thank you, thank you."

"See what's in the box before you thank me," laughed Elizabeth.

Katherine opened the box and gasped at the silver and moonstone set. Each piece of the set was elegant in design and not too heavy for a young woman just coming into society. Katherine immediately put them on, noting how well they went with her gown and how grown up she looked and felt wearing them. Jane picked up the brush and styled Katherine's hair in the was that she had decided, with moonstone accent pins in her hair.

"I look quite pretty," said Katherine breathlessly. "I look like I should be at a ball with all eyes on me."

"How do you feel?"

"Much more ready to meet people."

There was a knock at the door and Mary entered, brushing off her hands like there was dirt on them. "Oh, you've finished already. I had wanted to help."

"I believe you did," said Elizabeth. "What was going on downstairs? I heard something about a carpet."

"That," sighed Mary. "Someone ordered a carpet in the Darcy name and set the delivery date to today at five o'clock. I, having been part of planning for the last week and a half, knew that you had not made that order. Thus I had it sent back to the maker with a note informing him of the mix up. The delivery men were most displeased. The oddest thing was that when the carpet hit one of the doors on its way out, it squawked like a parrot."

"Very odd," agreed Jane. "Was it a nice carpet?"

"I thought it was rather overwrought and not at all something that would fit in this house."

"It is almost seven," said Katherine. "We should go down. Guests will be arriving soon."

They went down to find that guests had indeed begun to arrive. The small crowd that was gathered turned to look at them as they floated down the steps, with Jane going first, followed by Elizabeth, then Mary and finally Katherine. There were murmurs of what sounded like approval from the guests and the sisters took their places in the receiving line.

Of all of the interactions, Lady Catherine de Bourgh's formal introduction to Miss Katherine Bennet was the best. Lady Catherine looked Katherine up and down, nodded her approval and said, "You look like a young lady and I am told that you act like a lady should. You will do well, Miss Bennet, and I am proud to share a name with you."

"I am grateful for your presence, and for your guidance over the years," said Katherine. "I should have been quite lost without you."

"You are a very good girl," said Lady Catherine. "I hope that when you meet your match they are truly worthy of you."

"Thank you, Lady Catherine," said Katherine with a small curtsy.

Anne and her husband were next, greeting the Bennet sisters with dignified enthusiasm and introducing the young man, a second son with a head for estate management and a clear adoration of Anne. They had had a small wedding with few people present, as both were not fond of society overmuch, but were happy to support Anne's first friend.

Elizabeth greeted her friends as they came down the line and kept an eye on the men as they approached Katherine. Like with Mary, she would watch over Katherine and make sure there was no harm done to her. The young men brought along by her friends were mostly relatives, but ones who had been vetted beforehand so as not to overwhelm Katherine. Cousins, important society figures and close friends streamed through the doorway to flood the ballroom. As the stream began to slow, Fitzwilliam escorted Katherine into the ballroom to open the dancing. As always, the Bingleys and the Fanshaws danced together, James having arrived not too long before. Major General Fitzwilliam, recently promoted on merit, offered Elizabeth his arm and they took their places in the line.

The first dance was light and lively, a good dance to start everyone with, and Elizabeth felt herself a little heavier than usual, but not so much that it was hindering her. She danced with the major general for the set, stealing glances down the line at her husband, who was giving her sister his undivided attention as they spoke, and bantering with her own dance partner. Once the set was over, Elizabeth went to sit down, needing to calm herself from the exertion but pleased. Charles took over introducing young men to Katherine while Fitzwilliam went to stand by his wife.

"I think this will be a wonderful night," said Fitzwilliam. "It certainly has started well."

"That it has," said Elizabeth. "The second set is starting soon."

"I feel as though you are either trying to get rid of me, or trying to find an escape from being asked to dance."

"I never want to get rid of you. But you are right, I ought not dance more much more."

"I would like to dance with you at some point this evening."

"I have you marked down for the supper set. I have not seen early enough of you in the last month, and I have missed you."

"Very well, I should be honoured to dance the supper set with you." Amusement coloured his words and a flicker of mischief danced in his eyes before his face softened ever so imperceptibly. "I do love you, Elizabeth. You are my favourite to dance with."

"I love you as well," said Elizabeth, a fond smile gracing her face. "And I love dancing with you, more than anyone else."

"I am glad we are agreed," said Fitzwilliam. He looked out over the dance floor at their guests, assembled to welcome Katherine, their sister, into society. Elizabeth followed his gaze to the head of the line, where Katherine was dancing with a young man whose name escaped her for the moment and Mary was dancing with one of the older gentlemen, while Jane stood off to the side with a group of younger married women and talked, seeming relaxed.

"Not George," said Elizabeth suddenly. "I have decided that we are not naming any of our children George."

"I accept these terms, and would like to rebut with no Catherines, please. There are already two in close relation and I would not wish to confuse everyone at family gatherings."

"Very well, not Catherine. We will have to think on this."

"I think we have some time, do we not? And I would be happy to name our child with you." He brought her fingers to his lips, making her giggle.

They turned together towards the crowd again, and Fitzwilliam stepped slightly closer, not taking his eyes off the floor. Elizabeth watched her sisters as they danced, and leaned happily against Fitzwilliam, knowing that the spirit of Mr Bennet was finally at peace.

Fin