Contrary to Mrs. Hurst’s claims, London was not far. Darcy only required half of a day. He would return well before dinner on the morrow.
Once again, he caught himself staring over the topof his book at Miss Elizabeth. And so it was that when she raised her head from her paper to look past him at the paintings on the opposite wall, he saw on her expression the same concern he had noticed earlier. Georgiana, too, noticed. Setting down her brush, she said, “I am certain your sister will wake up much improved after she has rested.”
Miss Elizabeth pulled her gaze away from the paintings, recovering her smile by the time she met Georgiana’s eyes. “I am certain you are right. While I would love to allow you to ascribe my wistfulness to sisterly affection, I fear I must admit that my thoughts are not at all altruistic.” She sighed dramatically, a contrast to the humor in her tone. “I am frustrated at my ineptitude.”
Darcy prayed the pages of his book covered his face. The frankness of her confession and absolute lack of embarrassment in her admission were designed to provoke laughter, and that is very nearly what he did.
“You are not being fair to yourself, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Bingley insincerely encouraged, proving herself immune to playfulness. “Georgiana and I have benefited from years of advantages you have not been privileged to have. With a great deal of practice, you will eventually gain the skills of a novice.”
“I would call your first attempt very promising—far better than that of a novice!” Georgiana added. “Look how well you blend and mix colors. They are so vivid!”
Vivid colors.Perhaps she had taken inspiration fromthe paintings on the wall. Was that why she looked up at them?
Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “You are generous with your praise, but I clearly lack enough talent to merit your time and instruction. If there is some white work to do, perhaps my hands might be put to better use with some embroidery.”
Setting aside her box of paints, Georgiana began to rinse her brush. “My basket is in the drawing room?—”
Miss Bingley interrupted. “Georgiana has the loveliest alabaster-handled scissors in her basket. You really must see them. I was quite in raptures when I first saw them and simply must find their equal.”
“They were a gift from my brother,” Georgiana said with a blush.
Darcy lowered his book. At this point, he did not know why he bothered to pretend to read at all.
“Really? Where did you find such a prize, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley asked.
He was disinclined to reply. She would never believe he actually set foot in the middle of Seven Dials anyway.
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes fairly danced with merriment. “Would that every young lady could have a brother to bestow such useful gifts upon her.”
As though every young lady dreamed of embroidery scissors!Darcy understood her double meaning very well and dearly wished to disabuse her of the notion that he was incapable of a more fitting gift. Why could MissBingley not have mentioned the books and music he frequently brought Georgiana?
“My brother is incredibly thoughtful. He has increased my collection of music substantially over the past few months.”
Her reply pleased him more than he could express and certainly more than he was willing to admit. Why should he care what Miss Elizabeth thought of his gift-giving skills? Still, when she smiled and opened her mouth to speak, Darcy was all anticipation of a charming retort.
“If you please, miss,” interrupted a maid from the doorway. “Your sister is awake.”
Whatever Miss Elizabeth had been about to say would have to go unheard. In the blink of an eye, she quit the room, soon to be followed by Georgiana and Miss Bingley.
Finding himself alone in the parlor, he followed his curiosity to the watercolors left drying by the windows. He identified Miss Elizabeth’s immediately. Her paper was filled with colors that gradually blended one hue into another in a manner that could easily pass as a sunset reflecting on the surface of a glassy lake.
Georgiana had painted several flowers in full bloom. Darcy could almost smell them.
Miss Bingley had begun to paint two horses grazing in a field. There was no fault in her technique, but there was nothing captivating in them either. Perhaps she would layer in the eye-catching details as the work progressed.
Finally able to give proper attention to the two paintings on the wall without their artist there to observe him, Darcy crossed the room to inspect the landscapes more intently.
So vivid were they, he half expected them to jump off the wall and come to life. Miss Bingley must have had a master hovering over her shoulder, guiding her through every brush stroke. They were not Rembrandts by any stretch of the imagination, but they were pleasing to the eyes. They made Darcy smile.
CHAPTER 13
By the time dinner was called, Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth conversed with their heads bent toward each other like old friends instead of the recent acquaintances they were. Georgiana spoke as much or possibly more than Miss Elizabeth, who smiled and nodded and encouraged her to continue with open interest. Watching them together, Darcy could not have been happier.
Miss Bingley did not appear pleased. Then again, nothing beyond a limited radius of Mayfair pleased her. She did her best to single out Georgiana’s attention at the dinner table, but their group was too small, and Miss Elizabeth was too considerate to attempt to indulge in a private conversation when there were only six other guests to entertain.
Darcy observed silently, knowing that once he involved himself in the conversation, his sister would grow quieter and allow him to take the lead when hewould rather she continue. Still, he must be polite. He sensed that if he did not take part soon, Miss Elizabeth would turn to him with her eyebrow arched and that challenging gleam in her eye, and she would put him to task over it. This time, he would beat her to it.
“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, for repeating a question which has certainly been addressed. I fear my attention was not fully on the subject when Bingley first asked.” Once he had everyone’s attention, he continued, “How is Miss Bennet?”
