Elizabeth blinked. “A… a hug? Is that all?”
“No, that was just the beginning. I think he was weeping, but do not repeat that. He said nothing to me that first night, just embraced me until I was a sobbing fool myself, and said we would speak of it the next day. This afternoon he called me into his library and asked me what I would like to do.
“I did not understand. I thought at first, he was giving me an ultimatum, forcing me to choose my own punishment. Father used to do that when I was very little. I would always pick the harshest punishment, because if I chose something too mild, I would get a second round of something worse.”
“But that was not what Mr Darcy wanted?”
“No. He asked me what I wished to do with myself. ‘These days,’ he said, ‘times are changing. Before long, they’ll give women the vote, and they will be owning businesses and making names for themselves,’ he said. He asked me if I had other ambitions—you know, ambitions that did not involve endangering myself or disgracing my family.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “And had you?”
Georgiana frowned. “No. It saddened me to admit that, but I could not think of anything suitable.”
“You have always wished to travel.”
“But I do not, really. I am not like Anne, who can hardly bear to be in one place more than a month. I only wanted to go because my friends were there, and it seemed more exciting than staying here. I would have been my own mistress for once, I suppose.”
“There must be something. What if you studied music abroad?”
Georgiana’s mouth puckered, and she hesitated. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, what are you going to do, now that…”
“Oh.” Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know. Your brother and your cousin have been kinder than I deserve, but I do not think I can live off their charity the rest of my life. I am grateful for their hospitality for now at least, but I expect I will need to strike out on my own, sooner rather than later.”
“But did you never have any ambitions in life? Nothing that inspires you?”
Elizabeth gazed at the far wall, and her eyes misted for a moment. “My father and I used to read poetry together. Cowper was his favourite.”
“Ah, yes. I have seen you with that little book of poems. Will you believe it, I used to mock you in my heart because it was so thin and worn, and you seemed to read the same old book over and over. You see what a shrew I really am.”
Elizabeth giggled. “You are perfectly irredeemable.”
Georgiana lifted her shoulders, accepting it as both insult and jest. “I know. I hope this might pass as something of a penance, though.” She held up the pages she had brought with her.
Elizabeth looked them over. “Piano music? You are either incurably optimistic about my abilities, or you mean to torment not only me, but the countess and the earl and anyone else unfortunate enough to listen.”
Georgiana grinned; the first time she had ever looked so sincere. “I wrote this especially for one of your… talents. The notes are simple, and the melody is informal and easy to master. If you abuse the timing or cross the notes, you should still be able to recover. And look, just one flat.”
Elizabeth’s face grew warm with delight as she looked at the music. “You wrote this yourself? For me?”
The girl flicked a shoulder. “It only took an hour. The key to this piece is not so much technique, but your mood. I thought it suited your personality—I called it the Butterfly Waltz.”
Elizabeth held it to her chest. “I shall treasure it and practice daily—or at least until I am implored to stop.”
Georgiana laughed. “I expect I will be at hand to hear you often enough. William was just saying that he meant for us to be often at Matlock.”
“He said that?” Elizabeth’s heart squeezed pleasantly.
“Yes, of course. Anne is staying there, too, and they will be preparing for the wedding.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth echoed, but her voice sounded hollow.
Chapter 26
Wyoming
