Georgiana’s face fell. “Why, yes, she did—they both did!”
Mary’s mouth crinkled, and she began blinking rapidly. She looked quickly about, seeking to hide her shift in expression from her guest but failing miserably.
“Miss Mary? I do not understand! Have I said something wrong? I do beg your pardon!”
Mary’s hand was covering her mouth, and her shoulders had begun to shake uncontrollably. Georgiana gasped in horror at herself. She had made her hostess cry! Abominable! What a wretched girl Miss Mary must think her!
“M-miss Mary, please, I am so sorry! I do not know what I have said, but….”
Mary raised her face back to her then, lowering her hand slightly, and a squelched peal of laughter escaped her. Stunned, Georgiana studied her for a minute. Mary was not crying; she was monstrously amused! Her brow furrowed in wonder, Georgiana watched as stoic Mary Bennet strove to contain her laughter.
“Can it really be that bad?” she whispered in awe.
“You have no idea!” giggled Mary. “Kitty must be pulling one over on you. Even Jane had to hide in Papa’s study! My poor aunt has been lying down with a headache ever since!” Mary hid behind her hand again, struggling to regain proper deportment, but this time she was not alone in her labours. Georgiana bit back a most indecorous chortle, certain that her face was by now a brilliant crimson.
After an uncomfortable moment spent composing themselves, Mary pressed her mouth into a tight, thoughtful expression. She glanced toward the end of the room, noting that Jane and Mr Bingley seemed completely absorbed in their own conversation. Blinking hesitantly and drawing a shaky breath, she turned back to her guest. “Iplay, Miss Darcy, but no one ever wants to listen to me—unless they want to dance, and I am the one at the instrument.”
Georgiana’s mind fixed on those words. They sounded uncannily like her own words to Elizabeth. How she had hung on that unwavering encouragement offered! She leaned slightly forward. “Iwill listen to you, Miss Mary. Perhaps we could try a duet!”
Georgiana learned quickly the reason no one wanted to listen to Mary. It was not her technical expertise, for that was superior and rivalled her own. Rather, it was her pedantic air and the dreary pieces she selected. She could do nothing about the other girl’s personal taste, she supposed, but she was watching Mary carefully and began to realize something. “Mary,” she asked softly, gently. “Do youlikeplaying?”
Mary’s hands dropped from the instrument. She stared with her mouth slightly agape. “No one has ever asked me that before. I never thought of it.” She faced forward, gazing blankly at the sheet of music before her. Georgiana glanced away, granting Mary her privacy.
“It is the only thing I am good at,” Mary shrugged at last. “I suppose I play because I do not know what else to do but read.”
Georgiana held her peace another moment, considering. At last, she ventured, “You areverygood, Miss Mary.”
Mary’s eyes turned sharply toward Georgiana. The other girl’s tone was sincere and kind, and absent was the silent “but”, which always characterized that statement when uttered by her family. She waited for it, but it did not come.
“You think me dull, do you not?” she prodded, unable to take the compliment at face value.
“Not at all,” Georgiana returned stoutly. “You have a natural talent, and if you had the masters I had, you could be shockingly good! I just wonder if you enjoy it—if you appreciate it.” Georgiana did her best to temper her tone with humility. She feared that her reference to her superior masters would sound snobbish and vain.
Fortunately, it was the words of praise that Mary took to her heart. It was doubtful she had heard many. She lifted her fingers again to the keys, tracing C# thoughtfully with her thumb. She looked again to her companion, and a hint of warmth lit her eyes. “I think I should enjoy playing with you, Miss Darcy. May we try something together?”
They were so employed when Lydia and Kitty Bennet returned. The very frames of the house shuddered with their unflagging obstreperousness. The two chilled girls gathered around the fire in the drawing-room, and their voices drowned out even the pianoforte.
Georgiana’s gaze drifted to them occasionally, but socially fragile Mary had only just opened up to her. She dared not leave her to visit with the others. It was obvious they had not noticed her presence at the instrument as yet, so much did they take Mary’s constant playing for granted.
“La, it is so cold!” Lydia stuck her hands before the fire. “Jane, did you see, it is starting to snow at last!” Jane offered some murmured reply, but Lydia paid little attention. The room was filled with the clatter of their hot cups and saucers as they tried to warm up.
“Mary!” Lydia turned their way at last. “We heard the most delicious… Oh! Miss Darcy!” Lydia elbowed her sister, and both stared in some surprise.
Georgiana was turning pages and could not politely rise from the instrument, but she greeted them as cordially as was possible. “Good afternoon, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. I trust you had a pleasant time in town?”
“Oh, we had amost revealingvisit,” Lydia’s head was bobbing. Kitty snickered beside her. Georgiana’s brow puckered. These girls were merry enough, but their manners were nothing like those of their genteel older sisters.
“Me and Kitty and that dreadful Mary King, we heard somethingveryinteresting today.” Kitty, not as bold or quick-witted as her younger sister, giggled in response but offered no comments of her own.
“Oh?” Georgiana’s eyes widened innocently. Clearly, the girls were involved in some kind of gossip. While she felt sure her brother would not approve of her indulging in the same activity, she did not know of a gracious way to excuse herself. It seemed that she would be required to hear.
“Aye, indeed!” Lydia averred. She and her sister shared significant glances. Mary had ceased playing and folded her hands disinterestedly in her lap. “Would you believe,” Lydia went on with a conspiratorial whisper, “that there is—orwas—a gentleman in our very own town with amostdastardly history?”
Georgiana felt the blood run from her face. She dropped her eyes, struck speechless.
“A young lady of breeding and character does not espouse rumours, Lydia.” Mary spoke with prim sharpness. Her face had dropped back into her customary scowl. She glanced sideways at Georgiana, and the remainder of the speech she had prepared for just such an occasion went unsaid. Somehow it seemed pompous and out of place in such gentle company.
“Oh, but this is no mere rumour! I have it as a fact, from a veryreliablesource—meant as a warning, I shall have you know! I shall be on my guard, make no mistake. You ought to hear all!”
