Elizabeth drew her lip between her teeth and unconsciously shrank back. The colonel’s sister, Lady Sophia, was alternating between petting Georgiana, crooning over Anne Fitzwilliam, and unnecessarily soothing the ever-unruffled Mr Darcy.
Only Colonel Fitzwilliam caught her eye, and it was with a peculiar interest that caused her to shiver. He tilted his head slightly and his lip twitched, as if he had confirmed some notion to himself. But then, he had not the decency to look away and leave her to her discomfort—no; he bowed and gestured for her to precede him up the stairs behind Georgiana.
The hair stood on the back of her neck all the way up the steps. He was studying her—she sensed it by the way his steps sounded evenly in time with hers and even faint hesitations on her part caused him to halt altogether. It was a sick and heavy feeling, being invisible and conspicuous all at once, but such she was—the fallen gentlewoman, no doubt an object of derision among the noble Fitzwilliams, and perhaps even a figure of intrigue to a man safely married elsewhere.
At her earliest opportunity, she moved towards Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, if you do not require my presence for the next half hour, I should like to retire.”
Georgiana blinked. “Of course, Elizabeth. Are you well? I thought you would wish to speak with Fitzwilliam at once.”
Elizabeth tipped her head across the hall where the gentleman himself was speaking quietly to Lady Sophia. “Later, perhaps, if Mr Darcy is not otherwise occupied. I prefer to rest my head for now.”
The girl’s brow furrowed, but she agreed. “I will have Mrs Reynolds send up some peppermint. Oh, it is so very good though, is it not? Having Fitzwilliam back, I mean. We shall be so merry, and now you needn’t worry about anything!”
Elizabeth offered a thin smile. “Nothing at all.”
Fourteen
MrsWickhamdidnotcome down until dinner, and when she did arrive, she slipped wordlessly to Georgiana’s side and seemed to take no notice of him.
Darcy was careful not to make her uncomfortable by looking her way across the table—unless, of course, he sensed that her attention was elsewhere. Those few glances he did snatch were telling. She wore a non-descript, mouse-grey gown—not unsuited to her half-mourning, but entirely inappropriate for her complexion and figure. She must have resumed styling her hair herself, because he could not imagine any lady’s maid in his employ fashioning such a plain, dowdy coiffure when the lady had such lustrous, thick hair to work with. And her colour… was she feverish or blushing?
“Oh, Mr Darcy, I pray, do tell me what you think.”
He drew a short breath and commanded his senses once more before turning to Lady Sophia, seated beside him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why, what we were just talking of! Mother was speaking of plans for Georgiana’s come-out, and she sought my opinion on her gowns. After all, Mother has no patience for sitting through hours upon hours of fittings any longer. I cannot think how wearisome she finds it all, for you know how her back pains her these days. Anyway, she had already selected some shades and fabrics for Georgiana, but I told her—you must think me dreadfully irreverent—I said they were all rubbish, and we must begin all over with bolder shades and heavier silk. Am I not right? A girl of her station must stand out, should she not?”
“There are many ways in which a young lady may ‘stand out,’ as you put it. She needn’t attire herself as a peacock just to turn the eye.”
“Ah, Mr Darcy, you speak like an older brother, but you must think like a single gentleman. She must first catch the eye, before aught else, for who knows but that the most eligible gentleman may find his attention diverted by another female with brighter plumage? And by then, all hope is lost, do you see?”
“If he is so easily diverted with no head to look for more than bright feathers, then I daresay he is not the man I desire for my future brother.”
Lady Sophia laughed. “Mother said you would think thus, but no matter. We shall have Georgiana turned out as a princess when the time comes, and you will hardly know her when she enters the room. Is that not right, Anne? You have heard our plans, and can you say you do not approve?”
Anne cast a casual eye over Georgiana, who was shrinking in her chair, and gave a careless flip of her hand. “Naturally, she ought to appear in a fashion worthy of her station, but I think it hardly matters. Georgiana Darcy would hardly need to show her face at all, and she could command the best suitors. With a fortune such as hers, success is practically guaranteed, so long as she does not waste her youth and looks in waiting on the indecisive sort.” She blinked slowly and bestowed a long, cold look on Darcy before drawing a sip of her champagne.
Darcy felt an uncomfortable burn forming along the ridges of his ears, but he made a show of not hearing Anne’s pointed jab. Richard, however, was less tactful. His cousin muttered something incoherent, then tossed his napkin over his plate and rose. He made a curt bow to Mrs Wickham, who was seated near him, then he left the room without another word to anyone else.
“Ah, dear Richard,” sighed Lady Sophia. “Mother is forever speaking to him about his temper. What can have set him off this time?”
No one bothered to answer, and the rest of the meal was carried on in near silence.
Elizabethperformedherdutyby Miss Darcy that evening—sitting near her at dinner and giving reassuring glances whenever certain topics made her uneasy. Later, she turned pages for her at the pianoforte when the family’s appeals induced the shy girl to play for the party. Colonel Fitzwilliam never returned, which Elizabeth found odd. No one else seemed to miss him, which she found even odder.
Mr Darcy was nearly silent all evening. He sat in a long chair by the window, occasionally gazing at it as though he could see into the blackness of the night. When he was not looking there, his eyes seemed to rest upon his cousins with a peculiar gleam. Elizabeth had not been so many months in his house without recognising something of that expression. Mr Darcy seldom spared a thought for those persons who were unremarkable, which meant that he found something either appealing or abhorrent in the ladies. Given the gentle replies he made whenever they spoke directly to him, Elizabeth decided it was the former case.
“Elizabeth?” Georgiana whispered. “I do not recall the next bit.”
Elizabeth looked at the music page and realised that she had lost track of Georgiana’s playing. Talented musician that she was, she had continued from memory for as long as she could, but now the piano had gone quiet and all eyes had turned to them. She managed a flustered apology and turned two entire pages over to catch up to the place where Georgiana had left off.
“Something the matter, darling?” Lady Sophia asked. “Why, the poor child is grown weary. Anne, my dear, we have been unkind to our young cousin, asking her to keep us entertained all evening.”
“I do not see how she can be fatigued after a mere hour,” Mrs Fitzwilliam replied. “Darcy always assured Mama that Georgiana played ‘very constantly.’ Is that not right, Darcy? I wonder if it can be true, as you claim.”
Georgiana was quietly gathering her music, looking down to avoid the gazes of any in the room, but Elizabeth was watching Mr Darcy. He had slanted his tall figure back in his chair, his head tipped in the manner of a man at leisure, and he offered a laconic frown to his cousin’s query. “I am not in the habit of speaking untruths.”
“But are all your claims valid?” asked the lady. “I daresay you have believed things that were not true.”
