While Mr. Taylor had a gladiator somewhere in his familytree, Georgie clearly descended from the Viking invaders who had once plundered these shores. Everything about her, from her loud laugh to her broad bosom to her iron-forged sense of self, branded her as a local hoyden. The best part was that Georgie never seemed to notice how she bent the world to her will; she accepted it as her due.
Her money gave her independence and a begrudging respect—even from Lizzy’s snobbish mother.
“Elizabeth, my dear, you bear a striking resemblance to a drowned rat,” observed Georgie in her characteristic bluntness, never one to tiptoe around pleasantries. She cast a swift, assessing glance at Tuck, her good-humored eyes contrasting with her resolute jaw. “And who’s this big buck? You weren’t found poaching, were you?”
“Cousin.” Lizzy conjured her most charming smile even as her spine wobbled like jelly. They needed to get out of the yard before the servants got a long look at him and his odd attire. “Best to go indoors for this particular conversation. I suggest the drawing room. And do you have any more Irish whiskey? We’ll need it.”
“I don’t like that expression one bit, girl,” Georgie said with a grunt. “It hints that peace and quiet aren’t in my future.”
Five minutes later, Georgie was pouring her second glass of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, a servant dispatched to locate Jane, who was also visiting the Woodlands from Chawton Cottage, some twenty miles due west.
“Fancy that,” Georgie muttered for the third time, dabbing her handkerchief at the sweat pebbling her temple. “I’ve heard the old stories, of course, from servants back when I was getting settled into these parts as a young bride. I must confess that I didn’t pay them much heed, but there are things that can’t be explained, like Hamlet was always going on about.”
“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” Lizzy rejoined. “That’s the verbatim quote.”
“Oooh, look at the clever one. A pity I don’t have a sweet in my pocket.” Her cousin patted at her dun-colored skirts in mock bemusement. “I’d give you one as a reward.”
Tuck’s chuckle turned into a hoarse cough when Lizzy shot him a furious glare.
“I’m not showing off,” she said testily. “I simply think if one is going to quote a famous play, one should do it properly.”
“And as you can see, ‘proper’ is my middle name.” Georgie gave Tuck a wink.
“But whynotaim for accuracy?” There were moments when Georgie—and even Jane—could irk her. Perhaps they teased her because she was younger or they were closer friends. Yet, when it occurred, she couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling of being on the outside of the circle. And she detested it. “I’m sure Shakespeare put effort into those words.”
“Too bad I can’t apologize to old Will. But since his plays are mostly dirty jokes stuck between moments of plot, I suppose he’s got a good sense of humor about life.” Georgie turned to Tuck, her thin eyebrows raised. “Serious Lizzy here is my second uncle’s daughter. There are people worse than Uncle Leopold was, but few as boring. How he and my foolish aunt managed to have a child as dear as Lizzy is one of life’s mysteries.” She put her empty glass on a carved table and gestured to the piano. “Play something for us.”
Lizzy recoiled. “You can’t be serious. Now is not the time for music.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Georgie gestured at the drawing room doorwith a knowing look. “The servants will either hear you abusing the ivory or us regaling Jane with how you discovered a man from another time in a cow pond. What’s your choice?”
“A waltz it is.” Lizzy marched to the pianoforte. “Please make allowances, everyone. This will not be pleasant. I’m not falsely modest. I am not an accomplished player.”
“I’m sure you’re fine,” Tuck said, reaching out to pick up a bronze candle snuffer. He regarded it in bewilderment and inexplicably sniffed the end.
“You use it to put out candles, Mr.Taylor,” Lizzy snapped, arranging her skirts on the bench. What did he mean with hisfine? Did he mean he was indifferent? Dismissive? And why was he so fidgety? She’d already observed him poking at snuffboxes, sconces, and even an inkwell, before frowning at the fireplace screen and then the chandelier.
“Ah.” He set it back down. “But why don’t you blow them out?”
“You’d bend the wick if you did that,” she said.
“Dear Lizzy is a cross between a child and a little sister to me,” Georgie continued, as if she’d been the only one speaking. “I never had children of my own. Indeed, I have no real inclination to be maternal, but I do enjoy companionship.”
“She seems good company,” Mr.Taylor said.
“I’ve been fond of her ever since I met her bald and croupy. A proper banshee, this one was. And scrawny too. Imagine a skinny baby. No, don’t, you shouldn’t like to think of such a thing.”
“Cousin, thank you,” Lizzy uttered through gritted teeth, hitting a wrong note that made everyone jump. “I am certain Mr. Taylor wishes to occupy his thoughts with far more urgent matters than tales of my infancy.” She wasn’t oversensitive. It was merely that those she held dear seldom took the time to regardher as anything beyond an extension of their own narratives—a supporting character offering occasional amusement or, at worst, an obligation, a burden, a weight.
“Ma’am?” A servant appeared at the door. “MissAusten will join you momentarily.”
Chapter Seven
The woman hustled into the drawing room, her white dress swishing with each step. While her hair was mostly covered by a lace cap, a few curls peeked out. “I hope this is important,” she said, her voice equal parts annoyance and curiosity. “I’ve had an aching head, barely managed to write a page, walked to the village to purchase more paper, got caught out in the rain, and was about to take a nap. We indulged in far too much wine last night, Georgie. Look at my hands; they’re trembling. I wonder if—” She halted upon noticing Tuck. “Oh.”
Tuck fought the urge to squirm. Her bright eyes bore into him like he was a fish in a bowl being observed by a curious cat. Time to do what he did best: give nothing away.
“I was not aware we were to have callers.” She beelined toward the velvet couch where Georgie was perched and parked herself. “I confess, my curiosity is piqued.”
