“Nonsense. I hardly think that you teaching me to be kinder can be dangerous in any way.”
Georgiana emitted a smallhmm, but declined to comment. A moment later, Mrs Reynolds brought in a rack of warm toast, lightly done, and set it on the table in front of Caroline, who refrained from offering more than a tight smile in case she scared the woman further. If she could not even bid a servant good morning without causing alarm, then perhaps she needed more help than she had realised. Some unfamiliar emotion twinged in her chest, as red as embarrassment, though nowhere near as warm. “Will your brother be joining us this morning?” Caroline asked, selecting the most appetizing-looking slice.
“Why? Looking for another list of your flaws?”
Indignation stung as hard as a wasp. “I believe I already have a thorough inventory of them, thank you,” Caroline retorted,buttering the toast so hard, her knife gouged through the bread and scraped the plate. “I do not think there is a single rock left in my soul that your brother has not pried up and shone a light underneath.”
She cut a corner off and crammed the toast into her mouth, then buttered a second slice with even more venom than the first, risking removing the very pattern on the admittedly beautiful china plate. Georgiana chewed slowly, her eyes tracking every erratic movement of Caroline’s knife. “May I ask a question?”
Caroline swallowed, hardly tasting her mouthful. “Certainly.”
“Did you ever love Fitzwilliam?”
“Of course,” she replied immediately. “We all love your brother. Such a dear man.”
“I mean, were you ever in love with him?”
Caroline’s knife halted above the butter dish.What a ridiculous question.“Goodness, no.”
“I did not think so.” Miss Darcy cocked her head. “When you talked about him, it was clear you thought him handsome and interesting, but I never really got the sense you truly... adored him.”
An astute observation, and closer to the truth than Caroline had been prepared for at such an early hour. “Do you think that is why he was never interested in me in return?”
“Partly, yes.”
“Oh.” She put the knife down.
“Have you ever been in love?” Georgiana persisted.
“Never. Love renders one foolish and nonsensical.”
“So why do you wish to be in it now?”
“Well, I...” She floundered. That was a very good question, and one she didn’t really have an answer for, other than it was something Darcy had seemed to think she couldn’t possibly achieve. What higher motivation could there be to want to accomplish something than someone declaring that you could not possibly manage it?
“And why on earth do you think I am capable of assisting you with such a thing?” Georgiana continued.
“You always master everything you try,” Caroline said, though to her mind, the answer was obvious. “Bach. Haydn. All the most difficultcontredanses.”
“You are a person, not a piece of music. Nor are you a series of steps.”
“Even so.” She picked up her steaming cup, savouring the heavenly scent. “I have every faith in your ability to master and manage the most complicated of affairs. Perhaps this is an excellent test for you, too. A chance for you to succeed in something far more impressive than needlework and concertos.”
“Oh yes,” Georgiana said, sarcasm lacing her tone. “I can easily see all the ways in which teaching you will benefit me. I am definitely not thinking about all the ways in which trying to reform you into a mirror-image of Lizzy will drive me into an early grave.”
The idea of Elizabeth Bennet’s face in a looking glass distracted Caroline for a moment. That was another thing; the girl was appealing to anyone with eyes to see her feminine charms. She had not her sister’s looks to be sure, for Jane was by far considered to be the real beauty of the family by anyone with taste and sense, but the animation in Lizzy’s fine, dark eyes certainly did lend a certain warmth to her countenance. Even her mouth was appealing, with pink lips that curved in animpertinent smirk at every available opportunity, yet softened into genuine loveliness whenever she... whenever she...
Caroline couldn’t quite remember what line of thought had brought her to this conclusion. A faint, incomprehensible blush heated her cheeks as she stared down into her tea. Shaking her head to free herself from the attractive mental image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet—witty and amiable paragon of all Hertfordshire, may God burn it to the ground whenever He so desired—she returned to the destruction of her toast with renewed vigour.
Georgiana sighed. She’d been doing a lot of that over the past day, Caroline had noticed. “I have two further questions.”
Caroline arched an eyebrow. “Only two? My, my, this interrogation is light. Are you feeling quite well?”
Georgiana ignored this jab; she was far too well-versed in the art of sparring to be waylaid by such a simple riposte. “My first is this: one is generally advised on such things by one’s relations rather than one’s friends. Why, therefore, do you insist on receiving my help in particular?”
“I told you precisely why last night. You are the societal ideal of what a young lady ought to be. Everybody thinks so. I have quite lost count of the number of times I have overheard that declaration from other young ladies and their mamas, as well as from eligible gentlemen.”
“Mmm.” She poured herself another cup of tea. Caroline wasn’t quite sure why she had the feeling that these questions were a test, or why she suddenly felt like she was failing. “And secondly,” Georgiana continued, picking up her fork and spearing another piece of ham, “how exactly do you propose to begin?”
