“It is these white woolen cloaks that render us so ethereal, and you most of all, Annie, for your hair appears almost white in the moonlight.”
“It is bright tonight. Let us run the rest of the way to the folly. I need to stretch my legs. I have been confined all day long with Mamma, waiting for my cousins.”
Georgiana cried out. “Do not leave me behind.”
Elizabeth took the girl’s hand and ran at her pace. Miss de Bourgh reached the folly well before them and had spread the blanket by the time they arrived.
“Lizzy, did you bring the wine glasses?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth drew one from each pocket of her cloak and another from her reticule.
Miss de Bourgh handed a candle to Georgiana and produced a tinderbox. “My mother does not permit me to do much ofanything, so I have never learned to light a candle, but Lizzy is teaching me how to do it.”
Elizabeth struck the steel against the flint to cast sparks upon the charcloth, and when it caught, she set it to a taper and lit the candle. Georgiana placed it in the holder while Elizabeth poured the wine, and the three settled upon the blanket.
“We do not know each other, little cousin. Pray tell us something of yourself. What are your accomplishments?”
“I play the pianoforte, and my master considers me an accomplished performer, though I do not sing. I enjoy sketching likenesses of my family, and I paint landscapes.”
“We all know Lizzy’s accomplishment, for we had the benefit of it this afternoon.” Anne sniggered as she continued. “Lizzy, did you observe your cousin’s astonishment when you sang?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. You will recall I was most dutiful in keeping my eyes lowered.”
Georgiana asked, concerned. “But why, Miss Elizabeth? Are you a nervous performer?”
“No, Miss Darcy. My cousin expects I will treat his patroness and her family with the utmost deference and humility, which, in practice, requires I remain silent and keep my eyes lowered.”
“How very odd.”
“It is quite archaic for the one who must submit to it. I pity my poor sister, who is to live under such directives for the rest of her life, and she is only nineteen, while he is five and twenty. If he lives another forty years, and she endures as long, it is a considerable penance for the privilege of inheriting a modest estate.”
Georgiana’s expression softened. “That is most distressing, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth touched the young girl’s arm. “Would you mind calling me Lizzy, or Elizabeth? Unless you feel it is too informal?”
“I should like it very much. I feel as though I have gained two sisters. Please call me Georgie.”
Elizabeth said, “It is your turn, Annie. What is your accomplishment?”
Miss de Bourgh pursed her lips in thought. “I do not sing, play, draw, or sketch. The only thing I can do is run.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, you can.” Then, turning to the young girl, she said, “But you must not speak of it, Georgiana, for gentlemen do not value such an accomplishment in a lady and would be quite scandalized to learn she was running about out of doors where a neighbor might observe her.”
Miss de Bourgh agreed. “Can you imagine Fitzwilliam’s countenance? He is so exact in his notions that the idea would quite shock him. The colonel, however, might bear it a little better. He is a practical man, and I suspect his years upon the Peninsula have made him rather less delicate in his judgments.”
“Where do you run, Annie?”
“Lizzy and I run in the early morning along the track beyond the old barn. I can now nearly match her in both speed and distance, for we have run together ever since she came to me.”
“Does Aunt Catherine approve?”
“Heavens no, my dear. It is not thought proper for women to exert themselves. You will keep our secret, will you not?”
“Yes, I shall. May I join you?”
Elizabeth asked, “Would your brother object if he discovered it?”
Georgiana was silent for some time. “I do not keep secrets from Fitzwilliam. It would be better if I did not run. I can keep yours, but if I joined you, it would become my secret, and I should be obliged to tell him.”
