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“I have some lovely cream silk which I believe may suit.” The modiste and her assistant bustled about, laying down a bolt of cloth next to one of the dress patterns the Countess of Matlock had selected for her niece.
Elizabeth had expec
ted Georgiana’s coming out to be extravagant, but she had been unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the event. Georgiana’s aunt was outfitting her niece with no fewer than 12 ball gowns, as well as countless day dresses, riding habits, gloves, hats, pelisses, reticules, and other necessities. Some days Georgiana might change her clothing four or five times! She even required a special dress, never to be worn again, for her presentation at Court.
The process was rather interesting, but Elizabeth felt grateful not to be the focus of the countess’s attention. Being more interested in fashion than Elizabeth, Georgiana enjoyed visiting the shops, but some days she simply became overwhelmed by how many people would constantly solicit her opinion. At such moments, Elizabeth would try to intervene, suggesting a trip to Gunter’s for some ices or simply an end to the day’s expedition. While the countess barely tolerated Elizabeth’s interruptions, Georgiana always appeared grateful.
Elizabeth observed Georgiana and her aunt examining different bolts of silk in great detail but did not participate. She simply did not possess the patience for discussions about the minutiae of fabrics.
Her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening’s encounter with Mr. Darcy. The sight of the normally fastidious man so disheveled had been so alarming that she had first believed illness or emotional distress to be the cause. Despite the overwhelming aroma of port, she had been slow to realize his uncharacteristic behavior was the result of inebriation.
She did not believe he regularly imbibed so excessively, but what did she truly know of the man? It would not be so shocking. Many men of the ton drank and gambled to excess at their clubs. But she had never thought Mr. Darcy to be that kind of man, and he had been in his study all evening. Did he habitually drink alone? Would she not have noticed it before now?
No, his behavior simply seemed out of character. Perhaps something had distressed him, and he had sought escape in drink. She found this thought rather disturbing and wished she could do something to help him. But she could do little for Mr. Darcy within the bounds of propriety.
The women had agreed on an ivory damask silk, and now the countess was negotiating a price with the modiste for the various gowns they had selected. Aware the negotiations could take some time, Elizabeth wandered to the shop window, where she could watch the activity on the street. Georgiana joined her, sitting on the window seat while Elizabeth stood.
Naturally, Elizabeth had not whispered a word to Georgiana about her evening encounter with Mr. Darcy, but the younger woman might know the cause of his distress. “How has your brother’s health been?” Elizabeth kept her voice casual and disinterested.
“He is in excellent health, I thank you,” Georgiana replied promptly, but then she frowned. “I should say, rather, he appears well … but I worry about him. He is so quiet and sober…Oh, he is the best brother, and he is always good to me, but there are times I do not believe he is…very happy.”
Elizabeth was not surprised at Georgiana’s insights. Quietly observing others’ behavior, Georgiana understood far more than most people credited. “Have you asked him about his melancholy?”
Georgiana’s lips pressed together before she responded. “Yes, but he denies there is a problem.”
“Is it perhaps because of Richard’s death?” Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana looked down, playing pensively with a ribbon that trimmed her dress. “We all miss Richard exceedingly. He was dear to us and William’s best friend. But these moods began before—he has not been himself for more than a year. Visiting America helped, but even there … I wish I knew what disturbed him, but he always says it is nothing.” As she plucked at it, the ribbon tore off the dress, but Georgiana did not notice; she was looking fiercely up at Elizabeth. “As if I cannot see for myself! I know there is some trouble, but he will not share it with me!”
Elizabeth sat beside Georgiana on the window seat and took her friend’s hand gently in both of hers. “Perhaps he is trying to spare you the worry.”
Georgiana gazed at the street outside the shop, but she was blinking back tears. “I wish he would confide in someone, but Richard was the only one he would talk with. He feels our cousin’s loss most keenly.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Has anyone else noticed his melancholy disposition?”
Georgiana gave a quick laugh. “Aunt Rachel believes he simply needs a wife, but she fears his temper if she speaks of it.”
Marry! Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth found the idea surprising and slightly alarming, but she could not fathom why. He was eminently eligible and of an age when many men settle down. No doubt he had been pursued by many women—beyond Miss Bingley.
Yet somehow she could not picture him with a wife.
Despite his vexing behavior—and occasional drunken fall—she enjoyed his company. However, if he married a well-bred lady of the ton, she would rearrange his life and might not tolerate social interactions with his cousin’s former betrothed. Why did the prospect sadden her?
She realized Georgiana awaited a response. How long had she been lost in reverie? “Does your aunt have anyone particular in mind?” Why did I ask that? I do not actually wish to know who he might marry. For some reason, the thought made her uncomfortable.
“I do not believe so. He has told her not to play matchmaker, but I know she will throw every well-bred lady of the ton his way during the Season. Aunt Rachel is determined we shall both be wed this year!” Georgiana bit her lip pensively and glanced away.
Elizabeth gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Your brother will not force you to marry before you find the right man.” Georgiana nodded quickly. Then she turned back to Elizabeth, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But William told Aunt Rachel he has no intention of marrying!”
Elizabeth felt shock and another, more difficult to identify, emotion at this news. Was it relief? Of course, she reasoned. She did not wish to disturb her comfortable friendship with the Darcys, since they helped her cope with losing Richard.
“Why would he say such a thing?” Georgiana asked, her brow creased with worry.
“Perhaps he simply dislikes your aunt’s matchmaking,” Elizabeth suggested.
Georgiana considered this. “It is true he attends few social events, and he complains about the women of the ton, so false and languid. He has never demonstrated any particular interest in a specific lady.” Georgiana brought her lips close to Elizabeth’s ear and breathed, “Aunt Rachel speculated he has a mistress!”
