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“Oh, Lizzy…I wish I had not…” Georgiana whispered, her voice small. “I…until I know for sure that my brother is well and healed, I cannot possibly go to parties and pretend I have not a care in the world. Oh, how I wish I had not…made those mistakes.”
“Mr Darcy told me, once, that he was not feeling…himself just before his illness struck. He would hate for you to feel responsible. I understand not wishing to go tonight. To be honest, I am not enthusiastic about the evening myself. But as your brother often said, we must ‘press on’— and I am trying to do as he might wish. Oh, I hope you understand! You are as dear to me as any of my sisters. Perhaps more so,” she said.
Georgiana finally looked up. “I…I will try to deserve your friendship.”
Lizzy reached up to embrace her friend. “All is well, then, for there is nothing you can do to lose it.”
Georgiana managed a smile. “Here, then, let me fasten the collar for you.”
They went to the looking glass together, and Lizzy smiled at her reflection. “An enormous improvement. I thank you.”
A look flashed in Georgie’s eyes. “If you were to remove that cap…and perhaps, burn it, it would improve everything enormously. Your hair is lovely, Lizzy. I do not know why you hide it.”
“Why, because my—” Lizzy began but then halted. Because my father hated seeing it, hated seeing me. Because I hated it, whenever I saw myself through his eyes. A sudden memory assailed her: Mr Darcy, his hands in her hair, the intent look in his eyes as he mussed it, the groan he’d sighed, what his eyes had revealed about what he wished to do, to her and with her, at that very moment. It was silly, even, that she had ever kept her hair hidden from him.
“Do you suppose Sally might have time to do it up before the carriage leaves?” she asked instead.
“I will find her at once!” Georgiana cried eagerly, hurrying to the door. “I am sure she will!”
Lizzy turned back to her mirror and began unpinning the linen covering. “Press on, Lizzy,” she whispered to her reflection. “Even if you never see him again, you can see yourself as he saw you.”
Beautiful.
* * *
“Lizzy, there you are,” Jane called once Lizzy finally appeared downstairs. “Oh! You look quite nice. Does not she look lovely, Mr Bingley?”
“Indeed, you do, my sister. I shall have to beat the fellows off with a stick! And I am the most fortunate man alive, surrounded as I am by such beauty.” He laughed good naturedly, crooking out his arms to offer them both escort.
“You shall be surprised, I think, at our numbers, Lizzy. The regiment has improved attendance exceedingly.”
“I am happy to hear it. Will Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst be joining us?”
“Oh, they have already departed for the assembly hall in Hurst’s carriage.”
The three of them chatted merrily during the drive, and Lizzy tried to join in their enthusiasm for the event. But although they had warned her, Lizzy was unprepared for the sheer number of men gathered for the assembly. She was accustomed to a scarcity of partners and knowing every person in attendance; now, there must be three men to every female! It was probably just as well that Georgiana had chosen to remain home, for it would likely have been a more intimidating gathering than she had envisioned.
But there were benefits to such a crowd. For one thing, her uncovered hair caused little notice, as it might have once upon a time. For another, she was swept into the dancing immediately, after Mary King introduced her to an officer, a Mr Chamberlayne. There were, of course, many other familiar faces as well, and her welcome from them was equally gratifying. She looked about for Lydia and Kitty, both of whom had been very excited by the probable return of a young captain, a Mr Denny—who, according to Lydia, was not handsome but considered quite eligible. And although she tried not to, she continuously watched for the arrival of Mr and Mrs Bennet.
But her sisters were late arriving, and when they did, they did not come with her parents but with the Lucases—evidently her mother’s edicts against that family had gone the way of all her others—her sisters’ laughter somehow louder than any others, despite the noisy rooms. She went to greet them, and they readily included her in introductions to the officers they conversed with. One was the hoped-for Mr Denny, and another, a Lieutenant Wickham of Derbyshire. He seemed to take an immediate liking to her.
“My friend Denny tempted me to join the Hertfordshire militia with his report of the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance here. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I can plainly see he did not lie.” He gifted her with a most charming smile, conveying both respect and admiration.
Oh, to feel something, anything!She ought to have, for his appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty—a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. If only he were taller, broader of shoulder; if only he had a curl inclined to fall upon his forehead and eyes of the darkest chocolate. How long would she search for another’s face and form amongst strangers?
Lydia quickly—and in the most forward manner—demanded Captain Denny lead her into the country dance whilst Kitty procured another partner with very little less presumption. But the rest of the party remained standing and talking together, very agreeably, when to Lizzy’s surprise, they were joined by Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley—who generally ignored anyone of the surname Bennet. She could do no less than introduce them, but was further surprised by the questions Miss Bingley asked the lieutenant.
“We hosted another gentleman from Derbyshire earlier this summer, for the grouse,” she said. “Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. Do you know him?”
“Yes,” replied Wickham. “His estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself—for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.”
Lizzy could hardly fail to be deeply interested in the subject, and longed to hear anything he would tell her of the Darcys. However, it seemed rude somehow not to mention that Miss Darcy was currently a houseguest, and she opened her mouth to say so. But Mrs Hurst spoke first.
“He has been ill, as I understand, and is recovering slowly.”
Lizzy took immediate offence. How dare she probe for more information, for gossip, from this stranger? It was ill bred in the extreme. But her offence only grew at Wickham’s reply.
“I am most sorry to hear it, although his behaviour to myself has been scandalous. But verily, I believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father, who was one of the best men who ever breathed.”
