Miss Darcy's Christmas

by Karen Aminadra

  Eight

  After breakfast the next day, Georgiana had just settled herself down to make more decorations for the little tree in the dining room when the doorbell rang and a flurry of visitors began to call on them.

  First of all came Richard’s friends, Alexander Salisbury, Louis Ashton, and George Branford. Georgiana recoiled from the latter, who, in her opinion, had already had a skinful of wine that morning. Or perhaps he has not recovered sufficiently from the night before, she supposed.

  After their arrival and the call for tea, the bell rang again and in trotted Lady Francesca with her brother, Hugh. Georgiana instantly felt her colour rise and averted her eyes from his. They brought with them a new acquaintance, Mrs Nicolette Fotheringhay, who, Georgiana was delighted to discover, was the sister of Louis Ashton.

  Georgiana’s curiosity about the siblings was more than satisfied as Mrs Fotheringhay supplied them with such a long and fully detailed explanation of their family history, that she wanted nothing more than to flee the room after twenty minutes had elapsed. They lamented the French Revolution which caused their mother to escape the country to Britain and afterwards marry an Englishman and politician, the Right Honourable Ralph Ashton.

  Georgiana frowned. “Surely her escape was fortuitous. Without it, she most likely would have been executed and neither yourself nor your brother would be here,” pointing out the obvious.

  Louis Ashton let out a bellowing guffaw from where he sat beside the window overlooking the street. “Well said, Miss Darcy. Well said! I tell Mama and Nicolette that all the time, but they always look on the dark side. They’re such pessimists.”

  “Do not forget what Mama has suffered,” Nicolette snapped.

  Georgiana stood and handed round the plate of delicious Eccles cakes. Her chest roiled with emotions. She fought the irritation of such irrationality in Mrs Fotheringhay. “That is in the past now. Your dear mama has a good life now, safe here on these shores.” She smiled into Mrs Fotheringhay’s face, watching her jaw drop open at the comment. “Eccles cake? They’re delicious. Cook is from Lancashire, and this is a delicacy from her hometown. In fact,” Georgiana continued, ignoring Mrs Fotheringhay’s discomfort, “they’re awfully similar to mince pies, which Cook also makes exceedingly well indeed.”

  Mrs Fotheringhay mutely took one and a proffered plate.

  “Fotheringhay…Fotheringhay…” Aunt Henrietta tapped her chin. “The name rings a bell. Is there not a Fotheringhay in the House of Lords?”

  Georgiana continued to pass out the Eccles cakes and her eyes sparkled as she listened, entranced and in awe of her aunt’s skill. How easily she cajoled the information out of Mrs Fotheringhay.

  “Indeed, he is my husband,” came the terse reply.

  Georgiana almost dropped the plates in her hands. Surely, Lord Fotheringhay is older than her father!

  “Oh, how splendid of your papa to have made you such a fortuitous match, my dear.”

  Catching Richard’s eye fleetingly, Georgiana knew they were the only ones in the room who caught the mockery dripping from Aunt Henrietta’s comment.

  “Yes,” Mrs Fotheringhay replied, lowering her eyes and picking at the sugar on top of the pastry.

  “How marvellous! I suspect he is desirous of having an heir, is he not?”

  Georgiana’s mouth fell open and she caught herself just in time as she handed her aunt a plate with a pastry on it. She glared at the older woman who, having her face hidden from the company by Georgiana’s body, winked at her niece.

  Mrs Fotheringhay stuttered but could not give a response.

  “Of course he is!” Aunt Henrietta declared. “All married men of good fortune are. And from what I hear, his fortune surpasses good.”

  Georgiana knew her aunt was having sport at the lady’s expense. She did not like pessimistic attitudes either, but she was astounded at how an older person could get away with being so blunt. Picking up a pastry, Georgiana focussed her attention on not getting the crumbs all over herself—anything to not look at her aunt’s smooth smile or Mrs Fotheringhay’s aghast expression.

  Thankfully, it seemed that Aunt Henrietta had had enough fun and she steered the conversation towards the delights of London—the ballet, opera, and theatre.

  “Oh, my dear Lady Matlock,” Lady Francesca’s face lit up at the subject. “There are so many new plays and diversions this year. I do not know where to begin!” She rearranged the hem of her dress around her ankles, drawing the attention of the gentlemen.

  Georgiana bit her tongue at the obvious flirtation and asked, “Where do you have your dresses made, Lady Francesca? I declare I have never seen so many shades of lavender before.”

  Again, another of Lady Francesca’s favourite subjects. “Oh, my dear. It was obvious to me from the first moment that I laid eyes on you that an education in fashion was needed.”

  Georgiana remembered why she took an instant disliking to the lady. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Fear not, my dear friend. I shall show you all the best houses in London.”

  Her smile was enough to make Georgiana’s mouth run dry. She felt like a mouse caught in a cat’s claw. “How very kind,” she whimpered.

  “Enough of fashion,” Hugh DeVere chimed in. “I believe Miss Darcy would look well in anything she chose to wear!”

  “Hugh!” Lady Francesca protested.

  He cut her off. “I believe Lady Matlock asked about diversions.” He stepped into the middle of the room and, with all eyes upon him, withdrew something from his inside pocket. “I have here in my hands six tickets to the ballet tonight.” He caught Georgiana’s eyes. “I hope you, your aunt, and your cousin will accompany me.”

  She opened her mouth to respond to his request when Lady Francesca cut across her.

  “Six! Then for whom is the other? For I presume one is for me, Hugh!” Her voice took on a grating, shrill tone.

  Hugh looked heavenward but did not turn around. “Of course one is for you, sister.”

  “Then, pray tell, for whom is the other?” Her voice cut the silence which descended like a knife.

  Georgiana watched Hugh close his eyes, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

  “I assumed we could invite someone else to join us. One of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s friends or one of yours perhaps?” His jaw clenched.

  In that instant, Georgiana realised Hugh was not quite as fond of his meddling sister as she had given them to believe. Her opinion of Hugh increased.

  When he finally opened his eyes and gazed intently into hers, they shone with the same brilliance they had on the night she met him.

  “Will you accept my invitation?” he asked, ignoring his sister, who continued to whine behind him.

  With the smallest of looks at her aunt for permission, Georgiana said, “I would be delighted to accompany you, Lord Hugh.”

  She felt the burn of her cheeks as Richard stepped towards the still complaining lady. “I would be delighted to accompany you, Lady Francesca, to the ballet.”

  With one simple sentence, Richard silenced her. The angry red that suffused her face, melted away to be replaced by the bonnie and glowing red of a deep blush.

  Georgiana’s lips curled upwards and she had to hide her face. She is sweet on Cousin Richard!

  Mentally, she made a list of the invitees. Aunt Henrietta, of course, herself and Lord Hugh made three. Richard and Lady Francesca made five.

  “Mrs Fotheringhay are you available tonight for the ballet?” Hugh asked, finally turning around.

  The poor woman was flustered and fiddled with her reticule. “I thank you for the invitation, Lord Hugh.” She giggled and glanced away. “However, my husband and I are invited to dine with the Prime Minister tonight.”

  “Oh! Robert Banks Jenkinson…lucky you!” One or two of the men whistled.

  “The Earl of Liverpool always puts on a grand dinner,” Aunt Henrietta added, full of admiration. “I remember when I and my late husband, God rest his soul, were invited
to dine with his own late father, Charles.”

  “I am certain you will have a wonderful evening,” Hugh concluded.

  From the expression Mrs Fotheringhay wore, Georgiana doubted that a wonderful evening was what the lady expected to have. She saw the jealousy reflected in her eyes and wondered what life with Lord Fotheringhay was truly like.

  Louis cleared his throat. “Then, if I may be so bold.” He tore himself away from propping up the mantelpiece and stood before them. “Might I present myself as the perfect addition to the party this evening?” He looked at them all in turn. “Three ladies and three gentlemen.” He grinned engagingly, his eyes resting on Georgiana’s face and tracing the line of her mouth.

  She swallowed and shifted in her seat so that she was partly obscured behind Hugh. Overcome with nerves, she asked herself why a man looking at her so appreciatively would make her feel so uncomfortable.

  “We shall be ever such a happy bunch!” he declared, his grin deepening.

  Georgiana bristled from the suspicion that he was enjoying her discomfort.

  Nine

  If Georgiana thought that the ballroom was noisy, she could barely stand the cacophony of sound in the foyer of the theatre that night. She took deep steadying breaths and resisted the desire to place her gloved hands over her ears.

  The decision on what to wear was agony. She laid out all her dresses on the bed and, with Meg’s help, she chose the best one. Lady Francesca’s words echoed in her head like a judgement. Never before had Georgiana Darcy felt inadequate or inferior to anyone, but Lady Francesca had the ability to make her shrink into insignificance with simply one sentence. She puffed up the sleeves on her dress.

  “You look perfect,” Richard leant in close and whispered in her ear. “Do not be so fastidious. You are far superior to many of the ladies here.”

  “Richard,” she sighed. “That is not what I want. You know I abhor such pride as that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She held her breath as he scanned her face, knowing full well that she could not erase the worried expression she wore. “Lady Francesca.”

  “Oh,” Richard replied, grimacing. “I wonder if she would have a pleasant word to say about any of the dresses that Queen Charlotte herself wears.”

  Georgiana cocked her head to the side. “I believe you may be right, but I cannot push out her voice from my mind.”

  “Then, cousin,” Richard cooed soothingly, taking hold of her hands and gazing deeply into her eyes, “let mine drown hers out entirely. You look beautiful tonight. Your dress suits you well.”

  Georgiana saw only sincerity in his countenance. She arched her shoulders and felt the tension leave them, knowing her cousin spoke from his heart. “I apologise, Richard.”

  He shook his head, half-closing his eyes. “There is no need to apologise. Sometimes people say things that should be only taken with a pinch of salt. You do not have to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own.”

  “How is it you always know the perfect thing to say to me?” She leant onto his arm.

  “Because I know you only too well. Neither of us was brought up to spend all our time pandering to the whims of society. I believe our parents have done us a great service in that.”

  Glancing around the extravagantly decorated foyer, she giggled. “I believe you are right there.”

  “So do not attempt to conform now you are here. Enjoy yourself, Georgiana. In a month or so, you will be going back to Derbyshire and sanity.”

  Richard’s wry smile and deep-throated chuckle set off her giggles again.

  “Shall we take our seats?” Hugh interrupted their tête-a-tête. His eyes bored into Georgiana’s, and she felt their meaning intensely. He held out his arm for her to take.

  She stole a brief glance at Richard’s expression and could not read it. He watched Hugh carefully. His eyes that a second before had been so filled with mirth were now as cold as steel.

  Georgiana recognised they were the invitees, and she felt it would be rude to refuse Hugh’s proffered arm. Fixing a smile on her face, she inclined her head and accepted his arm.

  “I hope the ballet is to your liking, Miss Darcy,” he drawled.

  Georgiana caught the look of triumph in Hugh’s eyes, directed at Richard, as she relinquished her hold on her cousin. Almost imperceptibly, she stiffened. What is that all about?

  The passages and hallways of the theatre were thronged with people. Georgiana could not tell where they were heading, but Hugh seemed to know his way as he navigated a path towards the staircase that led to the boxes on one side of the stage. Ladies and gentlemen passed them on both sides, and Georgiana was certain that, if she had not had such a sure grip on Hugh’s arm, she would have lost her footing on the plush deep red carpeting.

  He covered her hand with his own, and an electric jolt shot deep into her stomach, causing her breathing to falter.

  The box, once they’d fought their way to it, was furnished to seat their entire party. Hugh made certain they were the first to arrive. He chose the centre front seats for himself and Georgiana. She could not have dreamt of a better situation to see the stage so well.

  “Are you comfortable, Miss Darcy?” Hugh asked, just as the others began to join them.

  She was touched by his attention. “Yes, thank you. I am.”

  Georgiana watched in fascination as the theatre filled up and the other patrons took their seats. She sensed someone sit down next to her and was relieved to see it was Richard and beside him, Lady Francesca. On Hugh’s other side sat Aunt Henrietta, and lastly Louis Ashton. The seats were slightly staggered, allowing all six of them to be on the front row and permitting them all the best possible view of the performance.

  Georgiana sat back and listened contentedly to Aunt Henrietta and Louis gossiping about society, occasionally punctuated by Lady Francesca doing her best to engage Richard in a deeper conversation. She was surprised he was not being his usual convivial self. However, she was not oblivious to the tension between him and Hugh. Not for the first time, she wondered if they had known each other longer than she believed.

  Georgiana was overjoyed as the candles were snuffed and the curtain rose. She was held spellbound throughout the entire performance, entranced by the grace, strength, and beauty of the dancers.

  When the curtain fell again for the intermission and the candles were relit, Georgiana almost cried out in protest. She had no wish for refreshment. She wanted the dancers to captivate her once more. She struggled to remain polite as Hugh asked her if she wished to take a glass of wine with him.

  Turning her face, Georgiana wrestled with her facial muscles, willing them into a friendly smile. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Hugh,” she lied.

  As Hugh bowed and left the box with the other gentlemen to fetch refreshments, Georgiana stood to stretch out her legs, not realising how stiff they’d become.

  “Well, what do you think, my dear?” Aunt Henrietta asked her from her end of the box.

  “I like it ever so much, Aunt.” Her eyes shone with delight.

  Aunt Henrietta chuckled, and Georgiana drew closer.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered, her eyes full of laughter.

  Georgiana perched on the edge of the seat. “What did you mean?”

  “I meant,” Aunt Henrietta lowered her voice even more as she peeked over her niece’s shoulder to see if Lady Francesca was looking.

  Georgiana involuntarily also looked. Lady Francesca was waving at her acquaintances down in the stalls.

  “I meant what do you think of your overly attentive chaperone, Lord Hugh?” Her eyes widened, pressing home her meaning.

  “Oh,” Georgiana replied, just stopping herself from gasping loudly. She stole another glance at Lady Francesca. Relieved they were not overheard, she turned back to her aunt. “There is nothing to dislike, Aunt. He is amiable and attentive.”

  Aunt Henrietta smiled indulgently. “But what do you think of him?”r />
  Georgiana’s brows met. “I don’t follow you.”

  “Personally,” Aunt Henrietta sighed. “Do you think him amiable and handsome enough to fall in love with?”

  Georgiana was speechless and sat staring agog at her aunt.

  The older woman raised her eyebrows in enquiry. “Well? Do you?”

  No matter how hard she tried to answer her aunt, Georgiana’s mouth simply opened and closed.

  “Your impression of a trout is admirable, my dear.” Aunt Henrietta covered her mouth with a gloved hand as she laughed. “However, a simple yes or no will suffice.”

  Georgiana gripped her reticule tighter, finally gaining control of her faculties. “I admit he is very handsome, but Aunt,” again she stole a glance at Lady Francesca, “I have not thought of matrimony at all regarding him.”

  Aunt Henrietta sat back in the chair, a look of complete satisfaction written on her face. “As it should be, my dear.” She held up a finger. “Never be in a hurry to marry. Especially not before you know the real character of the man you have fallen in love with or set your sights upon.”

  “Excellent advice!”

  The pair of women looked up in surprise to discover Lady Francesca standing beside them.

  “Lady Francesca! How good of you to come over and join us.”

  Georgiana stared mindlessly as Aunt Henrietta recovered her wits first.

  “I could not very well miss out on such an interesting conversation, could I, Lady Matlock?” She beamed. “I must say that I agree wholeheartedly with your advice.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, despite them being the only ones left in the box. “There are far too many cads in society willing to prey upon the first rich young lady to cross their paths. One cannot be too careful.” She gazed pointedly at Georgiana.

  “Precisely what we were saying,” Aunt Henrietta replied for her.

  Lady Francesca straightened up, a look of mischief playing on her face. “And which gentleman in particular were you discussing?”