by Maria Grace
Lady Catherine was in deep conversation with an overdressed young woman and a more plainly dressed older woman who seemed to be her companion. The famed Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson she had heard so much about from Mr. Collins? The younger woman looked like Lady Catherine, sharp in all her features, but lacking the classic beauty the vicar attributed to her. Little surprise he would overstate her virtues. Her genteel temper and gracious character were probably overstated as well.
Which might be why Pemberley took such a dislike to her.
From a settee in the opposite corner of the room—with feet in the shape of dragon paws clutching a sphere—a young woman, possibly not yet out, and a confident-looking young man beckoned. Both shared something of Darcy’s profile.
Darcy strode toward them. “Miss Elizabeth, may I present my sister, Georgiana and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
They rose, and Georgiana curtsied deeply. Fitzwilliam made a very smart bow.
“I am very pleased to meet you.” She curtsied and sat in a chair near the settee.
Darcy brought another chair close and joined them.
“May I ask; how is Pemberley?” Georgiana ducked her head and bit her lip as she spoke.
Given the adoring way she looked at Darcy, it was more likely that she was shy than she feared speaking out in his presence.
“She has been eating well the last few days and her color has returned. I think she is very much improved.”
Georgiana clapped softly. “I knew you would be able to help her. After reading all that you have written, I just knew.”
The hero worship in Georgiana’s eyes was sweet, but a bit much.
“Your friendship means a great deal to Pemberley. She misses you. I think it would be very appropriate for you to begin visiting her again.”
“I would so enjoy that.” Georgiana glanced at Darcy who nodded.
“Something I would never have thought to hear you say.” Fitzwilliam chuckled, turning to Elizabeth. “You know, she was in mortal dread of dragons until she began reading your notes.”
“Indeed, sir? You have just revealed your nature. You are either a flatterer or one prone to exaggerate. In either case, I shall have to weigh your words very carefully.”
Georgiana gasped, eyes wide.
April nipped her ear.
Fitzwilliam threw his head back and laughed. “It seems your little Friend does not agree with you. I believe she thinks more highly of me than you do.” He offered his hand for April to perch.
April flittered to his finger and offered her chin for a scratch.
Such a fluffle-bob to be moved so easily by a compliment.
“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.” Lady Catherine half-rose in her seat and stared at them with narrowed eyes.
“We are speaking of music, Madam.” Fitzwilliam flashed a warning gaze toward her. It shifted to mischievous as he turned it on Darcy and Georgiana.
April warbled a little tune, looking proud of herself indeed. Little show-off.
“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply.”
The overdressed girl beside her dipped her head with a demure smile and straightening of her shoulders.
Gracious, did she think Lady Catherine’s remark was praise?
“I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Elizabeth.
Darcy cleared his throat. “She does very well, thank you. Pray forgive me, sister, as I know you do not like praise, but her piano master believes her the most accomplished student he has ever taught.”
She must be very accomplished to earn such praise from her brother. Georgiana turned aside, face coloring. Poor dear looked utterly horrified, exactly how Lydia never looked. If she could give Georgiana a touch of Lydia’s boldness and Lydia a touch of Georgiana’s reserve, both girls would probably benefit.
“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her, but her progress will not continue if she does not practice a great deal.” Lady Catherine wagged her finger at them.
“I assure you, Madam, she practices constantly.” Darcy’s voice dropped in pitch—a warning tone if she had ever heard one.
“So much the better. It cannot be done too much. Do not neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice.” Lady Catherine turned her pointing finger on Elizabeth. “I have heard that you play, Miss Bennet. Of course, you will never play really well unless you practice. I have not heard you do so once since you are come to Rosings Park. You may play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house. Play for us now, Miss Bennet. I insist. We are in need of diversion.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted her to the pianoforte and drew a chair near, as though he meant to turn the pages for her. April perched on the music stand. It was a very fine instrument, one she could not do justice to.
But what to play? Best keep to something light and simple that would not elicit too many comparisons with superior performers.
Colonel Fitzwilliam offered her a piece of music for her approval. A light country tune with no fiddly bits. That was true gentlemanly behavior!
Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then resumed her conversation with her daughter—probably critiquing her performance. At least she would not want for issues to discuss.
Mr. Darcy and Georgiana joined them at the pianoforte.
She lifted her chin. “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming to hear me? I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.”
“I shall not say that you are mistaken because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.” The twinkle in his eye and the lift of his lips gave every impression he enjoyed this.
How very odd.
Elizabeth turned to Fitzwilliam, eyebrow raised. “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous of you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire—and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear.”
Fitzwilliam glanced at Georgiana and chuckled.
The poor girl looked shocked, again. At this rate, she might well not survive the afternoon.
“I am not afraid of you.” Darcy’s eyes crinkled at the sides.
“Pray let me hear of what you have to accuse him. I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.” Fitzwilliam winked.
“You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you—but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce, and more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner.”
“I had not, at that time, the honor of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.”
“And, of course, nobody can ever be introduced in a bal
l room.”
Darcy’s eyes lost a little of their shine.
Perhaps she had gone too far.
She chewed her lower lip. “Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers await your orders.”
“Perhaps I should have judged better and sought an introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.” Darcy’s tone was more shy confession than well-grounded defense.
“Why is a man of sense and education, who has lived in the world, ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?” The words slipped out before she could quell them.
Now she had definitely wandered out of the bounds of polite conversation. Why did he always bring out the worst in her?
“I can answer your question,” Fitzwilliam said. “It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”
“Do be fair!” Georgiana gasped and pressed her knuckle to her lips. “My brother is truly the best of men. How can you say such things of him?”
Darcy tipped his head. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns as I often see done.”
“My fingers do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I am sure your sister’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity and do not produce the same expression. But I have always supposed it to be my own fault because I would not take the trouble of practicing.”
Darcy glanced away. “You are perfectly right. We neither of us perform to strangers.”
The doors flew open, and the housekeeper led in three maids carrying an elaborate nuncheon. Two footmen followed and moved a low table into position. Somehow, Elizabeth found herself seated between Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, across from Darcy. Lady Catherine managed to keep her conversational partners close to her though it hardly seemed that they were able to get a word out, unless it was “yes” or “no.”
“So how does Meryton since the departure of its most illustrious guest?” Fitzwilliam asked.
She dodged both men’s gaze and scowled at the floor. He was not going to bait her into anymore ill-advised remarks.
“I ... I am sure that Mr. Bingley misses him a great deal,” Georgiana offered.
“Bingley? He is that fellow you take prodigious good care of, is he not?” Fitzwilliam reached for a plate of sandwiches.
“He asked my assistance in securing the lease on Netherfield Park,” Darcy muttered, dodging Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Was he pleased with the neighborhood?” Georgiana received a cup of tea from her aunt and handed one to Elizabeth.
“I believe the neighborhood has been very pleased with him. Perhaps you have not yet been made aware. Mr. Bingley is now engaged to my sister.”
Darcy looked up. “Indeed, I was not aware.”
Surprise highlighted his face, but not disapproval.
How unexpected.
“I am surprised he would not have sought your advice. He seemed reluctant to make decisions without you.” Fitzwilliam took a bite of his sandwich, far too dainty a treat for his large hands.
“You underestimate Bingley’s mettle.” Darcy hid behind his teacup.
“Would you have approved, had he asked you?” Fitzwilliam laughed.
“You can hardly expect an honest answer to such a question. How could he tell you, in front of me, her sister, that he did not approve?”
“I have always found my cousin to be eminently forthright in all our conversation. I think he would tell me very directly.” He turned an arched eyebrow on Darcy. “Would you not?”
“Indeed you have sketched my character quite distinctly. You expect draconic candor from me.” He bowed slightly from his shoulders. “It is probably for the best, then, that I can honestly say, I saw a genuine attachment between Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet. Exactly what I would wish for my friend. I think they can be a successful match.”
“And it shall ever be to your credit that Bingley met his angel during your watch, I am sure.” Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy’s shoulder.
“I take no credit as a match maker. It is a distinction I have never sought.”
“And yet I may well apply to you for the service myself.”
Georgiana gasped again. She did seem to have rather a limited repertoire of reactions. Or possibly, Fitzwilliam took great delight in seeing her shocked. That was quite likely, too.
“In fact, I already have.” Fitzwilliam’s cheek twitched. “I have asked his assistance in finding me a proper Dragon Friend.”
“If you are interested in a fairy dragon, there is a very good chance I will know of a clutch later this year.” Elizabeth glanced at April on her shoulder.
“All due respect to you, Miss Elizabeth and your fair companion, I do not think I am a fit companion for a fairy dragon. They are not known to hold their liquor well.”
April fluttered her wings and huffed.
Elizabeth giggled. “That is very true, I will concede. Although my aunt’s Dragon Friend, a bright red fairy dragon, would look quite smart with a red coat. A bit like a hat plume I would think. He is excessively fluffy.”
“And does not like to be reminded of it.” April nipped her ear.
Georgiana giggled.
“Pray forgive me if I am too forward, but should there be a clutch later this year, Mr. Darcy do you consider your sister ready for a Dragon Friend?”
What a very odd expression on Darcy’s face—hopeful and trepidatious at the same time.
“What do you think, Georgiana?”
She colored and pressed her hands to her cheeks.
“My sister’s fairy dragon hatchling looks very much like a pink dandelion and has a penchant for strawberry jam. She has a far sweeter disposition than my little friend.” Elizabeth patted April’s head. “She also likes to hang upside down like a bat on her perch.”
“Truly?” Georgiana asked.
“Silly little feather-pate,” April mumbled.
“I ... I ... it is all so different to think about now. Until Pemberley, I was not sure I wanted much to do with dragons. Now I am finding I rather like ... some of them.”
“If you would like that, it will be necessary for you to be presented to the Blue Order first.” Darcy’s voice was very quiet as if trying not to frighten her.
“I ... I will think about it. Really I will.”
“If you have finished your tea, Georgiana, perhaps you will favor us with some music.”
How rude of Lady Catherine, calling across the room like that.
Georgiana curtsied and hurried to the pianoforte.
“I am astonished, Miss Elizabeth. You have worked wonders.” Fitzwilliam shared a wide-eyed glance with Darcy.
Darcy nodded somberly, but his lips turned up a mite as he turned his attention to the pianoforte.
What a puzzlement he was. How could this be the same man she had met in Meryton? The same one of Wickham’s tale of misery? The same one who allowed Pemberley’s egg to be stolen with nearly catastrophic consequences? It seemed he could please when and where he chose, but woe to the one he chose against.
Vexing, confusing man.
Over the next several days, Georgiana regularly ventured below stairs to Rosings’ guest room, astonished that such a place existed. Her girlish delight reminded Elizabeth of times spent with her sisters. Times that seemed so long ago.
Pemberley seemed so easy with Georgiana’s company that Elizabeth took advantage of it for solitary rambles. Getting Pemberley accustomed to her absence was a good thing for them all. Or so the texts on attachment sickness suggested.
It would be hard to be separated from her again. But hopefully it would not be such an abrupt or complete separation as the first. And there would be correspondence between her and Georgiana and Pemberley. That would make it better.
Surely it would.
The morning was cool and comfortable. The breeze carried the distinct smell of rain
on the horizon, but it was not imminent. Probably would not come before nightfall, more than enough time for all the walking she wanted.
More than once, Elizabeth had encountered Mr. Darcy on her walks. What perverse mischance that should bring him, and only him, into what should have been her private moments. Finally, she informed him that the particular path was a favorite haunt of hers. Yet he did not seem to take the hint.
On further reflection, though, it did not seem so surprising. He had said he was not well able to catch the unspoken meaning in a conversation. The next time she met him, she would have to be more direct.
But she did not have the chance. On their next meeting, he struck up a conversation—odd on several accounts. For the first, he rarely spoke whilst they walked. For the other, he asked some odd, unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, her opinion of Mr. Bingley and Jane’s future happiness, and could a lady be settled too near her family for her liking? What was her opinion of the house and grounds of Rosings Park? Did she find the house to her liking? What did she think of so many dragons on a single estate?
To what could all these questions portend? Was it possible he was entering into the very venture he foreswore—matchmaking? He could not have her in mind for Colonel Fitzwilliam, could he?
Overbearing, pretentious—
Colonel Fitzwilliam broke through the trees. “Miss Bennet! I had no idea that you ever walked this way. I have been making the tour of the Park as I generally do every year when Darcy and I visit. Are you going much farther?”
“I have only just left Pemberley in Georgiana’s care.”
He offered her his arm. “Then might I have the privilege of sharing your outing, or were you, like Darcy does, hoping for some time in the absence of all company?”
Darcy walked to avoid company?
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “As much as I enjoy Pemberley and the other dragons, a bit of human companionship is very welcome, too.”