Chapter Seventeen

T he music room at Carlisle House was filled with the lively chatter of the six ladies gathered within. Elizabeth had started their conversation with several jests at her own expense, and the other ladies had responded with genuine gaiety and attempts to puncture her humility. Jane had made a dry comment about her sister's willingness to disparage herself in the service of a good debate, and Diana had agreed wholeheartedly.

Georgiana Darcy—who had been Georgiana to them all from nearly the first quarter of an hour of their acquaintance—sat at the pianoforte. She was in the heart of their convivial circle, her initial timidity melted entirely away beneath the genuine warmth and acceptance of her new friends.

Elizabeth was pleased. It was just as she had hoped.

"I confess I am in awe of your musical abilities, Georgiana," Amelia declared as she leaned on the instrument, her countenance alight with admiration. "You play so beautifully—and to compose original pieces at just fifteen! You have a rare gift indeed. You must promise only to play after me when you are out, for I have no wish to follow you. "

Georgiana ducked her head, a becoming blush colouring her cheeks. "You are too kind, Amelia. I merely follow where my heart leads, and I cannot say it always steers me right."

"Stuff and nonsense," Cordelia said with a wave of her hand. She walked to where she had set up her cello and picked up her bow. "True artistry must always come from the heart. If it is not to your standards, you must either take it as a lesson for the next piece or keep working on it until it is." Her bow danced across the strings in a playful arpeggio as a demonstration.

"You must always challenge yourself," Diana added, adjusting her spectacles with a knowing smile. "It is one reason I wish to keep learning languages that interest me and took up the guitar only this year. I know we are supposed to be finished with our accomplishments before we are out, but what is the fun in that?"

"I shall never be finished improving my skills with Duchess," Cordelia said.

"Is that the name of your hawk?" Georgiana asked her.

"My father originally had a Roman name for her, though I do not recall what it was," Cordelia replied. "She is quite regal and treats me like a servant, so I thought Duchess an apt appellation."

Elizabeth leaned forward. "I suspect we have each of us weathered our fair share of trials, and it is a certainty that more will come. That is life. And it is why we ought to gather like-minded and supportive friends around us. Do not you all agree?"

This was met by enthusiastic assent.

Georgiana paled. "There is more to come?" she asked. "I do not know that I can be as resilient as all of you."

Jane reached out to squeeze Georgiana's hand in reassurance, but Amelia cried, "Of course you can! You are brilliant—what have you to be concerned about? "

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of any modicum of wit, talent, or beauty"—here Elizabeth winked at Jane—"must be in want of a thick skin. For the ton is ever eager to tear down that which it cannot readily comprehend or control. And Georgiana, you have at least two years before you are out. Practice makes perfect, you know, and we shall all practice with you."

"And when you do come out," Jane said seriously, "you will have us to help guide you if you ever feel you require it."

"But . . ." Georgiana glanced around their group. "I find it difficult to fathom that any of you have endured the censure of wagging tongues. Beyond that of my own cousin, of course."

"Oh dear," Cordelia said with a smile. "You have not taken our measure at all, I am afraid. I love to play the cello, though I cannot play it in mixed company because the manner in which I must sit is not proper. Not to mention I am a female falconer." Her bow never ceased its fluid dance across the cello strings. "I am thought of as eccentric at best in certain circles. As if the mere act of finding joy in an activity I can share with my father renders one a hopeless oddity!"

Diana made a moue of distaste. "And let us not forget the aspersions cast upon any young lady who dares to exercise her intellect beyond the acceptable bounds of French, Italian, and perhaps German. After I have the customary languages mastered, I am supposed to turn to embroidery and watercolours. My ardour for linguistics has earned me no shortage of barbed remarks, even from my own brother. Personally, I do not think he appreciates his sister being smarter than him."

"I perhaps have the least to complain about," Amelia said, "but even I have been subject to snide insinuations about being Lady Carlisle's ‘poor relation' and possessing ‘an unfortunate complexion.' "

Elizabeth had not heard this at all. "What imbecile said that?" she asked angrily.

"I do not know," Amelia said. "All I do know is that she has not been in town until recently and that she seems to prefer wearing a ghastly shade of orange." She paused. "Have any of you seen the illustrations of the American pumpkin? It is a sort of squash or gourd. That is the shade. Lovely on a plant, not so much on her." Amelia held up a hand to suggest she would return shortly, and nearly skipped from the room only to return a few moments later with a large, illustrated book under her arm. She cracked it open, turned a few pages, and pointed.

It was a vegetable, round rather than long, and very, very orange.

Georgiana's eyes opened wide. "Was she with Mr. Bingley?"

"I do not know. I suppose she might have been. He was nearby, I believe, paying court to Jane. We were at the milliner's. He spied us as he walked past and came inside."

"That may be his sister, Miss Bingley. She does favour that colour, and the remark certainly sounds like her." Georgiana sighed. "She is very good at complimenting me in ways that make me uncomfortable. I know it is only to impress my brother."

Jane was silent for a moment before saying, "Mr. Bingley did say his sisters were due to arrive soon. I had hoped to find them amenable, but you say that she was insulting?"

Amelia lifted her hands, palms out. "I do not know that it was Miss Bingley. We were not introduced. But she was certainly unpleasant."

Elizabeth noted Jane's furrowed brow and made a note to speak with her about Mr. Bingley's sisters later, when they had time alone. "How did you respond, Amelia?"

"I did not. I recalled your advice about ignoring such insults, Lizzy." She turned to Georgiana. "When your brother insulted Lizzy, I offered her my commiseration. She told me that it was annoying, but ultimately unimportant."

"My brother insulted you?" Georgiana asked Elizabeth breathlessly. "He could not have. He thinks so very highly of you!"

Elizabeth would have preferred that the beginning of her history with Mr. Darcy had not been revealed to Georgiana, and she gave Amelia an exasperated look. Amelia made a face, contrite, but there was no taking the comment back.

"He did, and he has since made a very pretty apology," Elizabeth said, patting Georgiana's hand. "But you see, the insult did not hurt for long, because I knew that he did not even know me well enough to make any sort of judgement, negative or otherwise." And learning that Mr. Darcy was struggling with a long-delayed grief had made it easier to forgive.

"She called him a blockhead, though," Amelia said with a giggle. "In Latin."

Georgiana's hand flew to her mouth. "She did not."

Elizabeth made a face of her own. "I am afraid that I did. And what is more, I am not sorry."

Georgiana barked out a laugh. "Oh, my poor brother to be so put in his place. But he must have deserved it, I think."

"He did. But he has made his amends, Georgiana, and I would not have anyone tease him about it." Elizabeth glared at Amelia, who smiled but nodded.

"My experience has been a little different," Jane said quietly, aptly moving them past the topic of Georgiana's brother. Elizabeth smiled at her sister, grateful for the assistance.

"In what way?" Georgiana inquired, listening raptly.

"I fear this may sound conceited, but men seem to respond to my looks," Jane said without meeting anyone's eye .

There were snorts and chuckles all around. "Yes, Jane," Cordelia said wryly. "We have noticed."

"I would not have you think I am unhappy about that," Jane said. "But I am also keenly aware that I had nothing to do with it. Beauty is fleeting—it means little, in the end. However, it can make sorting out the right sort of man from the wrong sort . . . trickier. How am I to know if a man will love me for who I am and not for what I look like? I should not like to find some years into my marriage that my husband was in love with my appearance and is no longer in love with me once my looks are gone. For none of us retain the beauty of youth forever."

"I think I know what you mean," Georgiana said slowly. "It is like with Miss Bingley—she is not interested in being a real friend to me, she is only interested in using me to cultivate a relationship with my brother. Fortunately, she only believes she is subtle, but she is so obvious that I am often embarrassed for her."

Amelia nodded. "It is the same for me when men try to establish some sort of connection to the Carlisle earldom through me. It has only been a month, and I am already weary of it."

"You see?" Elizabeth met Jane's eye and found approval there. "You are not alone in your struggles. We have all faced the cruelty of people who do not care for us but for what we can give them. We all have or are likely to be the subjects of idle gossip and uncharitable judgment at one time or another."

"It is how we choose to rise above such pettiness that defines us," Cordelia concluded.

"And make no mistake, Georgiana," Diana said, "we have both the right and the responsibility to define ourselves, perhaps beginning with the friends we gather around us. "

"There is no need to bow to the opinions of those small-minded people who seek to diminish our worth," Cordelia added. "It would be a failure to pay them any mind at all."

"It is perfectly understandable to be hurt or shocked at first," Jane corrected them, "but it should not last for long. Because we know who we are."

Elizabeth nodded vociferously. "Exactly."

They all looked at Amelia.

"What?" Amelia asked, glancing at each of them in turn. "You said all the good things already."

Georgiana's voice wavered with emotion. "I cannot express how much it means to hear such words from you all. To know that I am not alone and that I need not be afraid of censure so long as I am prepared to meet it with courage . . ."

"Courage and Lady Carlisle," Elizabeth said with a little chuckle, and they all joined her. "Truly, Georgiana, all it takes is practice. And you have time for that."

"I wonder . . ." Georgiana said, then hesitated.

"You wonder?" Jane prompted her sweetly.

"I wonder if I might try my hand at composing a piece for us all?" she ventured shyly. "It would be a challenge to be sure, but I should very much enjoy attempting it."

Elizabeth smiled. "I think that is a marvellous idea."

Georgiana met Elizabeth's smile with one of her own.

"Different instruments, but all the same song," Amelia said brightly. "Oh, but there are three of us who play the pianoforte. Perhaps Lizzy will have to play her flute. "

"Amelia!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She was not as comfortable with the flute as the pianoforte, but it did have the benefit of not requiring her fingers to be quite so long.

Georgiana glanced slyly at her. "All it takes is practice."

The ladies at Carlisle House were not ready for him to retrieve Georgiana when Darcy finally made it back in the late afternoon. Lady Carlisle promised to send her back in their own carriage in good time for her to dress for dinner, and Darcy had simply gone to his study to write a few strategic letters. He was attempting to focus on the stack of remaining correspondence when a soft knock at the door drew his attention.

"Enter," he called, setting his pen in its holder.

The door opened to reveal a beaming Georgiana, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkling with joy. She nearly floated in the room before settling herself in the chair opposite Darcy's desk with a contented sigh.

"Oh, Brother," she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "I had the most wonderful day with Lizzy and Jane and their friends. I can scarcely believe how fortunate I am to have found such a delightful circle of ladies."

Lizzy, was it?

After all the seriousness of the past days, Darcy could not help but smile at his sister's excitement. It was wonderful to see her so animated. "I am pleased to hear it. Would you like to tell me about it?" He half expected that she would demur or offer him a superficial summary of her time, as was her wont.

Georgiana's words tumbled out in an eager rush. "They are each of them so accomplished, brother! They all play more than one instrument except for Amelia, but she and Lizzy sing too. Cordelia is a falconer and Diana speaks so many languages. And Jane has such a soothing way about her. She loves Shakespeare's histories even though she says they are mostly fictional, and she and Amelia know a great deal about plants, and Amelia is so observant, and so honest—I shall never have to guess at her true feelings or intentions. And Lizzy—"

Darcy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Elizabeth. He nodded encouragingly, prompting Georgiana to continue.

"Lizzy is just so witty and well-read and knowledgeable about the world—even the war! But I also feel as though she reads people well. She can tell when they are feeling awkward or uneasy, and she just knows what to say to set everything right again."

She paused, a slight frown marring her cheerful countenance. "They are so different from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Forgive me, brother, I know they are Mr. Bingley's sisters, but they always make me feel as though I am being judged and found wanting. But with the ladies I met today, I feel as though they like me just as I am. If there are ladies like this in the ton, I shall not fear it so much."

Darcy nodded, feeling a bit of guilt at the mention of Bingley's sisters, knowing he had sometimes subjected Georgiana to their company only out of a sense of obligation to his friend. He stood and moved to the chair next to hers, reaching out to take Georgiana's hands.

"I am very happy to hear that you have found such worthy friends, Georgiana. They sound like remarkable young women, and I am grateful that they have welcomed you so warmly. I may be forgiven, I hope, for saying I believe they will benefit from your friendship every bit as much as you will from theirs."

Georgiana fairly beamed at him. "Thank you. Oh! I have had the most wonderful idea. I want to compose a piece of music for all of us to play together. A celebration of our friendship! They all thought it was a wonderful idea, except for Lizzy, who will have to play her flute because we all play the pianoforte and Amelia does not know a second instrument."

"That will be quite the endeavour," Darcy said good-naturedly. "Do you have all that you need?"

"For now," she said, eyes bright with the joy of the musical challenge before her.

His sister was never so happy as when she was composing new songs to play for him and Fitz. To stretch her abilities to compose for multiple instruments would offer her many hours of pleasure. Darcy's heart swelled with affection for his sister, marvelling at the transformation that had taken place in the space of one pleasant day. Gone was the timid, withdrawn girl who had fled from unkind words, and in her place sat a happy young woman. His cheerfulness came with an undercurrent of guilt, though. Had this more confident girl been there all along, just waiting for the simple acceptance that came from making new friends? Had her exposure to women like Lady Henrietta and Bingley's sisters convinced her that she would never have any friends of her own whom she could like or trust?

He knew that he had one person to thank for this nearly miraculous change: Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

As Georgiana leaned in to kiss his cheek and then disappear up to her chambers to dress, Darcy's mind drifted back to the day on the street, the terror that had gripped him as he watched Miss Elizabeth fling herself into harm's way to save his sister. He remembered with complete clarity the feeling of her in his arms, how perfectly she fit, how she had refused to allow her fear to overcome her as he carried her to safety, the overwhelming relief that had washed over him when he was certain they were unharmed.

Not just Georgiana. Both of them .

Miss Elizabeth might not be the high-born lady he had always imagined himself marrying, but she possessed qualities far more valuable than any title or pedigree. Her courage, her compassion, her fierce loyalty to those she loved—those were the things that truly mattered, that he wanted for himself. They made her more noble in his eyes than anyone who carried a title that denoted nothing but their parentage.

He was still pondering what he had learned about Miss Elizabeth from the earl, that she had saved Lady Henrietta from the fire at Mrs. Buxton's. Not only that, but she had alerted his cousin and then gone back again for her when it was clear that her first warning had not been heeded. It was the same sort of courage she had demonstrated when she dashed into the street to save Georgiana. No, his prejudices had done him no good. In Miss Elizabeth, he might have found a woman worthy of his admiration and respect not only as a friend, but—dare he allow himself to think it—a wife.

He smiled. It was certainly a prospect more enticing than any he had contemplated before.