Chapter Twenty-Three

A fter the opera had concluded, they all travelled to Darcy House for supper. Elizabeth had been here to visit Georgiana before, but only during the day. This late in the evening, the candlelight glinted off the crystal and silver, casting a warm glow over the room and their assembled party.

Mr. Darcy was an attentive host, though his gaze often returned to linger on Elizabeth. She wondered if the others noticed.

As the food arrived, Lord Milton was regaling those assembled with tales of his operatic adventures, including a recounting of his favourite singers.

"I must say, the way Miss Catalani can traverse three octaves without losing any quality of sound is something very rare indeed. If I recall correctly, Darcy, your mother had nearly as good a range."

"It seems musical talent runs in your family, Mr. Darcy," Jane said.

"My mother was musically gifted, and my sister has inherited her talent." Darcy glanced over at the viscount before saying, drily, "Milton has only inherited an appreciation, for his voice is dreadful."

"My voice is wonderful," Lord Milton protested, but he could not maintain his composure. "It is better than yours. "

"It is not," Darcy replied. "However, unlike you, I have never claimed to have a decent singing voice." He turned to the table to explain. "Fitz is the only one of the men in our family who can carry a tune."

"Yes, very useful on a long march," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a roll of his eyes.

"I pray you are not returning to long marches on foreign soil anytime soon," Lord Carlisle said.

"I hope you are correct," the colonel said. "I am rather fond of England and am in no hurry to leave it again."

"You have been mentioned in several dispatches, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Lady Ashford said. "Surely you have done more than your part. Will your father request that you remain at Whitehall?"

"My father is too wise to attempt to guide my career in such a way," the colonel said amiably, though Elizabeth thought she noted a hint of pride in the words. Despite his reliance on the earldom for an allowance, something Georgiana had let slip and Elizabeth had gently warned her to guard more carefully, Colonel Fitzwilliam was his own man. She thought it likely that should it come to that, he would give up his funds before he allowed himself to be dictated to, even by his own father. She respected him for that.

Their arrival had been anticipated, and the food was brought to the table as soon as they were seated. Elizabeth gazed at all the plates, for everything smelled wonderful. There was ham, sliced incredibly thin, fish with a wine and mushroom sauce, and a venison dish in a deep brown sauce. Another plate bore a simple vegetable pie of leek, carrots, turnips, and onions in white sauce, the pastry golden brown. Another set of dishes held asparagus, salad, and beetroot. On a table that stood against the wall, there was a plain cake with apples, pears, and almonds to dress it with. Wine, tea, and coffee were on offer .

It was a feast on a small scale, perfect for a late evening repast.

Mr. Darcy finally took his seat, which was next to hers.

"It will be the Regent's Canal next, mark my words," Lord Ashford said, and Elizabeth turned her attention to the conversation the lords were holding while Mr. Darcy spoke to his butler.

"Do you think it will ever be built, my lord?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said as Mr. Yardley left the room. "My sister has informed me that you play the flute. Is that true?"

She nodded.

"How did you come to play the flute?" Mr. Darcy appeared fascinated by this bit of information. "I do not know anyone who plays that particular instrument."

"It has fallen out of fashion, but that is precisely why I like it," Elizabeth answered.

"When did you begin playing?" he asked.

Elizabeth flushed and began to wonder if Mr. Darcy would ever see her without a vexing ruddiness in her cheeks. "To be perfectly honest . . .?"

"I would prefer that, yes," Mr. Darcy said lightly.

"When my father told me it was a terrible idea and that I did not need a second instrument when I already played the pianoforte."

Mr. Darcy nodded once. "I see."

"I give you fair warning, Mr. Darcy—I can be a terribly recalcitrant creature. You may want to effect an escape before it is too late."

"It is already too late, I am afraid," he said, and the tenderness in his voice made her sigh a little. "Besides, you are a rational woman. All I need do is not set myself against you, and you will determine on your own whether or not something is a good idea. I would not seek to control your decisions, I would only reserve for myself the right to see to your comfort and safety. "

She blinked. "I am unlikely to be marching off to war as your cousin does, sir."

"Too bad, for Napoleon would be vanquished in a fortnight."

"Yes, I am certain he would quail at the sight of me in my evening gown and silk slippers."

His smile was gentle. "Still, a man—a gentleman —takes his duty to protect those he cares for very seriously. Surely you can understand that?"

Elizabeth studied his expression minutely. "I suppose I could, as you are claiming primary decision-making power in this and naught else." She offered him an impish smile. It was surprisingly difficult, even in theory, to trust someone else with her care.

"Ah," Mr. Darcy said happily. "Our first compromise."

Elizabeth could not help but laugh at that, though she muffled it in her napkin. Perhaps it would not be so difficult with him.

Mr. Darcy whispered, "Thank you."

"I cannot eat another bite," Amelia declared.

Jane and Amelia were tired by the time the food was removed, and Lord Carlisle demurred when Mr. Darcy inquired whether the men would like to separate for cigars and brandy.

"I know you do not smoke yourself, Mr. Darcy," he said genially, "and I believe I ought to take my brood home."

"Lord Carlisle," his wife said with a sigh. "Really. We are not birds."

"This was a wonderful evening, Mr. Darcy," Lady Ashford said with a smile. Elizabeth thought the woman had glanced at her but could not be sure. "Thank you so much for the invitation."

"It is my pleasure. Perhaps this can serve as some small recompense for my behaviour at your ball," Mr. Darcy said gallantly.

"Oh, it is already forgotten, Darcy, long forgotten," Lord Ashford said, and Lady Ashford nodded, again glancing at Elizabeth .

The party wound down rather quickly after that, and Mr. Darcy rang for his butler Mr. Yardley to call for the carriages and to fetch everyone's coats.

When it was Elizabeth's turn to be handed into the carriage, Mr. Darcy again did the honours. "Miss Elizabeth," he said softly as she stepped to him, "I cannot express how much I enjoyed your company this evening. I hope we might have another opportunity such as this soon."

Elizabeth considered him very seriously. "I would like that very much, Mr. Darcy."

The day after the opera, Darcy rose later than was his wont and sought out his sister, who had requested a full recounting of the evening. They were speaking in the drawing room when Mr. Yardley announced their cousin in a flat, nasally tone. "Lady Henrietta Fitzwilliam for Miss Darcy."

Darcy lifted his eyebrows but nodded. "Show her in, Mr. Yardley."

Georgiana rose from her seat to stand beside him as Lady Henrietta entered, her posture straight and her expression solemn.

"Georgiana. Cousin Darcy."

"Henrietta," Georgiana replied, and Darcy smiled. Lady Henrietta's brow creased, but she did not chastise Georgiana for dropping her courtesy title. Perhaps she knew that Darcy would not stand for it, and it was, after all, a ridiculous affectation when among family.

Lady Henrietta took a deep breath. "Georgiana," she said. "I have come to offer an apology for my behaviour at Miss Amberley's. It was most unbecoming of me, and I deeply regret having caused you any distress."

Georgiana nodded but did not speak .

Darcy wondered if this was all the apology there was to be, but to her credit Lady Henrietta was not done. She clasped her hands together and took a breath before beginning again.

"I should have warned you beforehand that things might become heated between the Bennet ladies and me. It was unfair to expose you to such a situation without proper preparation. Moreover, as I knew I intended to confront the Bennets, I should not have agreed to bring you along at all. I am truly sorry."

Darcy lifted his eyebrows. Henrietta sounded genuinely apologetic. Looked it, too.

A small smile graced Georgiana's lips. "I appreciate your apology, Henrietta. It was indeed a trying experience, but I am grateful for your willingness to acknowledge your mistake." She glanced at Darcy. "I must likewise own my part of it, for I should never have fled from the house. However, as difficult as the experience was, I gained five new friends as a result, so I suppose there has been some good in it all."

Lady Henrietta inclined her head, and Darcy thought he saw genuine relief there. "I am glad that you are safe. And"—she steeled herself— "I must also express my gratitude that Miss Elizabeth was likewise unscathed. She displayed great composure in the face of danger, and I am glad she was there to help." She released a little puff of air and pursed her lips as though tasting something sour. But she recalled herself very quickly and schooled her features.

It was the best Darcy could hope for, really. Though delivered with her characteristic hauteur, Lady Henrietta's apology did not sound in the least rehearsed. It sounded sincere.

Georgiana was always ready to hear a compliment to her friend. "Yes, Elizabeth is wonderful, is she not? "

The two women regarded each other for a moment before Georgiana extended her hand in a gesture of forgiveness and reconciliation. "I hope we can be friends too. Why do not you join me when I travel to Carlisle House tomorrow?"

"Georgie," Darcy said warningly, "you cannot invite guests to a home where you are a guest yourself."

"It is all right," Lady Henrietta said. "I do not think either Miss Elizabeth or I are ready for that step just yet."

Darcy waited to make certain that the ladies were finished speaking before he entered into the conversation himself. "Lady Henrietta," he said sternly, "I thank you for coming here today and offering your apology to Georgiana. I will admit I had expected you sooner, but it takes courage to acknowledge one's mistakes, and I appreciate your willingness to do so. I know what it is to owe an apology, and it is not easy to deliver one." He paused to gather his thoughts. He knew what it was to owe an apology and to be late in fulfilling that obligation. He reminded himself that Georgiana had been the one to leave the house, though she knew it was unsafe. His next words were said seriously, but without anger. "However, I must also express my deep concern over the events that transpired at Miss Amberley's home. My sister's well-being is of the utmost importance to me, and I cannot abide having her placed in situations that cause her distress or put her in harm's way."

"I do understand, Cousin. I assure you that if Georgiana is allowed in my company again, I will be more mindful."

He could not think of ever leaving Georgiana in Lady Henrietta's company now—not alone, in any case. Trust was difficult to earn and easy to lose. "I must also say that you did not apologise for the vitriol aimed at Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet."

"I have written them a letter. "

"Very well. We shall leave it there, then."

Lady Henrietta glanced at her watch. "I should be going now, as I have an engagement with my father, and I do not wish to be late. But I wish to thank you again for your forgiveness, Georgiana. I hope to be a better friend and ally to you in future."

"That would be nice," Georgiana said softly.

Lady Henrietta curtsied, turned, and made her way out of the room. Darcy watched her go, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. His uncle had worked wonders with his daughter in a very short time.

He stood there with his sister for a moment until he felt her hand slip into his and give it a quick squeeze. "I am so fortunate to have you as my brother, Fitzwilliam."

"I do not know about that, but you are stuck with me in any case, so you may as well like me."

She laughed. "I am so glad you are calling on Lizzy. She has an excellent influence on your sense of humour. You were so severe before."

"I was not," he insisted.

Georgiana lifted her eyebrows, scepticism writ clearly across her features.

"You may appreciate Miss Elizabeth's influence on me," he said in mock affront, "but I am not at all certain I like her influence on you. Where is my meek sister?"

"Gone forever, I hope," she said emphatically.

Darcy kissed her cheek. "You say you are visiting the ladies tomorrow?"

"I am," his sister said and then tipped her head to one side as she studied his expression. "Would you like to join me?"

"Maybe," he said, pretending that it had not been his design from the start.

Georgiana laughed. "I have ordered the carriage at one."

The servants hurried past the music room at Carlisle House as a stream of discordant notes travelled out into the hall. The ladies were gathered to practise Georgiana's composition for the first time. Elizabeth stood with her flute and peered at the notes on her piece of the composition, fearing that her friend had vastly overestimated her proficiency with the instrument while Jane, seated at the harp, gracefully plucked the strings, her long, delicate fingers already creating a soothing melody.

"In for a penny," Elizabeth whispered to herself and began to play. Her timing was perfect, but every now and then her fingering was wrong, or she could not adjust the instrument quickly enough to produce the correct sound.

Then Jane plucked the wrong string.

Cordelia, her cello resting against her shoulder, attempted to bring some order to the chaos, but the deep, rich notes only added to the disarray of the high, discordant ones. And Diana, strumming her guitar, struggled to keep up with the tempo, which flagged and sped along without much direction.

Georgiana sat at the pianoforte with Amelia, but she did not play. Instead, she pressed her lips together. "I wonder . . ." she said softly.

"Yes, please help us!" Elizabeth cried, and they all laughed, though Georgiana's cheeks pinked.

"I think perhaps the guitar does not really fit," she said. "But then we are back to the same problem of having too many to play the pianoforte."

"Diana is a better player than me," Amelia announced. "It is no difficulty for me to sit out."

"But you have a lovely singing voice," Jane reminded her. "Perhaps once we have the instruments worked out, we can work on lyrics. "

Elizabeth shook her head anxiously at her sister. Amelia loved making up limericks. They were not inappropriate, but neither were they good, and she would never allow an opportunity like this to pass.

Amelia smiled. "Yes, let us do that. Here, Diana, you take my place, and I shall compose some words."

Jane met Elizabeth's gaze with a contrite wince.

"Now you play, all of you, and I shall improvise," Amelia said.

"You are brilliant, Amelia!" Georgiana said. "Thank you!"

"Do not thank her yet," Elizabeth muttered.

Amelia turned her gimlet eyes on Elizabeth. "What was that, Lizzy?"

"Nothing at all, dear."

"Hmm." Amelia's expression was the same as her little cousins, the Gardiner children, when they were about to sneak into the kitchen to pilfer biscuits.

The music began, better this time, though it still broke down in places.

"There once was a lady named Jane," Amelia began, and Jane blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Who was quite the opposite of plain."

Elizabeth snorted. Amelia tapped her chin with a finger. "She played the harp well, but it was difficult to tell, because her sister's flute was a pain!"

"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth asked in mock affront, lowering the flute. "If my playing is painful, perhaps you should like to try?" She held out her flute, and Amelia held up her hands, laughing.

"I only needed a rhyme for plain!"

"What about crane or main or stain or complain? That you could not arrive at another rhyme is the true pain here."

"It is not! "

Georgiana appeared alarmed until both Amelia and Elizabeth began to laugh. Amelia quickly took advantage of the lull and began to sing, in a more than creditable mezzo-soprano that seemed at odds with her words.

"There once were six musical maids, whose melodies never would fade. Their harmonies soared, the gentlemen roared, and their critics were left quite dismayed!"

She ended with a flourish and a deep curtsy while the room erupted in giggles and playful jeers. Elizabeth wiped tears from her eyes.

"How do you do that so quickly?" Georgiana inquired.

"Yes, were she a man she could make up any number of excellent tavern songs," Cordelia said drily.

Amelia waggled her eyebrows at Cordelia and then turned back to Georgiana and shrugged theatrically. "It is a blessing and a curse."

"Well," Diana said from her spot at the pianoforte, "shall we begin again?"

It took nearly two hours of practice, but their playing did improve, the notes beginning to weave together in a more harmonious composition. Georgiana had created a whimsical tune, and though Elizabeth still struggled with her part, she realised there would be no way around it—she would have to master it, for Georgiana had given the flute a position of great importance in the score. Sometimes, she thought with a sigh, it was rather inconvenient to be a good friend. But Georgiana was such a darling girl Elizabeth did not wish to disappoint.

When they had finished both their practice and the tea that Amelia had brought up for them, Georgiana mentioned Lady Morgan's ball and expressed an interest in seeing her friends' evening gowns.

"My brother told me that the three of you are to have new ones," she said, her enthusiasm only growing as she spoke of it. "I do not suppose I could see them?"

"They were delivered yesterday," Amelia said. "I think it is the most beautiful gown I have ever owned." She held out her hand to Georgiana. "Come with me."

"I will wait to see your gowns when you wear them," Diana said kindly. "But as Georgiana will not be allowed to attend, I think it is only fair to show her now."

"Yes," Cordelia said, her expression speaking of a mischief Elizabeth did not understand. "Do." She stood to place her cello in its case. "I must hurry away, however, for my father needs me to accompany him to a friend's home where he will attempt to convince the man to sell him one of his hawks. I am to make polite conversation with his wife while he accomplishes his negotiations, but Mrs. MacIntosh is a good conversationalist, so I shall not spend the time dully." She smiled knowingly at Georgiana, who blushed, and then made her farewells. A footman came into the room and hoisted the cello case in his arms.

They all walked to the front of the house to see their friends off, and then Amelia led Georgiana upstairs.

"Ohhh," Georgiana breathed when Amelia brought out an ivory silk gown. The sleeves were short and ever so slightly puffed, the high waistline embroidered in an intricate pattern of light blues and greens that mimicked an embroidered ribbon that was repeated at the hem of the skirt.

Amelia very carefully put her gown away. "Sally would murder me in my sleep if I ruined it," she said. "Now Jane!"

They moved to Jane's dressing room, where she removed a very pale blue silk gown that shimmered like a pearl. There was similar embroidery on her gown in ivory and a light green. The sleeves were short, like Amelia's, but not puffed at all. It was a sleek and sophisticated gown, which was just how Elizabeth saw her sister. Georgiana clapped her hands together and exclaimed in delight .

"Now yours, Lizzy." Georgiana was already imagining the day she would be ordering new gowns for balls—Elizabeth could tell by the dreamy look in her young friend's eyes. Well, let her dream. It would do her no harm.

They crossed the sitting room that she and Jane shared and ventured into her dressing room. "Lady Carlisle thought all the gowns ought to complement one another as well as being pretty in their own right," she said. "So our embroidery colours are the same. Amelia has the ivory, Jane the blue, and I have green." She withdrew the gown from her wardrobe, being very gentle indeed. "Lady Carlisle actually had preserved the silk from a gown she wore some years past, when her first daughter had her coming-out. She worried it might be too old, but I loved it. I suspect she knew I would." They had built the other gowns around the pale spring green of this fabric. Elizabeth traced the ivory, green, and light blue embroidery along the waist. It was repeated at the hem of the skirt and the slightly longer sleeves. She adored it.

"It is stunning, Lizzy. Hold it up to you for a moment."

Elizabeth complied, and Georgiana studied it.

"Your eyes seem greener somehow."

She nodded. "I know my eyes appear brown, but they are actually hazel."

"It is perfect," Georgiana said with a sigh. "You will all be so beautiful."

"A gown does not determine that," Jane said firmly.

"Of course not," Georgiana agreed. "But it does not hurt, either."

They all laughed softly. "My brother will come to collect me soon," Georgiana said reluctantly. "I really ought to be downstairs when he arrives."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "Let us go."

Amelia snorted. "I do not believe Mr. Darcy will mind a jot if I am not with you. "

"Amelia and I must discuss shoe roses for the ball in any case," Jane added.

"Shoe roses?" Elizabeth inquired. She shook her head at her sister. "You really are the most dreadful liar, Jane. Do not ever attempt a life of crime."

"Lizzy," Jane said, colouring. "We are attempting to be thoughtful. Mr. Darcy is calling on you, and we are providing you a few moments to speak with him. Go on, now."

"Shall we, then?" Elizabeth asked, offering Georgiana her arm.

Georgiana nodded and linked her arm with Elizabeth's. "We shall."