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Georgiana had hurried through her preparations for the evening in double time. She knew, from experience and from conversations she had politely been victim to all afternoon, that both other ladies of the house would be dedicating rather more time and energy to their appearance that day, and so she skipped down the stairs, confident that her speed would be rewarded with at least some time to herself before her brother and Elizabeth arrived. She frowned. It still felt strange to her, referring to her new sister by name when they had not yet been introduced. It felt stranger still to think that she had a new sister at all, and one who was spoken so well of by at least some members of the Bingley family. Caroline tempered her opinion, but Georgiana knew her well enough to deduce that the truth must lie some way between the two.
Reaching the sitting room, Georgiana threw the door open rather more carelessly than she might have done, had she not been so confident of being alone. It was all the more surprising to her, then, to realise she was not alone: the tall, slim figure of Charles Bingley stood in the window, arms folded behind him, peering out into the blackness.
“Oh!” Georgiana cried, wishing she had not burst in with such familiarity.
“Miss Darcy!” Charles turned, then, the noise of her entrance, or of her voice startling him from whatever reverie caused his usually sanguine features to crowd in on one another, his smooth brow to wrinkle. It was a poor imitation of the type of frown her own brother often wore, but so infrequently seen on cheery Mr Bingley that the impression was altogether more intimidating.
“Is something the matter?” Georgiana asked, concern overriding any other feeling at that moment. “You seem...” she could not immediately conjure a word to accurately describe how Mr Bingley looked to her at present, and eventually settled on the least complex of them all. “Sad.”
“Sad?” Bingley hooted. “Nonsense! We are about to spend a delightful evening with your brother and Mrs Darcy! Fine food and fine company: how could I be anything less than delighted by such a prospect?”
He turned, then, and gestured that Georgiana join him in one of two seats, angled gently towards the fire. She obeyed, but a surreptitious glance towards his features suggested that his broad smile, affected to disprove her accusation, still did not quite meet his eyes.
“You think very highly of my new sister,” Georgiana began, casting around for a safe topic of conversation. She dearly wished to inquire further of Mr Bingley what troubled him, to ask if she, Georgiana, might be able to offer some help. He had been so good to her and was a true friend during her stay at Lattimer Place. In fact, the notion that she should so much prefer his company to either of his sisters was surprising to acknowledge. Warmth rose in her cheeks, and she looked away, fearing he might notice her composure and read some truth in it that she had not yet acknowledged even to herself.
“Indeed I do. Darcy could not have found a better wife.” His voice faded at the end of his words as if he did not entirely believe them. “Although I admit the notion of their marrying was quite as surprising to me as it was to any other, as I had it on good authority - from two separate sources - that neither cared for the other upon their first meeting.
“Oh?”
This was news indeed to Georgiana, and she straightened, eager to hear more details of what had truly precipitated her brother’s hasty marriage.
“Oh, you know what Darcy is like. He never speaks of his true feelings, and I wager the enthusiasm with which he professed dislike for the lady was as much to convince himself as it was to convince me of his apparent disinterest. And to hear Elizabeth no more cared for him is hardly surprising -”
“Elizabeth does not like him?”
“Oh, I dare say she is dreadfully fond of him now,” Bingley said, with a smothered laugh. “Or else why would she agree to marry him? But no, he did not seek to endear himself to her at first. In fact, I fancy she overheard his unkind words to me, although that is conjecture, for Jane would not be drawn on -” he hesitated. “That is...”
“Jane. You refer to Elizabeth’s sister?” She smiled, cautiously. “I am still trying to align the family tree in my head. Recall, Mr Bingley, these are all but names to me at present.”
“Jane is Elizabeth’s elder sister,” Charles said, his voice softening with the mention of this young lady in particular, and Georgiana felt her own heart slow with every word he uttered. “She is a fine lady, Miss Georgiana, beautiful, elegant, kind, accomplished...” He trailed off, then, turning his attention to the fire.
“I wonder, then, that my brother did not choose to marry her,” Georgiana said, unable to keep the sour note from her voice. Mr Bingley was lost to his memories, though, and seemed to forget Georgiana was even present, let alone that she had spoken. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat and began again.
“I might infer your own affections rested on this elder Miss Bennet, Mr Bingley?” Georgiana whispered. She watched him intently while affecting a mode of friendly disinterest. Suddenly, for reasons she could not quite fathom, his response mattered very much to her, and it was the tender regret in his voice that sent her heart sinking to her boots.
“You infer correctly, Miss Georgiana. I even dared to hope she might feel similarly, and yet...”
A sound from outside the parlour startled him from his apparent reverie, and he straightened as if realising for the first time that he and Georgiana were sitting quite alone in the deserted room, and might thus invite speculation upon the nature of their conversation.
“Mr Hurst? Is that your footsteps I hear? Do join us, for I fear we will have some time to wait yet until the other ladies are ready to grace us with their presence.”
The door opened, and Mr Hurst strode in, acknowledging the pair occupying his parlour with a bored nod.
“Let us begin with an aperitif,” he said, striding straight for the drinks tray, and pouring himself a generous measure of amber liquid, with a rather less generous measure which he handed to his brother-in-law.
“Dear me! Miss Georgiana, I did not notice you there. I hope Bingley is not disturbing your peace with his incessant chattering.” He smiled as if to suggest his words were not an insult, albeit a good-natured one, and Georgiana saw irritation flash in Bingley’s usually contented eyes. She wondered, then, whether he was as happy to linger at Lattimer Place as he maintained.
“Tell me some more about Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley,” she said, quickly. “You never did tell me much about your time in Hertfordshire, beyond those ladies whose acquaintance has followed you throughout the country. Tell me, for instance, how did it compare with Lattimer Place?”
She turned an interested glance towards both gentlemen, although Mr Hurst bowed in acquiescence to Mr Bingley, inviting him to speak first. Charles’ words were halting, piling enthusiastic praise on Lattimer Place by comparison, but Georgiana inferred, from all that he did not say, that he vastly preferred Netherfield Park, and would in some ways rather be back there.
Another sound broke their quiet conversation before long, indicating the arrival of their guests, and Georgiana stood as Mr and Mrs Darcy were ushered into the sitting room.
“Georgiana, at last!” Darcy said, crossing the room and reaching towards her as if to embrace her. When she did not move to greet him straight away, though, he faltered, and at length shook hands, rather formally. Georgiana recognised his confusion, even if it would have been indistinguishable from his usual frown to any other person present, and she felt a strange flicker of enjoyment. She might have no power to determine where she went, or how she lived, but she could still make her feelings known.
“Good evening, William. And this must be my new sister.” She turned a cold, calculated smile, modelled on one that she had seen exhibited on numerous occasions by none other than Caroline Bingley, upon the lady that accompanied him. “Good evening, Mrs Darcy.”
“Oh, please,” the new arrival said, with a warm smile that Georgiana struggled not to return, it was so guileless and genuine that she momentarily regretted her determination not to like her new sister. That they must be meeting here, in a borrowed parlour and in the presence of relative strangers hardened her resolve, however, and she barely heard the rest of Mrs Darcy’s words. “We are to be sisters! You must call me Lizzy.”
***
EVEN IF ELIZABETH HAD not seen countless portraits of Georgiana or Lady Anne Darcy that adorned both their London home and Pemberley’s walls, Lizzy would not have struggled to see the likeness between Mr Darcy and his sister. Oh, he might expound upon their differences: she was fair, while he was dark. She gracious and musical, quick to smile and laugh: he far more sombre, and prone to scowl, even when his thoughts were neutral and relatively harmless. This evening, though, their expressions were more alike than she had been led to expect. Darcy’s frown softened upon reconnecting with Charles, and he even managed a comfortable conversation with Mr Hurst, who took rather more interest in showing off the particulars of his estate to the visitor from Pemberley than of paying any mind to the discussion of the two young ladies, whose group grew to four in time, as first Mrs Hurst and at last Miss Bingley came to join them.
I never imagined I would be grateful for the arrival of Caroline Bingley! Elizabeth marvelled, as it was upon Caroline’s arrival that Georgiana, at last, seemed to come into her own and talk quite freely as if she was at last at ease and free to be herself. This had been disheartening to Elizabeth, at first, who had hoped she and Georgiana would find some sort of instant rapport and thus set her mind at rest on the matter of her approval. Yet she could not help but feel some relief that, with Caroline and Mrs Hurst present, some of the burden of conversation might be lifted from her. That she, Lizzy, struggled to think what to say struck her as amusing and a smile tugged at her lips.
“Did I miss some joke, Eliza, dear?”
Caroline was like a hawk, and she was on Elizabeth just as quickly as if she were a small field mouse.
“Not at all,” Lizzy choked out, forcing her face into a mask of calm. “Please, do continue.”
With a sniff, Caroline returned with all attention to her topic of choice: a discussion of her visit to the small nearby town of Newton that afternoon, and the old friend whom she had had the good fortune to come across quite by chance.
“Of course, she looks rather older now, and so thin!” Caroline tutted, sympathetically. “It is such a tragedy when a woman marries and all consideration for one’s appearance is forgotten.” She stared, pointedly, towards Elizabeth’s dress and then turned back to Mrs Hurst. “No offence intended towards either of the two married ladies here, of course!” She laughed hollowly. “Poor Georgiana and I can only imagine.” There was a moment’s pause, and Elizabeth realised, too late, that she was angling for some sympathetic comment in support of her hopes for the future. She hesitated too long and won a wrathful glance from her friend for her silence.
“I am new to Derbyshire, Miss Bingley. Might you tell me a little of the type of society one finds here? Is it, for instance, similar to Hertfordshire? Might there be an assembly at Newton before too long, as there were often at Meryton?”
“Yes,” Mrs Hurst said, before Caroline could find her tongue. “We have ever so many assemblies, and of course there are private parties to be had, too, for we have some very fine neighbours hereabouts. Why, Mrs Darcy, you might even seek to host a gathering at Pemberley, now that you are there. I am sure you wish to build friendships and better know your neighbours. What better way than to host a small soiree?”
Elizabeth smiled, stiffly, wondering if her own definition of “small soiree” and Mrs Hurst’s were anything at all alike. Still, the notion of a gathering opened up another possibility in her mind, and she voiced it almost without thinking.
“I wonder if I might invite my sister, and use her coming as an excuse for just such an evening,” she mused. “Do not you think, Caroline, that Jane would love to see Derbyshire for herself? I am sure Mr Bingley would be eager to see her again.”
There was a sharp intake of breath to her right, and she turned, inviting Georgiana to share what was on her mind. Instead, her face appeared blank of emotion, and Lizzy began to think she had imagined the reaction.
“I rather think you might wish to receive Mr Darcy’s sister home again before inviting your own,” Mrs Hurst said, laughing as if she had made a humorous observation.
“Of course.” Elizabeth reddened and turned apologetically back to Georgiana. “I do hope you do not feel forced out of your own home, Miss Darcy. It was not my intention at all, but -”
“It’s quite alright.” Georgiana lifted her chin. “Mr Bingley explained the situation to me. I do not want to prevent your guests from finding their feet, and in any case, it has been very pleasant to spend some time with my dear friends here at Lattimer Place.” She turned a dazzling smile upon Caroline. “Don’t you agree, Miss Bingley?”
“Oh, indeed!” Caroline breathed. “Why, we have had such charming conversations, and the music! Oh, Georgiana, you must play for us this evening after we eat, must not she, sister?”
Mrs Hurst agreed that this was a wonderful suggestion, and Lizzy hurried to agree with them and somehow endear herself to Georgiana who seemed poised to remain at some distance from her that Lizzy was eager to overcome.
“I am most eager to hear you play, Georgiana, for I have heard you are incredibly talented. Another of my sisters, Mary - she is lately married to your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam - is musical, and I dare say you would have a great deal in common.”
“Yes, if Georgiana also possessed a sanctimonious piety and a shyness that made her almost impossible to get to know,” Caroline hissed under her breath.
Her words still reached Elizabeth’s ears, however, and she turned a blazing glare upon her friend.
“I did not realise you so poised to dislike my sister, Miss Bingley. Pray, have you been as long acquainted with Mary’s virtues as you apparently are with her flaws?”
“Ladies!” Mr Hurst’s merry voice cut through any conversation, putting a stop to any response Caroline might have given, although Lizzy was pleased to see her friend slack-jawed in surprise and suitably chastened by Elizabeth’s question. “Shall we go in to dinner? Mrs Hurst, you must make the arrangements, for I am certain to make a muddle of things.”
Mrs Hurst was in her element as hostess of a party, and set to organising people into the order she desired so that Elizabeth quickly found herself on Mr Darcy’s arm again before her anger had fully subsided.
“I was pleased to see you getting better acquainted with Georgiana,” Darcy murmured as they found their seats at the large table, strewn with wax flowers and dripping with silverware as if the Hursts had expected visiting dignitaries and not a relatively informal reunion with old friends. “Tell me, how does she seem?”
“I hardly know,” Elizabeth muttered. “She is not at all the young lady described to me before this evening.” She sighed. “But perhaps the fault is mine.” She managed a tiny smile. “I feel all at odds this night. Life at Longbourn, in London, even, seems a long time ago and I fear I am a very long way from home.”