"I'd know that smile anywhere Georgiana," Fitzwilliam claimed without needing to glance up, "you're up to something." Georgiana stopped playing piano adagio and grinned mischievously at her older brother, combing her golden brown locks with as small right hand.
"My dear brother!" she exclaimed. "You think too dangerously of me! I have done nothing…am I allowed just to enjoy my skill of playing piano?" Fitzwilliam grunted lovingly.
"Fine…fine…I'm sorry, Georgiana. What were you thinking about, anyway?" Georgiana rose and began waltzing around the room, her head high in a taunt of her older sibling.
"If I told you, Mr. Darcy, I'm sure you would be greatly unsettled." Darcy snorted and continued to write. His penmanship over the years was spectacular, and if only it was a reflection of his social life…
"Very well, I'll tell you nonetheless. I was thinking of the charming Mr. Wickham!" Darcy blinked twice, setting his quill down slowly.
"Mr.…Mr. Wickham?" he repeated.
"Well, yes, brother,' she replied quickly, "I knew you weren't hard of hearing. And besides, I warned you." She sat back down at her piano and began a slow piece. Darcy sat back in his chair, dazed. Mr. Wickham? He rose and made his way to the piano forte. Georgiana smiled as she saw him coming and shifted over, making room for him on the bench. Her hands flowed gently and swiftly over the keys as she leaned her head against her brother's strong shoulder.
"Be careful…" he warned with care, "he's not as…faultless as you might be led to believe." At that moment there was a vibrant knock on the door. George Wickham, clad in his British Militia uniform, stood solemnly at the door, grasping flowers in his left hand. A beautiful smile swept Georgiana's face at the exact moment a glare crossed Darcy's. She quickly turned to deliver a kiss to her brother before leaping off the bench and racing towards Wickham, her skirt brushing against the ground. She clasped hands with him and he brought up the roses.
"For you, love," he presented them to the young girl. Darcy turned away, dismayed.
***
Hours Darcy paced the floor, awaiting his sister's arrival. Didn't she know he had attempted to pull the same trick on Jasmine Taylor a year before? Suddenly Georgiana waltzed in, dancing with the flowers, looking slightly intoxicated. She landed with a sigh on a long chair and giggled to herself. "I dont understand, brother," she said, "how perfect he is! And anyway, he said you would say bad things against his countenance. And he told me the saddest story...why did you drive him out of house and job, making him be a lowly soldier and all that?"
"Drunkenness speaking," he muttered.
"Tell me, he said you should damn well remember," she replied hotly.
Fitzwilliam turned to his sister. "Do you want to know why he tells you that?"
She shrugged. "He said it was jealousy."
He leaned closer to her, smelling the alcohol on her breath. "He's after you money, not you. He gambled himself out of a position, and his part time job is plucking up young women with well off means, like a shark. He doesn't love you, Georgiana!"
Her brow furled. "Well, Mr. High-And-Mighty, I think I would rather believe George and the moment."
"You think that little of me?"
"Yes!" she screamed and ran out of the room, and ran straight into Mr. Bingley.
"Why, hello, Ms. Georgiana," he greeted her politely. She glared at him and walked out.
"What's the matter with your sister?" he asked as he walked into the room quietly. Darcy sighed and stared out of the window.
"Wickham."
"That bastard?" Mr. Bingley asked in shock. "Why did she choose him? He's scum, and everyone should know it."
"Well, she doesn't believe me...you know, the one who raised her. She'd rather empathize his hatred-fueled tale of desperation and jealousy." Bingley smiled thoughtfully and snapped his fingers. "Then I've got your solution."
"But you aren't much of the schemer. I'd assume that you'd leave that to Caroline." Darcy commented with an amused look on his face. His friend shrugged.
"That may be true, but this one does not involve much thinking. We simply get Caroline to talk her out of it." he raised an eyebrow in an unusually deceptive way for Charles Bingley. "My dear friend, let us begin!"