As always, Richard smelled of tobacco, sweat and horse when his arms enveloped her in a bear-like hug and whirled her around. Georgiana giggled with joy. She missed him. He had promised her father he would take care of her (and her brother) – a promise impossible to hold from beyond the sea. When he put her back on her feet, she did not bother to hide her wrinkled nose.
"You stink."
"Ah, the famous Darcy honesty. How I missed that!" he laughed, kissing her forehead. "I can cross mountains, rivers or seas to see you, but the first thing you two always blurt out is about my smell, the state of my boots or my stubble. Well, dearest, you decided to greet me at the door, you shall suffer the indignities of the road, hah!" He patted her back, shepherding her towards the stairs. "Let me make myself at least somewhat presentable. I dread to imagine what will Mother say if I stink at the dining table."
Georgiana could only smile, as she walked with him upstairs. Richard was not a quiet man at all – very much in contrast to the Darcys of Pemberley. Perhaps, there lied the reason why both siblings leaned on their cousin so much. Neither felt easy in a company unless Richard was there to effortlessly wheedle them around, suggest a pleasant topic for a conversation or to divert the guests' attention, giving the Darcys an elegant escape from a crowded room.
She would miss him like a limb when he was to inevitably leave for Spain again.
Once Richard excused himself to his rooms, she returned, reluctant, to Mrs. Annesley in the drawing room. Her governess was slightly cross with her for her unladylike flight downstairs.
"It is not becoming of young ladies to run around wildly, Miss Darcy. What would your brother say?"
He would have told her to run around in a civilized manner, Georgiana thought, but did not dare to voice the idea.
For the evening, she wore a lovely dove blue dress and a slate-coloured bandeau. It was a rare event she chose to present herself in a fashionable manner. But today was a happy occasion. It would not do to sit at the dinner table looking solemn in her usual attire when Richard would fill the evening with one wild story after another.
The dinner was obnoxiously merry, as she knew it would be. No one demanded her to speak, allowing her to soak up the chaotic atmosphere, to watch the animated gestures of her cousins trying to talk over each other. Her Uncle the Earl listened to Richard's anecdotes featuring a marshal, his mighty steed, and a Spanish she-ass in heat with a horrified smile, while Edward, his heir, was making cow eyes at his wife Barbara, who was obviously distracted by her dessert. Aunt Albertina kept trying to draw Richard to a more polite topic, an effort which Richard resisted with the characteristic Fitzwilliam obstinacy. Fionna and Blanche, the twin debutantes, discussed the upcoming balls with the penchant for the socialite strategy that would put to shame even the most seasoned Almack patroness. James, the youngest of the present Fitzwilliam brood, was sending Georgiana panicked looks; as a boy of thirteen, he had been only recently allowed to join the adult table. Georgiana gave him a smile and sipped at her wine. She was glad she did not need to talk.
Maybe her brother did the wise thing when he decided to avoid the ruckus by going straight home. Still, he was a traitor, and she was very cross with him.
…
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the spacious Pemberley library with a single Argand lamp casting light at the book in his lap, and shadows at his face. The open page was ignored, and if one asked him what book he picked to pass the evening with, he would not be able to answer. He was yet to recuperate from the incidents of the past weeks, and he was the kind of a man who needed to lick his wounds in solitude.
He did not fancy himself a romantic. His shy, reserved nature prevented him from chasing amorous adventures even when he felt inclined towards a woman. He was perfectly content with admiring from afar, like a visitor in a gallery. Of course, there had been a few ladies he deemed captivating. He was not a monk, nor was he blind, even though the affairs happened solely on the intellectual level.
Ever since Father passed away, Georgiana's happiness had become his first and utmost priority.
Whenever he had the misfortune of succumbing to the invitations to social events, he was besieged by the relatives of prospective brides. The expectation, the obvious demand for an answer – preferably a quick one – rather repelled him. And yet it was the way things were done.
What do you seek in a wife then, his Uncle asked the other day and he had no idea what to tell him.
It took a trip to Hertfordshire to discover he longed for the brightest laughter in the room, for the hint of a smile whenever he tried to say something vaguely intelligent and she disagreed, for the verbal sparring he lost every time, for her tranquil dignity, for the obvious love for which she crossed the muddy fields… He longed for Elizabeth. Damned be her lack of fortune, damned be her second-hand embarrassment of a family. None of those were her fault. Why the hell did he insult her? Was being right worth the pain?
His cousin was right. Miss Elizabeth, the most honourable, witty and fearless woman he had known, was bound by her very essence to reject his offer. Had she accepted, she would deny everything that he admired. And she loathed him, deservedly. He could blame only his own folly.
She would never talk to him again. There would be no more endearingly imperfect piano sonatas, where Beethoven met Haydn, because certain someone could not keep their pages in order.
He was hopeless.
With a sigh, he closed the book. There would be no more pretend reading tonight. He should make use of Georgiana's absence and monopolize her musical room for once.
. . .
Elizabeth was glad Jane was sound asleep since she could do nothing but turn in her bed restlessly. The revelation of her sister's relationship with Mr. Bingley went against all her expectations. How could Jane keep that away from her? Elizabeth admitted she felt annoyed mostly because she thought herself particularly observant, an opinion which was now shattered to pieces first by Mr. Darcy and now her own sister. Elizabeth most hated being proven wrong.
An hour passed while she stared at the ceiling of the guest bedroom.
The month of April should forever be remembered in infamy.
The following day the sisters decided that nothing healed a broken heart and a sleepless night better than a rare treat from a fashionable pastry shop.
"Oh, you must visit Berkeley Square then!" Mrs Gardiner said. "Mr. Gunter sells the most splendid confections. You will love it."
With such great recommendations both sisters set for their morning walk. It was a lovely day, Elizabeth mused. White gulls circled above Thames, screeching, and St. Paul's Cathedral towered to their right with the appropriate majesty. Further west they reached the splendour of St James Square and Buckingham palace.
"It does feel a little ill-mannered to walk all the way to the royal residence only to pass it for a confectionery shop," Jane sighed.
"Well, judging by the princely dimensions, we only follow the royal example."
Jane snorted. "Lizzie, that was horribly mean!"
"I regret nothing, I made you laugh."
Alas, soon they entered Berkeley Square. Like many other great places, this one was adorned by greenery as well, giving it a sense of peace amid a chaotic city. Arm in arm the sisters walked along the meandering pavement, until they saw the house sign.
Mr. Gunter's Tea Shop was one of the most sought establishments in London. Elizabeth imagined it was only thanks to the earlier hour and the embers of the season that the place was not crowded. She led Jane towards one of few empty tables. The sweet smell of cinnamon and cocoa filled her nostrils, and she was determined she would enjoy this morning to the fullest.
Someone behind her giggled and a man called Miss Bennet. Jane squeezed her arm, prompting her to turn around.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was laughing, and the young blushing lady at his table gave her a curious smile. There was something vaguely familiar about her. "Miss Bennet, not a wave or a hello from a friend would stop you from your mission for a cake."
"Oh." It was her turn to blush. She hoped she would never see either Fitzwilliam again. "I am so terribly sorry, sir. I am afraid my gluttony blinded me."
"We might forgive you if you promise you join our tea session," Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled, rising from his seat. He performed a rather fanciful bow to Jane. "Excuse my manners, ma'am. Richard Fitzwilliam, Colonel of his Majesty's army."
"Miss Jane Bennet," Jane smiled, curtseying.
"The famous Miss Bennet! Your sister waxed poetic about you." Colonel grinned, turning to his companion. "Ladies, may I introduce my cousin?" The girl rose from her chair, and Elizabeth realized who was this tall girl with sad eyes and long fingers. "Miss Georgiana Darcy, the present musical genius. Georgie, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Miss Darcy's grey eyes shone with recognition and her cheeks burned scarlet red.
"Did you really wade through three miles of mud to see your sister?" she blurted out and Elizabeth knew immediately what happened to be in that letter Mr. Darcy had been trying to write that day.
"Georgie." Colonel was laughing, ushering everyone to the table. "I am afraid you both became a sort of a mythical creatures of sisterly affection. Now, may I indulge everyone with tea?"