Georgiana straightened the hem of the doyley to align it with the edge of the serving table. She stepped back and frowned. Now, the vase of white daffodils needed to be pushed just an inch to the right, to repeat the floral pattern of the doyley properly. The morning light refracted through the glass and water, casting iridescent glints on the lacquered wood. Georgiana smiled. Perfect.
It was the first time she had made an invitation on her own. She was proud of her achievement; being painfully shy in the face of complete strangers, she often found herself tongue-tied. Mrs. Annesley expressed her pleased surprise when Richard presented her with the news.
As Georgiana was yet to debut, both her companion and her brother agreed it would be for the best if she gained the necessary social skills in the safety of her home before stepping into the boisterous, crowded ballrooms of the ton. The Almack's halls of her cousins' tales sounded more foreign than the distant lands of Hindustan, its customs stranger than those of the tribes of Australia, its air more dangerous than the Amazon jungle. No, Georgiana Darcy preferred the safe walls of her home.
Since breakfast, Georgiana fretted around the drawing room, her hands restlessly touching details on the furniture. Her brother held the Bennet sisters in such high regard, she knew. The eldest Miss Bennet is peace and leniency personified; her brother had written once. The second eldest, Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, possesses a character of such boldness, one must guard his words unless he wishes to have them handed back on a silver platter. You would like them, I am sure.
She did like them. And she hoped they liked her back.
Fitzwilliam never mentioned how pretty Miss Jane was, how her brass-coloured hair caught sunlight, how her lips curved in a soft smile. He never mentioned Miss Elizabeth's heavy-lidded eyes or her clear laughter when Richard pointed out something ridiculous. Jane was the day to Elizabeth's night and Georgiana wondered what the other three sisters were like.
She loved her brother, but the age difference and the fact that she was born a woman, made their experiences almost alien. He could not break new paths for her. He was thirteen when left for Eton, a place where she could never follow, leaving behind a toddler. When she reached the same age, she was an orphaned girl back home in Pemberley, too precious and timid to leave for a boarding school.
She turned her sight to the longcase clock. Quarter to eleven. Mrs. Annesley stressed the necessity of keeping to the acceptable calling hours.
Sometimes she imagined what it would have been like if the Lord blessed her mother with better health. She had heard tales of her numerous siblings who had never seen the light of day. Georgiana could have looked up to sisters, could have grown in the safety of their shadow. She could have had brothers to chase her through the gardens, to pull Fitzwilliam out of his moods.
But alas, Georgiana had only Fitzwilliam to love her, and Richard to teach her all the things one deemed unladylike. Once, there was George as well… The less said about him, the better.
Eleven. She settled in the blue-green armchair, her back straight. She waited.
Nothing.
Quarter past eleven. She heard steps outside approaching. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She rose to her feet, nervous. Someone knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Mrs. Smith announced the arrival of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. While those were not the sisters Georgiana looked forward to seeing, she was nevertheless pleased to accept their call. Both ladies entered the parlour with the natural grace, their flowing dresses rippling around their forms with each movement. Miss Bingley glanced around the room with a smile.
"I sure do admire your taste in paintings, Miss Darcy." She pointed at the wide landscape depicting autumnal Pemberley. "Although, I recall there is something different about it since I saw it the last time…"
"That is because there are four paintings of Pemberley, each featuring a single season," said Georgiana. "We always put on display the one opposing the calendar. In winter I hang the Summer landscape. This one has been out since the beginning of March. It is sort of a joke between me and Fitzwilliam." She stared at her hands. It felt too childish, she realized.
"Speaking of your brother, I hope he will bestow his presence upon us soon," Miss Bingley said. "Perhaps he mentioned something?"
"I am not sure about his plans. He has left for Pemberley and I am to return by the end of April as well." Georgiana noticed the slight change in Miss Bingley's expression. "Um… Would you like some tea?"
"That would be splendid, thank you." Mrs. Hurst smiled.
The ladies gathered around the table. When the housekeeper brought the tray with the Chinese porcelain tea set, which did not go unnoticed by Miss Bingley, who complimented the delicate painting on the teapot.
"Thank you?" Georgiana said, nervously.
It was perhaps not the manner of society to entrust one's servants with brewing coffee and tea – but she was so hopeless at the task, and her brother was not familiar with it enough to bestow his knowledge to her. So, her trustworthy housekeeper was given the keys to the tea cabinet.
They sipped their tea in silence, and Georgiana wished for Richard's presence. She was sure there were some looks exchanged between the sisters, some secret smiles, she could not decipher.
"I hope your family is well."
"Oh, yes. Charles is currently enjoying the season in Town. Would you like to call on us tomorrow? My brother would love to join us," Miss Bingley smiled. "We should take a walk in the Hyde Park." The realisation dawned on Georgiana that the sole purpose of this visit was to prepare the battle ground for wooing. (Perhaps Richard's military metaphors were rubbing off on her.) She froze. Since the last year's events she had avoided any thoughts on marriage.
"Miss Darcy?"
"Oh, sorry. I just thought…" Her eyes darted to the tower clock again. Mrs. Annesley said the proper social calls never lasted for longer than fifteen minutes. "I planned on practicing on fortepiano tomorrow. For the whole day."
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst gave her a confused look. They both knew that the Darcy family kept their fortepiano at Pemberley – the house at Grosvenor Square contained only a harpsichord. But there was no way for them to call her out on her excuse.
It was that moment when Mrs. Smith appeared again to whisper the arrival of the Bennet sisters into the shell of Georgiana's ear. Immense relief set on her. She announced the new guests with a wide smile. Surely, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley would be delighted to meet their acquaintances from Hertfordshire. Her brother mentioned they would know each other. Is that not wonderful?
She could have as well announced the invasion of Gorgon sisters, for Miss Bingley's face turned to stone. The door opened yet again and in walked the Bennets.
Apparently, the dislike was mutual. Miss Elizabeth pressed her lips together, as if to bar herself from saying anything too harsh. Miss Bennet said hello and proceeded to exchange greetings with Georgiana, showing her back to Mrs. Hurst.
"Forgive our tardiness, Miss Darcy. Our little cousins keep mistaking us for living dolls," said Miss Elizabeth. "And a toddler's idea of an acceptable attire differs wildly from mine."
"Interesting," Miss Bingley deadpanned. "I hope you managed to remedy the child's attempts at fashion…?"
"Thank you. That was an exceedingly kind compliment." Miss Elizabeth's tone could cut glass.
Georgiana had a horrible feeling that her brother's letters did not contain all the necessary information. She looked at Miss Bennet, who stood behind her sister with a carefully blank expression. Miss Elizabeth stepped forward to exchange greetings with her, but they were interrupted again.
"How are your other sisters?" Miss Bingley asked with a wide smile. "Are they in London as well? Miss Darcy," she turned to her, "you would be delighted to hear Miss Mary Bennet play the fortepiano with such ferocious dedication. She left the entire room of listeners in stupefied awe." She laughed as if it were a joke everyone was familiar with. Mrs. Hurst stared at her lap. Miss Elizabeth turned pink. Miss Bennet tensed – Georgiana noticed.
"Miss Bingley, I admit I missed your superb conversational skills." As much as one could miss having a gangrene eat through their leg was left unsaid. "But alas, allow me at least to greet Miss Darcy."
They could finally shake their hands without interruption.
"Please, have a seat," Georgiana gestured towards the sofa.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley sipped the remains of their tea and bid them farewell. Before she left the room, Miss Bingley turned for the last time toward the picture of Pemberley and smiled.
. . .
Elizabeth could not help but feel furious at Miss Bingley's crude behaviour. It was not enough she did everything in her power to separate Jane from Mr. Bingley, she had to treat her family as if they were nothing, but a piece of dung smeared on the soles of her slippers. At least, Mr. Darcy never humiliated the Bennets viciously in front of others (since they were perfectly self-reliant in that matter, thank you very much). Miss Bingley needed to remind everyone of how low her circumstances were compared to the proper people.
Miss Darcy poured them tea. "Would you like some cakes? Nuts? I am so terribly sorry for that altercation. Had I known there was some bad blood between you, I would have planned better. I am really sorry." Her voice hitched in her throat. "She is not usually like that, I swear."
"We would never blame you for the folly of others," said Jane.
"Especially when the perpetrators should know better," huffed Elizabeth. "Seriously, it is no big deal. In three hours, I shall remember it as a great joke."
Miss Darcy smiled. It was a smile that could light up a room.
When they walked towards Grosvenor Square, neither she nor Jane expected much from the visit beside the usual pleasantries that would fill up the span of twenty minutes.
But Georgiana Darcy was a lonely girl who longed for friends of her own. She fluttered around the parlour, asking of details of their home. She expressed delight at the description of the utter chaos of the Longbourn house, of the antics of their younger sisters.
"Forgive me for asking," she said, her restless fingers picking at the served pastry, "but I cannot put my mind to rest about the issue. Why does Miss Bingley dislike you so much?"
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look. Elizabeth was in no mood to admit to one of the reasons Miss Bingley targeted her in particular.
"I am really sorry if I intrude!" Miss Darcy added quickly. "I am just… I do not want to repeat today's mistake and cause any more pain to either side. I just wish I know why."
"It is…" Elizabeth searched for the delicate way to relay to the young girl how immensely stupid romance was and how it affected everyone in the vicinity.
"Her brother and I held tender feelings, once. And she wishes someone else for him," said Jane, with the most profound lack of fanfare. "She acts out of care for her brother, which I admire, but it does not change the fact she employs rather underhanded tactics."
"You mean… Mr. Bingley?" Miss Darcy's grey eyes grew huge. "Is that why she keeps inviting me…?" She blinked. "Ew. That is just…"
"Pardon me?" Jane said, confused. Elizabeth snickered. Oh, this was going to be hilarious.
"Oh, now it makes all sense! She did hint at the possible connection between your families, back in Netherfield. Jane, you were in the sickbed when she said that. It was everything but subtle."
"I must tell her that there is no way I would ever marry Mr. Bingley. I must clear this misunderstanding. Miss Bennet, please, forgive me."
"Miss Darcy, you did not ask for being included in anyone's matchmaking plans." Jane smiled. "There is nothing to forgive. You need not to deny yourself anything."
"Oh, I am not denying myself anything!" Miss Darcy exclaimed. "No, I do not think I would ever marry – and if I were to give my hand to anyone it would certainly not be Mr. Bingley! It would be like being married to my brother by proxy. He is kind and handsome, I admit that, but he has no mind of his own!"
Jane blinked in shock and Elizabeth gave up. She had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Oh, she loved Miss Darcy dearly.