CHAPTER VII

Elizabeth, it turned out, need not have worried. She dazzled at the gathering – just as Georgiana knew she would. And while she danced once with the Colonel, and once with Mr. Hardcastle, it was her husband who claimed her hand for most of the night. Watching from the safety of the piano, Georgiana supposed this meant their disagreement had come to an amicable end.

This impression was confirmed the next morning. Her brother found her whilst she was practicing her chords, and said how proud he was of her offer to help Elizabeth. Blushing, she assured him it was nothing, whilst feeling a very great sense of pride within herself. For the first time in a long time, she felt she had done something right.

"Fitzwilliam and I had considered," he continued, flicking through some of her music sheets, "whether you might like to join Elizabeth and I for the London Season when we travel down? Not," he added quickly, "as a coming out. But there is plenty you might do that is not balls. Shopping perhaps, and some of the exhibits."

There were, in fact, many things she would rather do than attend balls, but she did not linger on that. Caught between gratification of being thought old and good enough to join them, and terror at all joining them entailed, she simply nodded head, then added hesitantly: "I thought Elizabeth had told our aunt, Lady Matlock, that you were not set on returning for the Season?"

"We had discussed that, but I fear us missing the Season would be taken more as a sign of there being something to be ashamed of. Besides, Fitzwilliam has assured me that his father has, at last, written to Lady Catherine and secured her agreement to cease her slanders. She is still cut, as far as we are concerned, but it is an improvement."

She nodded again, though she did not follow his reasoning. That was no surprise: she was not as clever as him or Elizabeth. At times, she did wonder what her aunt had done that was so awful, the Darcy siblings were to be no longer on speaking terms with their mother's sister. If she had been of a different nature, she may have thought to ask her sister, who seemed more ready with her answers. That, though, would mean going behind her brother's back, and she could not do that. She had caused him enough trouble already.

The presence of her cousin helped distract her from this. If she would only have him for a while longer, then Georgiana intended to make every moment count. For the week he stayed at Pemberley she asked Elizabeth's permission to be released from her company, so she could spend it all with the Colonel. It was easily one of the happiest times she could remember, which made it all the harder when the morning of his departure arrived. Unable to bear going downstairs, she stayed hidden in her room – which was where he found her, surrounded by pencils and pages.

"I'm to be gone soon Georgie. Come, will you not wave me off?"

Shaking her head, she wondered how anyone could find words at a time like this?

"Georgiana," her cousin came and sat next to her on the bed. It was too much. The misery of it all overwhelmed her. She did not want him to go.

"Dearest," he stoked her hair as she stifled a sob. "I shall be back before you even realise I am gone. Here," straightening her up, he gently eased a crumpled kerchief from her hand and in one short, sharp move, tore it in two. "Now, I shall keep this half, and you shall keep that one. And when I am home, we shall make them whole again. What do you say to that?"

Looking down at the torn fabric in her hand, she spotted a badly embroidered 'G'. Tracing the stitches with her finger, she nodded, and hoped Elizabeth would not be angry.

At some point her cousin kissed her hair and left. Outside, it began to grow dark. There was a gentle rap at the door: a maid come to tend to the fire. She kept looking at her torn kerchief – until a rustle of skirts sat down beside her. Elizabeth took her hand, and then sat quiet for a while.

"I wish," she began with words she knew should remain unsaid. "I wish George Wickham was the one who had to go, and my cousin could stay."

"Wickham will be off soon too. The Colonel made sure to mention that before he left. I suspect a lot of young men will be leaving."

"Oh." Could Elizabeth not use her magic? Could she not make it not so? "That will leave Lydia alone?"

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it will."

The thought brought her no comfort. Elizabeth's sister was even younger than her, and excepting a child. Could the same have happened to her, if she had–

"I suppose I cannot be angry with her now." She looked across to her sister. She had not seen this Elizabeth before, this one with soft, gentle eyes. "We are downstairs if you find you would like some company. You do not need to say anything. You can just play, if you want. He's not said, but I think your brother might appreciate it."

She gave another small nod. He would be proud of her, if she came down. That is what a good sister would do.

The weeks between her cousin's departure, and their own for London, passed by far quicker than she expected. Elizabeth, it seemed, was not a creature built for sitting still. She always found some activity for her and Georgiana: if they were not out making calls, they were to be in the library, or walking the grounds, or practicing at their music. It left Georgiana very little opportunity to miss her cousin – though it took her a while to understand this was entirely the point.

Elizabeth was a quicker learner than she. She had thought that teaching her how to act as mistress of a large estate would take many months – it was, after all, the principal focus of Georgiana's own education – but Elizabeth seemed to have grasped the basics within a week, and by the end of the next, decided what parts of the role she did, and did not, agree with. It was not long after that she overheard Mrs. Reynolds telling her brother how well Mrs. Darcy seemed to have taken to her new role.

Georgiana tried her hardest to match her sister's pace, but she found people far harder to grasp than position. The calls with tenants were the hardest. No matter how much she willed herself invisible, they seemed determined the stare and to offer her things, sometimes even after she had managed to say no. At least her brother and cousin did not expect her to be married for many more years; she would need a long time to learn how to be a proper gentleman's wife.

It was during their walk back from one such visit that Elizabeth said the strangest thing. With more hesitancy than was her want, she mentioned that one of the reasons she had believed her brother did not like her when they first met, was that he used to stand in rooms, saying very little and not smiling. That did not seem very odd to her; her brother had always been very discerning in the company her kept, though she agreed it was foolish to do so in front of Elizabeth. She nodded and said she understood, which was greeted by a warm smile.

"Excellent," Elizabeth declared, before moving their topic swiftly on.

Throughout the winter there had been a steady trickle of letters between Netherfield and Pemberley. In amongst them, a plan was formed: the Darcys would break their journey to London with a couple of nights in Hertfordshire, and the Bingleys would then follow the Darcys into town later in the Season. The plan seemed to please Elizabeth greatly. For Georgiana's part, she tried to be happy for her sister, and not too jealous of her eagerness to see her real sisters. With great determination, she managed to remain so right until their party entered the sitting room at Netherfield, on a rainy late-January afternoon.

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bingley was out of her seat and across the room, embracing her sister before Georgiana could even blink. And Elizabeth returned it fiercely. So that is how one was supposed to hug a sister.

Elizabeth's magic had turned towards her own – exceedingly beautiful – sister. Georgiana was invisible again – just as she realised she did not want to be. Taking a seat, she tried to content herself with simply listening, but it was no good – the sisters rattled through unfamiliar names and places far too quickly for her to follow their chatter, and when Mrs. Bingley did turn to her, she found she was too awestruck by her loveliness to find any sensible words. She managed a few, mumbled polite nothings, then set to playing with her lace.

While dressing for dinner, she promised herself she would be brave. If her cousin could face Boney, she could face a room full of Bennets: the torn kerchief in her pocket would lend her his courage. She would not look miserable. She would try to smile – just like her sister.

The evening began well enough. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley made sure she was placed by them, so she did not need to try and talk to Elizabeth's wider family. The excitement of their initial reunion over, Elizabeth and Mrs. Bingley spoke far more generally about their plans for London – and even managed to coax out of Georgiana that she was looking forward to seeing some Turner pieces at the exhibits. Elizabeth's father, on hearing his, commended her brother on raising a young woman of rare taste – a quality he found sadly lacking in most specimens. She was not entirely sure, but she supposed this was a complement – so she made sure to smile and offer a soft 'thank you, sir'. Even Miss Catherine seemed better disposed towards her, remarking when she arrived on the prettiness of her dress, and despairing that nowhere in Hertfordshire could make anything half so fine. There seemed no polite answer to this, so Georgiana offered simply that she liked Miss Catherine's ribbons.

It was after dinner, when the gentlemen left, that matters became considerably more complicated. In the carriage ride down, Elizabeth had joked that half her childhood family were far too in awe of her martial family to say or do anything too ridiculous. Georgiana had not believed her at the time – but she soon realised she may well have been right, though with one notable exception; she was not the part of the family the Bennets were too much in awe of.

Her brother, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Bennet had not been gone five minutes, when Miss Catherine dropped her polite façade, turned to her sister and announced: "It is really not fair Lizzy that you have not invited me to London too, for I am older. Why must I always be left at home?"

"Because Papa has decreed it Kitty. You heard him last summer; you shall have to wait for that review in ten years' time."

"Mama!" Miss Catherine turned to her mother."

"Now Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet began, "it is very harsh on Kitty, for you know she loves a ball best of all four of you. I really do not see what the harm would be in having her come with you. Why, I am certain that if Mr. Darcy spoke to your father–"

"No," Elizabeth spoke firmly.

"Lydia is right, you have become spoilt!" Miss Catherine cried, before leaping up and running off, just as her older sister threw up her hands. Mrs. Bingley gave Elizabeth a sympathetic look and set off to find Miss Catherine. At some point, Miss Bennet had risen and claimed full ownership of the piano, giving the whole scene a disjointed, staccato air.

Georgiana sat amongst it all, invisible, but quite fascinated. This was like no family scene she could recall. From across the room she watched Elizabeth with a new sense of admiration and wonderment. She could not imagine disagreeing with one's siblings, let alone one's parents.

"I am not taking her Mama," she was saying, "not when she is acting out like that. Not when I need to make a good impression to the ton. She is being absurd."

"Oh, pish Lizzy, I don't see why you should have to worry about that. Your father's estate is very respectable."

"But–"

"Your father's estate is very respectable Lizzy," her mother repeated, forcibly. "That is all that matters."

This tone from Mrs. Bennet seemed to catch Elizabeth off guard. Georgiana watched her face shift, becoming fox-like again, though one that sensed a trap. Across the room she saw Mrs. Bennet begin to fan herself, quite excessively, before dipping her head and saying lowly, if not quietly: "Now Lizzy, tell me, have you bled?"

"Mother! Georgiana and Mary are sat–"

"Oh pish, they cannot hear us from all the way over there, not over Mary's racket, and this is important. When else am I supposed to talk to you, now you are so very far away."

Elizabeth muttered that something too quietly for her to hear. It did little to modulate her mother.

"Lydia is expecting you know. She has always been such an obliging girl. She will need help, now, from you and Jane. Especially if poor Wickham is to be off to Lisbon or wherever it is. He is your brother too, just as well as Bingley. It is only right that your husband should help promote him and to be honest Lizzy I do not think he is at the mome–"

"I have bled," Elizabeth announced quickly. Georgiana caught her breath and snapped her eyes down to her lap. She could not bring herself to look at the tête-à-tête. She should move. She should stand up and walk away, closer to Miss Bennet's playing. But she could not; she was rooted to spot. Was this how mothers and daughters spoke?

"What?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.

"Three times. You wanted to know if I had bled, and I have. Three times. My maid keeps a book. There, will that satisfy you?" Elizabeth had dipped her voice again, but she could still hear, now she was focused on listening.

"Are you certain?"

"Why on earth would I not be certain Mama?"

"It has been very hard on my nerves Lizzy, you should know that, not that you would care. None of you girls know what I suffer on your behalf. I told Lady Lucas that it would be so, that none of my girls would ever get themselves in such a position. And she is only jealous anyway, for Charlotte is certain to have girl, and you Lizzy are built for boys. But well – I will own I thought it would have been very clever of you, if you had. Especially after what he said about you not being tempting enough at the Assembly Rooms."

Every part of Georgiana screamed at her to stand and leave. This was not a polite conversation – but worse still was eavesdropping. This was not a conversation for a maid's ears – but she knew so little about what life was like once one stopped being a maid, that any snippet was enthralling. No one spoke like this. At least, no one in her family.

"What do you mean?" She heard Elizabeth respond, a note of caution in her voice.

"Well, we did all think it odd, after you had said for so long how much you disliked him, and how clearly he disliked you. And so anyway, about a week after the Collinses returned to Hunsford, Sir William received a letter from Lady Catherine herself and in it she said that–"

"I do not care to hear what she said! If he was any sort of gentleman, he would have cast it into the fire! I'm sorry Mama, I find I am feeling unwell. Pass my apologies onto Jane. Perhaps it is my nerves."

She looked up now, in time to see Elizabeth stalking out, just as Jane and Miss Catherine returned to the room. The former looked to her mother, who simply shrugged. "I told you she would come back with airs, Jane."

"Mama, please."

As the other sisters sat, Georgiana found she dared not move; if she did, they might see her, and then they would know what she had heard. Slowly, carefully, she began to reach into her pocket. The scrap of fabric inside it brushed lightly against her fingers.

At least she no longer needed courage to ask her brother or Elizabeth why their aunt was cut. Now, she need only wonder how either of them ever found the courage to defy her?

AN: Thank you again to everyone who is reading along and to the new followers who have joined since Chapter VI. Next chapter, we're off to London for the Season - and whatever awaits our new sisters there.

In the meantime I would love to know what you thought of this latest chapter, so please do leave a review!