Chapter 42

And Georgiana feels a need to be protected at that very moment, the morning isn't at all proceeding as she expected.

For one, Mr Manners never showed.

She expected him to be there at breakfast, and though she doesn't fancy him or anything, she likes him a lot more than any gentleman she has ever met before, and she actually enjoys talking to him, getting to know him better.

But she is very pleased to have Kitty stay behind, spending an entire morning with Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst as only female company is not Georgiana's idea of time well-spent, though of course there is always the piano.

After giving Kitty a piano-lesson, Georgiana practises intensely for an hour, trying to refrain from playing certain sections over and over to not irritate the rest of the company.

And still no Mr Manners.

The other gentlemen are mostly occupied with talking among themselves, several are playing billiards in the adjoining room, and Miss Bingley is talking with animation to Mr Grenfell, probably the most handsome of Bingley's friends, though that depends on one's taste as well, Georgiana prefers Mr Lascelles' looks, but he of course is not of impeccable breeding, being half French.

Still, Miss Bingley likes Mr Grenfell well enough, with his Grecian profile and his steel-blue eyes. She flirts with him, laughs with him, and tries to look her very best, which is not as difficult as Georgiana generally imagines it to be, for Miss Bingley is actually rather pretty, but since Georgiana abhors her, having often seen her at her very worst, being haughty towards anyone less favoured in life than herself, Georgiana's view of Miss Bingley is rather coloured. Actually, rather discoloured, greyed out with black rims.

As Kitty leaves for a moment to check on a surprise she has prepared for Jane's return, Georgiana finishes her serious practise, too bad Elizabeth isn't here to listen in, but that cannot be helped. She is making good progress, Eric will be pleased.

Difficult bits finished, she launches into one of those impressive scales, to see whether Miss Bingley notices. Which she does, she looks up instantly, only to direct her attention back to Mr Grenfell after a minute or so.

After the scales, Georgiana practises the dances, not too difficult, and much more to the liking of the gentlemen in the room than her virtuous piece. Men are so predictable, generally speaking.

Suddenly someone is standing beside her, much too close, a hand on her shoulder way too familiarly, and she can actually feel a solid body lean against her own. Before she can help it, a deep shudder of discomfort courses through her, but the man in question does not register her displeasure. He seems to read it as an encouragement, for he does not step back and even squeezes her a little with a large, strong hand.

Georgiana's shyness returns instantly, this is not gentlemanly behaviour, and she feels threatened by it.

Forcing herself to look up at the perpetrator, she sees to her surprise that it is Mr Grenfell, his steel blue eyes cold while his perfectly shaped mouth smiles down upon her ingratiatingly. The smile does not reach his eyes.

'You play very well, Miss Darcy,' he says in a low voice, a very astute observation indeed, and Georgiana is suitably flattered.

Of course she isn't, but in fact her scorn at his dumb remark doesn't show, she actually does look flattered, because she is flustered by this man's presumption, and her general shyness makes her seem coy, while she is in fact seriously annoyed and also quite a bit afraid.

Such a cold look, as if she is a piece of meat he is thinking of spearing with his fork, chew with a relish, then devour. How can Miss Bingley not see this man's true nature? He is a predator, and his presence makes Georgiana's instincts scream at her, 'Run, run while you still can!'

What does he want from her?

That is what this morning has brought Georgiana so far, breakfast, practise, and now, unwanted intimacies from a beautiful but very calculating man.

She has stopped playing, her body is frozen up with disgust and fear, and her mind is thinking frantically of ways to escape. But nothing comes up, her mind is empty, gibbering, why can't she ever think of something in a crisis? If he stays this close he will make her scream, and that will cause an immense scene, what can she do?

Start playing again.

A scathing retort would be better, but playing is all right for now.

She changes the sheet-music in front of her, using the opportunity to lose the hand on her shoulder and move away from the heavy shape leaning on hers, and starts to play the most intricate piece she knows. It requires total concentration, leaving her unable to give the slightest attention to her unwelcome attendant.

It works for about two minutes, the hand and the pressure of his body are gone, his presence shut out of her awareness, the music starting to calm her down.

And then he commits the worst possible offence: he breaks her concentration by talking to her while she's playing. He's trying to catch her attention, he has no clue of a gentleman's conduct.

'Miss Darcy!' he cries out, 'do you ride?'

Shocked beyond speech, she abruptly stops playing, and looks around the room for help.

Miss Bingley has noticed Mr Grenfell's offensive behaviour, but she merely looks at him for a few moments, then talks to Mr Ponsonby once more, a very fashionable man with a friendly look, but a rather fleshy face.

'Miss Darcy,' her assailant repeats, 'do you ride?'

She dare not refuse to reply, and besides, if she pretends to not have heard, he'll just keep asking, this man doesn't take 'no' for an answer. He'll probably touch her again, and that has to be avoided at all cost, for it will make her freeze up.

'I don't, Mr Grenfell, but I'm planning to learn this summer. My sister-in-law has told me it is great fun.'

'So it is, Miss Darcy, so it is. Of all the outdoor entertainments, riding must be the most pleasurable, and very suitable to a lady as well. I expect the future Mrs Grenfell to learn to ride, in fact, I could teach you, if you ask your brother to invite me over to his estate this summer.'

What? He expects her to have Fitzwilliam ask him over to teach her to ride? Have him touch her legs, and her behind? Elizabeth has described how Peter corrected her seat, and how he showed her the best way to hold her legs to communicate with the horse.

It was apparently very funny, Peter trying to find the right words to tell a lady to adjust her bottom in a certain way, but Georgiana is sure this man would just touch her and squeeze her in the right posture.

Too bad she cannot tell him outright that she'd prefer sleeping with a snake to being in his presence for one more minute, that would be rude and confirm the general opinion that Miss Georgiana Darcy is unbelievably stuck up. So, how to let him down without insulting him? Pretend to be dense! That'll send him back to Miss Bingley instantly.

'But why would you spend so much time on me, Mr Grenfell, if you have already promised to teach your fiancée? Wouldn't she be very jealous, and rightfully so? Or is her father already teaching her?'

See how he handles that.

Not well at all, he looks frustrated and rather stunned, he cannot believe she's that dumb, and he cannot explain what he means, for that would be incredibly forward and indecent. Hinting at it already is, but saying it outright would be unforgivable.

'I'm not engaged, Miss Darcy, I'm afraid you misunderstood. I was contemplating how pleasant it would be if I could marry a young lady who would able to join me in my favourite pastime, riding.'

Now for the kill.

'Oh, I'm sorry Mr Grenfell, I don't believe any of the ladies here ride, except Mrs Darcy and Miss Bennet, who will be Mrs Bingley when she returns. But I suppose you know plenty of young, talented horsewomen among your acquaintance not to have to stay single. You're such a handsome man.'

Well, so much for her shyness, now it is as if she's actually flirting with him!

'What I meant to say, Miss Darcy, is that I could easily teach any young lady who felt the advantages of a connection to me how to ride.'

'That is so nice of you! How fortunate the girl of your choice must be! Of course I'm just sixteen, so I guess that by the time I'd want to get married, I can already ride quite well. It doesn't take much more than two years to learn to ride well, does it Mr Grenfell?'

He looks positively dangerous now, but just his eyes, his mouth smiles patiently as he tries to explain without actually saying anything pertinent.

'No, Miss Darcy, it doesn't take longer. With steady practise, you could be an excellent horse-woman by the time you're eighteen.

As I said, I could help you to learn, this summer on your brother's estate. I have no previous engagements.'

It's time to end this, he's already getting closer to her again, another moment and he has her all frozen up once more.

'Maybe Miss Bingley wants to make an advantageous match, though I doubt whether she'd like to learn to ride.'

Frustration! And a blunt reply.

'Miss Bingley is very beautiful, and very accomplished, but your reputation is so much more outstanding.'

Georgiana is stunned, she has a reputation, an outstanding one?

'Is it, Mr Grenfell? I've never been in society much, I prefer the quiet of home and the company of my brother.'

'Your preference for domestic harmony is an important part of your excellent reputation, Miss Darcy.'

Meaning he wants a quiet, meek wife, to keep safely at home. But what is the rest of her reputation?

'And pray, Mr Grenfell, what else am I praised with?'

He thinks he has her, and tries to flatter her.

'You're reputed to be the best piano-player, and very talented at drawing. And of course you brother is a gentleman of outstanding respectability, with a lot of influence among the well-situated.'

Ah, he wants her brother's connections and her fortune!

Better refer him to Fitzwilliam then, he'll handle the creep after a bit of instruction. Or even better, to Elizabeth, she'll put him in his place.

'And my brother will have a large say in whom I shall connect to his family, Mr Grenfell. He is more like my father than my brother, you see, there is such a difference in age between us, and he is so particular about whom I may associate with.

At this moment, he really likes Mr Manners, but he always listens to Mrs Darcy.

Oh, that's Mr Manners right now, can you believe the coincidence?'

Please, let him come straight towards her, so this man will leave.

He's in doubt, this may give the wrong impression to Mr Manners, but she catches his eye and tries to implore him to help her.

And like a knight in shining armour, he takes the hint and joins them. He is in an excellent mood, and his perfect manners even induce Mr Grenfell to improve his.

The handsome gentleman takes a step backward, restoring the appropriate distance between two unrelated young people, and Mr Manners greets him jovially, after which he addresses Georgiana.

'I'm sorry I'm late, I had a load of letters of business to write in my room. Since he knows his way around Netherfield better than my own valet, and the staff of the house is very busy for the afternoon and the evening of revelling, I asked your brother's valet where to put them to be sent away as soon as the snow clears just enough. He's very polite.'

'Simon always is, he has been my brother's personal attendant for a very long time. I'm glad he could help.

Are you gentlemen already aching for some outdoor activities?'

Including Mr Grenfell in the conversation, Georgiana hopes Mr Manners takes the hint that they were not in a private conversation and that he is welcome to join them.

But Mr Grenfell has apparently decided to give up on flattering Georgiana, she seems so dense he'd better take his suit one level up to Mr Darcy, for he takes his leave and heads to the billiards-room.

'I'm sorry I left you here all by yourself, Miss Darcy, I gathered Miss Catherine would be with you. I hope Grenfell didn't scare you, he can be a bit overwhelming in his attentions, very direct and rather tactile.'

'Actually, Mr Manners, he did put me out, he touched me rather casually and offered to teach me to ride, because he wants his wife-to-be to ride. If only I'd have him invited to Pemberley this summer. I pretended to be really stupid to not have to insult him. He frightened me, with his cold blue eyes.'

Her relief makes her a little too forthcoming, but she doesn't exactly rue her free tongue, for Mr Manners repays her by giving her a little insight in Mr Grenfell's character.

'He is actually looking to marry, and your fortune pleases him very much. I wouldn't have guessed him to be attracted to you, you're so sharp and smart, I'd think he'd prefer his wife meek and a little dumb. Did you just say you pretended to be stupid?'

'I couldn't help it, all my wit left me the instant he touched me, I'm usually very shy, Mr Manners, your polite ways have made me more forthcoming than I usually am.'

'I believe you, and I commend you for putting this in the hands of your brother. Grenfell can be very insistent, and though he is a good friend, I doubt his qualities as a husband. Or a teacher, for that matter. If you lack one at your estate, which I doubt, I will offer myself as alternative, I'd love to spend time teaching you to ride, or anything else.'

'My brother has an excellent teacher at his estate, he has taught Mrs Darcy to ride in a mere two weeks.'

'And we all saw her riding down that hill, she is an excellent horse-woman. Too bad, I'm looking for an excuse to have myself invited to Pemberley for a few weeks this summer, but now I'll have to find another one. You see, I've heard the hunting grounds are amazing, and the library so large one needs a map not to get lost in it.'

She replies with humour, for Mr Manners is so much more subtle about his true intent to visit Pemberley: to try to win her affection, and if other gentlemen are all like Grenfell, out to get her fortune and dominance over her, maybe she should consider him. Even if she doesn't love him, he'd never do her harm.

'Well, now you know whom to apply to. Not only does my brother decide on whom I shall marry, he also decides who get to lose their way in his library and to shoot his game.'

'You are not serious about the marrying, are you? You do have a choice, don't you?'

Poor Mr Manners, her joke went a bit astray, but she'll be as frank to him as she has ever been to Eric.

'It was a joke, Mr Manners, I do get a say in it, but I warn you, I'm not ready to marry at all. I've never been in love, and I have little trust in men's intentions. My affections will not be easy to gain, my need for love is still that of a child, my brother's love and that of my new sister are sufficient for me.'

'Miss Darcy, your frankness is totally disarming, and I stand corrected. Can we be friends, and exchange some of that precious affection that connects people who are unrelated by blood, but very much so by their very nature, for being kindred spirits? Can we give each other amity, goodwill between friends, and see where that leads us?'

'We can, Mr Manners, I like you, and I'm certain my brother likes you. I'm reasonably certain he'll let us be friends.'

More than a year ago, after narrowly escaping an elopement with George Wickham, Georgiana realised that people didn't always marry for love. It had been a bit late for that information to force its way into her mind, but the dramatic way in which she learned the lesson made her unlikely to ever forget it.

It is obvious that Mr Grenfell tries to win her for his own gain, and that she will bitterly regret the results if she falls for his beauty and dashing person. As a prey knows its hunter, her instincts warn her against the man, his cold blue eyes belying his mild voice and his popularity among his friends.

But what about Mr Manners? Is he after Fitzwilliam's connections and her own thirty thousand? Or does he seriously like her as a person? He seemed surprised by her admission that Mr Grenfell scared her, so he must like the outgoing Georgiana she has been able to show him so far because of his easy manners.

Despite not feeling any attraction to him other than as a friend, she is determined to try to figure out his motives and his intentions, there may come a time when she feels a need for a different kind of love, or a wish for her own establishment and who knows, maybe even children. And then, Mr Manners may be her best option.

And what about Eric? Georgiana is nearly certain that he has truly fallen for her person, not for her fortune. He knows he doesn't have a chance to gain it, and he seems almost ashamed of his feelings for her. He has never acknowledged them to Georgiana, has never told her he loves her, though it was obvious to Georgiana even before he did confess his love to Elizabeth.

But Eric cannot be an easy man to live with, he is a demanding teacher, always determined to get the best out of her. Of course he is even harder on himself, and to become the best piano-player possible, and in his own case, the best piano player period, one has to be demanding. Georgiana recognises some of those traits in herself, she can also be ruthless towards herself, but just as easily to others.

Elizabeth clearly pities Miss Bingley, but Georgiana doesn't. The woman just wasn't good enough for Fitzwilliam, had never been good enough, but somehow she had always insisted on ignoring his obvious signs of not being interested, persevering beyond decorum, making a fool of herself. No, despite her shyness towards strangers, Georgiana is convinced she is not an easy person to live with for people she knows. She has always been very obliging to Fitzwilliam, but she loves him, has always loved him so much she cannot go against his wishes.

'You're miles away, Miss Darcy,' Mr Manners observes with a fond smile. He must really be a very kind man, the idea of him spending a few weeks at Pemberley with them is actually quite pleasant. She wouldn't mind getting lost in the library with him, he would never touch her inappropriately.

Still, she guesses he is very strong and very fit beneath those drab clothes, and suddenly she wonders why he dresses so conservatively, but still spends money on having his attire made of excellent cloth and cut to his exact figure.

'Why do you dress like a minister, Mr Manners?' she asks. She has established herself with him as a child, so she may ask impertinent questions like this one.

He is not offended but seems rather pleased, and replies in the same spirit.

'I love beautiful clothes, I love the feel of quality weaves and I can afford them, same with workmanship, a coat fitted by an excellent tailor is such a joy to wear, so I buy my clothes only from the best.

But whenever I let myself be talked into wearing fashionable colours by my tailor, I feel very conspicuous. You see, I know I lack personal beauty, and though I have gotten used to that to a certain extent, whenever I wear fashionable attire I feel the lack much more poignantly than when I wear muted colours.'

Georgiana nods in understanding, she never felt beautiful in her youth, always taller than all the other girls and even the adult ladies. Only recently has she come to realise she is beautiful, but in a different way than she wished for all her youth.

Smiling at her fondly, he asks, 'You are not going to deny my self-critique? Tell me it isn't that bad, that I look like a true gentleman?'

'No, Mr Manners, I'm not. I have never been very good at flattery, and I know what a handsome man looks like. You know my brother, you've met Simon, but you haven't seen my piano-teacher yet. He is stunningly beautiful and very well-dressed, I'm surrounded by handsome men.

But obviously being handsome or beautiful doesn't automatically make one a better person.'

She involuntarily looks around for Mr Grenfell, but he is not in the room. Mr Manners looks positively soft as she continues.

'I used to be rather plain myself, it's just these last few months that I have blossomed, so I remember the feeling. I used to be in the company of beautiful ladies who spent every possible resource on their toilettes in one continuous attempt to impress my brother, always making me feel like an overgrown, clumsy, ugly mouse. They tried not to rub it in, in the hopes of winning my approval, but that seemed to make it worse for me.

I understand why you wear what you wear, and I do think you are a true gentleman. I also think your personality makes you beautiful from the inside, it is clear everybody likes to be with you, which personally I find much more important than physical beauty, since that is entirely accidental and prone to decline.

My aunt Catherine used to be a ravishing beauty, but she's grown very sour and very stout. I look a lot like her, so I intend to enjoy my looks while they last, then try to stay good humoured and at a decent weight.'

'You could never be sour, Miss Darcy, since you will always have at least one great love in your life, as long as you have a piano to play you will be good-humoured. I find your honesty refreshing, and I hope I'll get to meet your teacher. If he's even better looking than Mr Darcy as well as your brother's personal attendant, he must be a true Adonis. Better looking than Grenfell?'

Such a gentleman, Mr Manners, discussing the relative beauty of the men instead of the ladies, he truly knows how to keep a girl interested.

'Much better, Mr Grenfell makes me feel hunted, he looks like a predator. I can see why people would call him handsome, for his features are perfect, and his manners are very fashionable, but I cannot appreciate his beauty for my instincts are telling me to run.

To me, my brother will always be the most beautiful man in the world, but Mr Fielding is at least as handsome as Simon. And when his fingers touch an instrument, his looks don't matter anymore, only the music remains. He makes me sound like an amateur. I wish you had been at his private concert at our town house, it was magnificent. He played his own composition and they went straight to the heart.'

Georgiana realises that she shows her usual adulation of Eric as she thinks of his playing, her cheeks burn and her eyes must spark. But strangely, Mr Manners seems to understand.

'You admire his talent a great deal, Miss Darcy, I guess more than his good looks. Am I right?'

'You are. When he plays it just touches the heart, and when he plays his own compositions his world comes alive to the mind's eye. He says the music takes over his very thoughts until he writes it down. I admire such a talent very much, it is also a gift, like beauty and high birth, but he has worked hard to gain the skills needed to exercise that gift. I hope you will soon get to hear him. I hope everyone soon will know of him, Elizabeth says his own compositions have the potential to bring him to fame even among the lower classes.'

'So Mrs Darcy is an admirer, too?'

'Very much so, yes, and my brother agrees his music is very accessible, though he is not a real connoisseur. My sister is not a great performer, but she hears everything, and music really touches her.'

'Miss Darcy, I admit I am a bit jealous of your little family-party at home, the quiet evenings you must spend together, reading or playing and listening to music. Spending time with one's college friends is great fun, but after ten years of it a bit of homeliness is starting to sound really attractive.'

'And I didn't even tell you about my brother's special talent.'

Georgiana has never realised they had such a good time together, but it is true: having her brother married to Elizabeth and being together most evenings has brought her everything she had dared expect of their company, and more.

'Please tell me, it's not music, if he were a singer or played some other instrument I would have heard. It must be something special.'

'Fitzwilliam can read any book and make you feel you're inside it, part of the action. It's incredible, he doesn't even change his voice for the different characters, but you always know which one is talking. He never does it in public, so few people have heard him.'

Mr Manners finds that very interesting, and is obviously eager to hear for himself.

'I can imagine it, Miss Darcy, your brother has a very fine voice. But he does seem far too down-to-earth to be a fabulous elocutionist. I'd have to hear it myself to believe it.'

Now he is fishing for an invitation, but much more subtly, and Georgiana really thinks she'd like that, get to know this man better, stay in touch, be friends. And yes, see what happens, why not? Eric?

She'll see him at least once a week, until their move back to Pemberley in spring. That's at least three more months, hopefully a solution will present itself before then, for the very idea of missing her lessons makes Georgiana very anxious. And missing him in person?

She's not going to miss Eric in person, is she? They never talk intimately, they only discuss music, and just the pieces he is teaching her. Everything she knows about him, she knows from that one evening of the concert. And from Elizabeth, who talked with him afterwards.

Never mind, she's in company now, and she talks to Mr Manners until Kitty returns.