Last chapter: Georgiana talks with her brother, and remembers to tell him of the portrait of himself and their mother that she found with Elizabeth; they discover that it is one of eight paintings, none of which were actually destroyed. She finds a letter from Lydia to Elizabeth, asking her to use Darcy's influence for Wickham's benefit.

Chapter Eight

The horrible stolen knowledge seemed almost to burn in her chest, even days later. Georgiana hardly knew what to think. Fitzwilliam buy an estate for Mr Wickham! He would never do such a thing; she remembered when he had explained about the living, how he could not countenance Mr Wickham as a clergyman, such a man having the authority over others that his position would have permitted him. What he might do as a master, even of such a small estate —

She thought over the short, flippant note once more, almost hearing a good humoured, selfish voice prattling away, do not speak to Mr Darcy about it if you would rather not. When had it arrived? She remembered that day, when the letters for Mrs Darcy had come — how had she looked? Cheerful, gay, very much her usual self, except more so.

But it was clear, now, that Mr Wickham meant to press his connection to the Darcys as far as it would go. He would be uncle to Georgiana's own nieces and nephews. She suppressed a twitch of revulsion at the thought. Everything that she had heard from her relations seemed to make so much more sense now — the discontented murmurs that silenced when she or Lord Ancaster walked into the room, those first introductions, when they seemed so unjustifiably cold to poor Elizabeth, and then actual snippets of conversation she had overheard —

'What is he thinking?'

'I like her.'

'He has not lost his senses, brother, he knows what he is doing —'

'she is very amiable, but —'

'she is a gentleman's daughter'

'She might be a good influence on him. If she is at all ambitious —'

'Anne's grandchildren to have relations in trade!'

'She is clever and charming, she could be taught.'

'She is Wickham's sister!'

Georgiana shut her eyes. Her head ached. She liked Elizabeth, she did, and Elizabeth loved Fitzwilliam which was all that really mattered — except it didn't, she had learnt that with Wickham. Miss Darcy marry Mr Wickham? The idea of disapproval had, at first, tantalised her, the sheer forbiddenness of it, but when she truly thought of the disappointment she would face from all those who had cared for her all her life, it was unutterably bad. Fitzwilliam had talked of Miss Elizabeth, as she had been then, in his letters, but nothing to arouse her suspicion. She had never dreamed — and what had he thought? He said it was immoral and degrading to marry without any degree of affection, he said it was important to marry one's equal in every sense, in birth, in character, in genius, in fortune.

Oh, she was a good choice, of course she was, Fitzwilliam and Mrs Darcy were so happy together, and why should they not be? Mrs Darcy was a gentleman's daughter, after all, perhaps a country squire's with connections to make Georgiana's own stop and stare, but respectably born still.

Yet her entire family, unquestionably fond of her brother, had meant a great match for him, and she had always assumed that he meant one for himself, if he found someone suitable he held enough affection for. Instead he had married for inclination alone, and the family's chances for even mildly prosperous alliances were quickly dwindling. Eleanor, Lord Ancaster's daughter, had shocked everyone by running off with her suitor's son, James still mourned his faithless wife, Richard would marry anyone's daughter as long as she had an amiable temper and thirty thousand pounds at the very least, —and then Georgiana herself.

Thoughts crowded into her busy mind, images of Wickham barging into Pemberley, his thoughtless wife letting Georgiana's secret out (of course she must know now, husbands and wives always talked), the memory of her uncle and her brother walking side-by-side after her father died, Lord Ancaster watching Fitzwilliam with proud, solemn eyes,

Fitzwilliam said, No, if you marry without a settlement, you will have not a farthing—

and she understood with the most painful clarity in her life and could only sob in her brother's arms, and Richard said he would kill Wickham, and in that moment she wished he would--

Nobody will find out, will they? she asked, and Fitzwilliam said,

No, never—

and then, months later,

Miss Lydia Bennet, Miss Elizabeth's sister, they ran off together—

you made it right, though?

yes, of course I did, it is my responsibility,

and she stared at him and thought, But I asked you to keep it secret, it is not your fault but mine and poor Miss Lydia must pay for it with her life—

Mrs Wickham's letter, then, she heard, the few lines circling around and around in her head, and Mrs Darcy blithely saying that she was writing to Kitty — another sister? — who was so pleased to hear from her, and she hoped she would improve away from Lydia's influence —

Only I, I am the only one left — and they would say I must marry doubly well to make up for Elizabeth-charming-as-she-is -- but what would Fitzwilliam say, and how could I possibly ask?

And, she knew suddenly, she did not want to be married, she was happy at Pemberley, in her way, and she wanted to stay with her brother and sister-in-law and be aunt to their children, and she did not want to even think about love or matrimony at all.

Curled up on the window, she hardly noticed her fingers tightening until Narcissus mewed. 'I am sorry, dear,' she murmured, stroking his silky black fur and staring at her fingers. They weren't at all ladylike, neither small nor plump; Cecily said she had a gentleman's hands (and Richard a spider's). More than once, she'd broken or damaged or hurt things, without ever meaning to. It was easy to forget how strong she was.

Georgiana rubbed her arm self-consciously, and looked down at her gown with a smile. She did not want to dance, but it was nice to wear beautiful clothes and look pretty. Of course the other ladies would be more fashionable, but she was sure their brothers and fathers were not half so generous. She had not yet had an opportunity to wear the pearls she had received on her sixteenth birthday, and she was half-afraid of some catastrophe befalling them, but Mrs Darcy had laughed and said that there was not much point in having beautiful jewelry if nobody ever saw it.

The days before the ball had confused her still more, as her sister-in-law had been perfectly herself, open, engaging, and affectionate with everybody, and in the best of spirits. Georgiana had never known anyone who laughed so much, and even her reserve could not stand against such natural good humour.

I shan't think about it tonight, she decided. There will be enough trouble without that.

'Georgiana?'

'Fitzwilliam!' Georgiana turned, enjoying the swish of her skirts against her ankles, and took a few cautious steps forward. 'You look very handsome,' she said shyly.

'As do you — are those Mother's pearls?'

'Yes, Elizabeth said . . .'

'Of course.'

Brother and sister admired one another a moment. Fitzwilliam was always so elegant. She could only hope to present herself with half so much grace. But in exactly the same colours he always wore, the white scarves amid her piles of dark hair echoing his immaculate neckcloth, she thought she did resemble him more closely than usual. 'Are you looking forward to the ball?'

'No,' said Fitzwilliam. 'And you?'

'No.'

They looked at one another and smiled, amusement crinkling both pairs of eyes.

'You will be able to dance with Elizabeth,' she observed. 'Shall that not be pleasant?'

'Comparatively speaking.'

Georgiana laughed before she could stop herself. 'Compared to whom, brother?'

'Anyone else.' He took her arm and she opted to enjoy the peaceful respite while it lasted, though she could not lean her head on his shoulder as she had often done. 'At least it is a masque ball.'

Georgiana sighed. 'I suppose that is something; if I trip over my own feet, nobody will know it is me.'

'You have not tripped over your feet since you were nine, Georgiana. Dancing is unpleasant enough without borrowing trouble.'

Georgiana toyed with the material of her dress, though she could not feel its texture through her long gloves. 'Yes, of course you are right. Oh, why could not people be more sensible and not make such a fuss about prancing over the floor?'

'They like it,' Fitzwilliam said, in the same frankly wondering tone he used to speak of the Chinese. 'De gustibus non est disputandum, I suppose.'

She felt a cloud of anxiety settling over her, and glancing at her watch. It was nearly time to go. 'Fitzwilliam, do you think Eliz — '

They could hear raised voices and hurried footsteps, and Mrs Darcy hurried down the steps, accompanied by Mr and Mrs Gardiner and the two eldest children. They hastily apologised.

'I cannot help fussing, I am rather nervous,' Mrs Darcy said, without the slightest evidence of any such thing. 'I am sure every woman in the room will hate me — and with good reason.' She laughed, her dark eyes lingering on Fitzwilliam a moment. 'Am I worthy of being seen in the company of Mr and Miss Darcy of Pemberley, do you think? It is a great honour, you know.'

Brother and sister both chorused their approval, to the great amusement of the Gardiners; though the daring neckline shocked Georgiana a little, Elizabeth, with her slim upright figure, was not nearly so exposed as most ladies who espoused the style.

'You look very lovely, Georgiana,' Elizabeth said, 'I quite envy your figure.'

Georgiana blushed, but could not keep from thinking that if Elizabeth were built on her own scale, Fitzwilliam would probably be wise not to let her out of the house in that gown. 'Thank you,' she murmured, accepting her black cloak from Ellen.

The journey to the Ponsonbys' was uneventful, the children trying not to bounce on the seats as they looked around eagerly. 'I've never been to a ball,' Meg explained in a loud whisper.

'This is a children's ball,' Georgiana told her. 'I have gone every year since I was smaller than you are.'

'Are you a child, Miss Darcy?' Amelia asked, wide eyed. 'Cousin Lydia isn't.'

'Not any more,' said Georgiana, and resolutely turned her head away, staring out the window into the darkness beyond.

When they arrived at Wakefield Hall, the ballroom was already full of people. Georgiana's throat closed a moment, she could not breathe — but it was a masque ball, nobody recognised her any more than she recognised them, of course, and the feeling quickly passed. Amelia and Meg were taken away to join the other children, the former uncharacteristically silent and the latter staring in astonishment.

'I beg your pardon, madam,' a voice near her said, and Georgiana turned sharply. The owner of the voice, a blue-coated gentleman with a head full of reddish brown curls, bowed. 'May I have the honour of the next dance?'

'I — I — ' she glanced sideways at her brother, who nodded a little. Georgiana swallowed. 'Of course, sir.'

After a moment of silence, the man spoke again. 'Tell me, are you much acquainted with the Ponsonbys?'

'Yes,' said Georgiana.

He chuckled. 'Forgive me, I do not mean to be impertinent.'

'I did not think you were.' Georgiana glanced down, making certain her feet were in the right place. It was not very difficult to dance, she'd had masters since she was a child, but being careful did no harm.

'My father's estate is not far from here,' he persevered. 'I have known them all my life.'

'I daresay we are neighbours then,' Georgiana replied. With an effort she kept her fingers steady, she did not want to seem the sort of vapid miss who swooned at one look from a personable man. He would not understand that company, any company, was enough to make her tremble.

'Oh? That narrows the field somewhat. Shall I try and guess? I must call you something, after all.'

'If you like.' They were separated by the dance, but as soon as he took her hand again, he began,

'Very well, if you are a neighbour of the Ponsonbys, you must be — ' he thought a moment, then laughed, 'oh, I could never keep track of all the daughters and sisters. A Miss Lindsay?'

Georgiana just caught the indignant retort which leapt to tongue. 'I really cannot say, sir.'

'Undoubtedly I will spend the next three weeks at Shiringham visitng every house for miles about, trying to discover the mysterious lady in white,' he said in a lively, even flirtatious, tone. Georgiana, faintly reminded of George Wickham, grew very cold, but then focussed on the information accidentally — or perhaps not so accidentally — dropped.

'Shiringham? You must be Mr Cardwell!' She then thought he could simply be a guest, but the russet shade of his hair caught her eyes — it was just the colour of Laura's.

'Guilty as charged,' he said, smiling before they went back into the line of dancers. She frowned a little to herself. 'I am very sorry to disappoint you.'

'I am not disappointed, only startled,' said Georgiana. 'Your mother said — ' She stopped, blushing.

'Ah! My poor dear mama is so eager for grandchildren, she rather too forward in regards to eligible young ladies.'

'Yet she already has one, Sophy is — '

'You are acquainted with my little niece?' His smile softened with affection, and Georgiana could not help warming a little to him. 'She is a lovely, sweet-natured child, I wish I could see more of her.'

'Perhaps, if you spend more time in the country, you shall,' said Georgiana. 'My — Mr Fitzwilliam does not go to town.'

'No, it does not suit him. For Sophia's sake I am glad, she was such a frail infant — London might have ruined her constitution for ever.'

'Yes — it is better for everyone, I think, that he stays at Houghton.'

His lips twitched. 'You must have Fitzwilliam connections, then, to be so familiar with the family. Perhaps a Deincourt? Darcy? Leigh?'

'I really cannot say,' she repeated.

'It is quite unfair, miss — or should it be your ladyship?'

Georgiana looked down. 'Whichever you like.'

'You are quite determined to protect your secret, I see.' She could not quite suppress a flinch, but he did not seem to notice. 'Tell me, are you often in Derbyshire?'

'Always in the summer months — almost always,' she replied. She could hear the music coming to an end.

'Then I hope I shall see you often, Lady Blanche.' He clasped her hand and bowed, then left. Georgiana let out a sigh of relief. One set was over. She looked around for Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, but could not find either of them amid what seemed hundreds of people milling about. Even Fitzwilliam's height and Mrs Darcy's yellow gown were not enough to distinguish them from the crowd.

Georgiana bit her lip, feeling young, small, and lonely among so many people. 'Excuse me, ma'am — ' a man said.

Resigned, she turned to him. Though he had a handsome face, he was hardly taller than she was and seemed rather over-dressed, not an army man but in a scarlet coat all the same. 'Yes, sir?'

'Tell me, what do you think of Scott?'

She blinked. 'I — '

'His lines on woman are simply delicious, do not you think so? They are never out of my thoughts. The man who could read them unmoved must have the nerves of an assassin! Heaven defend me from meeting such a man unarmed.'

All the beauty in the world, she decided, could not have made up for such conversation. She smiled politely, searching for a dark head above the crowd, or a glimpse of yellow.

'— it is the want of passion. Tender, elegant, descriptive — but tame. The man who cannot do justice to the attributes of woman is my contempt. Sometimes indeed a flash of feeling seems to irradiate him — '

'I beg your pardon?' Another gentleman bowed, precisely the opposite of her present companion in every respect. He was tall, with a good figure, plain face, and wildly untidy red hair. 'If you do not intend to dance with the young lady, I hope I may do so without inspiring undue contempt?'

'Oh! of course, of course,' the literary gentleman replied; the other led her away with nary a by-your-leave.

'I am Alistair Satterthwaite IV,' he pronounced, then smiled crookedly. 'I hope you forgive my boldness, Sir Edward is terribly long-winded.' He shifted his mask about. 'Dashed uncomfortable things.'

'I thank you, sir,' she replied, not certain what to think. 'Sir Edward? Is his estate near here?'

'No estate at all,' he muttered. 'Poor as churchmice, the lot of them, until the old dowager dies, and no entail — you know what that means.'

Not wishing to appear ignorant, she said, 'Oh, of course.'

'She might leave the whole bundle to the second footman, for all anyone can say.'

She was sure she was not imagining the glee in his voice at the thought. Georgiana sighed.

The last gentleman, one who lavished her with compliments and could not have been a day under fifty, finally departed after repeated kisses on her hand. She had never been so grateful for gloves and turned away, trying not to show her distaste. A small circle of men were not far from her, all talking in low, though animated voices; not for a year and a half had she been so happy to set eyes on her brother's black-clad figure.

'Oh, there you are!' she cried, before thinking that she might be unwelcome. However he did not look at all displeased to see her, but instead smiled and took her arm.

'Gentlemen, my sister.'

All murmured pleasant greetings. 'Tell me, Miss Darcy, what do you think of dancing?' one enquired.

Georgiana felt raw and exhausted. 'I do not like it,' she said, and several chuckled.

'I see that forthrightness is a family trait,' he replied, and another added,

'And good sense!'

'Do not let your wife hear that,' Fitzwilliam warned. 'Speaking of which, I believe I have a duty to mine.'

Everyone laughed, and they walked away. 'It was awful,' she said, 'well, Mr Cardwell was pleasant, but then there was this dreadful baronet, practically a walking cliché, and Mr Satterthwaite was a malicious gossip, and Lord St Clair embarrassed me terribly, and . . .' She realised where she was and covered her mouth with a gasp. 'Oh! I forgot myself, Fitzwilliam, I did not mean it . . .'

'Oh, I think you did,' he said, looking at her expressively. Georgiana bit her lip. 'Never lie to cover up an offence, Georgiana; apologise by all means, but do not retract the truth.'

'I shan't,' she promised, and as she saw what looked like a familiar shock of red hair approaching, she clutched her brother's arm defensively. 'That is Mr Satterthwaite,' she hissed.

'Shall we make our escape then? I think I see Elizabeth — yes, there she is.'

They vanished into a small crowd, thankfully losing sight of Mr Satterthwaite. Mrs Darcy, talking with a tall fair-haired couple and her uncle and aunt, did not see them at first; then she caught sight of Fitzwilliam and her face lit up. 'I beg your pardon, my husband has been off gallivanting,' she cried, holding out a hand to him.

'Hiding, rather,' Fitzwilliam replied, a bit ruefully, kissing her hand and bowing to the strangers. 'I hope you have been adequately entertained, my dear.'

'I believe we have had that honour,' said the lady; 'your wife is exceptionally clever, sir.'

He started. 'Dolly? Is that you? I had no idea — '

'I said he would know me — did not I?' she exclaimed, turning to her companions. The gentleman, the Gardiners, and Mrs Darcy all laughingly concurred. 'Mr Darcy, I congratulate you on a very wise choice.'

'Thank you,' he replied.

'Why, is this little Georgiana, out of the schoolroom at last?' The woman scrutinised her. 'I declare, you look eighteen at least. It must be your height.'

'Really, you ought to show some consideration — you are embarrassing her,' the gentleman said, correctly interpreting the flush on Georgiana's cheeks. This voice was more familiar, but she could not quite place it.

'If I did, then I am sorry,' she said robustly, then cried, 'oh Lord, it's John. Who is that with him?'

'Cannot you recognise your own father-in-law, dearest sister?'

'What nonsense are you speaking of? I am your only sister, and Father is quite we— ' Even in the dim light, it was easy to see her face turn white. 'Not Sir Edward?'

Georgiana frowned, but the grey hair was certainly not that of the penniless baronet she knew.

'The very man,' her brother responded. 'Why, you do not seem quite eager — '

'Oh,' she exclaimed, 'will nobody ask me to dance?'

Her voice caught the attention of a neighbour. Accordingly he turned to her and said cheerfully, 'If you are quite desperate, your ladyship, I hope you would be willing to dance a set with me.'

'Yes, thank you,' she said, and positively fled on his arm. Georgiana wondered if this could be any worse than what she had already endured, but she was not to find out.

'Will you do me the honour, Miss Darcy?' the fair-haired gentleman enquired. 'Believe me, it is for your own good, though I understand you dislike dancing.'

She blushed and whispered her acquiescence in a barely audible voice. He was, however, rather gentler than she expected from his manner with his sister, and carried on a polite conversation almost unaided. The dance had only just ended when it was time to remove their masks; Georgiana could see Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth not far away. Apparently they, too, had fled the company of 'John' and the other Sir Edward.

She looked up at him curiously, certain that she knew him.

'Why, Lord Courtland!' she burst out, almost forgetting her own mask. 'I thought your voice was familiar.' She knew him quite well; he was a Darcy connection, she did not how they were related exactly, but she knew he would have been her brother's heir if the entailment had not been broken. In addition, he, Richard, and Fitzwilliam had been companions from their youth, had gone to school and later university together, and were in general very close friends.

'I am honoured, Miss Darcy,' he said with a pleasant smile. 'I hope you will forgive Dorothea; she meant no offence.'

'That was Lady Dorothea?' Her eyes widened. Well, of course it was; but she spent so much time in Ireland, and the rest in town, that Georgiana had not seen her since before Mr Darcy's death. 'I — oh, of course, I do not blame her for anything.'

'I am sure she is very grateful,' he said; 'Miss Darcy, do you know if your brother will be in town during the coming winter? As newly married as he is, I should not think so.'

'I believe not,' Georgiana said.

'Excellent. Excellent!'

'What is excellent, Courtland?' Fitzwilliam asked, his voice amused. Georgiana whirled, startled to see both her brother and sister there.

'Why, that I shall have the delight of your scintillating company, my friend,' Lord Courtland replied, laughing. 'I am going to take the liberty of calling at Pemberley sometime this next week, if it is convenient for us both.'

'Very kind of you, I am sure,' Fitzwilliam said. 'Go rescue your sister, Courtland. Willoughby has her.'

'Oh, Good God.' He rushed off with scarcely a bow.

'You look exhausted, Georgiana,' Mrs Darcy said after one glance at her. 'Do you think we may leave, Fitzwilliam?'

'Oh! certainly,' he replied with quickly subdued enthusiasm. 'I shall just fetch the Gardiners.'

They felt no anxiety to stay either, so the entire family quickly bade farewell to their hosts.

When they finally returned home, Georgiana would have gladly fallen into bed exactly as she was, but Kate, she knew, never stood for such behaviour. She felt her hair swing down with a sigh of relief and gladly abandoned the fine dress she had worn.

'I hope your ball was nice, ma'am,' Kate offered, with an appearance of meekness that Georgiana knew to be completely contrary to her real character.

She thought of 'her' Sir Edward, about Mr Satterthwaite and Lord St Clair, and then of Mr Cardwell, Lord Courtland, of how happy little Amelia had been to be declared queen. Finally, she said,

'It could have been much worse.'

de gustibus non est disputandum: Latin, 'taste knows no argument'
Blanche: French, 'white'