Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Within the first few days of their arrival, Darcy became aware that his sister and Elizabeth Bennet had settled into a familiarity that surprised him by both its speed and its ease.
The formalities of address had quickly fallen away; he heard them call one another by their Christian names, and the warmth of their manner together gave little hint of how recently they had met.
He was pleased by this, for he had often wished Georgiana had a friend nearer to her own age, someone to confide in other than a much older guardian who was more father than brother.
Each morning after breakfast, the two young ladies made their way to the music room together. Darcy observed them often enough to note their habits: arriving still in conversation from their meal, sometimes arm in arm, and taking their places at the pianoforte without formality or awkwardness.
He told himself it was Georgiana’s ease that held his attention, yet his gaze returned, with some measure of regularity, to Elizabeth—her quick smiles, the assurance with which she settled herself at the instrument, the quiet confidence she possessed, and the gentleness with which she encouraged Georgiana.
They practised together, encouraging each other to perform duets, pausing to repeat a troublesome passage or to exchange suggestions before beginning again. Georgiana played with her accustomed precision, her posture exact and her movements guided by the discipline of many masters.
Elizabeth’s style, by contrast, was freer and more expressive, animated by a confidence that lent warmth to the music and seemed to invite her companion towards greater boldness.
Darcy could not have said when he first noticed how readily Georgiana followed her lead, only that she did so with an ease that suggested trust rather than deference.
“Once more, if you please,” Elizabeth said on one such morning, turning slightly along the bench. “I fear I rushed you just there.”
“No—you were quite right,” Georgiana replied, her firmness softening almost at once. “I lost my place listening to you. You are so very expressive in the way you play; it is something I wish I could emulate. Let us try again.”
They played on, stopping and beginning anew as often as necessary.
“That was far better,” Georgiana said at last, lifting her hands from the keys. “We held the tempo beautifully that time.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are very kind, Georgiana. You are far more proficient than I, but you cover my slips beautifully.”
Georgiana smiled, a faint colour rising in her cheeks. “Perhaps, but it was easier when you led. As I said, you appear to feel the music in a way I do not, and I wish that I had your talent.”
Darcy smiled from his place just outside the door where he had paused to listen as the ladies played. Mrs Annesley noticed him and offered an encouraging smile, inviting him to enter, but he merely shook his head and remained where he was, unwilling to disturb the ladies.
He might have lingered there longer had Lord Granfield not appeared from the opposite direction, his expression already darkening at the sight of his guest.
“Come, Darcy,” the older man said with unnecessary force. “I have had another letter from your cousin, among several others. I wish to speak with you for a few minutes, and there is also some estate business to discuss.”
Darcy frowned slightly, delaying just long enough for his sister’s laughter to reach him once more.
The sound followed him as he turned away, and after a brief shake of his head—he hoped unnoticed—he went with his host. Each step carried him farther from a moment he wished he could be assured of repeating.
In the days that followed, he delighted in the laughter that now accompanied his sister and her friend as they played together, even through missed notes and uneven entrances.
Each moment they were together appeared to draw her more fully into ease.
Their conversation did not end with the music.
Georgiana lingered afterward, sometimes remaining beside Elizabeth on the bench, sometimes pacing the room as they spoke.
“Do you truly visit the tenants yourself?” Georgiana asked Elizabeth another morning, curiosity overcoming her habitual reserve.
“Whenever I am able,” Elizabeth replied. “It is far easier to care for people when you know them. Besides, it is part of the duty of the master and mistress of the estate. Without the tenants, the land could not thrive.”
Georgiana considered this in silence before saying quietly, “I have often wondered whether I ought to do more at Pemberley. Mrs Reynolds attends to so much already.”
“Then you must speak with her and your brother,” Elizabeth said at once. “I am certain she would welcome your interest. Mrs Annesley would gladly guide you as well.”
Mrs Annesley, who had been sewing nearby, looked up and nodded her ready agreement.
When Georgiana later spoke to him of the conversation, Darcy gave his approval without hesitation, and plans were soon made for the two young ladies to visit the tenants together.
A few mornings later, on his way to the library, Darcy paused at the doorway of the music room.
From where he stood, unseen, he observed his sister leaning towards Elizabeth as she laughed at something spoken in confidence.
Georgiana’s expression was open and unguarded in a way he had seldom seen, and Elizabeth’s face, alight with amusement, was turned fully towards her, as though the world beyond that shared moment had ceased to matter.
The sight warmed him more than he had anticipated, stirring both pride and a quiet ache he could not entirely suppress.
He withdrew without announcing himself, unwilling to intrude upon a harmony he could neither improve nor share.
It pleased him deeply that Georgiana had found in Elizabeth someone very like a sister—yet the thought carried its own pain, for he was uncertain they would ever be sisters in truth.
That loss, unnamed and unacknowledged, pressed upon him with greater force than he cared to examine.
Lord Granfield’s preference for another suitor was evident enough, and from his undisguised displeasure at Darcy’s attentions to Elizabeth, it was equally clear that Darcy himself was not favoured.
Still, he could not regret what had passed between them nor wish away the influence she exerted where it mattered most.
In time, they might become cousins, should the earl’s designs succeed, and such a connexion would doubtless benefit Georgiana.
Already, Darcy perceived the change in his sister: a growing confidence and a lightness of manner that had long been absent.
If Elizabeth Bennet was the cause of it, he must be content—for the present—to value the good she brought.
Georgiana’s happiness must weigh more with him than his own wishes even as he bore the cost of what Elizabeth might never become to him, should the earl succeed in securing what he believed to be a most suitable arrangement.
Hope rose again a few mornings later as Darcy made his way along the adjoining corridor towards the library. Elizabeth emerged alone from that room and nearly collided with him at the threshold.
“Mr Darcy—pray forgive me,” she said, stepping back at once. “I was not attending to where I walked.”
“The fault is mine,” he replied. “I ought to have announced myself or at least paid greater attention to my surroundings.”
She smiled at that—a quick, unguarded expression that vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
“Your sister plays remarkably well,” Elizabeth said.
“She has an exactness that steadies me when I am inclined to take liberties with the music. I am very glad that you are both to remain here through the holidays. As fond as I am of my grandfather, I am grateful for her company. I miss my cousins—but I confess I enjoy Georgiana’s company exceedingly.
As you said, she is very shy, but we have formed a friendship that I believe benefits us both.
If I had a sister, I should wish her to be like yours. ”
A delicate colour rose in her cheeks as she spoke, and Darcy found himself arrested by it, wondering at its cause.
It could scarcely be his nearness; she remained, at times, guarded with him still.
He could not be certain whether she had ever wholly forgiven his words at the assembly; he hoped—without much confidence—that he had at least begun to repair the harm he had so carelessly done.
“She improves daily,” Darcy said, careful to keep his tone even. After a moment, he added, “She is much the better for your company as well. I know your grandfather has spoken to you of her… difficulties of late, but you have already done her a great kindness. I thank you for it.”
Elizabeth hesitated, then smiled again—this time with a gentle seriousness that struck him more than her earlier ease.
“I am glad if I am of use, but I cannot claim much credit. Mrs Annesley has done far more than I. She guides Georgiana with such steadiness and care, and I believe it is her example that has given her the confidence to try more for herself. I only encourage what is already there. If I have done anything for her, it is encouraging her towards a little more liveliness.”
She paused, then added, her expression brightening with quiet pleasure, “Georgiana has begun to take a real interest in the concerns of your estate as well. As you know, we have spoken several times now about the duties of a mistress of an estate, and I believe she will be quite eager to learn more. We will visit some tenants in the morning. A footman will accompany us. It is a pleasure to see her so engaged in this work.”
The admission struck him more deeply than he had anticipated, not merely for what it revealed of Georgiana, but for what it revealed of Elizabeth herself.