Chapter 72
Georgiana Darcy looked down from the balcony, fascinated.
As a living woman she had despised balls.
She felt as if she was walking among lions and they were licking their lips.
Even with the confidence of her social position and her brother’s formidable protection, Georgiana was sure that they were going to strip her down to the bones.
The men had obvious reasons to look at her like that. Her fortune was a tantalising morsel, and Georgiana knew that she was not unattractive. But the women used those same facts as an excuse to prowl around her, looking for weaknesses.
Georgiana had once read that, in Africa, it was not the lions but the lionesses who savagely brought down their prey. It did not surprise her. Females having sharper claws was rather obvious, when you thought about it. They knew how to use them, no matter what species they came from.
To be able to look down on them from the balcony was delicious. Georgiana could enjoy everything pleasant from a position of complete safety.
She liked the music most of all. At first there were only a few quiet melodies, drifting out from the hallway and often swallowed up by the sound of the crowd.
It was Georgiana who had thought of pairing the harp with a viola.
Dear Jane had spent a patient afternoon interpreting grunts, mongrel words and primal gestures into the genteel opinions of an educated lady.
A few times, Georgiana wept with frustration.
Jane never did. She would send for tea, or go to open the window, but never showed the slightest sign of fatigue.
Darcy always called Elizabeth an angel, and to him she surely was. To Georgiana, her brother’s wife was a glowing candle. Jane was the sun. Oh, how she loved them both! Elizabeth was her sister. Jane was her voice.
Georgiana looked down into the garden. Beyond the broad marble steps which led from the rear of the house into the garden, Elizabeth had designed a ballroom.
The fountain in the centre of the terrace was ringed by a circle of chairs and settees.
To the left of them were card tables and tables of refreshments, for those who were too impatient to wait for a servant to bring them a tray.
All of the furniture was decorated with greenery - not gaudy hothouse flowers, but sweet summer blooms, ivy and honeysuckle and long-necked daisies.
The effect was that the entire ‘room’ had grown from the ground, like Titania’s fairy bower.
On the other side of the fountain, the rest of the terrace had been marked out as a dance floor.
The servants had ringed it with posts which evoked maypoles and burning braziers.
There was a paganistic air that the flickering fire gave it that was rather delicious.
Children dreamed of fairyland, but it was adults who would dance in it.
Altogether, Elizabeth had created an absolute marvel. It was perfect for midsummer and would satisfy even the most cynical guest that Pemberley had not fallen an inch from glory, whatever they might think. She had done that without opening up a single room!
A group of musicians moved politely through the guests and took their seats beside the trickling fountain. Tempted by the soft tuning notes and warming-up phrases, the guests gathered around the dance floor.
There were so many of them! Georgiana knew that Bingley had invited everyone he knew. As it turned out, he knew a great many people.
They danced for a long time. She did not recognise anybody.
After over an hour, Georgiana finally spotted her brother. He was walking towards the fountain with another man that the girl did not recognise.
From his tipsy walk and waving hands, not to mention the way Darcy was clearly holding in his disdain, Georgiana guessed that this must be the awful Mr. Collins that everyone had complained about. Her brother, for some baffling reason, was pretending to like the rector.
Why?
Georgiana’s heart plunged to her stomach. Collins had a smug expression on his face and Darcy looked furious. All she could think was that, somehow, impossibly, this foul soul had won her dear Jane’s hand. That all her resistance had been overcome, and he was going to marry her.
He was going to take her away.
Georgiana whimpered. She could not stop her tears from spilling down her cheeks.
Jane had come to see her before the ball began, in her beautiful yellow dress with the dark brown embroidery. She made Georgiana think of bees: not the frightening, sharp-tailed ones but the friendly buzzing balls who made honey. Jane was all sweetness, and in that dress, she was a princess.
Georgiana’s dress was the same blue as the summer sky, but she had chosen yellow ribbons to match Jane’s gown. Beside her, she looked like a flower. Her face had been dusted with powder to hide the scars, and she could not stop smiling.
As the guests began to arrive in the garden, the two watching ladies played a game, trying to guess which ones would think to look up.
Anyone who did turn back to study the house was surprised to see them on the balcony but always bowed.
Jane and Georgiana nodded back, smiling serenely.
It was perfect - blissful, even - and Georgiana did not want it to end.
After a while Jane pointed out that they had done more than enough to dispel the awful gossip about the Darcy family.
People had seen Georgiana, called up to her by name, and seen nothing more sinister than her usual shy reluctance to join the fray.
It was long past the time when Georgiana usually slept, and her eyes were looking over-bright. Would she like to go to bed?
Georgiana shook her head and said, “No, no, no!”
The words came out so easily that she laughed in surprise.
After that, Jane kissed her merrily and urged her not to stay up too late. It was the teasing reproof of an older sister, and Georgiana adored it. As she left to join the guests downstairs, Jane looked back. Her eyes shone in the torchlight.
Mirth, Georgiana had thought then. But now she had seen Mr. Collins. Sick fear ran chattering fingers down her spine.
“Goodbye, darling.” Jane had said, and she had kissed her with tears in her eyes.
Georgiana’s eyes moved more quickly now, scanning the crowd for anything sinister.
Now that she was looking for it, she could see the tension in her family’s bodies.
Elizabeth, near the musicians, kept glancing towards Jane as if her head was tied to a piece of elastic.
Darcy was being so jolly with Collins that he looked as if he had toothache.
Jane - sweet, darling Jane - was dancing. She was on a stranger’s arm, smiling and polite, but her shoulders were tense. After the dance she approached Darcy and Collins with her head lowered, as if she was shy. At once, Mr. Collins held out a hand, and they joined the next dance together.
Collins was very unsteady on his feet. Jane had chosen a fast dance to approach him for, and he went a little green at the exercise.
By the final spin he looked ready to vomit.
With a look of concern, Jane walked him back to Darcy and beckoned to a servant to bring the man a drink.
With Darcy standing watch beside him and two servants at his command, Mr. Collins slumped back in a chair and tried to recover.
Jane backed away, her eyes shadowed. She looked at Darcy with a peculiar expression and then slipped away into the crowd.
Nobody else saw it, only Georgiana. While everyone was looking away from him, Collins poured the rest of his drink on the ground and looked slyly up at Jane as she left. He was certainly drunk, but nowhere near as soused as everyone seemed to think.
Georgiana could not spare a thought for that, though. She saw only Jane, trying to disappear into the crowd, and her hunter rallying, waiting for his chance to strike. Jane, who was only trying to slip away, who would be alone and vulnerable when Collins caught her.
Georgiana stared down at Jane in desperation, arms reaching senselessly out, her face fixed into a ghoulish mask of despair. Her sweet, beautiful sister had no idea. She disappeared into the crowd, and the awful man followed her, staggering and leering, his face twisted in a hungry sneer.
Georgiana cried out, and then she was heard.
Mr. Collins looked up. He swayed for a moment, gripping the table he was beside to keep himself upright, and then staggered after Jane with a furious scowl.
“Miss Darcy!” a maid’s hands gripped her shoulders and Georgiana sagged back against them.
When had she gripped the balcony? When had she stood up? Her whole body shook with effort, and with a huge tremor she fell senselessly to the ground.
The maid cried out in alarm and shouted for a servant. One appeared at once, and she tearfully sent him to find Elizabeth as soon as possible. Mrs. Darcy rushed up to them a few minutes later, taking in the sight with horror, dragging Georgiana back into her chair and kissing her again and again.
“My darling!” Lizzie cried, “What happened?”
“He… follow.” Georgiana ground out the words like glass shards.
Elizabeth flinched, stared wildly down at the oblivious crowd, and ran.