Chapter Five #2
“You needn’t be so huffy. I am doing what you asked of me,” Caroline protested as they left the picture gallery and climbed
the stairs in the main hall.
“You are, but then you undo all your good work by providing additional comments about what ought to be improved.”
Caroline cocked her head. “I do not see the problem.”
“One may have an opinion,” Georgiana said, casting a long-suffering look at her, which Caroline did not feel she had at all
merited, “and yet keep it to one’s self from time to time.”
“Not give my opinion?” Caroline repeated, horrified, as she trailed Georgiana along the hall. “Whyever not? Did you not ask
me to give my opinion as my first task?”
“I asked you to give compliments,” Georgiana corrected. “And that was merely a foundational test, for it is easy enough to
give a compliment about something which you already like. Now we will move on to something more advanced . . . if you think
yourself capable of doing so.”
“Of course I am,” Caroline said indignantly. “Besides, it is almost too easy to achieve the task you set before me when everything
in your house has been chosen with such taste and elegance. Few other houses could boast of having so much splendor and beauty
to admire on a daily basis.”
Georgiana paused outside the door to her chamber. Despite Caroline’s prior visits to the Pemberley estate, she had never before
been invited into Georgiana’s private chambers. The previous night, the room had been in relative darkness, and she had been
too consumed with her own plight to really take in her surroundings. “You may begin,” Georgiana said, swinging the door open.
Caroline stepped inside, then groaned inwardly. Even a single glance told her that this room provided a much harder test than
the rest of the house put together.
“Well, there are so many . . . things in this room,” she said, desperately scanning for something to praise.
Everywhere she turned, she was met with a clutter of mismatched old furniture.
Evidently Mrs Reynolds hadn’t been permitted to bring her measuring tape into this room, for the candles which stood upon the mantelpiece were of differing heights and had apparently been put there entirely at random, so that some stood far too close to others.
The desk, which was probably the only beautiful piece of furniture in the room, was so covered in parchment and books that not a single square inch of its surface was visible.
The table by the window held the ugliest vase in the world, which was evidently meant to resemble some sort of headless, scaly reptile and was a colour Caroline could only describe as fish-vomit green.
The grotesque vase was only slightly ameliorated by the beautiful roses it held, each as dark red as a pricked finger, filling the room with a sultry scent.
“So many lovely things, indeed,” she continued, sweeping the room with another glance. “The curtains are such a delicate shade
of red, though they are a little thicker than you need. One really ought to let the sun wake you, especially in the summer
mornings. It is best for—”
Georgiana cleared her throat.
“And have I mentioned the rug?” Caroline added hastily, lest she fail this test mere seconds into beginning it. “It ties the
room together wonderfully.”
Threadbare rug, she pronounced mentally. Heavy curtains. God forbid one should have a modicum of taste and share it for the betterment of others. Is that not, after
all, a selfless act of utter charity?
“Anything else?” Georgiana asked. “What about this blanket? My old nanny stitched it for me.”
Caroline had been purposefully avoiding looking at the patchwork blanket on the bed.
It was possible that the thing had once been a vibrant rainbow of colours as would please any infant eyes, though it was hard to imagine now.
Really, how could one possibly be expected to compliment a ratty old blanket?
And why on earth would Georgiana bother to keep such a thing when she could so easily purchase a beautiful new one?
“You forget that I have not complimented you yet,” Caroline said, deciding that changing the subject was the only way to escape
this conversational trap.
Georgiana blinked. “Me?”
“You did say that I was required to compliment something in every room and every person in the room, did you not? And are
you not the only other person in the room, and are thus deserving of my compliment?”
“Well, I . . .” A blush tinged Georgiana’s cheeks, making her look even lovelier. “Go on, then.”
Praise for Georgiana’s beauty and figure came almost too easily, for Caroline had long admired Miss Darcy’s proportions. “You
are tall and stately, like a young queen.”
“I said a compliment, not flattery.”
“Firstly, they are one and the same thing. One cannot compliment something without flattering it, and vice versa. Secondly,
I mean it,” Caroline insisted. “You have a very regal bearing. I have always admired it. Though you really mustn’t stoop,
Georgie. Embrace your height. Do not be ashamed of it.”
“I do not like being so tall,” Georgiana muttered. “When I am in a crowd of young ladies, it makes me feel like a goose among
ducklings.”
“Do not say a goose, say instead a swan.” Caroline crooked her hand, imitating a swan’s neck with the curve of her wrist.
“On the contrary, my dear, it makes you stand out. And what young lady does not desire to stand out among her peers?”
Again, a flash of something on Georgiana’s face that was not pleasure at the compliment, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. “I am loath to extract another compliment from you, but is there something in my character that you might flatter, rather than my looks?”
A baffling request, but Caroline was keen to keep Georgiana sweet in case she changed her mind about assisting with the Great
Endeavour. “Why, of course! You are most proficient in the musical arts. And your embroidery is exquisite.” She cast about
for a specific example. “That rosebush you created last year? Perfection itself.” It really had been a wonder, with every
tiny rose stitched so neatly and gracefully that the flowers seemed to bloom right off the fabric. “In fact, I’d rather been
hoping that you would make me one, but then you moved on to cameos.”
This did not seem to entirely satisfy, though Georgiana only nodded. “I do get bored rather easily, I’m afraid, and tend to
jump from one fancy to another.”
This struck Caroline as an odd thing to say, when so many of Georgiana’s talents involved hours and hours of practice. Why,
she had surely sat at the harp and the pianoforte every day for no less than three hours between the ages of ten and fifteen,
and still kept up her practice with regularity. Perhaps once one reached a certain level of proficiency, it did not feel like
a chore anymore and was more like unfettered joy. Her playing had certainly brought her family many hours of pleasure, as
well as the guests at all the Darcys’ many parties. And yet—
She thought of the way Georgiana had looked before she’d begun playing the night before. That had certainly not been an expression
of unfettered happiness. Curious, she thought.
“—and in any case,” Georgiana was saying, and Caroline blinked, aware that she’d missed a large portion of the conversation, “I think it wise that we give you a little more practice before our first outing.”
Ooh, an outing! She had almost forgotten what it was they were supposed to be doing. “What need have I of more practice?” she demanded. “Have
I not proven to you this morning that I am capable of being a star pupil?”
“Your performance has been good,” Georgiana allowed, though Caroline did not miss the flicker of doubt in Miss Darcy’s eyes.
“But this lesson is not about splendor. It is about appreciation.”
“Are those not one and the same thing?”
Georgiana raised an eyebrow. “You said that about compliments and flattery.”
“So I did.” Caroline turned, glancing around the room again. “Enlighten me.”
“Anyone may appreciate beauty and splendor, as you put it,” Georgiana said slowly, as if she’d never had to voice the thought
before. “But those are merely superficial glamours. Beauty can be found in most things, if one cares to look a little deeper.
What we appreciate, truly appreciate, ought to be more than what we see at first glance.”
“If a thing is not beautiful, shouldn’t it be made to be so? That is the easiest solution.”
“The easy solution is not always the best solution. Or the right one.”
Caroline spread her hands, gesturing at Miss Darcy’s bedchamber.
“Then what am I to do? You put me in magnificent rooms”—not counting this one, she thought, and was careful not to say out loud—“surrounded by wonderful art, furniture which has been carved with every possible care and a considerable degree of talent, and yet, you ask me to look deeper. To what end? How much depth can there be here?”
“That is a fair point, well-made,” Georgiana said. “When one is surrounded by beauty, it is easy to be beautiful.”
“Where are we going on our outing?”
“Somewhere that your new status as star pupil, as you so confidently put it, will be tested a little harder.”
“I’m ready,” Caroline declared.
“We shall see,” was all Georgiana would say upon the subject. “Though we are going nowhere today. Now, are you ready for a
spot of tea?”