Chapter Rolled up Carpets & Slippers
ROLLED UP CARPETS & SLIPPERS
The following morning brought with it a clearer sky and a sense of renewed purpose.
The scheme of practising dances had been discussed with much enthusiasm the day before, yet it had soon proved too ambitious to arrange in so few hours.
The proper room had to be chosen, the carpets shifted, and the company persuaded to join them.
Elizabeth had declared it no hardship to wait.
“Anticipation,” she told Georgiana as they parted, “is half the pleasure.”
Now, at last, the household was prepared. The parlour stood with its chairs drawn back, the pianoforte open, and a bright fire crackling against the winter chill.
Darcy looked about the altered room with faint perplexity. “We have a ballroom, and yet you have stripped the parlour of half its furniture. Why not practise where there is space intended for the purpose?”
Elizabeth’s hands stilled on the back of a chair she had just shifted. “Because the ballroom is too much, too soon. It is large, echoing, and requires an audience. This room is smaller, warmer, and already has a pianoforte. Georgiana should begin where she feels at home.”
Darcy’s expression softened, though a glimmer of humour touched his eyes. “Very well. But Williams will not thank you when he finds the carpet rolled into the passage.”
Elizabeth smiled serenely. “Williams may consider it an honourable sacrifice, if it allows Miss Darcy to dance without fear.”
At that moment Georgiana entered, her step lighter than it had been the day before. A small sheaf of music was clasped in her hands, her cheeks touched with colour. She paused on the threshold, her gaze taking in the space prepared entirely for her sake.
“You truly arranged all this,” she murmured, half wonder and half relief.
Elizabeth went to her at once. “Of course. We promised, and we keep our promises. Today is for nothing but practice. No Lady Catherine, no anxious scrutiny, only family and friends.”
Georgiana set down her music on the nearest table, then, almost without thought, took two quick steps into the cleared space.
Her slippers moved lightly across the boards as if testing them, a half turn following, her hands lifting just slightly in remembered motion.
A laugh escaped her before she could check it, soft and incredulous.
Elizabeth watched her with quiet satisfaction. “I believe she approves.”
Darcy’s brows rose as he observed his sister take another careful step, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “It appears she has begun without us.”
Georgiana stopped at once, colour deepening, but her smile remained. “I could not help it. It looks so well. I wanted to see if it truly felt different.”
Elizabeth crossed the room and took her hand. “Then we must not delay. Begin as you mean to go on, my dear, with eagerness rather than dread.”
Georgiana’s laughter faded into a shy glance toward her brother, but her eyes still shone with anticipation. Elizabeth moved to the pianoforte and opened the lid, running her fingers lightly across the keys.
“Shall we give her a tune?” she asked, already settling onto the bench.
Darcy hesitated only a moment before extending his hand. “One turn, to begin. No audience but ourselves.”
Georgiana placed her hand in his, her smile uncertain yet bright. “If you are quite certain you can keep time.”
Elizabeth’s laugh rang out as she struck the opening chords of a country dance. “You see, she has already learned to tease you, Fitzwilliam. That is the surest sign of confidence.”
Darcy led his sister across the cleared floor, his movements steady and assured, giving her room to find her steps. At first she moved with cautious precision, but as the rhythm carried her forward, her cheeks grew flushed and her movements freer.
“You do remember,” Elizabeth said warmly over the music. “I knew you would.”
When the final notes faded, Georgiana gave a small, breathless laugh and clasped her brother’s hand more tightly. “It is not nearly so dreadful. I believe I could try again.”
Darcy released her with a bow that was mock solemn. “You did very well. Better than I expected, I confess.”
Elizabeth, still seated at the pianoforte, turned with a smile. “Your steps were more graceful than mine, and I had the advantage of the keys to guide me.”
Georgiana looked from one to the other, hesitation and mischief mingling in her expression. “Then perhaps I should claim the keys and see whether you two can manage the floor together. It has been some time, has it not, since you danced?”
Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, wordless yet eloquent. A blush rose to Elizabeth’s cheek, though her eyes sparkled. “Not since before Thomas was born,” she admitted.
Georgiana’s smile deepened. “All the more reason. If I am to practise, then you must set me an example.” She slid onto the bench, her fingers poised above the keys with growing assurance. “What shall it be, Brother? A waltz, perhaps? Or shall I keep to the safer ground of a country reel?”
Darcy offered Elizabeth his hand, his expression softened by both humour and affection. “Whichever she chooses, I am content, if you are.”
Elizabeth laid her hand in his. “Entirely content.”
The first notes rang out, tentative at first, then surer as Georgiana found the rhythm. Darcy drew his wife into the cleared space, and together they began to move, not as practised partners on display but as two who had long wished for such a moment.
Georgiana’s eyes followed them, her music steady, her heart swelling with a mixture of pride and joy. It felt, at last, like a family complete.
Darcy guided Elizabeth through the figures of the dance with surprising ease, his gaze never straying from hers. As the music dwindled for a moment, he drew her a little closer than the dance required and, with quiet deliberation, pressed a swift kiss to her lips.
Elizabeth gasped, half scandalised and half delighted. “Fitzwilliam!” She laughed, shaking her head as colour rose in her cheeks. “This is hardly the manner in which to end a dance.”
Georgiana’s laughter bubbled over from the pianoforte, her fingers stumbling on the last chord. “If you do, all of London will be talking of nothing else.”
Darcy only smiled, unrepentant. “Then perhaps I shall reserve such liberties for home, where I may enjoy them without censure.”
Elizabeth gave him a playful swat on the arm before turning back to her sister. “You see, Georgiana? Dancing is not only duty and display. It can also be joy.”
Georgiana’s eyes shone, her earlier nervousness all but forgotten. “Then I shall remember that, when my turn comes.”
The last figure carried them across the cleared floor. Darcy’s hand lingered at Elizabeth’s waist. He bent and kissed her again, slow and certain.
The door opened at that instant. Colonel Fitzwilliam halted on the threshold, eyebrows high, cloak over his arm.
“Well. Darcy, caught in the wild, kissing his wife before noon and in his own parlour. I shall apply to the Horse Guards for a written report.”
Georgiana’s fingers slipped on the final chord and she burst into laughter.
Elizabeth drew back, laughing still. “You arrive at a most inconvenient moment, Colonel.”
Richard advanced with a grin. “On the contrary, I arrive just in time. To see my cousin smile while dancing is rare enough. To see him kissing his wife in the bargain, why, I may never recover.”
Darcy recovered his dignity with an unrepentant smile. “You see what my family endures, cousin.”
“And enjoys,” Richard returned. “Now, if the display of conjugal affection is concluded, I claim the next dance with Miss Darcy, provided she will not expose my deficiencies.”
Georgiana rose at once, eyes shining. “I should be delighted.”
Georgiana and Richard took their places with cheerful anticipation while Elizabeth returned to the pianoforte, flexing her fingers lightly above the keys.
“I shall not attempt anything too grand,” she warned them with a teasing smile. “You must keep time with me, not the other way round.”
Georgiana laughed. “We shall do our best.”
She had just begun to play when the door opened once more.
The butler stepped in, bowed, and announced with crisp formality, “Mr and Mrs Bingley. Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth turned on the bench with a delighted smile. “Jane!”
Jane crossed the room at once and embraced her sister warmly. “It is good to be here. How cheerful everything looks.”
Bingley, all smiles and exuberant goodwill, bowed to the ladies and clapped Darcy heartily on the shoulder. “Darcy. Fitzwilliam. What is this, a private assembly? I am grieved to have missed the first dances.”
“Then you must make haste to join the next,” said Richard. “I shall surrender my place with honour.”
“No indeed,” Bingley replied. “Jane and I will join you. And I am sure Darcy will not object to standing up with Caroline.”
There was a slight pause, just long enough to be felt. Caroline turned toward Elizabeth, her tone smooth, almost eager. “If you are content to continue at the pianoforte, Mrs Darcy?”
Elizabeth glanced briefly at her husband. Darcy met her gaze with the smallest of smiles, his eyes steady on hers. Something unspoken passed between them.
“I am happy to play a little longer,” Elizabeth said, returning Caroline’s smile with poise. “But I shall expect my turn upon the floor later.”
“Of course,” said Caroline at once, taking her place opposite Darcy as Bingley and Jane stood up together.
Elizabeth struck a bright chord to begin the music once more, and the next set commenced.
Caroline played her part as partner with elegant composure, and yet it was plain to Elizabeth, and to Georgiana, that her attention was fixed less on Darcy himself than on her own standing in the room.
To be seen moving in perfect measure beside Mr Darcy was a way of reminding everyone present that Miss Bingley knew the steps of society as well as the dance.