Chapter 19 #2
Camellias were not riotous at all, and he smiled at the jest.
“My brother says camellias are worth the trouble, because they bring us so much pleasure,” Georgiana said.
“I said they were worth the cost,” Darcy said from behind them.
Georgiana turned. “You said both when we spoke of them a fortnight ago.”
“I believe I said they required more care than most flowers.”
“And that they rewarded it,” Georgiana said, plainly pleased to have the advantage.
Miss Elizabeth was watching them both with a little smile on her face.
He shook his head at his sister. “I shall have to give way, for I do not recall.”
“You remember a great many of your brother’s opinions,” Miss Elizabeth said.
Now that she was older, Georgiana largely ignored the things he said. She was sixteen, and it was only sensible that she sought her mother’s advice instead of his. So Darcy was pleased she had remembered their conversation so exactly, even if it was only about something trivial.
“Only the useful ones,” Georgiana replied, and lifted her brows.
Leave it to his sister to humble him just as he was relishing a small victory. “I am relieved to hear I have had at least a few.”
Miss Elizabeth glanced at him. “More than a few, I suspect.” It was lightly said, but for a moment, the air between them felt charged.
Georgiana bent again over the camellias.
He had stayed too long, for Miss Elizabeth was no longer meeting his eye.
Had he imagined Miss Elizabeth sharing this fleeting moment with him?
He excused himself, nodded at his sister, and turned away to stroll back to the larger room.
He always split his time between these rooms and the card room when his mother held parties of this size, which was typically only once per annum.
So he did what duty required. He spoke to Lady Metcalf about her son’s new post, heard Sir James Rillington’s complaints about the roads, and allowed his mother to introduce him to a widow whose name he forgot almost at once.
He answered when required and nodded when expected, but his thoughts had remained in the music room, beside the camellias, when she had said, “More than a few, I suspect.”
It had been nothing. A small civility. Yet it had made him feel a spark of something, and he found himself wanting—foolishly, dangerously wanting—to know whether she had felt it too.
At last, he freed himself and turned back towards the music room, meaning only to continue his rounds and ask whether Georgiana had shown Miss Elizabeth the smaller hothouse beyond the glass doors. It was excuse enough.
But Miss Elizabeth was no longer with Georgiana. She had not been in the drawing room either, and so he stepped into the passage that led to the room set aside for cards.
He found her close to that room, though she was half screened by a pillar and a large arrangement of laurel. But she was not alone. Captain Tobias Lyle had found her first.
Darcy stopped.
Lyle was young, fair, and flushed from the wine. He had placed himself between Miss Elizabeth and the card room’s door, and there was no graceful way around him. The party was only a few yards behind her, but to reach it she would have to turn her back to him.
She inched around the pillar while facing him, and took a step back.
Lyle, entirely focused upon Miss Elizabeth, stepped forward.
Darcy set his glass down on the nearest table and walked to her side.
The moment Miss Elizabeth saw him, her shoulders lowered a bit, and the fingers that had been twisted in the folds of her gown loosened.
His anger burned hot.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said smoothly, “my mother has asked me to bring you to Mrs. Gardiner. You are both wanted in the music room.”
His mother had asked him no such thing. But Miss Elizabeth took the excuse without hesitation, turning towards him with a quiet breath that told him more than any words would have done.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Good evening, Captain.”
Lyle looked between them. “But we were having a conversation. Surely the music room may wait.”
Darcy kept his expression still, though every instinct urged him to remove the man from the house by less than civil means. “No,” he said, and fixed Captain Lyle with a look that conveyed the consequences any further attempts would have.
Lyle’s colour deepened. “Of course.”
Darcy offered Miss Elizabeth his arm. She accepted it, and he walked her back towards the main rooms. They stood for a moment in the quiet of the hall just outside.
“I was on my way to see if my uncle wished for anything to eat,” she said quietly. “The captain sent the footman in the hall off on some errand.”
“You have done nothing wrong.”
“A thing can be right and still foolish. There are a great many people I do not know here tonight, and some have consumed too much wine. It is not like your mother’s smaller affairs.” She took a breath and seemed steadier. “Your mother did not send you, did she?”
“No.”
“How very shocking,” she said. “I had not thought you a man given to falsehood.”
He was pleased to hear her coming back to herself. “I am not, generally.”
“Only in emergencies?”
“Only when the truth would have left you in unsuitable company.”
Before he could say anything more, Mrs. Gardiner stepped from the doorway of the drawing room, a glass of punch in one hand and a look of mild surprise on her face.
“There you are, Lizzy. Were you walking to the card room?”
Miss Elizabeth’s fingers tightened briefly on Darcy’s sleeve.
“I was, but Mr. Darcy was just bringing me back to you,” she said.
“So I see,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, her glance moving from one to the other. “Thank you, sir.”
Darcy walked Miss Elizabeth into the drawing room before relinquishing her to her aunt’s care. He then joined Richard at the punch table, where his cousin handed him a cup. Wickham and Em were near the window, speaking with a couple he did not know. Em nodded to them and they both nodded back.
Milton appeared from the direction of the music room. “I have returned your sister to your mother,” he told Darcy. “She was explaining the camellias to Lady Honoria.”
“Georgiana?” Darcy asked.