Georgiana watched my fingers hover above the cloth, then said, “I was a girl when my parents died. My grief suffocated me like a choking blanket. I could only breathe if I made music, so I played day and night. Then my affinity with draca revealed itself, and it became easier.”
“If I have an affinity, it is no comfort.”
Her head tilted encouragingly. “Perhaps your affinity is not yet revealed.”
“When you sang last night, outside Chathford, I felt things change. What did you do?”
“I make music. Draca hear it. They trust me. If they are hurt or distressed, they are soothed. Lizzy says it is power—amplification—but it is only melody. Last night, the world of draca was discordant around you, so I… found the harmony.”
“At least you sound like a wyfe of song,” I said. “Your brother says I am the wyfe of healing, but I obsess over seams and buttons. I should be the wyfe of sewing.”
“Mamma straightened my seams, but she was a healer. I was eight when she died. I remember no miracles or magic. She was like a country healer, brewing herbs for tea and ointments. She said the herbs spoke to her.”
I remembered the verse Mr. Darcy quoted. “There are three great wyves. Does that mean Lizzy is the wyfe of war?”
“None of us believe that. Least of all, Lizzy.” Her brow wrinkled. “Fitz says my powers will change when I marry and bind. But I do not intend to marry.”
“That is very sensible,” I said. “I cannot imagine marrying.”
Her eyes darted to me, then fixed on the floor. “Why not?”
“I know precisely how I like things. It would be irritating to be in thrall to a gentleman.” I watched Mr. Knightley illustrate some point for Harriet with a swirl of his fingers. “Even a handsome one. Papa was very clear that I should keep Hartfield. Independence is a rare gift for a lady.”
“Yes,” Georgiana said pensively.
“Does your… affinity… show the scarlet around your brother?”
Georgiana did not answer. I turned and met her gaze, serious and still.
“Scarlet?” she said.
“Both your brother and Lizzy surge with scarlet. I thought it was a binding. Isensebindings, in the color of the bound draca. But they did not bind, and there are no scarlet draca. Besides, it is too strong. With Lizzy, it is blinding.”
“And with my brother?”
“With him it is… different.” The word that came to mind was “enticing,” but that was inappropriate.
Georgiana pursed her lips. “You must ask Lizzy. This is hers to tell.” Her tone became amused. “You should start your outing. Harriet has had her chance. Mr. Knightley must have a crick in his neck from stealing glances at you.”
“Do not joke,” I said, feeling the warmth of a flush.
Mr. Darcy arrived,then Lizzy. We set forth, leaving Georgiana happily cranking the pianoforte’s tuning pins.
It was good walking weather. The air was cold, but the sun was spilling between the clouds. The grime of London’s streets sparkled under crystals of ice and snow.
Lizzy was anonymous in a concealing coat and wool bonnet. She and I made a great contrast. I had dressed for the cold with long woolen gloves, extra petticoats, and knit stockings, so only the shoulders of my bright dress were covered with a shawl.
“Darcy and I are meeting Mr. Tinsdale at the school,” Lizzy told me. “He is a politician, and we needed a discreet location. That should be brief, then we can do our tour.” She lingered until Mr. Darcy, Mr. Knightley, and Harriet were a dozen steps ahead of us, then said seriously, “I am unsure how near to approach you.”
I remembered pulling away when she touched my bare arm.
“I can manage if we both have gloves.” I stretched out my hand. Cautiously, she touched my fingers, glove to glove. Scarlet writhed, powerful to the point of pain, but it was locked away—walled behind immense strength. That was the difference from touching Mr. Darcy. Then the scarlet shone, available and open.
“Do you sense something when we touch?” I said.
She shook her head. “No.”
“I sense scarlet. It is stronger today than yesterday. Nearer. Georgiana said to ask you.”
