CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
UNLIKELY ALLIES
Cassie’sbright and cheerful voice made Elizabeth smile as she bustled into the Rose Chamber early the next morning. She laid out a morning dress of soft blue muslin with a delicately embroidered hem.
“Morning, miss! Mr. Darcy’s already been to the stables and back. Asked if you’d join the family for breakfast at nine.” Cassie’s hands moved efficiently as she poured water into the basin. “Miss Georgiana’s in a right state, though. Barely spoke a word to her maid this morning, and she’s usually ever so pleasant.”
Elizabeth winced, guilt pricking her conscience. Darcy’s harsh treatment of Georgiana had been partly her fault. “I must speak with her. Is she in her room?”
“Music room, miss. Playing something fierce that makes Mrs. Reynolds frown. Not her usual delicate pieces at all.”
Elizabeth smiled at this small rebellion. “Please tell Miss Darcy I’ll join her shortly before breakfast.”
After washing and dressing, Elizabeth sorted through her meager possessions, retrieving the precious documents she’d obtained in Kympton. She tucked them into her reticule along with Mrs.Wickham’s letter, which had remained safely pinned inside her bodice through all her travels. Today, she would share these pieces of evidence with Darcy, not because he commanded it, but because joining forces served her purpose. Besides, he needed to understand her diligence in searching out this matter.
The music floating from the music room was indeed “fierce”—a stormy Mozart piece that Elizabeth recognized from Mary’s repertoire of defiant selections used to drown out their mother’s nervous chatter.
Elizabeth paused in the doorway, waiting for a natural break before speaking. “You play beautifully, even when expressing righteous indignation.”
Georgiana’s hands faltered, then stilled. She did not turn around. “Fitzwilliam would prefer I stick to pretty, mindless pieces suitable for display at dinner parties.”
“I doubt that.” Elizabeth entered the room, settling onto the bench beside the younger girl. “Your brother strikes me as someone who appreciates substance over mere ornament.”
“He sees me as a child.” Georgiana’s voice was flat with hurt. “Incapable of rational thought or meaningful contribution.”
“He sees you as precious,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “Something to be protected at all costs. It blinds him to your strength.”
Georgiana turned to her then, eyes watery. “Is that supposed to make his dismissal less insulting?”
“Not at all. I found his high-handedness utterly infuriating.” Elizabeth’s frank admission startled a laugh from the girl. “But I’ve negotiated terms that might resolve our dilemma.”
“Terms?” Georgiana raised a skeptical eyebrow in a gesture so like her brother’s that Elizabeth had to suppress a smile.
“Your brother has appointed himself my protector and investigative partner. He will accompany me during my inquiries—which means you could join us as chaperone without directly defying his edict.”
Georgiana’s expression brightened. “That’s… actually rather clever.”
“I have my moments,” Elizabeth said with mock solemnity. “Though your brother may consider it manipulation of the highest order.”
“Good.” Georgiana’s chin lifted with a defiance that warmed Elizabeth’s heart. “He deserves to be outmaneuvered.”
Their alliance thus reforged, they entered the breakfast room together, presenting a united front that clearly surprised Darcy.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet, sister,” he said, his gaze moving between them.
“Brother,” Georgiana acknowledged coolly, taking her usual seat.
“You appear to have recovered your spirits, Miss Darcy,” Caroline Bingley observed from her place at the table. “How delightful to see you and Miss Eliza forming such an attachment.”
The emphasis she placed on “attachment” carried clear insinuation, but Georgiana merely nodded. “Elizabeth and I understand each other perfectly.”
Elizabeth accepted a cup of tea from the footman, studying the assembled company. Charles Bingley offered a cheerful greeting, though his usual animation was somewhat dampened. The Hursts maintained their customary states—he half-asleep behind his newspaper, she critically examining the breakfast offerings as if searching for flaws.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Bennet?” Darcy inquired, his tone formal yet lacking yesterday’s chill.
“Remarkably so, thank you.” Elizabeth met his gaze directly. “Pemberley’s accommodations are conducive to rest, despite recent excitement.”
Something flickered in his dark eyes—amusement, perhaps, at her oblique reference to their confrontation. “Indeed. I hope today proves less eventful.”
