“I did not want to impose. It is not mine anymore. It is yours.”
Elizabeth gave a short, stunned laugh. “My dear sister! Trust me when I say that this caution, this deference, is entirely misplaced. Your brother purchased that pianoforte for you. Of course it belongs to you!”
For a moment, Georgiana looked up, and something akin to hope seemed to shine in her eyes. But it lasted for only a moment. She shook her head, looking away as though she could not bear to meet Elizabeth’s eyes. Her voice, when it came, seemed weighted down with shame. “No, I gave all of this up when I agreed to marry my dear Wickham. My brother was so angry with me that he did not even write until a fortnight ago — at your bidding. How could I be so presumptuous as to act as though this were still my home? It would be to give up far more than I would gain if I risked driving a wedge between us again, simply because I wished to play the pianoforte.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. She had not thought of such an objection, and she hoped it had no truth to it. It was difficult to believe Mr Darcy would refuse her sister the chance to play the instrument he had purchased for her. Indeed, she was certain he would be glad of the chance to hear its music again.
To hear, although she did not dare to speak the thought aloud, Georgiana’s music again.
She leaned over and took Georgiana’s hand. “I am inviting you to play, Georgiana. While you are here, for this visit and every one that follows, please play as much as you like. You need not worry about being presumptuous, for I tell you here and now that it is no imposition. Far from it.” She let go after alight squeeze and leaned back. “It will be good to have the house filled with music again.”
Georgiana gave a small smile. “If you are sure…”
“I am,” Elizabeth said without allowing her sister-in-law to finish. “If Mr Darcy says anything to you, you may tell him it was at my urging. I am not only allowing, but requesting you to play.”
“Thank you,” Georgiana said gratefully, looking more cheerful than Elizabeth had yet seen her.
Though the present confusion had reached a satisfactory resolution, something tugged at Elizabeth’s mind. Georgiana might play as much as she wished at Pemberley, but it was an unfortunate oversight that she had not had the opportunity to do so since her marriage.
“Is it the case, then, that you have no pianoforte at your new lodgings, Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked cautiously.
“I am afraid so. Please do not misunderstand. We have let a very comfortable house in a good neighbourhood. It is a little small, perhaps, compared to my brother’s house in Town. But I have everything I need,” she explained. “However, my husband says that the allowance my brother and cousin have stipulated does not allow for such luxuries as a new pianoforte.”
“Perhaps a used one would do nicely?” Elizabeth suggested. “It might not be the equal of your piano here, but the expense might be kept very modest. Or perhaps Mr Darcy might issue an advance on the allowance.”
Georgiana shook her head, looking rather wistful. “I do not mean to seem ungrateful, Mrs Darcy —”
“Please, you must call me Elizabeth,” she insisted.
Georgiana smiled shyly. “Elizabeth. I did not mean to complain. My husband is everything kind, and Fitzwilliam has already been generous enough, inviting us here. I could not ask for anything more. No, I will content myself with playing while I am at Pemberley.”
For a moment, Elizabeth considered pressing the point. She had not received the impression that the allowance was overly parsimonious. A very little frugality ought to allow the Wickhams to save up for a modest pianoforte, even if she did not wish to ask her brother for an advance. Surely Mr Darcy would approve so eminently reasonable a request, to be funded by Georgiana’s own dowry.
Or…would he? Doubt assailed her. Mr Wickham had hinted otherwise, as did Georgiana’s fear of her brother. Perhaps the generous, reasonable side of Mr Darcy that had appeared to Elizabeth so far was no fair indication of his real character.
Perhaps there were a great many things she still did not understand about her husband.
With an effort, Elizabeth shook off her troubling thoughts. “Come, let us go down to the parlour, and you can play right now,” she suggested.
“Oh, what a wonderful idea! If you are with me, no one could raise an objection, could they?” Georgiana said. She retrieved a shawl and wrapped it loosely around her shoulders. “How exciting! Do you play four-handed pieces?”
Elizabeth felt the blush creeping up her cheeks as she followed Georgiana out of her room and started down the corridor. “No, not well, that is. My sister, Mary, is the pianist ofthe family. And while I play a little, I have not the talent or the inclination to practise as she does.”
“Well, we shall have to try one of these days, if you are amenable,” Georgiana said. When they arrived in the parlour, Elizabeth called for a pot of tea, then took a seat in the smaller sitting area off to the side of the pianoforte. It was a beautiful instrument, to be sure. She had admired it since her arrival at Pemberley. But she had also not felt it right to play after Mrs Reynolds had told her of Georgiana’s elopement. Like Georgiana herself, she had been fearful of awakening ghosts better left to slumber.
Perhaps now that things were on a better footing between the siblings, she would play on the long winter days, when the weather made walking ineligible or impossible. Reading had always been Elizabeth’s entertainment of choice. But there was nothing wrong with her playing the pianoforte and trying to improve her skill, she supposed. Perhaps she would wait until Mr Darcy went on a long business trip to London, so she would not offend his ears.
Georgiana lightly touched the ivory keys and began a lilting tune that made Elizabeth smile with enjoyment at her skill. She played with calm assurance, never hitting a sour note, and yet with such grace that she made it look easy.
Georgiana smiled over at her, never missing a note even as she looked away from the keys. “I did not realise how much I have missed this. Thank you, sister.”
Elizabeth’s heart warmed to hear Georgiana call her sister, but an ache spread through her chest at the thought of her sisters back home. Were they well? She wondered what they were doing now as the holidays drew near. Jane would be sewingbusily, making little presents for the family and for the servants. Kitty and Lydia would be driving their father to distraction with their pleas for money so they could go into Meryton and buy ribbons and trinkets. Their mother would be in a tizzy about the Christmas meal and would have to lie down for hours at a time to “calm her nerves.” And Mary would be playing the pianoforte from dawn until dusk. All would be a noisy, happy chaos.
But Pemberley had its charms as well, and ones that were rapidly becoming dear to her. Elizabeth smiled over at Georgiana. She had missed having her days filled with music. “You are very accomplished, Georgiana. I applaud you.”
Georgiana finished the piece with a small flourish, letting the sound echo even as her fingers left the keys, and then folded her hands demurely in her lap. “Thank you. I cannot tell you how much good it does my soul.”
“Play another,” Elizabeth urged her.
