Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “I cannot imagine why she should be. She possesses everything I lack. She is more likely vexed on account of Mr. Bingley’s regard for my sister, for we are but two country mice of no consequence.”
She slipped her arm through Georgiana’s.
“Come, play something for me, something cheerful, that we may forget the ugliness of her remark.”
Georgiana’s expression brightened. She took Elizabeth’s hand and led her toward the pianoforte.
“I know so many ballads.” She searched through the sheets and drew out several. “Do you know any of these? I will play while you sing.”
Elizabeth was pleased to see the child’s spirits restored, and was fully prepared to sing herself hoarse if it would keep Georgiana cheerful. When the gentlemen entered half an hour later, they paused at the threshold of the drawing room, held in rapt attention as Elizabeth sang a melancholy ballad.
It had been a favorite of Darcy’s mother. An old sadness rose within his chest as Georgiana played, and Elizabeth’s voice carried a song from a time when both his parents still lived,when their household had been whole, and they had not been left as two orphaned souls in the world.
Chapter 14: Covent Garden
Darcy approached the two young women.
“We shall leave for Covent Garden at a quarter past six. That allows us half an hour of leisure before we must depart. Georgiana, would you like to show Miss Elizabeth your sketches?”
He turned to Elizabeth.
“My sister has studied with an art master as long as she has studied with her music master, and she has become quite proficient.”
Georgiana brightened at once.
“Lizzy, my sketches are in my rooms. Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth set down the sheet music she had been perusing. Passing a side table, she paused to take up a volume that lay there, running her hand lightly over the cover before returning it to its place.
Mr. Darcy regarded her with interest.
“Do you read Plutarch, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, sir. It is among my father’s favorites and has therefore become one of mine.”
“And what else does your father favor, if I may inquire?”
“Virgil, Ovid, Homer, among others.”
“And do you likewise take pleasure in those authors?”
She laughed. “Yes, sir. I have spent many hours seated in my favorite tree with one or another of those works.”
Georgiana, in her eagerness to go, said, “Come, Lizzy,” and drew her toward the door.
Elizabeth was nearly pulled from the room and up the stairs. By the time they reached Georgiana’s sitting room, both were laughing.
“Sit here, Lizzy, and I shall bring out my best work.”
Georgiana soon displayed a watercolor of the gardens behind the London house, a sketch of her mother and father, and at last, a watercolor of Pemberley.
Elizabeth could not help but be impressed by the young girl’s skill.
When Elizabeth considered her own accomplishments, she felt untrained and uncouth in comparison. Georgiana was explaining the finer points of the Pemberley painting when there was a tap upon the door.
When she raised her eyes, Mr. Darcy stood there, a faint smile upon his lips.
“Is it time for our great adventure?” Georgiana asked.
