Miss Darcy smiled again, and the tension in her shoulders eased. Elizabeth took charge, guiding the young woman away from the loudest clusters of conversation, into the quieter alcove overlooking the ballroom floor.
“Your brother is very devoted to you,” Elizabeth said. “I have seldom seen a man attend to his sister with such care.”
“He has always been good to me, even when I did not make it easy for him.” Her voice dropped. “People think he is proud, but they do not know him.”
Once, Elizabeth had believed precisely that, and had repeated it to friends and sharpened her opinion upon it. But here Georgiana stood, shy as a doe and earnest as Jane herself, declaring Darcy misunderstood.
Perhaps he was.
“I confess,” Elizabeth said slowly, “I may have been one of them. It is a pleasure to speak with you, Miss Darcy. Yourbrother ought to bring you everywhere, for you give a much better account of him than he does of himself.”
“I hope so,” Georgiana said earnestly. “I do not think there is any praise I could give Fitzwilliam that would not be earned.”
After several minutes of conversation about the musicians, the gowns, and the charm of the room, Elizabeth found that she truly liked Georgiana. She recognised a kind heart quietly pleading to be believed. Georgiana relaxed, her shy smile becoming more genuine with each passing moment.
Her estimation of Darcy shifted again, unsettling something within her. It was as if someone had turned a kaleidoscope and the colours had fallen into a new design, leaving her to puzzle out the new picture.
Elizabeth was so intent on maintaining Georgiana’s ease and wondering what to think about this newest revelation of Darcy’s character that she did not at first register the unmistakable timbre of Miss Bingley’s voice drifting from behind a nearby pillar.
“How dreadful these rumours are,” Caroline Bingley said in a tone of silken pity. “Naturally, one feels for poor Jane. As the sister of the gentleman in question, I of all people ought to know there is nothing to it. Yet it is dreadfully unfortunate to be connected to such gossip, even as the innocent party. I confess I do not think her boldness quite wise. One would think she might have remained at home until the gossip quieted.”
Louisa Hurst gave a brittle laugh, leaning closer to Miss Bingley. “But then, how should she pursue her connections?”
Miss Bingley sighed, as though burdened by compassion. “Indeed, Louisa. They are a most grasping family.”
Elizabeth stiffened. Her heart gave a single hard thud as anger, humiliation, and a sharp spike of fear surged through her all at once.
Miss Bingley lowered her voice, but not enough to escape detection. “It is really too much to bear, Louisa. And now, this supposed understanding with Mr Darcy? Everyone knows he values dignity above all things. I cannot comprehend how he tolerates such an entanglement.”
Louisa tittered again. “Perhaps Miss Eliza is considerably more persuasive than we understood.”
Righteous fury made Elizabeth’s cheeks grow hot. She leaned slightly around the column, careful to remain unseen. Miss Bingley’s back was to her, but her posture radiated triumph, as though she believed the very world danced to her malicious tune.
It took every ounce of discipline Elizabeth possessed not to sweep forward and confront her. The words burned on her tongue, but Georgiana stood beside her, still fragile, still blooming with trust. A public confrontation would do far more harm than good. Especially when Georgiana, too, had been the subject of unkind rumours.
Yet the overheard exchange lodged itself deep in Elizabeth’s mind. The comments were not merely unkind; they were too pointed, too conveniently aligned with the very rumours appearing in the scandal sheets. Caroline Bingley had always disliked her, and had found her liveliness, her independence, and her refusal to be intimidated irksome. But this was something more deliberate, spreading such pointedgossip. Miss Bingley might well be connected to the latest rumour about Elizabeth’s supposed designs on Darcy. But would Miss Bingley truly stoop to feeding a scandal sheet? Would she risk Bingley’s disapproval for the slim satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth humiliated?
Elizabeth did not know, but the seed of suspicion against her took root, implanting itself more firmly in Elizabeth’s mind. She pulled in a breath, careful to school her expression before she turned back to Georgiana. The girl’s eyes were wide, searching Elizabeth’s face for any sign of distress.
Elizabeth forced a reassuring smile. “Shall we see whether the orchestra plans a country dance or a reel next? I am quite determined to make a proper study of the violinist’s expression.”
Georgiana’s face relaxed into amusement. “I believe he looks startled even when the music is cheerful.”
Elizabeth laughed softly, grateful for the girl’s presence, which forced her to keep her temper in check.
Moments later, Mr Darcy reappeared with Mrs Annesley by his side, his gaze sharpening when it landed on Elizabeth’s face, as though he sensed at once that something had unsettled her. She straightened, steeling herself for the coming dance.
Whatever suspicions Miss Bingley’s words had roused would have to be addressed in partnership with Darcy himself.
Mr Darcy approached and bowed. “Miss Bennet, if you have no objection, would you grant me the next dance?”
Elizabeth looked at him, her composure restored, though the echo of Miss Bingley’s poisonous gossip still rang in her ears.
They had danced before, of course. Though it had been awkward, more an exchange of unspoken barbs than anything resembling enjoyment. But with Georgiana’s presence softening the air, the warmth in Darcy’s gaze suggesting a new, precarious understanding, Elizabeth could not deny that something had shifted.
“Yes,” she agreed before she could think better of it.
Mr Darcy offered his hand, and Elizabeth placed hers atop it, realising as she did that several heads turned toward them.
