“He may not have arrived yet,” her aunt said quietly.
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied. “There is no reason he should have.”
They completed one circuit of the room without encountering him. Elizabeth told herself that she need not think anything of it. Likely Mr Darcy had simply had a more important engagement; perhaps he had even forgotten their arrangement. Really, it was for the best. It would spare them all the effort of performance. She could enjoy the remainder of the recital untroubled, and the plan could be quietly abandoned without consequence.
It was a comforting thought, but it did not last.
“Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth turned at the sound of her name and found herself facing Mr Darcy.
He stood a little apart from the flow of guests, his expression composed and faintly guarded. There was something unmistakably deliberate in the way he had positioned himself, as though he had waited until the moment would appear unforced.
Elizabeth felt a brief, treacherous surge of relief.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, inclining her head. “I did not see you arrive.”
“I came at almost the last moment before the doors were closed for the performance and sat in the last row,” he explained. “A pleasure to find you here, Miss Elizabeth.”
She was about to answer when she became aware that he was not alone.
A young lady stood slightly behind him, her posture careful, her hands clasped before her with a restraint that immediately drew Elizabeth’s attention. She was slender and fair, her expression reserved to the point of shyness, yet there was an alertness in her eyes that suggested keen feeling beneath the surface.
Elizabeth recognised her at once, for though her features were softened by her youth and her sex, she bore a strong resemblance to her brother.
“You must be Miss Darcy,” she said aloud in her surprise, and then, blushing a little as she remembered they had not yet been introduced, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Georgiana Darcy started slightly, then smiled, a small, earnest smile that transformed her features. “You know me already?”
“Only by description, and by your resemblance to your brother,” Elizabeth replied. “But I am very glad to make your acquaintance.”
Mr Darcy looked between them, his expression so attentive that it struck Elizabeth as almost anxious.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, “may I present my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?”
Introductions were made, Mrs Gardiner greeted, and for a moment the little group stood together in polite stillness. As the quietness stretched on, Elizabeth became acutely aware that Georgiana’s presence complicated matters considerably.
Mr Darcy had not mentioned that his sister would accompany him. It must have slipped his mind, yet Elizabeth could not help but feel that it altered everything. Whatever interpretation London society wished to impose upon their meeting, introducing Miss Darcy complicated the narrative.
If Georgiana were cold, proud, or dismissive, it would lend weight to Wickham’s account of her character and, by extension, to his account of her brother.
Elizabeth watched her carefully. For a moment, Georgiana seemed content to remain silent, her gaze flicking between Elizabeth and the surrounding room as though uncertain where it ought to rest. Elizabeth looked at her with fellow-feeling, remembering when she had been sixteen and uncertain of how to speak in society.
“I thought the opening piece particularly beautiful,” Elizabeth offered gently. “There was such clarity in the phrasing.”
Georgiana’s face lit up at once.
“Yes,” she said, the word escaping with unexpected eagerness. “I thought so as well. The restraint was admirable. It is so difficult to resist embellishment.”
Elizabeth smiled, genuinely pleased. “You play yourself?”
Georgiana nodded shyly. “A little. Not in public.”
“Though you ought to,” Mr Darcy put in. Elizabeth blinked in surprise to hear the depth of fondness in his voice. “Your playing is excellent, Georgiana. You ought to allow more people to hear you.”
“No, no,” she protested. “You are much too generous.”
“Surely not,” Elizabeth told her. “I consider your brother to be a sensible man, a man of good judgement. I suspect that his praise is not generous, but just, and that you are every bit as talented as he has said.”
