“Little harsh on Mum,” Frank said. “She was a struggling solo mother who wanted her daughters to avoid that fate by having careers and not families.”
“I suppose.” Divorce and financial abandonment of children were so foreign to his own personal sense of duty and family. “But she never had an approving word for Elizabeth, whereas Jane could do no wrong.”
“When was the last time her mother or sister came to England?”
“When Sandra was born.” The one and only time, and neither one had prioritised phone calls, FaceTime, or letters since then. “And who’s the one who taught her how to ride a bike?” Darcy said with emphasis. There was a reason Frank and his wife were the school’s emergency contacts and why Charlotte Lucas would raise Sandra if anything happened to him and Elizabeth.
“I still remember the look on Elizabeth’s face after you two cleared out deadbeat dad’s house years ago. There’s a reason she didn’t take a damn thing with her. She probably grew up better off without him, and she’s better off without a mother and sister who don’t pay attention to her.”
“Elizabeth has a great capacity to love,” Darcy said slowly, “and she’s put that on Georgiana.” He didn’t say that she wassoon to leave and never be heard from again, but Frank nodded like he understood.
“You don’t want the pretty American to get hurt?”
He was just as afraid of getting hurt himself, but he nodded. Elizabeth’s disappointment in parting from Georgiana forever could not match his, but it would still distress her, and that would add to his own pain.
“Don’t get all broody on me,” Frank barked in a louder voice.
He knew that word. Frank often threw it at him when he was inclined to reflection and bordering on melancholia. “Aren’t I supposed to brood?” he teased back. “I’m a forlorn vampire, am I not?”
Frank shook his head. “No, you’re just a strong, silent type. Plus, you’re clearly older now than when I first knew you.”
“Thanks, Frank. You always know just what to say.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Georgiana finished her song, and Elizabeth clapped proudly. “You’re even better than I remember!”
“I have had fifteen more years of practice,” she said, blushing.
“You’ll be more than ready to sing next week. I’m so proud of you!”
Another week was nearly over, and on Monday Georgiana would sing a few Regency songs in the music room each day. Georgiana had been combing through her now-old sheet music and practising while Sandra was at school and Elizabeth and Darcy worked.
“I will do well enough whilst we wait for the instrument to be restored,” said Georgiana as they went back upstairs. “Sandra helped me find the music I need on the…on the…” She gestured to her hand to indicate using the cell phone.
With help from her niece, Georgiana had learnt how to find the instrumental music to accompany her songs, save them, and put them into a playlist. After showing Georgiana several times had not been enough, Sandra had written step-by-step instructions in her large, childish handwriting.
Darcy had jumped in to new things in this century with far more curiosity and enthusiasm.
Georgiana was quite slow in searching and typing, but seemed pleased with herself for using such a strange technology. Or maybe she was relieved. Elizabeth thought she just enjoyed the time Sandra spent with her to help her.
“You’ve done well with the internet,” Elizabeth said to reassure her, even if it wasn’t quite true. “Your brother took to that and the phone quickly too.”
“Did he struggle with cooking like I do?”
“He did struggle at first,” she hedged. Darcy had needed practice with cooking, but he was nowhere near as dreadful as Georgiana was. He simply disliked it. “It was always the language and social things that took him longer to adjust to than the technology.”
“Did he? He never said. I would be curious to know how his adjustment compared to mine.” Georgiana hesitated, looking like she wanted to say more. “Many matters have preoccupied him this week.”
Elizabeth scoffed. Darcy avoided Georgiana, which meant he avoided being home. It wasn’t like he went out drinking or neglected them. He was always in the house or on the estate somewhere. But when he was in their private rooms, he just wasn’t present. He might be in the room with her and Georgiana, but he was not involved in any of their conversation. He still gave Sandra care and attention, but even that was more superficial than it typically was.
Avoiding his sister led to Darcy avoiding his wife. Lately, he hadn’t even put an arm around her waist or called her “dearest,” let alone set his mouth or hands on any part of her body. Elizabeth missed him, but it was anger that had settled in her chest and made it hard to breathe. By avoiding his sister, he wasalso avoidingher. Suddenly emails and staff concerns and roof repair and horse feed were more important than time with her.
Although she and Darcy sometimes disagreed, she was unused to this heavy feeling of ever-present resentment toward him.
Georgiana had stopped near the top of the stairs. Their private rooms were at the other end of the gallery from where the family’s portraits hung. There were paintings throughout the house, but this was the largest group and was of people who had the most lasting impact on Pemberley in the last two hundred years. Georgiana stood staring at the space.
“We’re having that one cleaned,” Elizabeth said. “Gwen recommended someone. She said the paintings look dingy because of nicotine and coal smoke, mostly, along with whatever discoloration the varnish has undergone.”
