Sometimes people found it difficult to believe that they measured up to those they loved.
“Your brother’s disapproval isn’t an obstacle to being with Mr Willers, you know,” she said. “If he hated the idea of you marrying the steward and not some peer, he would have told you.”
“Knowing Fitzwilliam approves of anyone I choose, that alone is worth the visit. And he believes I will always take proper care of Pemberley.”
“But you still don’t want to put yourself out there? I mean,” she corrected when Georgiana’s brow crinkled in confusion,“you don’t want to be the one to confess your romantic feelings first?”
“I am shy, Elizabeth. I am not like you.”
“You can’t be that shy around Mr Willers. You’ve known him for half your life and worked with him for nearly ten years. Why not tell him?”
“Women do not confess their feelings first. It is unseemly, unfeminine.”
“Even if the man loves you? He might like to hear it.”
“I do know how Mr Willers feels. The only way to know for certain is to wait until he tells me. Until then, my affections and wishes do not matter.”
“I say they do. You became business partners and friends, and you fell in love with him. Everything you’ve told me about his behaviour tells me he loves you too.”
Georgiana actually flinched. Elizabeth saw Gwen’s car pull in and knew the topic would be closed. “I’m sorry. Our standards are so different. I’ll just say that you have done an admirable job caring for Pemberley, and you deserve happiness, some real companionship. No matter who you marry, we want you to be happy. If you love him that much, go for it.”
“His is the longest friendship I have ever had,” she whispered. “I do not want to lose it. What if I am wrong? What if my confession is unwanted and drives him away?”
“He is leaving anyway. You might as well try.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
While he never participated enough to have been called a first-rate dancer, Darcy was certain no one in Pemberley’s ballroom went down the set finer than him. It was an unfair comparison, of course, but Darcy felt it nonetheless as he led his sister down the dance at the Historical Dance Society’s Regency ball.
He was at the top of one set with Georgiana, and Elizabeth was with one of the dancers lower down in the other set, intently watching what the upper couples were doing so she could follow along when it became her turn.
By the end of the dance, each couple would have interacted with every other couple in the longways set. If he was back in 1811, he would have called it a pleasant private ball, and his sister would have called it better than pleasant, for there were over sixty people and sixteen couples. With that many, they formed two sets each dancing the same dance.
“It is no longer unsuitable for brother and sister to dance at a public ball?” she asked him while they waited their turn. “Should you not ask another lady?”
She was full of questions over every little differing detail between this recreation and a ball she might have danced atlast season. But it seemed to him that she enjoyed it more than he did, that she was simply happy for the opportunity to dance every dance.
“No one here is looking for marriage partners,” he answered, looking over the room. “Groups like this promote education in and appreciation of the performance, costume, and music of dances. Besides, ladies can ask men now. If there was a lady sitting down who wanted to dance, she could approach me.”
His sister gaped, and he added, “Perhaps you ought to try that sort of assertiveness when you return home.”
She turned pink, but at least she did not argue with him, and he just enjoyed dancing with his little sister. The last time he had done so was fifteen years ago, and after the equinox he would never have the chance again.
If those thoughts were near his sister’s mind, she did not show it. Georgiana grinned the entire time they danced. Did she, for this short time, working their way down and figuring back up, forget she was in 2026? In a way, although the dancers wore smart watches and not all of them had gloves, they danced how people had always danced. Some timidly, some brazenly, some elegantly, some awkwardly, some keeping the figure of the dance and others helplessly lost.
“Will you dance again?” he asked his sister when they finished. “We can easily find you a partner, although it will probably be a lady.” Just like in the past, these events always had fewer men than women.
She shook her head, breathless, and with her hand at her side. “I am out of practice!”
Darcy led her to the chairs and was interrupted by the Historical Dance Society’s chairperson.
“You two are marvellous,” she cried, her smile beaming. “I’m so pleased you decided to join us. Mr Darcy, would you like to call the next dance?”
He turned from her to exchange a look with Georgiana, who gave a bewildered smile while he widened his eyes expressively. The highest-ranking lady would have called the first dance, then the second-highest-ranking, and so on as ladies moved down. Or perhaps the chairperson meant what they did nowadays and stand at the top and call out what each figure would be to instruct the novices.
Darcy kept from shrugging his shoulders. They did their best, but these events were never quite like they once were. “I am afraid I owe the next dance to another lady.” He bowed, earning himself a charmed giggle. As he left, half a dozen ladies swarmed Georgiana to ask about her gown. At least that was a subject she would not struggle with.
Sandra was dressed prettily in a little dress not unlike a gown his sister wore in her girlhood days. It was far too late for her to be awake, but she loved these events. Pemberley and its history were in her blood as much as they were in his. She skipped back and forth in front of the band, but her eyes drooped.
