CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A CAGED BIRD SINGS
Georgiana
Three days without Elizabeth,and Georgiana played the country jig every morning.
She played it because Fitzwilliam had not forbidden it, and because Caroline’s dismay showed her that the world was still functioning as it ought. She played it because the jig was Elizabeth’s, and Elizabeth’s things were the only warm things left at Netherfield now that November had arrived and taken the color out of the garden and the wit out of the breakfast room.
This morning would be duller than ever. Debate raged between leaving Netherfield Park or staying for the Yuletide. Miss Bingley and the Hursts wished to return to London, but Mr. Bingley, who’d been calling on Longbourn daily, refused. Fitzwilliam seemed to be a ghost these days, not venturing opinions but backing up Mr. Bingley when asked.
No one asked her. They all treated her like she was still in the schoolroom. Seventeen and invisible. And so, she played the jaunty country air and the jigs Elizabeth had taught her. She no longercared for Miss Bingley’s improvement programmes and the nebulous accomplishments that marked a desirable young gentlewoman approved by theton. What did any of it matter in the absence of laughter, fun, and warmth?
She was midway through the jig’s second repetition when Caroline appeared at the music room door and leaned against the pianoforte. “Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long are taking tea with us this afternoon, dear Georgiana. A small gathering, nothing formal, simply the ladies discussing the assembly. Mrs. Hurst will prepare the drawing room. We shall want your company, naturally.”
Naturally.Caroline did not give her a choice, did she? Simply expected compliance. Elizabeth always presented options and trusted Georgiana’s judgment, and her suggestions were fun.
“Of course,” Georgiana replied when she realized Caroline expected an answer.
“You will wish to dress in that lavender muslin,” Caroline said. “It would show off your complexion wonderfully. Remember, Lady Lucas is the wife of a knight and mother of John Lucas, their eldest son.”
Georgiana raised her eyebrow and stared at Miss Bingley as if she’d grown two heads. The Lucases had always been portrayed as beneath the Bingleys. Sir William Lucas’s knighthood was not hereditary, and the family had parlayed that title into minor celebrity, but their roots were in trade, and their holdings were modest.
Without Elizabeth’s wit to parry Caroline’s edicts, Georgiana requested her lady’s maid to dress her in the grey muslin.
Lady Lucas arrived at half three with Mrs Long. Caroline was the effusive hostess, which was quite unlike her usual pinched demeanor. She complimented Mrs. Long on her turban and Lady Lucas on her fine children: Charlotte’s composure, John’s gallantry, and Maria’sbudding beauty.
Georgiana was hard-pressed to keep her eyes from rolling. She had been told that particular expression conveyed disrespect and was forbidden in front of Aunt Catherine and Cousin Anne.
The tea was Darjeeling, which Georgiana disliked and Caroline knew she disliked, served in the Chinese porcelain that Caroline had selected because it matched the curtains and not because anyone in the room preferred drinking from cups so thin you could see the color of the tea through the wall of the vessel.
“What exquisite china, Miss Bingley.” Lady Lucas held the cup up to the light. “One rarely sees such delicacy outside of London.”
“A trifle from the Orient,” Caroline said, with the dismissive warmth of a woman who wanted the provenance noted and the cost imagined. “Louisa and I cannot abide heavy crockery. It deadens the palate.”
Mrs. Long nodded as though she had been suffering from deadened palates her entire life and had only now been given the word for it. Georgiana sipped and tasted nothing but leaves steeped too long, and thought of the earthenware mugs at Longbourn, where the tea was strong and sweet, and Mrs. Bennet poured it without consulting anyone’s palate because the point of tea at Longbourn was warmth, not theatre.
She set the cup down and folded her hands in her lap. Somehow, that gesture drew the notice of Lady Lucas.
“Such a triumph at the assembly,” Lady Lucas declared, beaming at Georgiana across her teacup. “My husband could not stop talking about it. Miss Darcy, you were the picture of elegance. Your composure was beyond your years.”
“You are very kind, Lady Lucas.”
“Simply truthful. And leading the first set with Mr. Bingley, so gracious of him, and so wise of your brother to arrange it. A young lady’s first appearance at a public assembly is a great undertaking. One needs a reliable partner.”
“Mr. Bingley was everything that is amiable,” Georgiana said,because it was the safe thing to say, vague and conveying no sensibility.
“Lady Lucas, your son, Mr. John Lucas, was a very attentive partner to Miss Darcy,” Caroline mentioned smoothly. “He danced with her twice, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Once,” Georgiana corrected.
“Was it only once? I was certain it was twice. He is a handsome young man, Lady Lucas. Tall, well-mannered. How old is he now?”
Lady Lucas brightened with the unmistakable glow of a mother whose son had been singled out for attention by a woman connected to ten thousand a year. “One-and-twenty in March. He has just returned from his studies. He reads law, you know, though Sir William hopes he will take up the estate management in time.”
“One-and-twenty. A fine age. And well-read, you say.” Caroline turned to Georgiana with the solicitous expression she used when she wished to appear genuine. “Did you enjoy your dance with Mr. Lucas? He seemed a very pleasant young man.”
“He was civil.”
