Though not yet in danger of being late, they did not have enough time to linger, and in the end, they were shown to the box Bingley had taken only a quarter of an hour before the curtain was to rise.
The arrangements were predictable. Mr Hurst at once took himself off to the farthest corner of the box, where he might most easily sleep through the performance without disturbance; his wife took her place beside him with a rather frozen expression. Bingley kindly urged Georgiana to the best seat in the front and centre of the box, with Mrs Annesley beside her. He obviously intended to seat his sister next in the line, but Miss Bingley forestalled him.
“No, no, Charles.Youmust sit there, with Mr Darcy on her other side. Then I shall sit on the other side of Mr Darcy. Surely our guests must have the best seats, do not you think?”
Though disliking her transparent manoeuvring, Darcy thought better of protesting. He thought it best that he should be seated next to Georgiana, to help her in the event of another attack of shyness. The rest of it was well enough. Likely he would have to suffer Miss Bingley talking through the performance, and attempting to flirt as well, but if Georgiana enjoyed the show, he would count her enjoyment more than worth his pains.
“Is it not exciting, Miss Darcy?” Miss Bingleymurmured, touching his shoulder delicately as she leaned towards Georgiana. Darcy felt a pang of guilt, thinking that he had judged her too harshly, until she went on to say, “Look at all of society spread out before us! There is Lady Dalrymple, who has a better house than half of London and dresses more finely than any woman I know, though sheisgrown so old, and there is Captain Hartley, who is being talked of for a title. How much sooner one tires of anything than the theatre!”
To Darcy’s quiet satisfaction, Georgiana seemed to take this exactly as he would have wished: with sober judgement, private amusement, and a civil answer. “It was so kind of you and your brother to invite us, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana murmured, tactfully not mentioning what she thought of suggesting that one ought to ignore the performers and watch the audience. “I am most excited. This is only the second time I have been to the theatre.”
“You shall like it prodigiously, I am sure,” Miss Bingley assured her. “When we walk about in the intermission, everyone shall see that it is Spanish lace on your gown, and then of course your jewels will be the envy of every young lady we meet!”
Georgiana shook her head modestly. “Miss Bingley, I confess I am not equal to talking to many people. And I should dread having everyone looking at me.”
“Remember, Miss Bingley, that my sister is notyet out,” Darcy put in. “You must excuse us. It would be best not to introduce Georgiana too widely, to avoid confusing the point.”
“Of course,” Miss Bingley said, a little chastened.
“Do not worry for me, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana reassured her eagerly. “The play is the real thing, do not you think? I shall be very well satisfied to see, without being seen.”
“Ah — I am glad of it,” Miss Bingley replied.
A wave of murmurs then swept through the theatre, followed by an expectant hush. The curtain was opening, and the audience looked eagerly at the stage.
Darcy had seenThe Rivalsbefore, but Sheridan, at least when performed well, was and remained a delight. This revival was good, with the actors skilful in their parts, the romance genuinely affecting, and the comedy not too broad. Then there was the added joy of watching Georgiana, who was almost in tears of laughter at Mrs Malaprop’s comic speeches and the cleverness of Captain Jack Absolute.
Watching her, Darcy was glad several times over. Glad he had accepted Bingley’s invitation, and glad that Georgiana had found the courage to come after all. Glad that Georgiana, who for months after Ramsgate had laboured under a burden of sadnessand shame, was at last recovering her spirits and finding her joy.
Glad, simply and finally, that Georgiana was his sister, and that he had the privilege of raising her.
By the time the intermission came, Georgiana had lost much of her shyness in sheer enjoyment. Nor did she need to brave many introductions, for Miss Bingley seemed to prefer staying close to Darcy to seeking out others of her acquaintance.
All the same, Darcy was weary of the constant parrying and manoeuvring a conversation with Miss Bingley required by the time they returned to the box. It was Bingley who, in all innocence, put the spark to the tinder.
“I say, what a pleasant evening this is!” Bingley exclaimed. “I only wish we might have had a larger party, for there is certainly room in the box. If the Miss Bennets happened to be in town, for example, it would have been capital to invite them along.”
“Oh, but a large party is so much less elegant, do not you think, Louisa?” Miss Bingley quickly put to her sister with an edged smile.
“Certainly, Caroline. I think we do very well just as we are.”
“The Miss Bennets?” Georgiana inquired innocently. “Is that the Miss Elizabeth Bennet whom youwrote of, Fitz?”
“You wrote of Eliza Bennet?” Miss Bingley echoed weakly. Though the shock looked to have been severe, she recovered quickly. “Ah, of course. You would naturally have written of Miss Eliza’s odd behaviour, walking across the muddy countryside. And then to constantly debate with you, Mr Darcy, as though her opinions were anything to yours!”
Georgiana tilted her head curiously to the side. “You meant me to take Miss Elizabeth as a cautionary example, brother? That is not quite what I understood.”
“She is dreadfully pert,” Miss Bingley declared before Darcy could say anything. “I believe a country reputation as a pretty girl and a wit quite went to her head. Certainly not anyone you would wish Miss Darcy to emulate. Do you not think, Mr Darcy?”
An image of Elizabeth Bennet came to Darcy then — smiling at him with her sparkling dark eyes so full of intelligence, and that hint of challenge in her expression. Utterly free of pretense, agreeing or disagreeing according to what she truly thought, not what might recommend her to an eligible man. Listening to him soberly and honourably, even when he presented information that she must have found both shocking and unpleasant.
Elizabeth Bennet was lovely in both spirit and form.
Darcy was too much angry to be cautious. “I am afraid I must disagree with you,” he said coolly. “I have rarely known a woman of better judgement or more engaging manners than Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Nor one who wore a deserved reputation for beauty so lightly. I should consider her a most desirable friend for my sister.”
His forceful confession stunned the entire party into speechlessness, except for Mr Hurst, who had already fallen back asleep and let out a loud snore into the silence. Bingley looked at him in astonishment and Mrs Hurst in horror, while Caroline Bingley was gaping like a fish. Darcy felt the words resonate all through him, something he had not entirely known before he had said it, and which he could not have disowned at any cost.
At that very moment, the curtains opened again, and there was no opportunity to say anything more. Darcy could not regret it.
