Page 46 of Triumph at Pemberley

“That was because I knew you were lying to save your brother! Such a tender-hearted little thing you always were.” Nelly patted her knee.

But was it true, that she had lied? She did not remember that part. Perhaps she had indeed thrown the book out the window. “Were there other times I lied?”

Nelly leaned back her head and chuckled. “All I need to say is fish! Fish! Fish!”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, you always hated fish. You said it felt slimy in your mouth, and the little bones scared you. After your lady mother’s disappearance, you were so distraught that we let your old dog Rex stay in the nursery because he could always calm you down. And what do you know – whenever you were given fish for dinner after that, you ate it without a complaint, bones and all, and even licked the plate clean! I would say, ‘Did you give that dog your dinner?’ and you would go all wide-eyed and assure me that you had eaten every single bite.”

That she did remember. She had done it, told a lie! And nothing terrible had happened to her. She had not choked or fallen down dead. She licked her lips and tried to shape the words with her mouth. “Of course I ate it all!” Then she laughed, to show she did not mean it.

Nothing happened. No stillness in the air, no magic creeping under her skin. She could do this! She reached over and hugged Mrs. Reynolds’ shoulders. “Thank you, thank you! This is just what I needed.”

The old housekeeper smiled in satisfaction.

Chapter 19

In the tower room, there was no warning, no sound of feet on the stairs, no voices or changes in the light near the door. Yet suddenly, from one moment to the next, a figure stepped into the chamber. Georgiana, dressed in a riding habit, her expression determined and her head held high.

A mixture of shame and relief washed through Elizabeth, guilt that now she would be able to go home to Jenny and the painful knowledge of the price her sister-in-law would pay. It was not her fault Georgiana was in this position, but it certainly was not Georgiana's, either.

Darcy jumped to his feet, his mouth working. Finally he said, “Georgiana,” in an agonized voice.

Georgiana made an impulsive move in his direction but then stiffened and stepped back. “That is not my true name, as you know well, but still I have come here as you requested.” Her voice was icy, a tone Elizabeth had never heard from her before, yet still oddly familiar.

Darcy flinched. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

“Your sorrow changes nothing.” The girl turned away from them and spoke to what looked like empty air. “Tell your master I am here.”

Sparrow's voice creaked, “As you command, great lady.”

Suddenly Elizabeth knew why Georgiana's voice sounded so familiar. It held the same distant indifference as Lady Anne's. Combined with the astonishing physical resemblance between the two, the effect was uncanny and disturbing.

It must be much worse for Darcy. He looked agonized as his sister turned away. Elizabeth longed to comfort him, but it might only make matters worse.

Especially as she did not understand what was wrong with him. Since his arrival, several times he had stopped mid-stream when he was saying something – and seemed completely unaware he had done it. And he appeared to believe he had kept Georgiana prisoner. It made sense as a story to tell, but Darcy had always been a poor liar. And the Wicked King had believed it when he stole into Darcy’s mind.

“I have sent the message,” said Sparrow's disembodied voice. “Is there anything the great lady would wish for while she waits?”

Georgiana's gaze swept the room, skipping directly over Elizabeth and Darcy. “A chair and something to warm the room. And music,” she said.

“Great lady, it shall be done.” So it was not only the renegade lesser fae of Pemberley who viewed Georgiana as high-ranking; clearly even the Wicked King's servants thought so. What did it mean?

Georgiana held her aristocratic posture for a minute before relaxing into something more like her usual self. Sparrow must have left the tower to fulfill her orders. She gave Darcy a helpless look, but put her finger to her lips to urge silence. Did she suspect someone would hear them, even with no fae present?

Elizabeth gave her a small nod to show she had understood. Then she said, “Shall I return to the subject of The Mysteries of Udolpho then? I would not wish to leave you hanging, with poor Isabella shipwrecked!” It was how she and Darcy had attempted to pass the time, these two long days with nothing to punctuate them but the occasional meal of whatever Sparrow found for them and the little conversation Elizabeth could manage without touching on some topic better kept secret from the Wicked King. Which left out almost everything, so mostly they talked about books they had read - not her magic Arabic ones, of course, but tales from novels. It would fill this strange silence, too.

“I would like to hear what happens next,” Darcy said woodenly.

Elizabeth began to relate the story, though she could not bring herself to care about it, nor that Darcy was clearly not listening. They were putting on a show for whomever might be eavesdropping, nothing more.

Only a few sentences in, she was interrupted by Sparrow, who popped into sight weighed down by an ornately carved chair. The little fae set it before Georgiana with a flourish, then vanished and reappeared again. This time Sparrow staggered under a large stone. Apparently it was a heat source, since as soon as the fae set it down, it began to emit a red glow of welcome warmth.

Elizabeth longed to go closer to it, to hold her cold hands out to it. She had not been warm since arriving here.

Sparrow bowed deeply. “Great lady, the musicians are coming soon. I beg you to forgive the delay, as I am forbidden from leaving this place for long.”

Georgiana gave no notice to Sparrow's words or service. Had she been instructed by her fae at Pemberley to behave this way, or had she always known this was her role in Faerie? Elizabeth should have asked the girl more questions about her fae ties while she still had the chance.