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"And what contribution will you make?"

"Encouragement from a suitable distance."

"Then your kindness will be of enormous value."

Richard stood beside the instrument and listened while she played a few hesitant bars. He did not ask questions or attempt a joke when she stopped. Instead he said, "You have been happier this season than when you first came to us."

"I am happy here," she answered.

"Good. I should hate to discover that Saye and I had devoted years to being tolerable brothers without producing a satisfactory result."

Elizabeth turned upon the stool. "You are not tolerable at all, Richard. You are quite impossible."

"Then I have exceeded expectations."

She laughed and returned to the melody. Outside, the city was alive with carriages and distant voices. Within the room, the few remembered notes found their place beneath her fingers, a little gift from a mother whose past remained beyond reach.

CHAPTER 13

A Quiet Kind of Courage

Georgiana Darcy arrived at Matlock House in May with two trunks, a portfolio of music, and the firm conviction that she would be a disappointment to everyone who cared for her.

The conviction was not expressed aloud. Georgiana had learned to hide most distress behind courtesy, and she thanked her aunt for the invitation, her uncle for receiving her, and each servant for the smallest assistance. But Elizabeth, who remembered how fear could make a person apologize for occupying a chair, recognized the strain in her friend's manner.

She waited until they were alone in the morning room before asking whether Georgiana would like to walk in the garden.

"I should be pleased to," Georgiana said.

"Good. I wish to escape Richard. He has discovered an old game of forfeits and intends to inflict it upon the entire household."

"He means it kindly."

"Of course he does. That has never prevented a catastrophe."

Georgiana smiled faintly and accompanied her outside. The gravel paths were dry after a night of rain, and the scent of damp roses drifted from a sheltered bed near the wall. They spoke first of music and books, and then of Pemberley. Georgiana knew every turning of its paths but struggled to describe what she missed about it without seeming childish.

"I think," Elizabeth said, "that a place becomes part of one's memory long before one is old enough to understand why. There is a tree at Longbourn I always look for when we visit. I could not tell you what makes it superior to any other tree, except that I have climbed it more often."

"You climbed trees?" Georgiana asked.

"Frequently. My aunt considered it proof that I would never be suitable for a respectable drawing room."

"Yet you have been presented to the Queen."

"A triumph over both gravity and expectation."

Georgiana laughed more freely. Then the laughter faded, and she looked down at her gloves.

"Fitzwilliam says I need not attend any gathering I dislike," she said. "I know he means to be kind. But if I refuse everything, he will think me weak."

"I should be surprised if your brother measured courage by the number of parties a young lady attends."

"He would not. He never says that."

Elizabeth waited. She knew Georgiana had endured something at Ramsgate the previous summer. The particulars were not hers to demand, and Lady Matlock had cautioned the household against pressing the girl with questions. Elizabeth had been told enough to understand that Georgiana's confidence had suffered and that Darcy blamed himself.

"There are days," Georgiana said at last, "when I wish I could be someone else. Someone who always knows what to say."