“Then we can play it again for them later.” Elizabeth leaned down and whispered in Georgian’s ear.  “If I do not have something to keep me occupied now, I am certain I will say something I will doubtlessly regret.” What has Elizabeth so distressed?

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Part 3

 As the only unmarried woman of the party, Georgiana lingered appropriately behind the others on the way to the drawing room. How fortunate she was to have a few moments of relative solitude before having to face their company again. They turned a corner and disappeared, though their voices hung on in the corridor behind them. Georgiana leaned against the wall, shoulders sagging, a heavy sigh escaping before she could control it.

Ladies were not supposed to sigh. But such a woman Mrs. Dowding was—who could blame her? And to be a vicar’s wife as well? Pity the parish that would have her tending to them. Despite the low-level ill feelings Elizabeth still struggled with over Mrs. Collins, at least that vicar’s wife was caring and concerned for not just their patroness, but for the parish as well. She was attentive to the sick, a supportive ear to the troubled, and often a font of wisdom for those uncertain. Georgiana rolled her eyes and laughed softly at the expression Elizabeth would make at hearing such words. All right, that might be a bit dramatic, but Mrs. Collins was certainly a far sight better than Mrs. Dowding would ever be.

And now she would be required to face Esther Dowding in the drawing room and probably be asked to play for her entertainment. Little did any of them know that she had done that in Ramsgate, at the behest of Mrs. Younge, only to be informed that she was inadequate to the task. It did not matter that Esther could not play herself, her ear was so good, you see, that like Aunt Catherine, she was eminently qualified to knowledgeably critique the performance of others. All the while remaining safe from experiencing the same herself—or so it seemed.

No it was not a gracious thought, but not all truths were gracious. Even Elizabeth would agree with that. But she would not agree that it was appropriate for a lady to be late in attending her guests. Best get to the drawing room before her delay was noticed.

Elizabeth ushered her guests into a small drawing room which had been arranged to suit her tastes.  The heavy, ornate furniture that Grandmother Darcy had liked (and Mama had not) had been removed to another, less used, part of the house. It had been replaced by items drawn from various rooms which had never shared space before. Mrs. Reynolds had not been so certain of the plan, but lovely, loyal woman that she was, she did as she was bid and found herself pleasantly surprised at the result. The room was light and bright and airy, with leggy mahogany furniture, but somehow, still elegant and inviting with the burgundy carpeting and draperies she brought it. When she thought no one was watching, Mrs. Reynolds would rehearse what she would tell guests touring the house about this room, exactly how she would praise the new mistress and the excellent choice her excellent master had made in her.

Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana with a look that was just shy of a warning that she should not try and excuse herself early tonight. How was it Elizabeth always seemed to know what she was thinking? It was a comfort that she did the same to Fitzwilliam, too.

The ladies sat around a low tea table already set with an array of biscuits and a tea service. The French doors to the balcony were slightly ajar, allowing a fresh breeze to enliven the room while fluttering leaves of music on the nearby pianoforte. A card table occupied the corner opposite the pianoforte leaving the room with a comfortable, cozy sort of feeling. Not so cluttered that it felt full even without occupants, but not so empty that one was reluctant to move from one amusement to another for fear of abandoning her guests.

“This has always been my favorite room at Pemberley.” Lady Dowding lowered herself slowly, carefully onto a wingchair pulled near the tea table.

It was an odd way to arrange furniture, but Elizabeth thought that the broad arms and the steady base of the chair would make it the easiest one to rise from given the Lady’s bad knees.

“It is a lovely room.” Mrs. Dowding perched on a wooden chair beside her mother-on-law. She resembled a bird that could not decide whether to light on one place or another. “Have you changed it much since you became mistress here?”

The question was innocent enough, but there was something about the way she asked it that felt decidedly critical.

Elizabeth pretended not to notice for surely she could not have missed such an implication.

“I do so like what you have done with it. I know Lady Anne would have found it very pleasing.” Lady Dowding cut in with a decided glance at Mrs. Dowding.

 “I just moved a few things from here to there. In some ways it is far more satisfying than waiting for new things to be ordered. One may see the fruits of her labor almost immediately, and if one does not like the result, there is no loss in returning it to the way it was.” Though her tone was even and polite, the creases beside Elizabeth’s eyes suggested the exertion of a great deal of self-control.

The answer did not seem to please Mrs. Dowding. Was there anything that did?

“I am sure you are looking forward to making the Leighton Green parsonage your own. I understand the patron there has been very generous with the house. My friend Mrs. Collins has enjoyed the attentions of their patroness who made extensive improvements to the parsonage on the occasion of their marriage. ” Elizabeth looked at Lady Dowding, not Mrs. Dowding as she spoke.

“You came from Meryton, I understand.” Mrs. Dowding uttered the name of the town like an epithet. “I imagine your friend’s tastes suit coming from a quaint country town. She is fortunate in being so easy to please.”

To her credit, Elizabeth blinked, and only blinked, at the remark. Georgina bit the inside of her cheek hard.

Lady Dowding winced, probably not because of her knees. “Esther grew up in London, you see.”

“I fear I have required a rather more modern sensibility that I doubt will be matched by a country parsonage.” Mrs. Dowding tossed her head just a mite and turned up her sharp nose.

Well perhaps she should have considered that when marrying a man who would be a country vicar! Georgian pressed her lips hard. Though Elizabeth was probably thinking the same thing, the comment would probably not be well regarded if Georgiana spoke it aloud.

“Now if our kind brother might see it clear to offer us something to help us in that regard, we might find ourselves able to more comfortably fit our new home.” Mrs. Dowding looked directly at her mother-in-law who blushed uncomfortably. “When it is clear he could so easily have been the younger son himself, it is only the proper thing to do.”

Was she implying that Mr. Dowding might have allowed his brother to have been born first?

“I believe Pierce and Gregory have discussed the matter …” Lady Dowding turned beseeching eyes toward Elizabeth.

Georgiana jumped to her feet. “Would you mind if I played? I would so like to warm up my fingers before the gentlemen arrive and I face a much more demanding audience.” She did not wait for a response, but rushed to the pianoforte. Gracious, had she really said that?

The piano seat was situated in such a way that she could largely turn her back on the other ladies. Not that she wanted to abandon Elizabeth, but her self-control was flagging and listening any more to Harpy Dowding would certainly sap the last of her strength. Not that feeling Mrs. Dowding’s eyes burning into the back of her head was much better, but it was a little easier to ignore.

Oh, the audacity of the woman, suggesting that Mr. Pierce owed them anything! Yes, the plight of a younger brother was indeed difficult, there was no arguing that point, and surely that must be made even worse when one was a twin and the difference in birth was mere minutes. But that was the hand of Providence at work and who was Mrs. Dowding to declare that it was wrong? Whether one understood or not, one was born into the place one should be and it was one’s duty to make what one could of it.

She riffled through the sheet music. Surely something would jump out as suitable.

Behind her, Elizabeth’s voice rose in pitch. That was not a good sign. Her voice became higher when she was annoyed—rather like her mother’s Cousin Richard had said. Elizabeth was well into soprano range now—for a lady that sang a lovely deep alto that was saying something.

Georgiana laid her hands on the keyboard and closed her eyes. Her fingers formed the first chord without direction, her mood taking control. A deep sonorous sonata emerged, one she would not have consciously chosen, but did an excellent job of capturing her mood. Perhaps if she played a mite more loudly than usual, she could deliver Elizabeth from the conversation.

As the piece ended, she felt more than saw someone approaching behind her. A quick glance to the floor revealed Elizabeth’s slippers. Thank heavens!  There was no way she could have continued to play with Mrs. Dowding looking over her shoulder.

“Would you play our duet next?” Elizabeth asked, a particular smile on her face, the one that said it would be a mistake to assume she was happy.

“Our duet? Already? Ah … would it not be better to save it for when the gentlemen arrive?” Not that she wanted a larger audience, far from it but if there were more in the room, perhaps Mrs. Dowding would pay less attention to the performance and have less to criticize.

Elizabeth’s smile grew larger. That was not a good sign. “Then we can play it again for them later.” She leaned down and whispered in Georgian’s ear.  “If I do not have something to keep me occupied now, I am certain I will say something I will doubtlessly regret.”

Georgiana swallowed hard and fumbled for the music. She could hardly fault Elizabeth’s reasons. Though she had committed it to memory, it would be just her luck to fudge a difficult passage in front of someone who would never forget her mistakes.

Find earlier parts of this story HERE

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