Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions Chapter 2

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What could possible go wrong with guests arriving for a house party? Take a peek at chapter 2 and see.

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Chapter 2

A remarkable three weeks passed. Darcy peeked into the music room. Light, lilting strains poured through the open door. His mother had designed the room with balance and harmony in mind, but recent years rarely saw much peace here, filled instead with Georgiana’s unpredictable moods and tempers. The last few weeks had changed that. Now the pale-yellow walls, populated with landscapes and floral nature studies, and the teal-upholstered furnishings radiated the peace of a summer’s day. Either the harp in the right-hand corner near the windows or the pianoforte on the left were nearly in constant use, offering soothing melodies to whomever walked past.

This morning, Georgiana sat at the pianoforte, eyes closed, shoulders swaying in time with the music, a faint smile playing at her lips. Was that a new piece? No wait, Miss Mary Bennet had played that refrain, though not nearly so pleasingly, a week before when the Bennets visited for supper and cards. How did Georgiana manage to play so well with no music and only hearing the melody once? If only she could learn other things so easily.

Clearly, she was not stupid. But willful? Perhaps.

Why did she simply not do what she was asked, when she was asked, in the way she was asked?

He clenched one fist behind his back. There was a way that things should be done—was that really so hard to accept? Fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Miss Elizabeth insisted methods that worked constituted the “right way” to do something. It was an annoying notion, but perhaps it applied now. The prickly sensation eased a bit.

As long as Georgiana continued on her path to improvement, he would hold his peace. This boded very well for the house party.

He turned away and continued down the corridor. Their guests were to arrive today, assuming their travels proceeded as planned. Pray Miss Elizabeth was right and the experience inspired Georgiana toward further improvement.

The butler approached. “Sir, you requested to be notified when the carriages were seen on the lane.”

“Very good. Tell Mrs. Reynolds to lay refreshments in the blue parlor rather than the drawing room.”

The butler bowed and hurried off. Darcy strode to the large window at the end of the corridor. Several carriages trundled up the road. The leading one bore the Fitzwilliam family crest. Perhaps he would have a few moments to familiarize Richard with the news of Georgiana. He would be pleased to hear of her progress.

 A few minutes later, the butler announced, “Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh.”

Darcy froze where he stood, stomach threatening to drop into his shoes. The de Bourgh name did that. Pray let not Aunt Catherine have decided to accompany Anne. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his temples. It was just the sort of thing Aunt Catherine was apt to do, especially when the house party offered a most tempting opportunity to “manage family business.”

A brisk walk to the blue parlor sloughed away a bit of the tension, but not enough.

His mother had decorated this parlor in defiance of her sister’s wishes and tastes. According to Aunt Catherine, it was too small and too bright. Sky blue was a dreadfully blue sort of color for a room—honestly what logic offered such a critique? The furniture was too small and friendly, lacking the grandeur such a room should have. On and on she would go at how insufficient, informal, and inappropriate the room was. On that recommendation alone, Darcy would never see it altered. And it was good reason to use it to receive his guests now.

Richard ushered Anne into the parlor, both a little dusty, but seemingly in good spirits. Anne wore the vaguely disdainful expression she usually wore, but it appeared more habitual than meaningful. After all, Pemberley offered exactly the type of accommodations and appointments to which she was accustomed. 

Richard still had shadows around his eyes— an unchanging feature ever since his return from France. Even his retirement from the army had not altered them. Despite his ready, if somewhat forced smile, they remained.

“Are you going to greet us?” Anne’s voice was pleasant—for the moment—with only the barest edge of ire.

Darcy bowed toward her. “Of course, you are welcome, Anne. I was just wondering what you might need for your comfort after your long journey.”

“You kill me with your solicitude, cousin. Tell me, how do you plan for us to make merry whilst we are here?” Anne tossed her head and minced her way to an open armchair. So, she was trying on her mother’s persona today. Hopefully the whim would pass soon.

Though her health had improved, she was still unattractive: thin and pale. Prominent collarbones demonstrated her frailty while the blue veins that stood out on her thin skin harkened back to the sickroom. One was afraid to cough in her direction, lest she take ill.

Anne ran her hand along the edge of a chair and sat down. “These are very dated—utterly out of fashion now. At the very least, you ought to have them recovered. What will your other guests say?”

Richard dropped heavily onto the settee and slumped like a feed sack against a barn wall. “That they are grateful for the invitation and find everything entirely to their liking. To do otherwise would be entirely rude.”

“Yes, yes, but what would they be thinking. Surely you must be concerned with their good opinion.” Anne’s eyes narrowed—no doubt she was formulating a way to correct Richard for his posture.

“If their good opinion is lost because of my furnishings, then it was not worth having in the first place.” Darcy muttered through gritted teeth.

“That only shows how little you understand of people’s opinions and whose is worth the earning. I grant you the current party—that Bingley fellow and his sister, if I recall correctly—may not be the most fashionable of company. Their judgements may be of little consequence. But one never knows when someone might come into a place whose impressions do matter. If I were mistress here—”

Darcy jumped and all but ran toward the sideboard, laden with covered dishes. “Do you care for refreshments? I imagine you must be ready for proper food after having taken your meals at inns the last three days.”

“Yes, that is a lovely idea.” Anne excused herself to the side board.

Darcy edged to Richard’s side and whispered, “Is Aunt Catherine following?”

Richard made that face he had used since childhood to express extreme disdain. It had been uproariously funny at age ten, but not since. “No, but not because she did not suggest it would be a good idea. I fear I had to argue that if Anne spent time alone in your company, it might make you more sympathetic in taking Anne—”

“Not that again! How could you have placed those expectations on me?”

 “It slipped out in a moment of weakness, after a third glass of port. I was desperate. It seemed less bad than having our aunt join us.”

Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps it is a very good thing for England you are no longer in the service of the King.”

“It is a very good thing for me.” A savage look filled his eyes, but fled almost as quickly as it came. “Besides, with your other guests, there will be sufficient distraction for Anne to forget about her mission of marriage.”

Anne forget her driving lifelong motivation? “I think that hardly likely.”

“No coconut macaroons, Darcy? I should have though you would have remembered those were my favorite.” Anne flounced back to her seat, a little pout on her lips.

Richard cleared his throat—a warning sound Anne would probably ignore.

“I shall have Mrs. Reynolds place an order with the confectioner.”

“Our French chef prepares them himself.” Anne’s eyebrows rose and she peered down her prominent Fitzwilliam nose.

“My English cook does not.” Darcy ground his teeth lest he say anything to further this conversation.

“And that is why you must bring on a French chef. You know, I could help you manage all these details …”

“Excuse me. I will speak to Mrs. Reynolds.” He walked out in slow measured steps. Running was undignified. 

Thankfully, once promised her macaroons, Anne was easily persuaded to retire to her rooms and rest from her travels. Through not as delicate as she once was, she still had little stamina. Just as well—Darcy preferred to greet his other guests without her insinuating herself at his side. No one would benefit from the misguided idea that she might be hostess at Pemberley.

Richard drained the last of his beer and set his glass aside. “Do not allow her to get under your skin. Anne has had no better example to learn from than her mother. Now that her health has improved, you will see. She will develop a whole new set of irritating habits from the ladies of the ton. On the bright side, her dowry will attract enough attention that you will no longer be her primary aim.”

“I fear Georgiana will learn from her.”

“When she is not trying to win your attentions—and Pemberley as her mother demands—she really is not a bad sort.”

“Have you considered trying to keep Rosings in the Fitzwilliam family?”

Richard chuckled. “I said she is not a bad sort, not that she is of stern enough stuff to tolerate a crusty old soldier like me.”

The butler entered. “Sir Alexander Garland and Miss Garland.”

Richard rose and bowed. “How good to see you Garland, Miss Garland. May I introduce my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Darcy bowed. Neither of his two newest guests bore any resemblance to his expectations.

Garland was by far the largest man he had ever seen—not the tallest, but the most heavily muscled. Impeccably proportioned, he resembled nothing so much as a larger-than-life marble statue with all aspects chiseled and carved to perfection.  Jealousy might be a reasonable response, except that Garland provided a worthy target for Anne’s attentions, making him exactly the sort of man Darcy most wanted at Pemberley now.

Valkyrie. That was the only word to describe the woman beside Garland. Darcy swallowed hard, sweat prickling his upper lip. Her face—quite handsome—was the feminine form of her brother’s. She was easily as tall as Darcy himself. Her expression was impossible to read. Neither pleasure nor censure read in her brilliant, glittering  icy blue eyes. 

“It was very good of you to invite us on the strength of Fitzwilliam’s suggestion alone.” Garland glanced at Richard. “Though I am left wondering what precisely he told you, and how Blanche and I are to live up to it.”

Miss Garland lifted an arched eyebrow ever so slightly. A painter ought to capture that expression on canvas.

“Be at ease, I have said nothing that was not entirely true.” Richard gestured for them to sit.

“Please help yourself to some refreshments before you make yourselves comfortable.” Darcy cast a sideways glare. This was not Richard’s home, after all.

“Thank you, I am a mite peckish.” Garland approached the sideboard, his sister close behind.

Her every movement was elegant, graceful, like a dancer’s and as effortless as the morning breeze.

“Darce, you are staring.” Richard elbowed him.

Darcy shook his head and blinked.

“Watch yourself—she hates being stared at.”

Darcy cleared his throat and looked away. Heat crept along his jaw. Perhaps a house party was not as good an idea as he had originally thought.

The Garlands arranged themselves—she on the chaise longue, he in the largest chair in the room.

“Had you a pleasant journey?” Darcy forced himself not to notice the utterly improper but graceful way Miss Garland draped herself on the sinuously curved seat.

“It was as pleasant as one might hope.” Garland shrugged and popped a cucumber sandwich in his mouth.

“Is traveling not just a series of inconveniences that string together two distant locations?” Miss Garland said, her voice sensuous as silk.

“I take it you do not like to travel?” Darcy glanced toward her, taking care not to stare. That should not be so difficult.

“I enjoy being in new places and experiencing all a lovely locale has to offer.” The corner of her lips turned up in an expression that might have been suggestive on a woman less refined. “It is the act of getting there and back again which often proves disagreeable.”

“Which is why we have a new well-sprung traveling coach.” Garland raised his glass toward her. “I enjoy the entire adventure, beginning to end.”

“And because you do not like traveling alone. Really Alexander, you must get yourself a suitable wife soon so you can stop dragging me about from place to place.” The corner of her lips lifted and dimpled her perfect cheek.

Darcy and Richard traded glances.

“You know someone?” Miss Garland seemed very interested.

“Our cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh. She is resting from her own journey at the moment but you will meet her at dinner.” Richard winked at Garland.

“How very promising. You must take pains to meet her, Alexander. I give you leave to like her very much, provided she does not object to traveling.”

“I shall inquire after her preferences at the earliest opportunity.” He bowed from his shoulders.

The butler entered. “Mr. and Miss Bingley, sir.”

Darcy rose. “I am pleased you have joined us. Sir Alexander, Miss Garland, Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I present Mr. and Miss Bingley.”

Bingley bowed, grinning a bit like Darcy’s favorite retriever. “So pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Indeed,” Miss Bingley made a very proper curtsey. If one were to write a handbook on the curtsey, it might well be illustrated by drawings of Miss Bingley.

Everything about her was proper and formal and ordinary. She possessed enough accomplishments for three women, though she never seemed to make any profitable use of them. Whereas Miss Elizabeth could manage to keep an agreeable conversation alive in a room of dissenting opinions, Miss Bingley only repeated phrases from some young woman’s conversation manual with no regard as to who was present.

“Please, take some refreshment, and join us.” Darcy beckoned them in.

“Very thoughtful of you, Darcy—thank you. Those last ten miles of road, I say must be some of the worst we have traversed.” Bingley walked toward the sideboard while looking over his shoulder and talking. He was apt to walk into furniture that way. It had happened more than once.

“You came from Derby?” Sir Alexander leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You know the road then?” Bingley lifted his glass.

“Enough so we traveled a full day extra to avoid it! My sister …”

“She is fortunate to have a brother so considerate.” Miss Bingley’s voice had a sour note as she cast a sidelong glance at Bingley.

“But the means are worth the end are they not?” Bingley said. “Pemberley is as lovely as I remember it.”

“Are you still looking to purchase an estate?” Darcy asked.

“Yes, he is.” Miss Bingley stopped just shy of batting her eyes at Darcy.

“You answer most decidedly.” For one not asked—Miss Garland did not say it, but the words were clearly carried by the tilt of her head.

Miss Bingley started.

“Caroline well knows my desire. I have just not found one entirely suitable, yet.” Bingley layered a slice of cold meat over buttered bread.

“Do not mind my sister, she is peevish when she travels,” Garland said.

“Peevish you say? If my company is so disagreeable, I think it best if I were to rest and collect myself before dinner.” Though she smiled and made all the right gestures, something about her speech felt like the bitter aftertaste of a fruit gone off.

“Yes do. We shall all be better off if you find something with which to soothe your temper. You sound as though you have a headache coming on.” Garland waved his sister off.

“I shall have my housekeeper show you to your room.” Darcy preceded her to the door.

“I think I shall excuse myself as well, if you do not object, Charles.” Miss Bingley turned her back on her brother.

The two ladies met Darcy at the door. Miss Bingley, though generally considered tall and handsome, seemed diminutive and unfinished beside Miss Garland. He called for Mrs. Reynolds and watched their retreat. What would Georgiana think of their company?

***

Later that evening, Darcy paced the length of the blue parlor. The furniture had been rearranged for the comfort of his guests. The large chair that fitted Garland had been moved closer to the couch and chairs. The chaise longue —on Mrs. Reynolds’ advice—had been placed near Darcy’s preferred seat. Yes, Richard would doubtlessly harass him for it, but when Mrs. Reynolds spoke, it was wise to listen.

Anne would still complain the furnishings were dated and the floral carpet was hopelessly out of fashion. The color was drab, according to her—Darcy found it soothing. The gold curtains were too heavy, as were the sideboards and the carved oak tea table that had been his mother’s favorite piece in the room. No matter what Anne believed, she would never be the woman whose taste governed Pemberley.

Or his own dress. He tugged his sleeves more from habit than from need.  It had been a long time since he had taken such care dressing for dinner. The navy blue jacket was new—although not purchased for this event, he was not the sort of man who would do that—and it fitted very well. 

Tonight’s company was far more distinguished than what he usually kept in Derbyshire. But more importantly, he did not wish to be found wanting in the eyes of Anne or Miss Garland. The former because she would not hesitate to make her opinion known before his guests, and the latter … just because he did not.

Georgiana entered, eyes glittering and her cheeks glowing. This was her first time joining such a party for dinner. Her pristine white gown of fine muslin struck just the right balance for a girl who was not yet out, but enjoying company in her own home.

 “Will you wish me to play tonight?” Georgiana glanced at the pianoforte, at him, and back again.

“I believe our guests would find it very entertaining. Perhaps the new piece I heard you practicing?”

“Yes, I think I am ready to perform that one. I have two other new pieces ready as well.”

“Indeed? I look forward to hearing them.”

 “To hearing what?” Richard strode in with large purposeful steps as though master of all he surveyed.

He was a guest at Pemberley and should—somehow—demonstrate he understood and appreciated the hospitality. Proper guests behaved that way. But then, Uncle Matlock had never been as concerned for propriety as Father had. Perhaps no one had ever been as concerned for such things as Father had.

“Georgiana will play for us tonight—new music she has just perfected,” Darcy said.

“Excellent.” Richard rubbed his hands together. “I love a good musical exhibition.”

“Music? Did I hear you say music?” Miss Garland swept in wearing a gown of blue so pale it was almost white. Ethereal. The shimmering fabric carried the glint of fresh cut ice, bringing a chill to the air as she breezed past. “I adore anything musical.”

“Miss Garland, this is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.” Darcy gestured toward Georgiana, and the ladies curtsied.

“Do you play, Miss Garland?” Georgiana’s voice was soft and demure, exactly as it should have been.

Garland burst in, booming, “She plays and sings marvelously well—pianoforte and harp—one of the loveliest voices I have heard.”

Darcy winced. Surely, he could moderate his tone. “May I present—”

“Your sister? So, I heard.” Garland took her hand and bowed over it. “Very charmed, Miss Darcy.”

Georgiana blushed a most becoming color and curtsied—thank heavens she did not giggle. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Alexander.”

“I have long hated the name Alexander, but it sounds something quite distinguished from your lips. Perhaps I shall rethink it now.” He smiled broadly and stepped a little closer to her.

Georgiana giggled.

Darcy winced.

“You say the most absurd things,” Miss Garland rolled her eyes. “Please do excuse him. He is always rather cakey in the presence of a pretty young thing.”

Garland laughed, a deep-bellied rumble that rattled the windows and Darcy’s nerves. How could Garland accept such treatment from his sister?

“You are a fine one, putting on airs, Blanche. You have just proven yourself every bit as improper as I am with your remark.” He winked.

Instead of being cowed by her brother’s remonstrations, she laughed—laughed!—with him. Pray Georgiana did not mimic their behavior.

“I suppose I have been too long in your company, brother, and have begun taking after you.” Miss Garland fluttered her eyelashes three times, just enough to make her point.

“Then by all means, seek other company—is that not what we are here for?”

“I believe I shall.” She tossed her head with an affected huff and left the room.

A chill silence fell. Darcy glanced at Richard who had the good grace to display some alarm.

But Garland rolled his eyes and offered Georgiana his arm. “Why do you not show me about the room.”

Georgiana took his arm and headed toward a glass case of garniture their mother had collected.

“What do you think—” Miss Garland breezed in with Anne and Miss Bingley on her arms. Bingley followed a step behind. “Have I sufficiently obeyed your command? I believe I have located quite suitable alternative company.”

“Did you hear that, Richard, I have been deemed suitable company.” Anne pressed her hand to her chest. She might be smiling but clearly, she was not amused.

“Do not worry, dear,” Richard’s eyebrows flashed up. “Miss Garland will learn the truth soon enough.”

Georgiana snickered from the far side of the room. Darcy glowered. She wilted like a cut flower in the sun.

How could his sister learn how to act in proper society with examples such as these? Miss Bingley had the grace to look affronted. Why the Bennets showed far better manners!

“Do not listen to him.” Miss Garland’s eyes admonished Richard. “The men in one’s family are often one’s harshest critics. Is that not true Miss Bingley?”

Miss Bingley’s cheeks colored to match the deep rose of her gown. She felt the impropriety of it, too. How odd to find himself of the same mind as she.

“Let us proceed to dinner.” Darcy gestured toward the door.

Miss Garland appeared at his arm as though claiming her right of his escort. She dropped her fingers onto his elbow and looked him in the eye. How odd not to have to lower his gaze to a lady. They led the others to the small dining room.

“It seems I have offended you,” she said softly. Not a whisper that might have softened her position, but a quiet voice that left none of her assurance behind.

“I am not accustomed to siblings taking such liberties with one another.” No, that probably was not the most proper answer, but how else could one answer such a direct question?

“No surprise. Your sister, and I imagine much of your family, is entirely intimidated by you.”

“She is twelve years my junior. I am more father to her than brother.”

“Still, you might find your desires are better met with a bit less pride and a bit more privilege.” Judgment lingered in her tone.

“You have decided opinions on the raising of young ladies.”

“I was one not so long ago, sir. Perhaps I know of what I speak.” Her lips pulled into a tight expression that was anything but a smile.

Darcy would have pulled at his collar had it not been unseemly.

“Not all young ladies are empty-headed flibbertigibbets. Many of us are capable of quite rational thought and enjoy company that would treat us so. Some of us have improved our minds by extensive reading.”

“My sister reads very little, Miss Garland. I fear her opinions are not so well informed as yours.”

“And you do not approve? You prefer well-informed company?” He eyebrow arched.

It would be far easier to remain annoyed with her had she not been so beautiful … and so right.

 “Do not be so hard on her. I think there is a great deal more to her than you give her credit for.” She turned just enough to catch a glimpse of Georgiana over her shoulder.

“She is an excellent musician when she puts forth the effort to learn.” Somehow that sounded like very faint praise.

“I am pleased to hear she is in possession of some redeeming qualities.”

Thankfully, he was able to seat Miss Garland at the table rather than respond.

Anne’s lip curled back as she entered the small dining room. Obviously, she would rather have sat in the great dining hall. She might not have minded the way the chamber echoed when only eight sat at the table, but he did. Even this room was hardly full, the table sat twelve easily. With this small a party, they could sit closer to one another and enjoy far broader conversations than the great hall would permit.

Many candles lit the room, shimmering off four large mirrors, two on either of the long walls and smaller ones that flanked the fireplace on the short wall. The Darcy family china lined the walnut table: a white background with a dark blue stripe that matched the small dining room walls, with a lozenge containing a gold script ‘D’. A similar initial topped the silverware alongside the plates.

He rang the crystal bell, and Mrs. Reynolds orchestrated the parade of serving dishes to the table. Yes, he could have had the table set before they were seated, but there was something pleasing in the precise and ordered display of his household’s efficiency.

Mrs. Reynolds introduced the dishes, and he rose to carve the fragrant roast beef joint.

“Do you care for beef, Miss Garland?” He gestured toward her plate.

“Thank you no, I prefer fish.”

Of course, she did, vexing woman. “Miss Bingley?”

“Yes please.” She smiled, just a hint of appreciation in her tone. Much more agreeable.

Agreeable? What was he thinking? When had he ever found Miss Bingley agreeable?

“So, Miss Bingley,” Miss Garland’s eyes did not rise from her plate. “I have heard you are quite musical.”

“I am not sure from where you may have heard that.” Miss Bingley turned her face aside demurely.

“Do not be so modest, I have been to several drawing rooms in London where I have heard mention of your skill. You must play for us this evening.”

“Oh, yes,” Georgiana said. “My brother has already asked me to play, and I should prefer not to be the only one.”

“I shall be pleased to oblige.” Miss Bingley seemed to speak directly to Georgiana.

“Excellent.” Miss Garland’s smile seemed genuine, but if she was as skilled as her brother insisted, why had she not offered to play herself? A woman who did not push forward her own accomplishments was an interesting creature.

Intriguing, with effortless manners, well informed, if decided opinions. She was everything a woman should be and more. Fascinating, but yet unsettling.

“Tell me, Darcy, what does one do at Pemberley? We are so far from the diversions of society.” Garland heaped a thick slab of meat on his plate.

“Shooting season has already begun. So, we may hunt or fish or ride,” Richard said.

“How gracious of you to offer birds not your own.” Miss Garland tsk-tsked under her breath.

Richard laughed. Loudly.

“I had planned for hunting parties.” Darcy glanced at Georgiana and nodded.

“My brother has permitted me to plan a picnic—tomorrow if the weather agrees. I have invited the vicar’s family to join us as well.” Her voice squeaked, and she stammered just a mite. Though that would be viewed unfavorably when she came out, it was oddly appropriate right now.

“Vicar? Do not tell me he is a stodgy old killjoy who quashes the enjoyment from everything,” Miss Garland said.

 “He is not at all stodgy. His daughters are most amiable. They have promised they would come.” Georgiana’s gaze shifted between Miss Garland and Darcy.

“Daughters you say—how many has he? Are they sensible girls?” Miss Garland’s eyes twinkled, almost mischievously.

“The eldest two are steady well-bred young ladies whose company I encourage my sister to keep.” Hopefully that would end this line of conversation.

Silence. Heavy and prickly. Somehow it was almost worse than the conversation had been.

“I love a good picnic.” Bless Bingley’s artless enthusiasm.

“Do you now, sir?” Miss Garland leaned toward him. “Why do you find it so amusing when being ordered outside can be so very inconvenient.”

“I know of no place I like better. None at all. How could it be inconvenient to enjoy grounds as lovely as Pemberley?”  Bingley raised his glass.

“How indeed sir—”

“Picnicking is not like traveling, Blanche. It is a very civilized pastime—a most agreeable way to spend an afternoon.” Garland cast a sidelong look at Georgiana then frowned at his sister.

They locked eyes for a long, breath-stealing moment.

Finally, she dropped her gaze just enough. “Forgive me, I am a dreadful tease. I did not mean to offend, Miss Darcy, merely incite interesting conversation. I look forward to anything you have so graciously planned for us.”

“Did any of you attend the theater this season?” Garland asked.

“We did as a matter of fact.” Bingley set down his wineglass. “We had a lovely box at Drury lane.”

“Mr. Darcy joined us several times,” Miss Bingley said.

“I should like very much to go to the theater.” Georgiana spoke so softly they almost could not hear her.

Garland gasped. “You have not been?”

“Not yet. I am not yet out.”

“But you will be soon. I promise you next season, I shall escort you to every play in London.”  Richard should not promise such things.

“You will not.” Darcy harrumphed. “There are quite a number of plays I do not find fitting for a young woman.”

Georgiana sighed.

Sir Alexander leaned a little closer to her. “I am afraid he is correct. There are some utterly scandalous theatricals performed.”

Richard swallowed a large gulp of wine. “Very well, I shall take you to every one your brother approves.”

Darcy glanced around the table. Thankfully no one appeared interested in any more food. “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”

Anne rolled her eyes and shook her head.

---

His family faces ruin without help from a woman below his notice.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, guardian to his younger sister, Georgiana, is at his wits end. Despite every possible effort, Georgiana steadfastly refuses to become a properly accomplished woman in anticipation of her come out. Elizabeth Bennet, the vicar’s daughter who has grown up in the shades of Pemberley, suggests hosting a small house party to encourage Georgiana’s improvement with a taste of society.

While the notion is utterly ludicrous, Darcy has no better ideas. Soon cousins Richard and Anne, and friends, the Bingleys, are on their way to Pemberley. Richard makes his own additions to the party: the glamorous baronet playwright Sir Alexander and his stunning sister Miss Garland.

Over Darcy’s objections, the party sets upon performing a home theatrical written by Sir Alexander. But the Garlands are not as they seem. Soon everything at Pemberley is upended and in disarray. 

Will Darcy’s pride and prejudice cause him to forever ruin the Darcys’ good name by overlooking the one person who has the keys to making it all right again?

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