Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions Page 3

“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 fainting couch, 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 into 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. It 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 whom 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 they 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 that 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 ends, 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 fainting couch—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, her 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 was 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, every one of them, 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, are 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, as 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.