Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions Read online

  Something about the intensity of his gaze—her face flushed hot, nearly burning.

  Thankfully, he began to walk again. “You are quite perceptive, particularly where my sister is concerned. Do you believe Garland harmful company for her?”

  “I understand he is a great friend of Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

  “The acquaintance is not of long standing. They met shortly before Garland inherited the baronetcy. As I understand, he was the heir presumptive. Miss Garland’s father was the previous baronet.”

  “They are not brother and sister as they portray themselves to be? I confess that is odd, but he treats her very well for a cousin. That speaks well of him, I suppose.” Better than others of his actions.

  “Do you think he would trifle with Georgiana?”

  Heat crept up her face. Would Sir Alexander dare speak to Miss Darcy as he had just spoken to her? “I do not know, sir. But I believe his open nature, excellent appearance, and dramatic flair might easily be misinterpreted. It might do to caution Miss Darcy with respect to his impulsive speeches. She might easily be swayed to believe he means something that he does not.”

  “You would give the same caution to your father?”

  “I would advise Lydia be kept well away from him, though Kitty and Mary could be in his company far more safely. Lydia is not the kind who thinks through her actions nor is she able to fathom what consequences there may be.”

  “I have the same concern for Georgiana.”

  “Miss Darcy is very clever. I understand why at times it may be difficult to have faith in it, but I have no doubt of her understanding. She is very much like your mother.”

  He nodded, that deep somber nod that made her believe he was actually listening, not merely absently responding for politeness’ sake.

  “Miss Garland seems very fond of Miss Darcy. As well as Sir Alexander treats his cousin, I hope he would not interfere with one of her friends.”

  “She and Georgiana played together very well last night. It was a very different sort of music though—made up as they went. I cannot fault the pleasure they found in playing or say listening was in any way unpleasant ….”

  “But the lack of order detracted from your enjoyment?” There really was no need to ask. “I have never heard anything like it.”

  “None of us has, I think.”

  “You approve of Miss Garland’s friendship with your sister?”

  “Georgiana does not often take to a person so quickly or easily. That speaks well of her.” Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sky. “She is a unique woman. Entirely striking. Utterly so. I have never seen her equal.”

  “It is difficult to imagine anyone who would not pale in her company.” Those words should not have been so difficult to say.

  “That is true, but I believe she has suffered much for it. Few women are easy in the company of one so superior to them.”

  He was right, she probably was very lonely if the glares and glowers of Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh were an indication. Sympathy for Miss Garland would be appropriate, but it was just out of reach.

  “Miss Garland spoke very highly of you in your absence after the picnic. I think she was pleased that you accepted the invitation to stay at Pemberley.”

  “I am flattered.” Hopefully her voice did not sound as flat to him as it did to her.

  “Do you think Miss Garland misses London very much? Will the amusements of the country be sufficient for her?” He bent his head, thoughtful, perhaps even worried.

  “I hardly know. It appears she is able to enjoy the pleasures of wherever she is, city or country, with equal aplomb.” How tempting it was to speculate on exactly the nature of those pleasures, but it would not do to be simultaneously unladylike and uncharitable.

  Again, his nod. What was he considering beneath that furrowed brow? Probably Miss Garland, and what kind of social asset she might be.

  Her belly churned again. Indeed, those fish must still be disagreeing with her.

  Elizabeth walked with Darcy back to the house where breakfast had already been set out in the morning parlor. If only she could take to her rooms, but no, she had best join the party lest Jane worry.

  Sir Alexander noted her entrance with an upraised eyebrow and something that very much resembled a smirk. Was he proud of disquieting her so early in the day? Or did he merely dislike kippers with his morning meal? It was possible.

  Either way, he would not have the satisfaction of her acknowledgement. Elizabeth helped herself to a Bath bun—whose fragrance was too tempting to ignore—and tea from the marble-topped mahogany sideboard and took a seat by the window, near Jane. The morning sun embraced that side of the wide, round table, perfect for driving out the last vestiges of the damp chill of her walk—and Sir Alexander’s attentions.

  Jane greeted Elizabeth with a nod and a smile and returned to her conversation with Miss Bingley. Perhaps she need not be here at all.

  Mr. Darcy seated himself at his customary place near the door, marked by his newspaper and coffee. Beside him, Colonel Fitzwilliam made a show of trying to take the newspaper before Mr. Darcy read it. Though Mr. Darcy appeared rather annoyed, it seemed more the pleasant exchange of brothers rather than a genuine disagreement.

  Miss Garland, in a posture that could only be described as draped over her chair, seemed to enjoy observing one and all, well out of the morning sun that might have deleterious effects on her complexion. She spent a great deal of time studying Mr. Darcy.

  Miss Darcy sat between the two Garlands, half-whispering lines to Sir Alexander while Miss Garland occasionally whispered bits of acting advice. Elizabeth swallowed hard. In her white muslin gown trimmed with pink bows, Miss Darcy looked like such a child between the worldly, wise, and wealthy Garlands. Perhaps suggesting that she be allowed to participate in the house party had not been wise.

  ∞∞∞

  The following day the house party, save Garland, assembled in the morning room to repeat their performance of the day before. Darcy took his seat. Everyone else sat in the same places. The sun lit the same spots on the floor and table. The furniture, polished and dusted until the graceful mahogany lines shone, sat in precisely the same places: neat, regular, and soothing.

  The only material difference: there were Chelsea buns, not Bath buns, on the platter on the sideboard. Darcy preferred Bath buns.

  After they had finished their breakfast, Sir Alexander presented himself in the morning room, hair disheveled, cravat half-tied and dark circles under his eyes. Had he even slept? How dare he appear in such disarray?

  “At last! I have done it!” Garland brandished at least a quire of foolscap at the room.

  “Done what?” Miss Garland, elegant in a pale-yellow muslin gown with tiny white flowers embroidered at her throat, rolled her eyes and glanced at Georgiana who giggled.

  “Finished the play, or at least the first draft of it, you ninny.” He dropped into a chair beside her, manuscript still clutched in hand.

  “Well, congratulations. That is an accomplishment. The country air must suit you very well. You have labored only a month on that last bit.”

  “You know, I have you and your foolish little wager to thank for it.” He tapped Miss Garland’s shoulder with the papers. “So now you shall have the honor of helping me assign the players.”

  “Now that sounds like great fun.” She rose and leaned on his shoulder. “Now you must all ask me very prettily for the part you most desire.”

  “Tell us our choices.” Bingley leaned forward on his elbows.

  Garland flipped through the pages, though clearly it was just for show. “Ah yes, for the gentlemen we have four roles. The suitor, thought to be a gentleman, the suitor thought to be a rake, the father, and the elder brother.”

  Miss Garland circled the table to stand behind Bingley. “I think you well prepared to be a suitor. So, which are you, rake or gentleman?” Her eyebrows arched.

  Bingley glanced around the room, eyes
lingering on Jane. “I fancy myself a gentleman.”

  “Then gentleman you shall be. But that leaves us in need of a rake.” She continued her circuit around the table. “Mr. Darcy, you would never do for that role.”

  Darcy snorted. How could she even suggest it, especially when it would be acted with his sister?

  “And Colonel, while I expect you could make a fine rake, it would not do to play that toward a girl in your guardianship. You see, Mr. Darcy, I do have some finer sensibilities.” She batted her eyes toward him.

  Miss Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and squirmed in her seat.

  “So, Alexander, the role must fall to you.”

  “If I must, I must.” He executed the deepest, most theatrical bow possible from his seated position.

  “That leaves the role of brother for you, Colonel, and Mr. Darcy as father. Are those to your liking?”

  If he had to be a part of this endeavor, he could tolerate such a role. Darcy nodded slowly.

  “Splendid, though I am not certain our heroine will be able to discern when Darcy and I are acting and when we are not.” Richard chuckled and took a long sip of coffee.

  “The best actors are those who can live their roles,” Garland said.

  “And the ladies.” Miss Garland paced behind the ladies’ seats, the sunbeam playing off her golden curls. “Our heroine, Miss Darcy, has been chosen, so I have roles now for a mother, companion, a sister, and a friend.

  Neither of the Miss Bennets met Miss Garland’s gaze while Anne and Miss Bingley sat very straight. If Miss Garland did not choose well, the remainder of the house party might become very unpleasant indeed.

  He balled a fist under the table. Why had he ever agreed to this scheme?

  “Miss de Bourgh, as her cousin you are closest to being a sister, you shall have that role. Miss Bingley shall be her dear friend.”

  Darcy released his tension in a slow measured breath.

  “Mother must go to Miss Bennet, who is all gentle sweetness.” Miss Garland rested her hand on the back of Miss Bennet’s chair.

  Miss Elizabeth smiled at that. Her solicitude toward her elder sister was pleasing, especially when many might have been jealous.

  Miss Elizabeth jumped to her feet and looked Miss Garland in the eye. “And you must be the companion, a voice of wisdom and sure advice.”

  “I have no intention of acting.” Miss Garland skittered back half a step.

  “Have you no confidence your brother’s work?”

  “I have said no such thing!” Miss Garland glanced back at Garland who seemed to be enjoying the exchange far too much.

  “An actress is expected to be quite beautiful in all her bearing. You are far better qualified in all ways. So, you must take the part.” Miss Elizabeth nodded at Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh who added their support.

  A slow, crooked smile crept across Garland’s face. “Ah, Blanche, I believe you have been out-foxed. Your loyalty will not permit you to deny me, and your vanity will not permit you to deny her.” His deep laugh rang off the morning parlor’s ivory walls. “Miss Elizabeth, I promote you to director’s assistant. You will be my right hand in all matters. I shall seek your advice in all things.”

  Miss Elizabeth winced ever so slightly. “I had thought to assist Miss Darcy with her role.”

  “And indeed, you shall. But you are eminently capable and shall have no trouble accomplishing both, I am sure.”

  Color rose on her neck and touched her jaw. Her profile was very pretty in this light. Still nothing to Miss Garland’s, but pretty nonetheless.

  “Please, Lizzy. You know we cannot do this without you.” Miss Bennet turned to take Miss Elizabeth’s hand.

  Beside her Georgiana nodded vigorously. “I could not bear knowing that you would be left out.”

  Somehow, Miss Elizabeth’s expression suggested that was exactly what she most wanted. “Very well, I shall offer you what assistance I can, after I have done whatever Miss Darcy requires.”

  Garland applauded. “Then let us begin at the beginning. I shall read you the play from start to finish—not a word or question until I am through. Then we may discuss all things, sets, costumes, characters, and make our plans. Are we agreed?”

  Darcy grunted—agree or not, there was little choice.

  Miss Garland sat beside him, eyes on her brother, and whispered, “I can see the scheme is not entirely to your liking.”

  “I prefer not to act.”

  “I tried to give you the part in which you would be most comfortable.” Her chin wrinkled in a tiny pout.

  “I do appreciate the effort.” What was Garland saying? It was difficult to pay attention to him and Miss Garland at the same time.

  “I appreciate the length to which you are willing to go to accommodate the amusement of your guests. Not like Miss Elizabeth, with whom I am exceedingly put out.” She folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes toward Miss Elizabeth. “I do not appreciate her machinations.”

  Darcy turned his face to look directly at her. “Do not judge her so harshly; it is done in the service of my sister. She promised to assist Georgiana in learning her lines.”

  “So, I have already heard. Still, it does not signify. I could have done that—really how much difficulty might there be?”

  Darcy pressed his lips together and glanced at Georgiana. She sat in rapt attention to Garland as he read his work. The girl veritably hung on his every word. Who knew she might enjoy theater so much? He would definitely have to arrange for a box next Season.

  “Have you so little faith in the intelligence of ladies that you would—”

  “No, that is not at all the case.” His voice must have been very sharp indeed considering her withdrawal. Though intelligent, he must remember—and put into practice the knowledge—that ladies did require softer treatment. “My sister’s confidence is somewhat lacking. Whilst I have faith in her success, I do not wish her to give up before she finds it.”

  “And you consider only Miss Elizabeth appropriate to bolster you sister?”

  “She has proven to be a faithful friend to her.”

  “Though decidedly below her station.” Miss Garland lifted her chin a mite and offered him a view of her elegant profile. “How very liberal-minded to promote such a friend for your sister. I would have not thought it of you.”

  “You do not approve?”

  “Miss Elizabeth holds you in high regard and has defended your character most assiduously. I believe I have seen a glimpse of why.” She rose and made her way to Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth, every movement easy and graceful and assured.

  She seemed so at home with Georgiana. Perhaps that was a very good thing. How kind of Miss Elizabeth to have spoken well of him.

  But why had she needed to?

  Chapter 7

  A fortnight passed, occupied in the initial flurry that went hand-in-hand with any new undertaking. Miss Darcy required near-constant attention—she insisted Elizabeth read her lines to her over and over again, until Miss Darcy had committed them to memory. Though Miss Garland had promised to help Miss Darcy, the fulfillment was yet to be realized, so often did she keep to her chambers with a headache. Moreover, with each script change—and Sir Alexander seemed to write them daily—the process had to be repeated.

  At least the theatrical exceeded expectations. For all Sir Alexander’s flourish and frivolity, he instilled his characters with tantalizing depth and complexity. And he would settle for little less than perfection in their portrayal.

  Sir Alexander paced across the music room—the only room in which Mr. Darcy would consent to house the home theatrical—moving in and out of the sunbeams pouring through three large windows along the longest wall. “The room is too long and narrow for a theater. You must persuade Darcy to allow us to use the drawing room.”

  Elizabeth drew two long breaths and set down a blue and white porcelain vase on a bench pressed into service holding similar objects. That particular articl
e had been removed from the blue parlor to dress the set which they were building along the narrow wall farthest from the doorway. The graceful ivory-painted tables which had once flanked the fireplace had been crowded against the opposite wall in an ungainly, haphazard sort of way, near the pianoforte’s new home, piquing Mr. Darcy’s ire each time he visited the music room.

  “Once he has made a decision, Mr. Darcy will not be persuaded of anything. If we move the harp to the same corner as the pianoforte, this room will do very well. A scenery board to cover the fireplace is all that is needed, and the stage will be entirely suitable.”

  “Oh, very well. I insist upon the use of the stool in the blue parlor, though. It is well suited for me to stand upon whilst—”

  “That is out of the question. The late Mrs. Darcy embroidered that the year she died. He will not see it moved from the parlor.” Was he trying to find the most precise means by which to upset Mr. Darcy’s equanimity?

  “Do be reasonable. It is just a piece of furniture.” Sir Alexander gesticulated widely.

  “If that is so, then I am sure something else suitable might be found.”

  “It would serve the intractable lord of the manor right if I wrote him out of the play all together.”

  Mr. Darcy—who was in fact an excellent actor despite his dislike of performing to others—had already been relegated to a minimally important character who only had speeches in two scenes. It would take little to remove him all together. Moreover, Mr. Darcy would probably appreciate it. Greatly.

  Sir Alexander need not know that.

  But perhaps she should mention that some rehearsals, particularly those scenes with him and Miss Darcy, danced along the line of impropriety as though it were as inconsequential as a chalked decoration on a ballroom floor, to be brushed away and disappear by the end of the evening without a care to its removal.

  Elizabeth wrestled a scenery board that had been leaning against the long wall opposite the windows into view. “Does this sketch satisfy the need, now?”

  He stomped to her side. “It is better, not perfect, but better. The barn in the distance is still all wrong. Hand me the pencil.” He scribbled over her drawing. “More like that. And change that tree. It is too much in the center. I do not like it.”