Page 124 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

The lights dimmed and the curtain rose upon the first London production of Mozart'sLa Clemenza di Tito, a choice that served only to agitate the Colonel's burgeoning headache. Madame Catalani, draped in the ambitious silks of Vitellia, launched into an aria with such a deluge of unnecessary vocal ornamentation that the original melody was quite buried beneath the debris of her trills. It was a display of technical vanity that mirrored the very atmosphere of the theatre, a place where the music was merely a polite excuse for the occupants of the boxes to dismantle the reputations of those beneath them.

Richard leaned his shoulder against the red velvet hangings of his brother's box, his eyes tracking not the vengeful Roman princess on the stage, but the flickering orange light of Miss Bingley's gown in the pit. Georgiana watched her cousin. Richard leaned forward, his arms resting on the gilded ledge, his gaze fixed intently on the semi-circular rows below.

Georgiana followed his line of sight.

Caroline Bingley had returned to her place in the pit. She was sitting next to her sister. Her back was rigid and she held her head high, defying the whispers and the stares of the crowd surrounding her.

Richard watched her. He watched her with a focus Georgiana had never seen him apply to a woman. He watched her the way he studied a map, or a chessboard, or a fire that threatened to jump the grate.

"Richard?" she asked softly.

He did not answer. He did not blink. He simply watched the crowd, and the woman burning in the dark.

Chapter Five: The Second Son's Lament

The carriage ride back to the Darcy House was silent. Mostly. There were sighs coming from Georgiana's region. She was clutching her fan and looking fascinated out of the window at the darkness of late London night. Richard gave her a side glance.

"Are you cold, Georgie?"

"No, Richard."

He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. He tried again. "Are you comfortable?"

"I am perfectly fine," came her clipped voice.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Yes, Richard, I am certain. I am merely…"

He turned to look at her directly. Her profile was rigid, still pretending to look outside at nothing.

"Merely what?" he urged.

She sighed, resigned. "If you must know, I am confused. By you and… by my own feelings."

Richard gestured, as if saying "elaborate, please, we do not have all night".

"Well… at first I felt pity for Miss Bingley. The way her dress signalled her out, like a garish beacon… the way all eyes were turned on her, judging, and the not-so-quiet whispers. It was mortifying. I thought that if she saw us and spoke to us, that I would be tarnished by association."

"Your thoughts are sensible, Georgie. But why are you confused?"

"Because it is not right. To be judged by appearances. And then, after the incident with Mr Hurst, the way she refused to cower, or leave, or hide… I think it was the bravest thing I ever saw in my life."

Richard's heart swelled with pride. How far had his little cousin come, from the frightened, betrayed little girl in Ramsgate, to this sensible young woman.

"You are right, Georgiana, on both accounts. But you mentioned me as well. Do you think I did not handle Hurst fairly?"

"No, that is not it. The second bravest act was yours, Richard. Handling the occurrence with such swiftness and with the least possible fuss, it was a mercy for Miss Bingley. I thank you for that."

Richard stared at her, befuddled. "That was not bravery, Georgiana. It was merely human decency."

"Nevertheless, both you and Miss Bingley are the bravest people of my acquaintance. Thank you, cousin."

They had reached the house, and Richard stepped out to help her from the carriage. Mostyn was there to help his mistress with her outer garments, and Mrs Annesley waited at the back to lead her upstairs.

She turned back and smiled at him, then lifted herself onto her toes and pecked at his cheek, one swift, sweet kiss. She rushed upstairs after her companion.

"I wager you never had such a sweet good night, Mostyn."