Page 85 of Pride and Penniless

Elizabeth glanced at him. His face was composed, almost genial—the easy charm of a man who had spent his career navigating drawing rooms and mess halls with equal facility. Spring light caught the auburn threads in his hair, and his boots shone with a polish that would have impressed any sergeant-major. Yet the studied way he held himself, a stark attention beneath the pleasantness, made her pulse skip sideways.

“Admire it?” Elizabeth murmured, her eyes glinting with dry amusement. “Heavens, no. I merely recognize the boldness of a sixteen-year-old taking her destiny into her own hands. One does not admire a hurricane; one simply steps out of the path of the falling timber.”

“Look at those pale primroses struggling through the bank, and the hawthorn hedges just beginning to hint at green,” Charlotte observed mildly, pausing to tap a fallen twig with the toe of her boot before adjusting her shawl against the sharp April breeze. “One would suppose they had no business trying to flourish so early in the season, yet there they are, entirely indifferent to the weather.”

Elizabeth caught the subtle, masterly shift in direction and hid her smile behind her glove. Charlotte was a genius at clearing the air without ever seeming to clear a thing.

“The question before us,” Elizabeth said, grasping the change in direction. “How do we manage the Ashworths now that they have arrived? My husband is receiving them in the music room. We have perhaps thirty minutes before we shall be expected to join them.”

“Thirty minutes to construct a united front.” Richard’s smile was brief and correct. “Very well. What is our position?”

“I understand we are all agreed,” Elizabeth said, “that Georgiana is too young for marriage. Whatever Mr. Ashworth’s merits—and I confess I have not yet had opportunity to assess them—sixteen is not an age at which one’s judgment of character can be relied upon.”

“Darcy’s view precisely,” the Colonel said to the stream.

“And yours, I hope.”

“Mine has not changed since she was fifteen and fell prey to another gentleman of persuasive address.” He spoke flatly, without emphasis, but the words carried their own weight. “I should have thought that episode would have settled the question permanently, yet here we are entertaining a second suitor.”

“Although I caution you against presuming that Mr. Ashworth has the same motivation as this other man,” Elizabeth said. “Georgiana’s attachment to Mr. Ashworth is not, in itself, objectionable. He is well-born, well-mannered, and by all accounts genuinely devoted to her. The objection is to her age and to the haste with which the connection has developed.”

“His situation is entirely unsuitable,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, his gaze fixed on the bubbling current with studied indifference. “A second son without prospects, however amiable, is not a match for a girl of Georgiana’s consequence. Surely we can agree on that much.”

Elizabeth’s stride faltered, her jaw dropping at the condescension, but Charlotte took it in stride, saying, “I believe what Elizabeth means is that a shared position on the central question gives you and Mr. Darcy a foundation from which to discuss the particulars. Where Georgiana should live, whether she should have a London season next year or the year after, how best to manage Mr. Ashworth’s expectations without humiliating the young man or driving Georgiana to further recklessness.”

The Colonel glanced at Charlotte, and his expression softened. “The particulars, Miss Lucas, are considerably more vexed than the principle. My cousin and I disagree on the matter of Georgiana’s residence, as you know, and the question of who is best placed to guide a girl of her temperament is not one that admits of easy answers.”

“I should not wish to complicate it further,” Elizabeth said with perfect sincerity, but the Colonel’s shoulders tightened as if preparing for a physical blow. “I am not Georgiana’s guardian, Colonel. I do not seek that office. Whatever influence I may have with her is the natural influence of an elder sister, nothing more.”

“You are generous to clarify,” Richard said, his tone flat, as if he resented her for her husband’s position.

“I am practical,” she said. “You and Mr. Darcy have been Georgiana’s guardians since her father’s death. You know her history, her vulnerabilities, her needs. I have known her a fortnight. It would be presumptuous of me to claim authority I have not earned.”

“And yet you have earned her confidence rather quickly.” His eyes were not warm. They were the cool, measuring eyes of an officer assessing terrain before committing his forces. “I confess myself impressed. Families who have risen quickly do not always possess the… ease of manner required to win the trust of a girl in Georgiana’s position. You have managed it admirably.”

Elizabeth sensed Charlotte’s glance—a warning, or perhaps only curiosity. Charlotte, ever the most perceptive of her friends, heard the notes beneath the melody and saw the patterns others overlooked.

“Confidence is not authority,” Elizabeth said. “Georgiana confides in me because I listen without lecturing. I remember what it was to be sixteen and certain that no one in the world understood my heart. That does not make me her guardian. It makes me her friend.”

“A valuable distinction.” Richard’s voice remained pleasant. “Though I confess I find myself wondering where the line falls. Between friendship and… guidance.”

The stream burbled past a tumble of mossy stones. A pair of ducks paddled in the shallows, their movements sending ripples outward in widening circles. The April sun warmed Elizabeth’s shoulders, and she could not shake the feeling that he was measuring her for a fault she did not understand.

“The line falls,” she said slowly, “where Georgiana’s wellbeing requires it to fall. If she needs a friend to listen, I will listen. If she needs counsel, I will offer it—and defer to you and Mr. Darcy when my counsel is insufficient. I am not here to compete with her guardians, Colonel. I am here to support them.”

“Support them.” Richard seemed to taste the word. “Yes. I am sure your… support… comes with the best of intentions. One cannot fault the impulse to be useful, however unexpected the quarter from which it arrives.”

Charlotte stepped in before the pause could deepen. “We are all concerned for Georgiana’s welfare,” she said, her voice carrying the steady tone she used to smooth over awkward silences at Lucas Lodge. “That concern is what unites us. Whatever disagreements may exist about the particulars, we share a common purpose.”

Richard halted on the path and turned to her, nodding. “You are right, Miss Lucas. The past week has been… taxing.”

“For all of us,” Elizabeth agreed, watching his attention linger on Charlotte as if she were a familiar harbor after a long voyage. It was a strange thing to notice, in the middle of a conversation that felt increasingly like an interrogation she could not name.

“Our position,” Charlotte said, steering them back to the matter at hand. “If we are all in agreement that Mr. Ashworth should prove his mettle and wait for Georgiana until she is eighteen, then that is how we shall proceed. We do not have to decide whether she returns to London tomorrow or stays at Pemberley while the Ashworths are visiting. Agreed?”

She looked between Elizabeth and the Colonel as if they were disputants awaiting the next round.

“Agreed,” the Colonel offered.