Georgiana looked so much like a guilty child trying to hide a stolen piece of cake that Darcy could not help laughing.
"You had better go inside, Georgie." Then, as she slipped on the slippers provided by Rosie, he remarked, with laughter in his voice,
"I hope you are not imitating your cousin in this as well however.
It will not do to show your calves to the gentlemen."
His laughter convinced Georgiana that her brother would make light of the incident and that she would not hear of it again.
He was more disturbed, however, than he let on.
Following a dinner together that very evening, Darcy did not stay behind to drink port as was his habit, but joined the ladies immediately in the drawing room.
"You must tell me all about the trip, Elizabeth," he said.
"There is not much to tell, except that I enjoyed it tremendously.
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We rowed on the river, had our picnic, and made the best of a beautiful spring day."
"Did you not realise that Georgie had fallen?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. "I did realise that she had slipped, but since Mr Gatley held her steady, she came to no harm. I was very surprised to return from our rowing expedition to discover that she was gone."
Darcy put down his cup and looked intently at Elizabeth.
"One would hardly expect a chaperone not to realise that her charge had disappeared--even worse, that she had ridden all the way to London in the company of a single gentleman."
Elizabeth put down her cup likewise.
"I think it very reasonable for a chaperone to take her eyes away from her charge if she knows her charge is in capable hands. And she did not ride alone to London with a single gentleman. I did not know you objected to Caroline Darcy. In fact, to judge by the past, I had rather thought you approved of her."
They faced each other for a moment, eyes locked in some fierce silent communication incomprehensible to others.
Georgiana, unable to endure this silent battle, decided to interfere. "I have come to no harm, as you can see, and I was under the eye of Caroline every moment of the day, so I see no cause for you to disagree at all."
"Oh, but there is," said Elizabeth, "for as long as Fitzwilliam continues to treat you as a wayward child, we will never have any peace. I must say this, even if I risk wounding Georgiana in the process. Perhaps Georgiana was foolish enough--at the tender age of fifteen, when still very much a child--to be on the verge of elopement. But even then--and that was the remarkable part--
even then she had the sense to tell you about it. Yet you have looked 255
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upon her ever since as if she was a piece of Wedgwood china likely to crack any moment."
She turned to Georgiana. "Some more tea, Georgiana?"
Georgiana shook her head. Elizabeth poured herself another cup, then continued to speak in a calm, even tone.
"Now, three years later, your attitude towards her has not changed a bit. Look at her, Fitzwilliam. She is a grown woman. She will soon be married and mistress of her own household. You cannot hide her in the cupboard because you are afraid she will be broken."
"You speak as if it is wrong to protect my sister," said Darcy.
"No, I speak as if it is wrong to distrust her."
The words rang out in the silence. Georgiana knew as soon as Elizabeth said them that they were true. They were the reason she did not--could not--feel comfortable with her brother anymore and why she constantly felt the urge to flee from his presence.
Darcy frowned and drained the last of his tea. Suddenly, he put down the teacup again on the table. It clattered loudly in protest.
"Do you think I distrust you, Georgiana?" he asked.
Again, she wished she could run to him and throw her arms around him as she had done when a child, but she could not. She was a woman now. She could not.
She nodded. "Yes," she said almost in a whisper.
Darcy's answer was to rise quickly and stride to the door. He quit the room, leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana behind to exchange glances.
"We have upset him," said Georgiana, in a hushed voice.
To her surprise, Elizabeth began to laugh. "Yes, we have upset him, and it is a very good thing indeed."
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Georgiana did not speak again to her brother that night. She retired early, caught in a storm of churning emotions. All her certainties--the things that had anchored her for years--had been wrenched from her, and she was completely adrift, for there was not a single point of navigation she could use to guide herself.
Clarissa had been her guide, but she realised belatedly that Clarissa was very far from being a beacon. After what happened today, she was repulsed by her, by her mocking laughter, by the way she threw herself at Channing, by her irresponsible and indifferent manner.
Perhaps she was making too much of it, but she had always disliked mockery, and she had somehow never imagined she would be the target of her cousin's derision.
And then, of course, there was Channing. She knew what he thought of her, exactly. His harsh judgement of her that day of that first dance had not essentially changed. Perhaps he occasionally thought her worthy of interest, but it was only a momentary thing, quickly forgotten when something--or someone--more appealing came along. A ruthless cold wind swept through her as she acknowledged this reality. All the new clothes and the Grand Entrances in the world were not going to help her.
Who then could she turn to? Her brother Fitzwilliam--always her anchor--had himself taken a different direction, and she could not follow him.
She was lost--alone in a tumultuous storm that washed over her in unruly waves, and she had no idea what to do.
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All night, like a clarion call in the darkness, Clarissa's laugh rang out in Georgiana's mind.
For the fact was, she would not have minded Channing's mocking face so much if it were not for that laugh. Channing had humiliated her. But Clarissa had hurt her more because she had betrayed her. She could not blame Channing. He had slighted her from the start, and she had been foolish enough to persist on her senseless mission of gaining his affection. As if by willing it, she could turn herself into a different kind of person--one who would immediately capture his heart. She could only blame herself if he brushed her aside. She had set herself an impossible task and had failed at it. Even Mrs Moffet had tried to warn her. Yet despite everything, she had taken every tiny hint of encouragement on his part--nothing more than small pebbles cast her way--and built whole castles out of them. Well, she had received her just deserts.
So be it.
But with Clarissa matters were different. Georgiana had never fully trusted Channing, even while she tried to gain his affection, because she knew the truth already, somewhere inside her. But she had trusted Clarissa. She had trusted her, in fact, more than she had MONICA FAIRVIEW
trusted anyone in her life, more even than her brother, which was saying a great deal. She had entrusted in her the hopes of becoming someone different, a more glamorous young lady, one who did not shy away from attention. She had never tried to dream before, but meeting with Clarissa had given her the hope that it was possible, that she could go beyond herself and achieve what she wished.
The indiscriminate storm that howled inside her settled and shifted, blowing Georgiana inevitably in one direction. She directed her anger towards Clarissa. Because Clarissa had ultimately chosen to mock her ambitions.
She had believed that she knew Clarissa, but she did not; she really knew very little about her. She thought back with irony on that day when she had first heard from Frederick about Clarissa's plight and her resolve to stand by Clarissa's side. Now she felt that she had been deceived in her cousin's character from the beginning and that she had allowed herself to be ruled by her without even waiting to ascertain her true nature. She had been willing to see in her a fellow spirit, yet what had Clarissa really revealed to her about who she was? Only the little tricks she had taught her about how to deal with men, which she had learned in turn from someone else.
They told her nothing about the real Clarissa.
Yet, how could she give up her cousin's friendship? The cousin with whom she was sharing her first London Season? It would be awkward, to say the least, and give rise to a great deal of speculation. What excuse could she possibly give for giving Clarissa the cut? It would give rise to rumours and innuendoes that she could do very well without. It was bad enough that Anne's disappearance was like the sword of Damocles, hanging by a thin thread over their heads.
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Clarissa and demand an explanation for her behaviour. She would hold her accountable. She would make sure Clarissa realised how much unhappiness she was causing. Georgiana would go to Grosvenor Street early the next morning and meet her head-on.
No sooner had she made her decision and resolved to put it into action, than she was able to turn over on her side and fall asleep.
She had intended to remain calm. To approach the matter calmly and rationally, and to simply ask her cousin, in a cool and haughty manner, about the meaning of her behaviour. She would walk into Robert Darcy's townhouse, ask the butler to summon Clarissa, and wait for her in the drawing room. A large, impersonal space would be best, she decided, rather than the parlour, which was too intimate for such an occasion.
She would come to the point at once and ask Clarissa if she intended to marry Mr Channing. She would of course show no emotion, whatever Clarissa answered. She would nod solemnly and then move on to the crux of the matter, which was, naturally, Georgiana's concern about her cousin's increasing wildness.
She wanted to conduct herself like her brother, to raise her brow as he did, and to quietly but firmly tell her cousin what she believed was wrong with her behaviour.
Only it did not happen that way.
Instead, the footman had hardly opened the door when Clarissa bounced out, and they collided at the bottom of the stairs.
"Goodness!" said Clarissa breathlessly. "I did not expect you today. I was setting out for the lending library--what on earth is the matter, Georgiana? You look quite as severe as Mr Gatley." The very name seemed to throw her into peals of laughter.
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"I do not think Mr Gatley as funny as all that," said Georgiana.
"What? Do not tell me you have conceived a tendre for him?"
Georgiana made a significant gesture towards the footman hovering behind them. "Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere else?"
Clarissa hesitated, but there must have been something in Georgiana's manner that commanded her attention, for she started up the stairs with a sigh.
"I would like to talk to you in the drawing room." It seemed silly, now that she said it, but she clung to the idea firmly. In reality, she did not know what she would say to Clarissa, only she felt that there was something irrevocable in this moment--something very formal--that it was a turning point in their connection and that the intimacy of the parlour was not what she wanted.
The moment the door shut behind them and Georgiana had chosen a seat--an upright chair that had no arms and was quite uncomfortable--the words fell from her mouth of their own accord.
"If you are under any illusion that carrying on so openly with Mr Channing will make you more attractive in the marriage mart, I must tell you that you are very much mistaken. The only thing that will happen is that you will be thought one of thousands of giddy, senseless girls who have succumbed to a gentleman's charms and thrown away their reputations in the process."
Taken by surprise by this sudden, vehement attack in one not generally given to anger, Clarissa sprung up. Colour flooded into her cheeks, and anger sparked from her eyes.
"I thought you, at least, would not speak to me in this manner.
I thought you, at least, would not judge me. But it appears I am quite mistaken in my assessment of you."
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"I could say the same of you," said Georgiana. "When I first met you, I thought you one of the most confident, courageous, and intelligent young women I had met. I admired you so much I thought you worthy of imitation. I admired you for your fearless way of speaking. I thought so well of you I even allowed you to choose my clothing for me." She paused to find the right words.
"But I have slowly come to discover the truth. Your confidence is not confidence at all--it is simply brashness. Your courage stems from indifference. Your outspokenness comes from a disregard for others and what they think. I was utterly deceived by you." Her disillusionment, her crushed hopes, her sense of betrayal surged relentlessly through her. "You do not understand," she said, embarrassed as salt tears burned her eyes.
Oh, she was doing things all wrong. She had not intended to cry at all.
"I trusted you," she said, those words summing it all up. She stood up, planning to leave, but the tears she had been holding back flooded her eyes, and she slumped back down onto her seat and sank her face into her hands.
Clarissa, who had been first angry, then flattered, and then bewildered, rushed over immediately to her cousin and, wringing her hands in consternation, stood by her, trying to determine what to do. She crouched down next to her and tried to look into her face, which was covered by her hands.
"No, Georgiana, no. You must not! Please stop. I really cannot bear to know you are so upset. If it is because of me, then I must know what I have done."
Georgiana looked at Clarissa with red-brimmed eyes.
"If you do not know what you have done, what use is it for me to explain?"
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Clarissa rose and marched up and down the room several times.
This went on for several minutes. Georgiana watched her, her tears dry.