Page 70 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

"Only to say that Hertfordshire has improved."

Bingley laughed outright. Darcy studied the ceiling with sudden interest.

"Hertfordshire will be quite offended by such restrained praise," Elizabeth said. "We are accustomed to believing ourselves the centre of all civilisation."

Georgiana's smile flickered, uncertain but real. "My brother said you might say something exactly like that."

"Then he has stolen my best material and I demand it back."

Darcy met Elizabeth's eyes across the room, and the gratitude in his face showed far too plainly for a man who valued his own composure as much as he claimed to. There you are, she thought, and the thought had no qualification after it. No "but," no reservation, no careful footnote. Just that.

They talked of the journey, of London, of music. Elizabeth asked Georgiana whether she preferred playing alone or with a partner, and Georgiana admitted, after a hesitation, that she liked duets well enough but could not bear an audience.

"Then Jane and I shall go and examine the view instead," Elizabeth said. "Mr. Bingley may explain his orange trees to us at length. Your brother may turn pages."

"I turn pages badly," Darcy said.

"You may improve under correction."

Georgiana laughed. It was a small sound, barely more than a breath, but Darcy heard it like a bell going off, and something in his whole posture eased. Sarah brought the music in a moment later. Two pieces had been laid across the top with a thin blue thread marking each. Elizabeth noticed, and said nothing at all.

She and Georgiana played a simple duet while the others drifted toward the far windows. Darcy turned pages and missed one, proving his own warning correct. When the piece ended, Georgiana did not look relieved to be finished with it. She looked eager to begin the next.

"Sarah chose this one," she said, touching the blue thread. "She said it does not punish the slower player."

"Sarah is becoming an authority on a great many subjects," Elizabeth said.

"McKeever found the music itself."

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. "They have expanded operations. From poetry into music."

"Retirement has given them leisure, apparently."

Georgiana looked between them, lost. "I do not understand."

"Neither do we," Darcy said, with a perfectly straight face.

It was not true. But it spared the servants a longer explanation, and spared Georgiana the burden of learning what Caroline had actually done.

After the second duet, the conversation eased into something warmer. Georgiana asked about Longbourn's walking paths. Elizabeth asked about Pemberley's lake and, with real effort, managed not to ask a single question about the size of the house itself. Jane and Mrs. Annesley spoke quietly by the window. Bingley refilled Jane's teacup three separate times, for no reason Elizabeth could discern except that it gave him an excuse to keep crossing the room toward her.

Darcy watched his sister the whole while. The severity he wore like armour among strangers had simply gone, and in its place was something Elizabeth had not quite seen on him before. He anticipated the exact moment Georgiana needed a question thrown her way, and the exact moment she needed to be left in blessed silence. He did not display the care. He practised it, the way a man practises something he has had years to get right. Elizabeth had seen enough to know something true about him, and it settled warm behind her ribs.

When the gentlemen drifted to the far end of the room to inspect an engraving, Georgiana leaned toward Elizabeth. "He was very unhappy, after the storm."

Elizabeth turned. "He told you?"

"Not the particulars. He wrote that he had made an offer too quickly, and received exactly the answer he deserved for it."

"That was honest of him."

"My brother is always honest with me." Georgiana's fingers tightened around her teacup. She looked down, as though debating whether to risk the rest. Then a small, wry twist touched her mouth, so like her brother's own that Elizabeth nearly laughed on the spot. "Though usually after he has finished being wrong about something."

The sentence carried Darcy's own particular gravity, delivered in his own sister's voice, and Elizabeth laughed outright.

Georgiana coloured. "I did not mean to criticise him."

"You described him perfectly."