Georgiana's blood ran cold, for she, like Clarissa, was guilty of intervention. She had incited Anne to rebellion. Once again the seriousness of her actions returned to her, and she sat, frozen in her seat, wondering how something so very innocent had had such terrible consequences.
"I suppose there is something useful to his letter," said Elizabeth, surprising Georgiana out of her reverie.
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"I would be grateful if you could explain your meaning, Elizabeth, for I see nothing useful in it at all."
"You now know how to communicate with Lady Catherine."
Darcy stared at her, then began to laugh. "You are perfectly correct, of course. It seems that I must answer this letter after all. It would be quite impolite not to."
Everything was ready for Georgiana's launch. The invitations had been sent and accepted, the food was planned, and the music chosen and rehearsed. Nothing remained but to wait for the crucial evening and to hope no news of Anne would result in any last-minute changes. Clarissa in particular was so impatient to begin she could scarcely control her high spirits.
"I feel like a nervous filly that has not been exercised for too long. You do not know, Georgiana, how much I need to go out into society. I have been held back far too long. If I do not start to dance and flirt very soon, I am afraid I will get into mischief, and I will have to be sent away."
"You are not thinking of something shocking, are you?" she said anxiously. "Not now. Not when everyone is in London."
Clarissa raised her brows and surveyed her cousin, then sighed. "No I would not. I would not want to hurt you, after all." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I am not planning anything so very shocking. But I have heard that Mr Channing is in town, and I want him to call on us. He lacks encouragement. If we do not meet him soon, I will have no choice but to write to him."
Georgiana, who had suspected as much, pressed her lips together. She too would like to see Mr Channing, though she 158
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did not think a letter, or indeed half a dozen letters, were likely to bring him to her--at least, not until her new plan had been carried out.
"It is not at all the thing to correspond with single young gentlemen," said Georgiana.
"Do you never have the temptation to do something improper?"
"I do, very often," said Georgiana with a smile. "But I quickly control it." She had learned her lesson young. One should only play with fire if there was no chance of being burnt. She herself had been burnt too badly to wish to repeat it. "Do not fret so much, Clarissa. We will soon have the chance to meet more young gentlemen than we could ever wish for. Meanwhile," she said, tossing her head playfully, "you will need to continue with your lessons, for although I am making headway, I am still not fully comfortable in the venerable Art of Flirtation."
"Really, there is nothing to it," said Clarissa. "As long as you remember to look mysterious and unassailable, the men will flock to you."
Despite these words, however, Clarissa had a great deal to say about that Art. Georgiana jokingly told her that she should open a school to teach young debutantes the skills needed to successfully attract the male species.
"It would be far more useful than a finishing school," said Georgiana. "You would earn the undying gratitude of all the matrons in London."
Georgiana herself was beginning to enjoy her cousin's instruction. She particularly enjoyed the names Clarissa had invented for the different Arts. She was making definite headway. By now she had practised fluttering her eyelashes and pouting in front of the mirror so many times her face quite ached with the effort.
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In fact, she was becoming so accustomed to it that, without thinking, she reacted to one of Robert's remarks by pouting prettily.
"Oh, cousin Robert," she said teasingly, "surely you cannot mean that ladies are only interested in clothes. That is hardly kind to our sex in general."
Robert threw her a shrewd glance and replied rather blandly that he was not given to blanket statements about ladies in general, since he was surrounded by ladies that were far more intelligent than he. The ladies jokingly disclaimed such a thing, and a lively discussion ensued.
But her conduct had not escaped her brother's notice. As she went upstairs to her chamber after the guests departed, Darcy called to her.
"A word with you, Georgiana," he said.
She followed him into the now empty drawing room with sinking spirits.
"I have detected some changes lately in you, Georgiana, and I do not know what to make of them."
She waited.
"I know you are spending a great deal of time with your cousin.
Do not mistake me. I like Clarissa well enough. She is a lively young lady and full of spirits, and despite Lady Catherine's conviction, I do not think there is any harm in her. She sometimes risks going too far, but I think she has too much sense to get herself into real trouble."
He studied Georgiana gravely. "Nevertheless, I do not think it is wise of you to emulate her. Her character is different from yours.
Nature has made you quieter and more sedate. Those are not bad traits in a young lady--in fact, society as a whole would regard it as very becoming. Why would you then wish to change who you are?"
He seemed to expect some reaction, but she had none.
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"I have seen it in young gentlemen, particularly, who are sent to school and choose to emulate an older boy they admire. In the end, they succeed in neither becoming the other boy nor remaining themselves. They are but an imperfect imitation, and they lose who they are in the process."
Again he waited for her reaction.
"I like you very much as you are, little sister," he said with a smile.
His manner was affectionate, but his use of the words little sister provoked a sense of rebellion in her. He wanted her to remain forever like this, his little sister, and he did not want her to grow up.
She said nothing of this to him, of course. Instead, she bowed her head and allowed him to kiss her on the brow as he usually did.
"I will remember your words, Brother," she said, quite in the manner that she used to. But how differently she intended them now! She would remember his words, but only as a spur for her to change and grow. He would learn soon enough that she was no longer a ten-year-old desperate for a kind word from him and happy when he suddenly noticed her existence.
She had her own ideas about who she wanted to be.
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Chapter 14
Georgiana knew she ought to be feeling nervous and shy on her debut night. She was supposed to float into a ballroom in her white gown and to draw all eyes towards her.
Instead, she had to come downstairs just as the guests were arriving to signal to Clarissa from outside the drawing room--discreetly--that she needed her flower back. Clarissa had tried the flower on, and she had disappeared downstairs with the flower still pinned to her head--the only flower that matched with the green sash of Georgiana's dress. It was really most aggravating.
There was something very mundane too about going into one's own drawing room on one's debut night. And when one literally bumped into Mr Odysseus Moffet in the hallway without having completed the last touches on one's hair--well, one could be forgiven for not taking matters very seriously.
Though Mr Moffet clearly did. His eyes widened at the reduced amount of material covering her front and bowed a deeper bow than he had ever given her before.
"Miss Darcy," he said, "it is an honour to be present at what must be the most important evening of your life. Barring, of course, your wedding--" He checked himself as he realised that it would MONICA FAIRVIEW
be highly indelicate to mention her wedding night, especially to a debutante about to make her entree into Society. "It is an honour to be present," he concluded lamely.
Georgiana, who had been to dances when she was fifteen--fifteen seemed such a long way away at the moment--remembered Clarissa's instructions. She put out a limp hand to Mr Moffet and looked up soulfully into his eyes. It was really too ridiculous. Surely not even Mr Moffet would fall for such a contrived move!
But he grasped her hand and gazed back at her as though she had given him a precious gift. She tugged at her hand but found it gripped too tightly for her to retrieve it.
"Mr Moffet," she said, pulling away both her hand and her gaze.
"If you could excuse me?"
Mr Moffet finally realised that he needed to let go.
"You will allow me to turn the pages for you, will you not, Miss Darcy?"
"Most certainly, Mr Moffet," she replied.
She would have turned and gone up the stairs, but the butler announced Mr Channing, and of course it was impossible for her to turn--or leave. Not when this would be her chance to test whether Clarissa's teachings were effective.
She waited with apparent calm for him to approach, standing in what Clarissa called the Imperial Pose, the slightest hint of amusement on her face.
Channing's gaze grazed over her, dawdling just a few seconds longer than politeness would allow. A heady rush coursed through her. This was what it was like to be admired. This was what it was like to claim a man's attention. This was what it was like not to be dull Miss Darcy.
She liked it.
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Then several people arrived at once, among them Mr Gatley.
What they said hardly registered in that swift racing of the blood that now gripped her.
Mr Channing moved on, into the drawing room, beyond her reach. She assessed whether it would be entirely appropriate for her to follow, given that it was an informal soiree, and that Clarissa was already there. She could claim him, then, and he would continue to admire her, and she would be vindicated.
Mr Gatley's voice drew her back into the world of the mundane.
She held the Imperial Pose and nodded graciously. She reached out her limp hand to Mr Gatley.
He took it and bowed over it, but did not gaze into her eyes.
"I see that Clarissa has chosen your gown," he remarked, his dark eyes taking in her appearance with a tinge of amusement.
The Imperial Pose wavered a little.
"I have no idea what you mean," replied Georgiana.
"A certain change in style--she has chosen well however."
Well, she could not expect everyone to be impressed by the Imperial Pose. She descended from the lofty position.
"I am glad it wins your approval," she said, but she could not resist trying that little flutter of eyelashes Clarissa had taught her, just to see how he would react. He raised a brow.
"Something caught in your eye?" he said, with a glint in his own.
It was useless. Mr Gatley did not understand these things. No wonder ladies stayed away from him. Now Mr Channing, on the other hand--
Another gentleman came forward to claim her attention.
"Good evening, Mr Turner," she said in her regular tone to her brother's friend, because she did not care to draw his interest. She had known him forever.
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He was the last of the arrivals. Of course it was all wrong, standing in the hallway receiving everyone. One was supposed to make a Grand Entrance. Clarissa had made her practise this entrance so many times, drilling into her the dramatic effect she needed to achieve, and now there was no point in even having one.
Well, she would have to make her Entrance later, during the musical part of the evening. Georgiana was to play the piano forte, and Clarissa had agreed to play the harp, which she did not like, but which--she had been told--showed a young lady's bare arms to advantage.
"Such an insipid instrument," Clarissa had said. "I wish I never learned how to play it." But play it she would, at least tonight, and it would mark her entree into London society.
Georgiana entered the drawing room without the flower on her hair.
"What did you do with the flower?" said Caroline, the moment she set eyes on her. They had picked out that particular flower together and declared it quite perfect to bring out the hazel tinge of Georgiana's eyes.
"Ask Clarissa," she replied.
It was typical of Clarissa's sense of mischief to deprive her of the flower just when she could do nothing about it. But she had made her own plans as well. She had tiptoed into the dining hall when everyone was upstairs changing and moved the name places around so that Clarissa would have Mr Gatley for dinner and she would have Mr Channing. She was looking forward to seeing Clarissa's reaction.
She should have known, of course, that Clarissa was too clever for her. For when it was time to be seated, there was Gatley's name, written in crisp gold letters, placed perfectly correctly next to her own.
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She could do nothing at this point but send Clarissa a look that promised retaliation. Clarissa, however, did not see her. She was too involved in laughing at something Channing said.
"Anything wrong, Miss Darcy?" Gatley's sharp gaze missed nothing. He had followed the way she had glanced immediately at the place name. He was perfectly capable of putting two and two together.
It could hardly be flattering for him to know that she had tried to rid herself of his company. Her conscience came to life and started berating her. He could not help it that he was not as entertaining as Channing. He was a perfectly affable gentleman--quite agreeable, in fact. She could at least be polite, which was something she did know how to do.
She turned to answer him, one of her best smiles on her face. Not one of the ones Clarissa had taught her, but one of her very own.
"Nothing of importance, Mr Gatley. It is merely a game Clarissa and I are playing. But tell me, are you now in London for the Season?"
Georgiana's chance for a Grand Entrance was somewhat ruined again by Mr Moffet, who rose to his feet the moment she appeared in the doorway and rushed to the piano forte to fulfill his promise to turn the pages. Channing, who was not aware of a previous arrangement--and was conveniently situated close to the piano forte--reached the piano sooner.