Page 32 of Her Brother's Keeper
“Like thirteen balls, fourteen keys?” Georgiana answered, beginning more sketches—which was not easy, because Edward was fascinated by her ability and liked to keep his head as close as possible to the paper.
“I was thinking to use animals, since he loves them so. I suppose fifteen elephants might not fit on one piece of paper.”
“I could draw miniature elephants. What are his favourite animals?”
Never had Darcy seen Georgiana grow so comfortable, so quickly. Within half an hour, they were talking and laughing together, and his sister had offered to come back with her watercolours to add some depth and excitement to her images.Once in a while Georgiana would say something that he wished she had not—for instance, when she spoke of the time Darcy had purchased waistcoats in ridiculous shades of green, yellow, and purple, wearing them about the house simply because she had loved bright colours and he had wished to make her smile. Still, the smile Elizabeth had bestowed uponhimat hearing this anecdote was not at all mocking, but warm and perhaps, even, tender.
As much as he hated to interrupt their tête-à-tête, the morning was passing quickly; Georgiana must return to Netherfield and her rooms to change her clothing before anyone saw her dressed so peculiarly. As kindly as Elizabeth had treated his sister, he had seen her surprise in Georgiana wearing them and would not want her embarrassed before their hosts.
“Perhaps I ought to take Edward for his ride, and Georgiana?—”
“I know, I know.” She turned to Elizabeth with a confidential air. “I wore my riding breeches, which I am not supposed to do, but I do not understand why one must add vast flaps of material to one’s riding costume if one is a female, which only get in the way, and why we are not allowed to ride astride. I mean, I know it is a rule, but it is a rule which makes no sense! Does it to you?”
Darcy kept his expression impassive with effort, but Elizabeth answered sympathetically.
“I do not ride at all, Miss Darcy, so I am probably not the person to ask.” She turned to Darcy, eyes twinkling. “I suppose your brother ought to explain, if he can, since he is so keen on the activity.”
Miss Darcy clucked her tongue. “He will not. Fitzwilliam is the worst about answering my most serious questions. I willask Mrs Annesley—my companion—as she is better about it, but she does not ride either, so likely will be no good to me. You must call me Georgiana, since we are to be friends. Oh…we are to be friends, are we not? I have trouble making conversation, but this has been so easy today.” She looked at Elizabeth with such a hopeful air, he almost wanted to warn her to slow, to hold back.
Georgiana, do not wear your heart upon your sleeve! Do not expect so much from others! They are bound to disappoint you!
But Elizabeth had not been in society’s drawing rooms, learning what was and was not proper to admit aloud. Instead, she embraced his sister with an arm about her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “I shall very much enjoy having you as a friend. Please, call me Elizabeth. I am very sorry that you must go so soon, and hope you will be able to stay longer next time.”
Georgiana actually clapped at this, causing Edward to clap as well. “Yes, absolutely! I will be dressed as properly as can be. Now, Neddy, a few more pictures since now I know you can count.” She looked at Elizabeth. “What will you want him to do after his ride?”
Elizabeth appeared to think about it. “Um. I suppose we have not taken our walk today. Since it is not raining, I could take him up to the pastures to look at the cows and sheep. He always enjoys that.”
“Very good.” She began rapidly sketching, one page after the other, afterwards removing three sheets from her drawing book. The first, with a large numeral ‘one’ at the top, was a picture of Edward donning his boots. The second was her sketch of Edward riding, to which she had added a ‘two’. The third picture showed him holding the hand of a woman whowas, plainly, Elizabeth, the both of them gazing at cows and sheep.
Georgiana got down upon her knees, so she was of a height with Edward. She placed the first picture before him. “First, Neddy puts on his shoes.” Edward watched, seemingly enraptured. She laid down the next. “Two, Neddy goes for a ride with Mr Darcy. Three, Neddy goes for a walk with Sister. First, shoes. Then, a ride. Next, a walk. One, two, three.” Edward studied the drawings, but quickly ran off.
Georgiana smiled rather self-consciously. “Well, I tried. Perhaps I could make the pictures more?—”
She halted mid-sentence. Edward had returned, his little boots in hand.
“Oh!” Elizabeth said, her voice nearly overcome, again, with emotion. “He understood.”
Twenty-Six
THE LAST RIDE
Darcy was very conscious of Elizabeth’s eyes upon him as he rode away with her brother. Edward chattered away in obvious delight, but mindful of his purpose, Darcy tried to fix his attention upon instructing the child. He taught him—or tried to teach him—about the reins, the bit, Mabel’s mane, the saddle, ever conscious that to Edward, his words were so much noise with little meaning. He did often echo Darcy’s words; it was hard to tell whether he was simply copying the intonation or was taking in new information. If he repeated the word later, Darcy chose to believe he had grasped the concept. Yet, his pronunciation was usually so poor, had he not been the one instructing the child and fully aware of the context, he would not have recognised his speech as words.
As fully improper and unacceptable as his desires were, Darcy had wanted, almost desperately, to take Elizabeth into his arms. When Georgiana had offered her help, when Edward had understood Georgiana’s drawings, her emotions had beenso close to the surface, her gratitude so complete and consuming, his awareness of both her needs and the strength she demonstrated beneath heavy burdens so absolute, it had been all he could do to stay frozen in his seat. Instead, he had swallowed the lump in his own throat and tried to pretend it meant nothing.
His sister had been the shining star of this visit, and he was proud of her. He would stay at Netherfield until after the Festive Season, he had decided. It would give Bingley the opportunity to grow accustomed to Georgiana, not in any romantic fashion, but at least…as a friend. Bingley would see her best points, her loyalty, her optimism, her talents. Also, he had decided, he would allow his sister’s friendship with Elizabeth and Edward to continue. Not only would it give her a purpose, a scheme, for the time they were here, but it would be a means for him to watch out for the little boy.Just for a few weeks, he thought.If he makes progress, it will give Elizabeth more hope. It is all Icangive her.He must not come here himself, not again, but leave the connexion to his sister.
He turned the mare up the hilly path he had previously walked with Edward and Elizabeth. He knew he ought to be trying to teach the boy more words, but as this was likely the last ride he would ever give the child, he found himself simply holding him steady, pointing out various scenes with words that Edward sometimes echoed, and feeling surprisingly nostalgic.Will this be what it is like to teach my own child to ride?
But no, most children would be unlikely to have Edward’s troubles. His own father had told him that by the time he was three, he had his own pony and the stablemaster had given him lessons. However, as the little boy laughed for joy whenMabel briefly broke into a gentle trot, he thought:I will teach my children myself.
Darcy made the ride last until he could tell the lad was getting a bit restless, a good sign, he believed, that he would be ready for a different activity upon his return. He tethered Mabel at Fox Hollow’s gate, and was relieved when Edward made no protest upon lifting him down. Trustingly, he took Darcy’s hand as they walked up the porch steps and to the front door. Perhaps he truly did understand that now he was to go on a walk.
Elizabeth must have been watching for them, as the door swung open at their approach. She crouched to Edward’s eye-level.
“Did you have a good ride?”
“Go ride!” he repeated, or perhaps responded, happily.
