And still no Mr Manners.
The other gentlemen were mostly occupied with talking among themselves, several were playing billiards in the adjoining room and Miss Bingley was talking with animation to Mr Grenfell, probably the most handsome of Bingley's friends, though that depended on one's taste as well. Georgiana preferred Mr Lascelles' looks, but he of course was not of impeccable breeding, being half French. Miss Bingley, however, seemed to have set her sights firmly on Mr Grenfell, with his Grecian profile and his steel-blue eyes. She flirted with him, laughed with him, and tried to look her very best, which was not as difficult as Georgiana generally imagined it to be, for Miss Bingley was actually rather pretty. But since Georgiana abhorred her, having often seen her at her very worst, being haughty towards anyone less favoured in life than herself, Georgiana's view of Miss Bingley was rather coloured. Actually, rather discoloured, greyed out with black rims.
As Kitty left for a moment to check on a surprise she had prepared for Jane's return, Georgiana finished her serious practice, too bad Elizabeth wasn't here to listen in, but that could not be helped. She was making good progress, Eric would be pleased. Difficult bits finished, she played one of those impressive scales, to see whether Miss Bingley noticed. Which she did, she looked up instantly, only to direct her attention back to Mr Grenfell after a minute or so. After the scales Georgiana practised the dances, not too difficult, and much more to the liking of the gentlemen in the room than her virtuous piece. Men were so predictable, generally speaking.
Suddenly someone was standing beside her, much too close, a hand on her shoulder way too familiarly, and she could actually feel a heavily muscled body lean against her own. Before she could help it a deep shudder of discomfort coursed through her, but the man in question did not register her displeasure. He seemed to read it as an encouragement, for he did not step back and even squeezed her a little with a large, strong hand. Georgiana's shyness returned instantly, this was not gentlemanly behaviour and she felt threatened by it. Forcing herself to look up at the perpetrator she saw to her surprise that it was Mr Grenfell, his steel-blue eyes cold while his perfectly shaped mouth smiled down upon her ingratiatingly. The smile did not reach his eyes.
'You play very well, Miss Darcy,' he said in a low voice, a very astute observation indeed, and Georgiana was suitably flattered. Of course she
wasn't, but in fact her scorn at his dumb remark didn't show, she actually did look flattered because she was flustered by this man's presumption, and her general shyness made her seem coy, while she was in fact seriously annoyed and also quite a bit afraid. Such a cold look, as if she was a piece of meat he was thinking of spearing with his fork, chewing with a relish, then devour.
How could Miss Bingley not see this man's true nature? He was a predator, and his presence made Georgiana's instincts scream at her, 'Run, run while you still can!'
What did he want from her?
That was what this morning had brought Georgiana so far, breakfast, practice, and now, unwanted intimacies from a beautiful but very calculating man. She had stopped playing, her body was frozen up with disgust and fear and her mind was thinking frantically of ways to escape. But nothing came up, her mind was empty, gibbering, why couldn't she ever think of something smart to say or do in a crisis? If he stayed this close he would make her scream, causing an immense scene, what could she do?
Start playing again.
A scathing reprimand would be better, but playing was all right for now.
She changed the sheet music in front of her, using the opportunity to lose the hand on her shoulder and move away from the heavy muscular shape leaning on hers, and started to play the most intricate piece she knew. It required total concentration, leaving her unable to give the slightest attention to her unwelcome attendant. It worked for about two minutes, the hand and the pressure of his body were gone, his presence shut out of her awareness, the music starting to calm her down. And then he committed the worst possible offence: he broke her concentration by talking to her while she was playing. He was trying to catch her attention, he had no clue of a gentleman's conduct.
'Miss Darcy!' he cried out, 'do you ride?'
Shocked beyond speech, she abruptly stopped playing and looked around the room for help. Miss Bingley had noticed Mr Grenfell's offensive behaviour but she merely looked at him for a few moments, then returned to talking to Mr Ponsonby, a very fashionable man with a friendly look, but a rather fleshy face.
'Miss Darcy,' her assailant repeated, 'do you ride?'
She dared not refuse to reply and besides, if she pretended to not have heard
he'd just keep asking, this man didn't take no for an answer. He'd probably touch her again, and that had to be avoided at all cost for it would make her freeze up.
'I don't, Mr Grenfell, but I'm planning to learn this summer. My sister-in-law has told me it is great fun.'
'So it is, Miss Darcy, so it is. Of all the outdoor entertainments, riding must be the most pleasurable, and very suitable to a lady as well. I expect the future Mrs Grenfell to learn to ride, in fact, I could teach you, if you ask your brother to invite me over to his estate this summer.'
What? He expected her to beg Fitzwilliam to ask him over so he could teach her to ride? Have him touch her legs, and her behind? Elizabeth had described how Peter had corrected her seat, and how he had showed her the best way to use her legs to communicate with the horse. It had been very funny, Peter trying to find the right words to tell a lady to adjust her bottom in a certain way, but Georgiana was sure this man would just touch her and squeeze her in the right posture. Too bad she could not tell him outright that she'd prefer sleeping with a snake to being in his presence for one more minute, that would be rude and merely confirm the general opinion that Miss Georgiana Darcy was unbelievably stuck up. So, how to let him down without insulting him? Pretend to be dense! That would send him back to Miss Bingley instantly.
'But why would you spend so much time on me, Mr Grenfell, if you have already promised to teach your fiancée? Wouldn't she be very jealous, and rightfully so? Or is her father already teaching her?'
See how he handled that.
Not at all well, he looked frustrated and rather stunned, he could not believe her to be that dumb, and he could not explain what he meant for that would be incredibly forward and improper. Just hinting at it was bordering impertinence, but saying it outright would be unforgivable.
'I'm not engaged, Miss Darcy, I'm afraid you misunderstood. I was contemplating how pleasant it would be if I could marry a young lady who would able to join me in my favourite pastime, riding.'
Now for the kill.
'Oh, I'm sorry Mr Grenfell, I don't believe any of the ladies here ride, except Mrs Darcy and Miss Bennet, who will be Mrs Bingley when she returns.
But I suppose you know plenty of young, talented horsewomen among your acquaintance not to have to stay single. You're such a handsome man.'
Well, so much for her shyness, now it was as if she was actually flirting with him!
'What I meant to say, Miss Darcy, is that I could easily teach any young lady who felt the advantages of a connection to me how to ride.'
'That is so nice of you! How fortunate the girl of your choice must be! Of course I'm just sixteen, so I guess that by the time I'd want to get married I can already ride quite well. It doesn't take much more than two years to learn to ride well, does it, Mr Grenfell?'
He looked positively dangerous now, but just his eyes, his mouth smiled patiently as he tried to explain without actually saying anything pertinent.
'No, Miss Darcy, it doesn't take longer. With steady practice you could be an excellent horse-woman by the time you're eighteen. As I said, I could help you to learn, this summer on your brother's estate. I have no previous engagements.'
It was time to end this, he was already moving closer to her again, another moment and he'd have a hand and who knew what else touching her once more.
'Maybe Miss Bingley wants t
o make an advantageous match, though I doubt whether she'd like to learn to ride.'
Frustration! And a blunt reply.
'Miss Bingley is very beautiful, and very accomplished, but your reputation is so much more outstanding.'
Georgiana was stunned, she had a reputation, an outstanding one?
'Is it, Mr Grenfell? I've never been in society much, I prefer the quiet of home and the company of my brother.'
'Your preference for domestic harmony is an important part of your excellent reputation, Miss Darcy.'
Meaning he wanted a quiet, meek wife, to keep safely at home. But what was the rest of her reputation?
'And pray, Mr Grenfell, what else am I praised with?'
He was convinced he had her now, and tried to flatter her.
'You're reputed to be the best piano player, and very talented at drawing.
And of course you brother is a gentleman of outstanding respectability, with a lot of influence among the well-situated.'
Ah, he wanted her brother's connections and her fortune!
Better refer him to Fitzwilliam then, he'd handle the creep after a bit of instruction. Or even better, to Elizabeth, who would certainly put him in his
place.
'And my brother will have a large say in whom I shall connect to his family, Mr Grenfell. He is more like my father than my brother, you see, there is such a difference in age between us, and he is so particular about whom I may associate with. At this moment, he really likes Mr Manners, but he always listens to Mrs Darcy. Oh, there's Mr Manners right now, can you believe the coincidence?'
Please, let him come straight towards her, so this man would leave. He was in doubt, their being by themselves might give the wrong impression to Mr Manners, but she caught his eye and tried to implore him to help her. And like a knight in shining armour he took the hint and joined them. He was in an excellent mood, and his perfect manners even induced Mr Grenfell to improve his. The handsome gentleman took a step backward, restoring the appropriate distance between two unrelated young people, and Mr Manners greeted him jovially, after which he addressed Georgiana.
'I'm sorry I'm late, I had a load of letters of business to write in my room.
Since he knows his way around Netherfield better than my own valet, and the staff of the house are very busy preparing for the afternoon and the evening of revelling, I asked your brother's valet where to put them to be sent away as soon as the snow clears just enough. He's very polite.'
'Simon always is, he has been my brother's personal attendant for a very long time. I'm glad he could help. Are you gentlemen already aching for some outdoor activities?'
Including Mr Grenfell in the conversation, Georgiana hoped Mr Manners would take the hint that they were not in a private conversation and that he was welcome to join them.
But Mr Grenfell had apparently decided to give up on flattering Georgiana, hopefully she seemed so dense he had decided to take his suit one level up to Mr Darcy, for he took his leave and headed to the billiards-room.
'I'm sorry I left you here all by yourself, Miss Darcy, I gathered Miss Catherine would be with you. I hope Grenfell didn't inconvenience you, he is a good friend but can be a bit overwhelming in his attentions, very direct and rather tactile.'
'Actually, Mr Manners, he did scare me more than a little, he touched me rather casually and offered to teach me to ride, because he wants his future wife to ride. If only I would have my brother invite him to Pemberley this
summer. I pretended to be really stupid to not have to insult him. He frightened me, with his cold blue eyes.'
Her relief made her a little too forthcoming but she didn't exactly rue her free tongue, for Mr Manners repaid her by giving her a little insight in Mr Grenfell's character.
'He is actually looking to marry and I suppose your fortune pleases him very much. I wouldn't have guessed him to be attracted to you, you're so sharp and smart, I'd think he'd prefer his wife meek and a little dumb. Did you just say you pretended to be stupid?'
'I couldn't help it, all my wit left me the instant he touched me, I'm usually very shy, Mr Manners, your polite ways have made me more outgoing than I usually am.'
'I believe you, and I commend you for putting this in the hands of your brother. Grenfell can be very insistent, and though he is a good friend, I believe he needs a special kind of wife or he wouldn't be a good husband.
Or a teacher, for that matter. If you lack one at your estate, which I doubt, I will offer myself as alternative, I'd love to spend time teaching you to ride, or anything else.'
'My brother has an excellent teacher at his estate, he has taught Mrs Darcy to ride in a mere two weeks.'
'And we all saw her riding down that hill, she is an excellent horse-woman.
Too bad, I'm looking for an excuse to have myself invited to Pemberley for a few weeks this summer, but now I'll have to find another one. You see, I've heard the hunting grounds are amazing, and the library so large one needs a map not to get lost in it.'
She replied with humour, for Mr Manners was so much more subtle about his true intent to visit Pemberley: to try to win her affection. And if other gentlemen were all like Grenfell, out to get her fortune and dominance over her, maybe she should consider him. Even if she didn't love him, he'd never do her harm.
'Well, now you know whom to apply to. Not only does my brother decide whom I shall marry, he also decides who get to lose their way in his library and to shoot his game.'
'You are not serious about the marrying, are you? You do have a choice, don't you?'
Poor Mr Manners, her joke had gone a bit astray, but she would be as frank
to him as she would have been to Eric, had he dared talk about his affection.
'It was a joke, Mr Manners, I suppose I do get a say in it, but I warn you, I'm not ready to marry at all. I've never been in love and I have little faith in men's intentions. My affections will not be easy to gain, my need for love is still that of a child, my brother's love and that of my new sister are sufficient for me.'
'Miss Darcy, your frankness is totally disarming and I stand corrected. Can we be friends, and exchange some of that precious affection that connects people who are unrelated by blood, but very much connected by their very nature, for being kindred spirits? Can we give each other amity, goodwill between friends, and see where that leads us?'
'We can, Mr Manners, I like you, and I'm certain my brother likes you. I'm reasonably certain he'll let us be friends.'
More than a year ago, after narrowly escaping an elopement with George Wickham, Georgiana had realised that people didn't always marry for love.
It had been a bit late for that information to force its way into her mind, but the dramatic way in which she learned the lesson made her unlikely to ever forget it. It was obvious that Mr Grenfell was trying to win her for his own gain, and that she would bitterly regret the results if she fell for his beauty and dashing person. As a prey knew its hunter, her instincts warned her against the man, his cold blue eyes belying his mild voice and his popularity among his friends.
But what about Mr Manners? Was he after Fitzwilliam's connections and her own thirty thousand? Or did he truly like her as a person? He seemed surprised by her admission that Mr Grenfell scared her, so he had to like the outgoing Georgiana she had been able to show him so far because of his easy manners. Despite not feeling any attraction to him other than as a friend, she was determined to try to figure out his motives and his intentions, there might come a time when she felt a need for a different kind of love, or a wish for her own establishment and however improbable, maybe even children. And then, Mr Manners might prove her best option.
And what about Eric? Georgiana was nearly certain that he had truly fallen for her person, not for her fortune. He knew he didn't have a chance to gain it, and he seemed almost ashamed of his feelings for her. Eric had never acknowledged his affection to Georgiana, had never told her he loved her, though it had been obvious to Georgiana even befo
re he had actually confessed his love to Elizabeth. But Eric could not be an easy man to live
with, he was a demanding teacher, always determined to get the best out of her. Of course he was even harder on himself, and to become the best pianist possible, and in his own case, the best pianist period, one had to be demanding. Georgiana recognised some of those traits in herself, she could also be ruthless towards herself, but just as easily to others. Elizabeth clearly pitied Miss Bingley but Georgiana didn't. The woman just wasn't good enough for Fitzwilliam, had never been good enough, but somehow she had always insisted on ignoring his obvious signals of not being interested, persevering beyond decorum, making a fool of herself. No, despite her shyness towards strangers, Georgiana was convinced she was not an easy person to live with for people she knew. She had always been very obliging to Fitzwilliam, but she loved him, had always loved him so much she could not go against his wishes.
'You're miles away, Miss Darcy,' Mr Manners observed with a fond smile.
He must really be a very kind man, the idea of him spending a few weeks at Pemberley with them was actually quite pleasant. She wouldn't mind getting lost in the library with him, he would never touch her inappropriately. Still, she guessed he was very strong and very fit beneath those drab clothes, and suddenly she wondered why he dressed so conservatively, but still spent money on having his attire made of excellent cloth and cut to his exact figure.
'Why do you dress like a minister, Mr Manners?' she asked. She had established herself with him as a child, so she was allowed to ask impertinent questions like this one. He was not offended but seemed rather pleased, and replied in the same spirit.
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