***
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.
“Miss Darcy has kindly allowed me to perform this service for her,” said Mr Moffet with the satisfied look of a cat that has already caught the mouse.
Channing gave a lazy smile that held a hint of steel.
“Are you quite certain?” he said.
Mr Moffet frowned as he moved from absolute certainty into flustered doubt.
“As a matter of fact…” he scrambled to recall the conversation in the hallway. Had she really said yes, or had he imagined it? “I believe she did,” he said tamely.
“We shall ask her, shall we?”
Georgiana was now cast into a dilemma. She knew whom she would rather have standing next to her, but she had already promised Mr Moffet the honour. She was frustrated with both of them for destroying her Grand Entrance, for no one in the audience had spared her a glance. She sighed as she moved towards the piano forte. It was flattering to have gentlemen argue over her. It certainly was a pleasant change from being ignored. But she did not like the choice she would have to make.
Keeping in mind Clarissa’s instructions, she fixed a firm, playful smile on her face, and, touching Mr Moffet’s shoulder with the corner of her fan, she bent forward and murmured. “You were my first choice, of course.”
Mr Moffet preened up and smiled, his confidence restored.
“You have put me in a painful situation, gentlemen,” she said. “While I would be honoured to have either of you turn the pages while I am playing, I fear it is too distracting to have both of you do so. And since it would be unfair to choose among the two of you, I am afraid my choice has to lie elsewhere.”
Channing was still smiling that lazy smile. She wished more than anything that she could choose him, but it was impossible.
“I must ask you, Mr Gatley, if you could possibly help me out?”
She chose Gatley because she could rely on him utterly to step out with no nonsense and simply do what must be done. Channing’s reaction to her statement, however, was unexpected. The lazy smile wavered, and his face hardened for just the briefest moment.
“Your wish is my command, Miss Darcy,” he said, his bow a study in elegance, his eyes seeking hers.
“All yours, Cousin,” he said to Gatley, brushing by him.
Gatley smiled tightly, aware of the audience before them.
Now it was Clarissa’s turn to make a Grand Entrance. Georgiana watched her in envy. She did things just right—the pause, the sense of expectation, the hush that fell on the room as she took her first step forward. Georgiana wondered if she would ever learn to do this. Perhaps she lacked some essential sense of the dramatic or the ability to discern the right moment.
Clarissa walked across the room to the harp, all eyes upon her.
“You should have known Mr Moffet was likely to steal your thunder,” murmured Gatley from behind her. “You should not have entered until he took his position at the piano.”
Georgiana did not need someone murmuring instructions over her shoulder.
“It is too late now to repair it,” said Georgiana.
“There will be a next time. One can always learn from one’s mistakes.”
Clarissa, whose timing was impeccable, shot her a reproachful look from under her eyelashes as she settled behind the harp. Georgiana immediately swallowed down her retort and looked sombre, her hands hovering over the keyboard in preparation.
In the complete silence that followed—clearly Gatley was not going to whisper anymore—Clarissa raised her slender arms. Georgiana almost grinned at Clarissa’s self-conscious manner. She herself could not imagine why the sight of a lady’s arms could be in any way appealing.
Clarissa gave a signal—a quick nod of the head—and the musicale began.
For once, Georgiana did not lose herself in the music, though she played well enough. Gatley’s coat brushed against her arm each time he leaned forward to turn over the page, and it distracted her. It was quite impossible to concentrate.
She would have to remember not to ask him to turn the pages again.
***
Channing was there when she finished. He offered her his arm and they moved together toward the refreshment table.
“May I congratulate you on the success of your first recital?” he said. “I do not believe I have ever heard the piano forte played so well.”
“You have heard me play before, Mr Channing,” she said, then bit her tongue as she remembered Clarissa’s warnings not to point out an error in a gentleman’s reasoning. She could not withdraw her words, but she added a teasing smile to it, hoping it would undo the damage.
“I have indeed. But you were then only a young girl just out of the schoolroom. Now you are a beautiful young lady on the verge of”—he hesitated fractionally—“conquest.”
Georgiana thrilled to hear such words on his lips. Did he really think her beautiful? Was it possible that a few changes in her appearance could produce such results? Did he really see her so differently now? A pleasant warmth stole over her, and she basked in the praise. She longed for this moment to last forever.
To her chagrin, Mr Moffet came up to her just then, thrusting a plateful of food before her triumphantly, and the mood shattered.
“Miss Darcy, I have brought you your food. First, I chose one sample from each dish, then I reconsidered. It occurred to me that after such a laborious performance, you must be in need of sustenance to bring up your spirits. So I returned and picked out a second portion from each. I hope that is to your liking?”
She really could do nothing but accept the plate, not after he had gone to so much trouble on her behalf, which meant, of course, that she was obliged to sit with him. Regretfully, she released Channing’s arm.
“A bientôt,” murmured Channing. “You will have to compensate for abandoning me not once but twice tonight.”
“I will do my best,” she replied, so taken with his words that she forgot to flutter her eyelashes.
***
Two days later Georgiana’s pride was further satisfied when a gleaming high perch phaeton came to a halt in front of their townhouse. Georgiana, who was sitting close to the window, gazed at it with awe.
“I will venture to guess the owner of such a set-up,” said Elizabeth, eyeing the gleaming vehicle with some amusement. “It could only belong to our Mr Channing.”
Georgiana’s cheeks sizzled at the mention of his name. “Surely not our Mr Channing?” she said, trying to cover up her reaction.
There was only time for Elizabeth to give an enigmatic smile before that very gentleman was announced.
Channing was in high spirits. He complimented Elizabeth most charmingly on the success of the musicale and admired her skills as a hostess most agreeably.
“A party does not have to be a crush to be a success,” he added. “A few well-selected guests can create a far better evening than a ballroom full of strangers. Do you not agree, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana thought of Mr Moffet and wondered if he would qualify as a well-selected guest in Mr Channing’s opinion. She answered with a twinkle in her eye that there were definite advantages to smaller events where everyone knew everybody else.
But Channing was positively bursting with excitement to tell his news and had grown impatient with small talk.
“You are the first of my acquaintance to set eyes on it,” he declared. “Tell me what you think of it. Is it not heavenly? See how high the perch is set above the ground? I do believe it is the highest vehicle I have ever seen—the most amazing contraption! I
can scarcely believe that it manages to stay upright. But I can assure you it does. I gave it a run in the Park, and though I drove fast, it remained steady as the mail-coach.”
The ladies duly admired the phaeton. Georgiana pronounced it the epitome of elegance, while Elizabeth owned that the finish was very fine. Channing, encouraged by their admiration, launched into a witty account of his dealings with the carriage maker.
By the time he was finished, the allotted time for calling on young ladies was over.
“I would be honoured if you would drive out in Hyde Park with me on the phaeton,” said Channing. “For it needs only a beautiful young lady to complement it. If you will allow me two or three days until I feel entirely certain of its safety, I will send a note round to specify the day.”
Georgiana could hardly believe her ears—that Mr Channing should speak so flatteringly of her. But Clarissa had warned her against seeming too eager, so she dimpled and responded that she would be happy to receive his note.
“I cannot promise that I will be available however,” she said, severely, “for I am often engaged these days. There are so many events to attend, I hardly have a moment for myself.”
“You must do everything in your power to put aside some time for me, Miss Darcy. And I will enlist Mrs Darcy’s support. You will lend me a hand in this, will you not?”
Elizabeth, appealed to in this manner, smiled and said she would see what could be done.
Channing had to be satisfied with this. He bowed, urging her to keep her promise to him. “For you did promise to make it up to me, you know, when you turned me away twice.”
“Of course,” she said, giving him her hand, “but I did not say when.”
A startled expression passed across his handsome visage, to be quickly replaced by pique.
“Then I shall have to haunt you until you do,” he said, and walked away.
Georgiana’s triumph was now complete.
Chapter 15
Georgiana received a note the very next day, attached to an enormous bouquet of flowers. In it, Channing requested her presence for a drive around the Park on Tuesday afternoon.
Georgiana thus had three days in which to worry about whether the weather would be good enough for him to be able to honour his appointment.
Tuesday afternoon arrived, and with it came a serene blue sky. Georgiana could now allow herself to give in to the delicious stir of anticipation. A whole hour of having Channing to herself! An hour with no interventions or distractions. She could scarcely believe it. Surrounded as she was always by watchful eyes, Georgiana was beginning to understand the behaviour of those scandalous young ladies who evaded their chaperones to be with their admirers. For one could hardly ever speak more than two words to a gentleman without being interrupted.
In Hyde Park, of course, they would also be surrounded, their every gesture noted by observers whose sole purpose in being there was to gather every morsel of gossip they could find. But perched on top of a phaeton—which surely must be the very top of the world—she and Channing would be alone, and they would finally have an opportunity to know each other better.
Georgiana descended to the drawing room much too early, dressed in her favourite pelisse, her hair painstakingly styled, and her favourite bonnet perched on her head. It was silly to have nothing to do but wait, for now she was bound to fiddle with her hair and undo the carefully coiled curls, or crumble her dress by fidgeting.
But then the knocker sounded. Georgiana struggled to control her expression of delight. It was bound to be Channing, arriving early like her. How fortunate that she was already dressed and ready for him. As footsteps approached she steeled herself to wear a polite expression of interest. It would not do to reveal too much eagerness. Clarissa had drummed at least that much into her.
The door opened. But instead of Channing’s tall figure, Georgiana beheld that of Clarissa.
Georgiana could barely conceal her dismay, for she did not wish to see Clarissa, not now. She almost shooed her away.
“How well you look, Georgiana!” said the familiar voice. “You are already wearing your pelisse—are you not too warm? Do you intend to take a drive in the Park? Who is your admirer? Come, you must tell me all about it.”
For a long moment, Georgiana considered hiding the truth from Clarissa and finding some way to rid herself of her overly curious cousin. But she knew fooling her would not be easy, and besides, it would prove exceedingly awkward if Channing were to mention their outing to her. So she resigned herself to telling the truth. Hopefully, she would convince Clarissa to leave before Channing arrived.
“You are quite right, Clarissa. I am indeed engaged to drive in the Park. But my admirer, as you call it, is none other than our friend Channing. So, you see, there is nothing of particular interest to tell.”
Georgiana knew her smile was too bright and her voice was brittle, and that instead of avoiding suspicion, she had in fact attracted it. She was not surprised when Clarissa regarded her closely.
“Channing? Really? Has he asked you to ride with him? Does he plan to take the family barouche or the phaeton?”
“The phaeton.”
“Well, that certainly is a mark of favour. For he was telling me only yesterday that his phaeton is strung so high and is so delicate a contraption that it needs all his skill to drive it, and that he can only allow young ladies whose nerves are steady as a rock to sit at his side.”
“He did not say this to me,” said Georgiana, treasuring her cousin’s words, “but it must, as you say, be a sign of favour to be invited if that is what he said.”
Clarissa continued to regard her cousin with her tilted gaze. “He invited me as well, you know, or he would not have told me that. I am to drive with him tomorrow.”
Georgiana did not know how to answer. Something was wound up inside her, like a spring ready to go, but the sensation was so unaccustomed that she could not fathom it.
“Perhaps we can both join him today,” said Clarissa brightly. “Do you not think that would be amusing? Will he not be surprised to see us both here waiting for him?”
The spring coiled tighter.
“I hardly think that would be a good idea, Clarissa,” replied Georgiana, looking towards the window. “Surely if he is worried that driving the curricle with one lady may be difficult, think how much more difficult it would be with two. Besides, if you are planning to drive with him tomorrow, why would you want to drive with him today as well? He will surely invite me to come along with you tomorrow, in that case.”
Even as she spoke, she realised it was not such a bad idea after all. For one never knew with Clarissa. The very idea of her younger cousin driving alone with Channing troubled her. Perhaps she ought to sacrifice her own time with Channing to prevent such a situation. In any case—or so she reasoned—it would be almost impossible to be rid of Clarissa. And there were decided advantages to her spending two days in a row with Channing rather than only one.
Georgiana’s goal, therefore, quickly changed from making every effort to prevent Clarissa from driving with them, to making sure that the two of them would join him on both drives.
Neither young lady thought it important to consult Channing himself to discover his own wishes.
“The more the merrier, I suppose,” said Clarissa with a quick laugh.
Having reached an agreement, with each lady convinced that she had outmanoeuvred the other admirably, they chatted contentedly about any number of insignificant things while awaiting the arrival of the young gentleman himself.
The long-awaited rap of the knocker finally reached them. Georgiana controlled the urge to spring to her feet. She compelled herself to sit composedly, her hands in her lap, as befitted a well-bred young lady.
Hibbert the butler appeared, and with him a gentleman. But the name that fell upon their ears was not Channing. Instead, Hibbert anno
unced a name that could not have been more unwelcome at that moment. It was Gatley.
She received him just as she ought, her manner courteous and friendly, but inwardly she wished him anywhere but there, wondering why he constantly appeared at the most inopportune moments.
“I hope I have not arrived at an inconvenient time,” he said, echoing her thoughts, “but I was passing this way and thought I might invite Miss Darcy to ride in the Park. But now that I see both of you are here, I will quite happily extend my invitation to Miss Clarissa Darcy as well.”
“It is really most kind of you, sir,” said Georgiana, “but I am afraid we have another engagement. Your cousin has very generously invited us to drive with him this very afternoon.”
“Indeed?” said Gatley. He considered this with a perplexed expression, then added, “Are you sure it was today?”
“Quite sure,” said Georgiana, making an effort to answer civilly. “Is today not Tuesday?”
She went out to the hallway, and brought the card that was pinned to the bouquet. “It says here: Tuesday at half past five? And here is his name, clearly written.”
Gatley took the card and examined it blandly. “Yes, this is my cousin’s writing, unquestionably. I must have been mistaken.”
Georgiana decided she would ignore his comment. He was trying to provoke her curiosity, but she had no intention of indulging him. Clarissa, however, fell easily into the trap.
“Whatever do you mean, Mr Gatley? Why should you be mistaken?”
“Only that I saw Channing drive by me not twenty minutes ago in his new phaeton with a young lady by his side, heading in the direction of the Park. But I must be quite wrong in my deduction. Perhaps he was simply returning the young lady home before coming here to call on you and Miss Darcy.”
He was bent on trouble. Georgiana could see no other reason for Gatley’s words but the intention of discrediting his cousin.
“Mr Channing is entitled to drive whomever he wishes around town, Mr Gatley,” she replied firmly, refusing to rise to the bait. “I do not think he needs to account to us for his every move.”
The Darcy Cousins Page 15
