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Book: Pemberley to Waterloo: Georgiana Darcy's Diary, Volume 2 by Anna Elliott
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Authors: Anna Elliott
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met Edward's brother?" She turned to Frank. "Frank, may I present to you Miss Caroline Bingley--"
Caroline interrupted before Frank could say anything--before he could even finish his polite bow of acknowledgement in her direction. "We've met," she said. Her voice was angry, too, hard and clipped.
Sunday 25 December 1814
It seems wrong to be so happy myself, when everyone else is so very distressed just now. Of course, come to that, I am distressed as well, and worried, too. And I'm sorry for Kitty, which I wouldn't have expected. I suppose I ought to be angry with her for spoiling an otherwise perfect night, but I find I can't be.
I ought to tell this in the proper order, though.
Between Edward and finding Ruth's letter and everything else that's happened, I completely forgot to mention before that despite our Christmas celebrations being so quiet, we were to hold a ball here at Pemberley, just as we have done every year--ever since my grandfather started the tradition more than fifty years ago.
I know my brother would have been happy to cancel the celebration this year, for Elizabeth's sake. But she wouldn't hear of it, only said that this baby was after all a Darcy, and as such, it couldn't dream of disrupting a fine old Pemberley custom by choosing the night of the ball to be born. Which made my brother laugh--and so the preparations for the ball went on.
At any rate, the ball took place tonight. Or rather last night, I suppose I should say, since I've just looked at the little clock on my mantle and found that it is in fact two in the morning.
Elizabeth came to my room, just as I was finished with dressing and about to go downstairs to greet the guests. She looked a little pale, I thought--but she smiled when she saw me and said, "Good heavens, Edward had better put his name down on your dance card quickly--every gentleman in attendance will be clamouring for a dance with you tonight."
I laughed. "Well, you know what they say about fine feathers making fine birds."
I was wearing a new gown--and it is very pretty. White silk embroidered with touches of silver, tiers of vandyked lace around the hem and pearl rosettes around the neckline. And I had tiny white rosebuds for my hair.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, it's not just the dress. You look--" And then she smiled and squeezed my hand. "You look happy , and I'm so glad for you. You and Edward both."
"Thank you. But you're looking lovely, too. Are you feeling all right?"
Elizabeth truly was lovely, in an ivory satin gown with a pale-green spider-gauze overdress, embroidered in gold and trimmed with silk roses in a deep pink colour. She put a hand over the swelling of the baby, and said, "Apart from feeling as though I ought to be black and blue with all the kicking going on inside me." And then her smile faded. She was still holding my hand, and even through her evening gloves and mine I could feel her fingers grow tense. "Georgiana, have you noticed your brother--" She stopped abruptly.
I waited, but she didn't say anything more. "Have I noticed my brother ...," I finally prompted.
But Elizabeth shook her head. "No, never mind, it can wait. We'd better go down. The guests will be arriving soon."
This time, I might have pushed her further. For it's not usual at all for Elizabeth to question me about Fitzwilliam; anything she wants to know of him, she would ask him herself. But at that moment, Kitty came bursting out of her room, demanding whether Elizabeth had any spare pins, because Kitty had accidentally torn a few inches of lace off the hem of her gown by stepping on it, and could Elizabeth come and help her? Because she'd already sent the maid away?
She'd banged back into her room--to get her slippers on, she said--before Elizabeth could answer.
"I'll go," I told Elizabeth quickly. "You go ahead downstairs. Because the one thing I do know of my brother is that he'd never forgive me if I let you bend down to help Kitty with the hem of her dress
Caroline interrupted before Frank could say anything--before he could even finish his polite bow of acknowledgement in her direction. "We've met," she said. Her voice was angry, too, hard and clipped.
Sunday 25 December 1814
It seems wrong to be so happy myself, when everyone else is so very distressed just now. Of course, come to that, I am distressed as well, and worried, too. And I'm sorry for Kitty, which I wouldn't have expected. I suppose I ought to be angry with her for spoiling an otherwise perfect night, but I find I can't be.
I ought to tell this in the proper order, though.
Between Edward and finding Ruth's letter and everything else that's happened, I completely forgot to mention before that despite our Christmas celebrations being so quiet, we were to hold a ball here at Pemberley, just as we have done every year--ever since my grandfather started the tradition more than fifty years ago.
I know my brother would have been happy to cancel the celebration this year, for Elizabeth's sake. But she wouldn't hear of it, only said that this baby was after all a Darcy, and as such, it couldn't dream of disrupting a fine old Pemberley custom by choosing the night of the ball to be born. Which made my brother laugh--and so the preparations for the ball went on.
At any rate, the ball took place tonight. Or rather last night, I suppose I should say, since I've just looked at the little clock on my mantle and found that it is in fact two in the morning.
Elizabeth came to my room, just as I was finished with dressing and about to go downstairs to greet the guests. She looked a little pale, I thought--but she smiled when she saw me and said, "Good heavens, Edward had better put his name down on your dance card quickly--every gentleman in attendance will be clamouring for a dance with you tonight."
I laughed. "Well, you know what they say about fine feathers making fine birds."
I was wearing a new gown--and it is very pretty. White silk embroidered with touches of silver, tiers of vandyked lace around the hem and pearl rosettes around the neckline. And I had tiny white rosebuds for my hair.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, it's not just the dress. You look--" And then she smiled and squeezed my hand. "You look happy , and I'm so glad for you. You and Edward both."
"Thank you. But you're looking lovely, too. Are you feeling all right?"
Elizabeth truly was lovely, in an ivory satin gown with a pale-green spider-gauze overdress, embroidered in gold and trimmed with silk roses in a deep pink colour. She put a hand over the swelling of the baby, and said, "Apart from feeling as though I ought to be black and blue with all the kicking going on inside me." And then her smile faded. She was still holding my hand, and even through her evening gloves and mine I could feel her fingers grow tense. "Georgiana, have you noticed your brother--" She stopped abruptly.
I waited, but she didn't say anything more. "Have I noticed my brother ...," I finally prompted.
But Elizabeth shook her head. "No, never mind, it can wait. We'd better go down. The guests will be arriving soon."
This time, I might have pushed her further. For it's not usual at all for Elizabeth to question me about Fitzwilliam; anything she wants to know of him, she would ask him herself. But at that moment, Kitty came bursting out of her room, demanding whether Elizabeth had any spare pins, because Kitty had accidentally torn a few inches of lace off the hem of her gown by stepping on it, and could Elizabeth come and help her? Because she'd already sent the maid away?
She'd banged back into her room--to get her slippers on, she said--before Elizabeth could answer.
"I'll go," I told Elizabeth quickly. "You go ahead downstairs. Because the one thing I do know of my brother is that he'd never forgive me if I let you bend down to help Kitty with the hem of her dress
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