Page 59 of A Most Beloved Sister
The door to the music room gaped open, and the dim light from a single candle flickered into the hallway. He leaned against the frame and watched the slender form of his younger sister sway forcefully back and forth as her fingers pounded out the rich, deep notes of Beethoven’s twelfth.
A soft clearing of the throat came from the corner of the room; Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana’s companion of the last several months, had noticed Darcy’s presence and was calling her charge’s attention to him.
The music immediately ceased, and the blond curls—which cascaded down Georgiana’s back in the typical style of a girl not yet out—whipped around as she spun on the bench to face the door.
Darcy’s heart wrenched, as it always did when he first caught sight of her face after time apart.
Two dark, thick, angry scars—both at least a quarter of an inch across—made their way from each nostril down to her upper lip. Her mouth opened to say his name, but instead of “Fitzwilliam,” it came out sounding more like, “Fish-wiwum.”
He fought back the lump in his throat as he opened his arms to her. “My dear girl.”
She ran towards him, throwing herself into his arms. Her garbled speech was even more unintelligible by her face being pressed into his chest.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I mished oo.”
“I missed you as well.”
“Shtay wong?”
“No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay long—only a few days.”
Her face fell.
“Mr. Bingley is to be married, and he has asked me to stand up with him. I have come to assist him in purchasing a license, as the young lady has health issues and may not live very long.”
“Ish she ugwy wike ee?”
“Is she ugly like you…? Georgiana Darcy, you arenotugly!”
She shrank back at the vehemence in his tone, and the fear in her eyes made him instantly regret his harshness. He forced his voice back to a gentle level. “I am sorry, my dear one. It was a very long ride, and the smell of horse has put me in a foul mood!”
He lifted one arm and made a show of sniffing himself, then pulling a terrible face. She giggled, then winced in pain and lifted a hand up to the thick, red scars above her mouth.
“Are they sore today?” he asked sympathetically.
She nodded, and he looked over at Mrs. Annesley, who had been listening attentively. “She has been doing her stretches, sir, just as the doctor ordered. He said that it will simply take time.”
“And the salves?”
The companion nodded. “We massage in the ointments at night, then apply the poultice before she goes to bed. The lotions are rubbed in every morning and afternoon as well.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’m very proud of you, dearest.”
Georgiana gave him a small smile, careful not to pull at the tender skin, and he returned it with one of his own. He then placed a soft kiss on her brow. “I believe it’s almost time for you to retire, is it not?”
Before his sister could reply, the clock in the hall chimed the hour. The three of them giggled, and Mrs. Annesley said, “Impeccable timing, sir. Come, Miss Darcy.”
“See oo mor-o, uver?”
“Yes, sister, you will see me tomorrow after I have paid a call on Lord Matlock. I need his assistance in securing an appointment with the Archbishop of Canterbury to obtain a special license for Bingley.”
Mrs. Annesley raised her eyebrows. “Aspeciallicense, you say?” Then she blushed and hurriedly added, “Forgive my impertinence, Mr. Darcy. I can only offer my surprise asan excuse—I was expecting you to be facilitating a common license.”
Darcy waved a hand, dismissing her words. “No need to apologize. Due to the young woman’s precarious health, any attempt to go to the church in this cold weather could hasten her demise. Since a common license would still require her to marry at a church between the hours of eight and noon, a special license would be the safest thing for her.”
“But His Grace only grants those to Peers—and the expense!”
