Untalked Of and Unseen: Part Three

"I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself that of yourself which you yet know not of."

September 20th

Georgiana loved the autumn, and she could feel it coming. The yellowing leaves had meant little as long as the air still spoke of summer. This morning, the air was fresh and sharp with the first chill of the season. She took it in deeply and was happy. The summer had been hot and strange, and she wouldn't miss it. The parties would be cooler now, and perhaps that would make her less anxious during them. Of course, autumn also meant her brother's wedding, which she anticipated with great joy, was only one season away. And beside all that, autumn meant the first season for archery was upon them.

The League of Lady Archers was a tradition in Verona that went back as far as the duchy itself. The League was mostly for recreation in the current era, but it had once been an army. Barred from the other war sports and most forms of combat, active ladies took up archery and trained to defend their families, lands, and lives. The waves of time had refined the jagged rocks of war into sporting competitions, but the legend and the tenacity survived. Maria Fitzwilliam captained a team which Georgiana had joined to follow her mother's example. She had been a hard-working but woefully bad archer until just a year earlier, when her growing body seemed to at last settle into its final form. More diligent practice over the summer gave her hope that she might prove to be a credit to her team during the short autumn season, the prelude to the major competitions in the spring.

Glancing out at the garden below, she noticed with pleasure that it was empty. Despite her mother's encouragement, she was still intimidated by crowds and large gatherings. There had been so many strangers around her during last night's supper that she hadn't taken more than two bites of anything. A little bit of solitude would do her some great good. 

Oh, of all the people! 

Georgiana could have kicked something. This walk had deteriorated from therapeutic to terrifying in one single second. If her brother or someone else had come along, it would hardly matter if she saw Tybalt. She had no-one else to hide behind now. To fortify herself, she repeated her mother's favorite piece of advice in her thoughts: just smile. "Good morning."

He stared up at her a moment, said something she couldn't hear, and gave way at the foot of the stairs. "Sorry."

When she reached the bottom, she had to fight to keep her countenance. The skin around one of his eyes was discolored, and she was certain it hadn't been that way when she had seen him early last night. It looked painful, moreso than the cuts and abrasions she had seen other times, but she told herself it was not polite to ask about it. She decided fresh air might be good for it anyway, though she couldn't know for sure. She had never had a black eye. "Thank you. I just came out for a walk."

"Sorry. I'll leave," he muttered. 

"The garden is large enough for us both at once, I think."

Unusually tentative, he stepped away from the wall and looked up to where Georgiana had appeared from. "Is my sister awake yet?"

"Which one?"

"Either, really."

"I haven't seen Hermia, but I know Juliette is."

His shoulders dropped; the scolding was already ringing in his ears. "Then I think I will stay outside as long as I can. If you don't mind," he added. 

"Certainly not." She was surprised when she started to walk away and he followed. Georgiana had only meant to not force him indoors but decided to accept this as an opportunity. Perhaps, she thought, they would at last find something in common to make them more at ease with each other. But though she tried, she had a hard time producing a topic of conversation. Nothing that came to her seemed absolutely certain to be interesting, and they hardly needed another awkward, empty, stuttering conversation to their names. 

Tybalt misread her silence. "You can ask if you want to."

"Ask what?" When he gestured toward his injury, she flushed. "Oh! Oh, that. Well, I..." You don't have a better idea, Georgiana. "I didn't want to be rude."

"Rude? You weren't the one to give it to me."

"I suppose not, and if you don't truly mind..."

"Some lord's sorry excuse for sons called out my cousin while we were playing at cards." 

Georgiana said nothing, waiting for Tybalt to continue. It was several moments before she realized he was finished. "Which cousin?"

"Bertram Gale."

"Oh, I danced with him last night. He seemed quite friendly." 

"That might be one way of saying it..."

"Why were those men so angry with him?"

"One lost his purse to Bertram," he lied. "The rat was too drunk to fight. One of his brothers put himself into the argument instead, but when my cousin challenged him, he said he wouldn't draw his blade under his host's roof."

"Then why did he strike you?"

"Because I called him out for being a coward."

"No, I think you misunderstand me," she said sheepishly. "I mean to say that I don't understand how he could find a weapon objectionable if he would use his fists. It is fighting all the same. Unless - oh." A warm pink flooded her cheeks while a sincere wish she would learn to think before speaking seized her heart. "He was afraid."

"Cowardly."

"Are they the same to you, fear and cowardice?"

"Maybe not. Fear is simple. Cowardice has to do with something owed but not given. I would be a coward if I didn't have a black eye this morning. My cousin is an idiot of the first order, and he often deserves what he gets," Tybalt admitted, "but he is my cousin. I could not let him stand alone. His honor is bound to mine because we are blood."

"As a brother's would be?" she asked tentatively. 

He cracked a smirk. "Do you mean as your brother's would be?"

"No, not at all. Not," she quickly added, "that I would not hope that it would. And that it is not to say I ever doubted..." Georgiana fought to find her point, if only for the chance to end her misery with it. "I would not doubt you will be a good brother to my brother and he to you. You are both conscious of honor, in your ways. But I was thinking of those brothers, that one brother must feel bound to the other, and the one who would offend in such a way when he is unfit for the challenge himself must be the true coward." 

Tybalt said nothing, so Georgiana had to fill more silence with her own thoughts. Keen observation wasn't required to see he was consistently uncomfortable in her company. Although she couldn't take this as a compliment, she had previously decided she was not insulted by it. He was trying to be polite, which was more of a courtesy than she had seen him show to others, and it was not his fault they could have so little in common. It was a shame, it was something she couldn't stop herself from regretting, but it was not anyone's fault. Had she been brave, she would have told him not to trouble himself because he had seen and appreciated his effort. Because she was not brave, they were probably doomed to spend the remainder of their lives as strangers in the same inner family circle. Her grandmother was fond of reminding her that all that was ever required was basic politeness, and if they could maintain that, Georgiana would force herself to be content.

As they turned on the path, she searched her mind for a neutral and polite topic of conversation. It would not be needed.

"Georgiana Darcy!"

Whether she heard it across an ocean, echoing in a cave, or shaking loose an avalanche on a mountainside, she would always know the voice of her aunt, Lady Catherine. She hadn't heard it in her life until the end of July, and she was fervently praying each day that she would not hear it again once the lady went home to Varainsee. Surely, it was a sin to think ill of one's own aunt, but the God who had created that sin had not yet conceived of Catherine Fitzwilliam de Bourgh. The lady was not a monster or a villain, but she was overbearing and incapable of being pleased. Georgiana agreed with her brother's observation that their aunt was probably sincere in her efforts and merely going about them in the most rude, indelicate ways imaginable. That she always phrased everything as advice or the imparting of wisdom made it difficult to support one's natural resentment - difficult, not impossible.

It was Georgiana's bad luck that Lady Catherine had decided it was much more appropriate for an aunt to 'help' a niece than a nephew. Although she tried to discard the criticisms for the most part, it made them no easier to hear. Her face was flushing and her fingers twitching by the time she turned to greet her. Lady Catherine, even at a distance, was as imposing as ever. "Good morning, aunt."

"Well, you look just as I expected. Have you not noticed the wind today, child?"

Confused, as she had noticed no wind, she replied, "I hadn't thought of it."

Lady Catherine's puckered satisfaction would have been visible for miles around. "If you insist on wearing your hair in such an unkempt fashion, you must avoid the wind. Your mother may tolerate that blowsy nest on your head, but you can't expect others to be so indulgent. A lady does not show herself to others in such a rumpled state."

Don't listen to her. Don't listen to her. That was the Darcy siblings' mantra, their plan of survival. They left the bickering to their mother, who seemed to take some joy in it. Georgiana and Fitzwilliam had decided to show their aunt the proper deference, undeserved as it was, and not turn one comment into five by arguing any but the most crucial points. This plan had made life considerably easier at Darcy House. The great flaw was that they still had to listen to these criticisms and tokens of wisdom but not buckle under them. She had been improving in that effort lately, but there was usually not an audience to witness the dressing-down. It was truly humiliating to be spoken to like a child who hadn't combed her hair, never mind in front of someone else. She chose to withdrew into herself to survive. "Yes, aunt." 

"And have you no thought for your gown? Walking on those dirt paths in this wind will make your gown filthy."

She glanced down at the firm gravel beneath her feet. "Perhaps, aunt, but it fortunately seems-"

"Georgiana, it is exceedingly rude to stand at a distance and shout your way through a conversation!"

"Yes, aunt."

"Well, what are you standing there for?"

"I'm sorry. I'll-"

"Come up out of that dirt at once!"

"Did age make you such a nagging shrew or were you always this way?"

All eyes turned to Tybalt. One pair, distant and narrowed, shot a glare sharp enough to kill. "I beg your pardon?" Lady Catherine barked. 

"Beg all you like, you won't have it. Or did you not understand the question?"

"Silence! I know all about you, what a crude little beast you are. Don't you dare suppose you can talk to me in such a vulgar fashion!"

"The only thing I suppose is that you're a serpent-tongued harpy!" He would have said more if he hadn't heard what could only be called a squeak behind him.

"How dare you! You disrespectful creature, how dare you speak to me so, and in my own brother's house!" 

"We are not in the house."

Before another volley could be exchanged, Georgiana stepped forward. The combatants stood far apart, but she felt as if she had just barely wedged herself between them, positioning herself in a palpable stream of disdain. Though quaking, she forced herself to speak. "I beg your pardon, aunt. I will come up directly." She made a respectful curtsy to her aunt and then turned to Tybalt.  

"I believe your lordship has had his fun for the morning."

Being on the wrong side of the formalities wall told Tybalt far more than any sign of anger could. However, he didn't entirely understand why he was there. The old harridan had been bullying her for far longer than just the past few minutes. Someone had to stop her. "Why should you have to tolerate her abuse?"

"Because I can no more choose my aunt than you can choose your cousin."

"But she speaks-"

"With no more care, no more honor, than you. You were baiting her, like she was a bear in a cage, for your own sport." Georgiana winced at her bitter words. She dropped a curtsy for him, but it was shallow and sharp. "Thank you for your company, my lord. I will not soon forget it." She didn't want to hear any answer he made and so hurried away to meet her aunt, who was lurking by the top of the stairs. "Good morning, Aunt Catherine."

"Well," the lady cried, "I hope your brother has the sense to finally bar that foul creature from his house once he hears of this outrage! And he certainly shall hear of it from me, directly!" Lady Catherine was nearly boiling over with bile now. "And I don't doubt you shall then hear from him about your poor judgment. It ought to be your brother's duty to see his family is protected from such shocking demonstrations of rudeness!" 

This would have been laughable if she hadn't felt more like crying. There would be no shortage of rudeness under the Darcys' roof as long as Lady Catherine would abide there, and Georgiana knew her brother was as likely to ban himself from their house as he was to ban Juliette's beloved brother. The idea did have a certain appeal. The immediate future would be much simpler if she didn't have to worry about running into him in her own home, but she immediately decided that was a weak and selfish attitude to adopt. Georgiana chided herself for ever thinking of it. "You know my brother is all good sense and consideration."

"Then I must insist you show some as well and stay away from that horrible boy wherever he is permitted to show his face. He ought to be locked up, not allowed to roam in polite company." Lady Catherine paused, and a thoughtful, almost considerate look flickered over her face. "Even if his sister is to marry your brother, a lady would take no notice of such a scoundrel."

Unaware of herself, she let her eyes drift away. They swept over trees and grass that ran up a gently sloped hill, wandering as listlessly as her thoughts did through her mind. She couldn't name what was lost, but she felt it. Perhaps it was just a good opinion, one that she had only fancied given to begin with. Perhaps it was more, but Georgiana didn't know what more felt like. It was loss, but not loss the way she had known it in her life. It wouldn't give her nightmares, it wouldn't make her weep. That was loss as she understood it. This was an emptiness she couldn't name.

Her eyes' ramble ended at the crest of the hill, which blocked the horizon. Whatever was beyond it, she could not see. "I don't doubt I will have little to do with him in the future."

"At least you have that much sense. Now, go and make yourself presentable." Lady Catherine waited a scant few seconds before speaking again. "What are you standing about for, girl? Go at once! Punctuality is of the utmost importance to the well-bred lady and to those who aspire to that station."

Georgiana didn't aspire to be her aunt's idea of a well-bred lady. She aspired to be brave and confident - someday. Today, she merely aspired to be calm - a long enough road from where she now stood, certain she ought to have known better than to ever venture out on her own. "As you wish, aunt."

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