Marry is the Very Theme

"I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright."

December 18th

All was not right in Fitzwilliam Darcy's world. He ought to be in Juliette's company; instead, he was waiting on his aunt's pleasure at his uncle's table without her. Her family had been invited to last week's gathering, but they were quite conspicuously absent this time. The table was less crowded without the Capulets but so much less enjoyable. The only thing her absence offered him was freedom. It wasn't freedom from Juliette, and it wasn't freedom to enjoy himself, though.

It was the freedom to glower while he decided who he despised the most.

The first candidate was Fabian Nowell, the bastard who had the audacity to take aim at Georgiana in his hunt for a wife. Before tonight, he had seemed like a solitary but harmless man. Now, he had revealed himself as a villain of the first order. Nobody worthy of Georgiana would be so underhanded and pathetic all at once. Both tonight and last week, he hadn't spoken to her at all until he was so conveniently seated at the far end of the table with Georgiana and away from her family. He couldn't imagine ever liking anyone who wanted Georgiana's attention, but he could imagine forming a grudging respect that he would never have for Lord Fabian.

The second candidate was Uncle Andrew. Fitzwilliam wasn't certain where his uncle's fingers were in this, but he was sure that they were there. If the man had been at all sorry for endangering Georgiana's future, he would have shown it tonight. He would have done as much for his niece as his wife did for her brother and look after her interests. He would have considered that his niece was half of this man's age, still naive and shy, and not ready to be forced into the presumptuous company of a near-stranger. For sure and certain, this was the end of any favorable repayment schedule. He could hang the trouble of it; Andrew would produce every last coin immediately if it was the last thing he did.

His mother broke up his thoughts with a whisper. "Will you be scowling through dessert, too?" Anne's relationship with her son had rebounded very well. Motherly chiding came again to her naturally as did a quiet sort of amusement when he persisted in his gruff silence. "Maria is going to think you aren't enjoying yourself."

"She would be correct."

She swallowed hard to stop herself from grinning. Her son had been mad about his sister from the day she was born. The man who wanted to take her away was going to have a fight on his hands, but this was not that time. "Dearest, other than your face freezing in that position just before the wedding, you have nothing to worry about."

"But Georgiana-"

"Will be mortified but unharmed." If Anne was allowed to flatter herself, she believed her daughter had stronger blood in her than to be taken in by some awkward bachelor. She also believed that Fabian would lose interest rather quickly once he realized Georgiana was a person and not a doll. A wealthy, relatively attractive man didn't make it to thirty-five unmarried unless he had some hidden flaw. Anne had determined this man's was an extreme discomfort with other people. To be comfortable, he would have to find a lady with a blank personality. Her daughter's was shy and not fully formed, but it was not blank. "It will come to nothing, dearest, I promise."

"But she can be so... agreeable."

"Then isn't it good that she has a brother and a mother, and even an Aunt Cathy, to help her?"

Confused, he looked at his mother. "Aunt Catherine?" 

"Oh, yes." Anne leaned back to have a better look at the far end of the table. "I think she could be a tremendous help."

Georgiana was in need of tremendous help. Only dignity had prevented her from outright begging her Aunt Maria not to seat her next to Fabian again. This dignity had come at a stiff price. She was at the end of the table with only Fabian for company. Worse, they were buffered from anyone reasonable by Lady Catherine. Georgiana would have been happy to eat in silence, but Fabian was not. He had rolled through a strange roster of questions like a cannon ball through a china cabinet all evening. 

"You, uh... you have a strange accent for some words." When his thoughts caught up to his words, Fabian stammered, "Not strange as in b-bad. Odd. I mean, unusual."

"This my second language. I learned Percrian first."

"Why?"

"It is the language spoken in Percria, my lord." She watched in vain for some flicker of recognition in his face. "I was born in a town in Percria. My brother learned both languages at once, but I-"

"Georgiana," Lady Catherine sighed, "I am sure your silly friends once found this fascinating, but Lord Fabian is an educated man. You cannot just rattle on to him about any old thought that runs through your head." She lowered her voice, as though she could speak aside to Georgiana with Fabian between them. "If you have nothing of use to say, the weather is always a suitable topic." 

Georgiana almost stomped her heels against the floor. These days, Lady Catherine wouldn't have dreamed of saying such a thing where anyone else could hear. Fitzwilliam had been livid when he heard (from Lady Catherine no less) about the incident in the garden. He had threatened to throw their aunt out of the house if she didn't apologize to Georgiana and control herself in the future. Obviously, she believed Georgiana wouldn't (or couldn't) betray her to Fitzwilliam, and she was right. The only action that seemed less appealing than humoring Lady Catherine was tattling like a child. "Aunt, I think you did not hear that he asked me-"

"Indeed, I did. I might have asked myself, if I did not already know the cause of your troubles with pronunciation." 

"Oh, for God's sake," Orsino grumbled. After hours of sitting next to someone he had loathed since the day she vomited on his coat as a baby, his patience was broken. "Catherine, did you ever think of spitting in a bottle and selling it? Every lady in the country would be a fresh-faced maid if she could rub her face with what your tongue has been soaking in."

"I beg your pardon!"

"It's the only thing about you that's not aged in twenty-five years. Your face, on the other hand-"

"Father!"

"Don't chide me, Fabian. Old people are allowed to say what they like - isn't that right, Catherine?"

"Respecting one's elders is of the utmost importance," Lady Catherine decreed, smoothly ignoring the insult. "The only wisdom a young person may show is obedience to one's elders. Why, I was shocked for weeks when I heard my sister, stubborn as she is, eloped with some second son. My own marriage was my father's doing. I did my duty, of course, and was rewarded with a jewel in my own Anne. Her breeding is evident, a true daughter of Verona. That is not to say that my niece is not a a good sort of girl, of course, being the granddaughter and niece of Lords Fitzwilliam, but she was not born into this world. What comes naturally to Anne is impossible to achieve for an outsider. Had my sister listened to her elders, life would be much easier for my poor niece."

Had my mother listened to her father, I wouldn't exist! How dare you say such a thing, you... you... 

... 'serpent-tongued harpy!'

The memory had never been funny to her before. Now, Georgiana had barely placed her hand in front of her mouth before she started to laugh. She remembered how the insult burst out of Tybalt's mouth and echoed all around her uncle's garden. She remembered Lady Catherine's puckered face, quivering between outrage and surprise. She remembered how angry she had been to hear Tybalt antagonize her aunt just as they were finished talking about family honor. That morning, she had found nothing funny and berated him into a silence that was mostly still intact. Now... A serpent-tongued harpy!

"Well, well, niece! I don't believe I said anything you ought to find so diverting."

"No, aunt," Georgiana said, a last, errant laugh popping out. "No, you said nothing amusing at all."

"I suppose you must have picked up the habit of laughing at what isn't funny in Percria as well."

"No, my lady. Nobody in Percria would consider your advice amusing. I beg your pardon, it was something else entirely."

Fabian didn't think it was. He had the unsettling impression that Georgiana had truly been laughing at her own aunt. It was the first flaw he had seen in her, and he seriously hoped it was only a momentary aberration from her usual decorum. She had seemed so gentle and sweet. He needed those qualities in a wife, so she wouldn't intimidate him. He was nervous enough around others already. Fabian also required a beauty, which she certainly was by his current standards. If she turned out to be a silly and disrespectful girl, his definition of beauty might have to be revised. 

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