An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

G eorgiana’s rage increased with every step Elizabeth retreated until the door closed behind her injured friend. Her blunder had not gone unperceived by Mrs. Hurst—E.B. meant Elizabeth Bennet—and now Georgiana realized what Mr. Bingley’s sisters had been up to over the past week. Thank goodness the rains had slowed their calls, or else the damage would certainly have extended beyond the company now milling about within Netherfield’s walls.

Feeling wretched for handing those awful women the information they needed to take down a young lady so far superior to them, Georgiana turned to face Miss Bingley, who tried unsuccessfully not to look smug.

Georgiana’s blood boiled. In that instant, she made a choice. She would be a good friend to the person most deserving of her friendship and would do her best to undo the damage she had helped cause. Lifting her chin and taking a deep breath to ensure that her voice would carry, Georgiana said clearly and emphatically, “Shame on you!”

The whispers quieted, and everyone turned to her. She looked them over, doing her best imitation of her aunt Catherine’s imperiousness. She wanted them to feel judged, criticized, and every inch as censured as they had made Elizabeth feel just now. “Shame on all of you!”

Miss Bingley tittered at her side. “The only one to act shamefully has departed.”

Georgiana’s gaze snapped to Miss Bingley. “There is nothing shameful about her. She does not pretend to be something she is not.”

“She pretended to be a man,” said someone from the crowd.

Georgiana leveled her gaze in the direction from which the argument had arisen. “She used a man’s name to sell her paintings. Many artists over the years have done the same. Miss Elizabeth is a talented artist and a lady .” The emphasis she put on lady was met with several quiet protests, but Georgiana did not care. She had to do what she knew in her heart to be right. “Miss Elizabeth ought not be punished for putting the needs of her family ahead of her own reputation.”

At this, she turned to face Miss Bingley. Unlike Georgiana, she was concerned with how she appeared to the majority. “You use the word rather loosely if you can apply it to Eliza Bennet,” she said, watching the reaction of those around them all the while .

“Like artist applies to you?” Georgiana said, wanting nothing more than to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off Caroline Bingley’s face.

Miss Bingley paled.

Mrs. Hurst chimed in, her manners and speech patronizing. “Of course you would take Miss Eliza’s side. We can hardly cast any blame on you, Miss Darcy. You are a victim of her treachery, just as we so nearly were. Rather, I wish to extend an apology to you for allowing her to stay here during her sister’s convalescence and thus exposing you to her company and influence. What a disagreeable impostor she proved to be.”

“Impostor?! The only impostor I am aware of is right here.” Georgiana glared at Miss Bingley.

The lady widened her eyes innocently, fanning her fingers over her chest, feigning surprise at the accusation. “I have no idea to what you refer.”

Georgiana refused to play her game. Holding her stance, she said dryly, “An impostor and a bold-faced liar!”

Mrs. Hurst snapped. “You forget yourself, Miss Darcy. Is this how our hospitality is to be rewarded, with scathing accusations made in front of all these witnesses? For shame! I shall have to take this up with your brother.”

Georgiana felt the ground shift under her feet. She was in the right, but Mrs. Hurst had made her look like the villain .

Richard cleared his throat. There was a twinkle in his eye. “Let us set aside the accusations?—”

“Thank you, Colonel! Spoken like a true gentleman,” agreed Mrs. Hurst.

Had she known Richard better, she would certainly not have been so agreeable.

“I am glad you agree, Mrs. Hurst, as there really is only one solution to this madness. If Miss Bingley wishes to prove herself above accusation, then let her prove it. That is easy enough.”

“I-I hardly know what I am supposed to prove,” Miss Bingley huffed before clasping her hands together and saying boldly, “I have nothing to hide.”

Richard grinned. “Then this should take no time at all. Georgiana will state what she believes you to be guilty of, and you will have the opportunity to disprove her claim. If she is wrong, then she will issue a public apology and beg for your forgiveness.” He looked directly at Georgiana. “Will you not?”

Georgiana agreed without hesitation.

“Very well, now that we are understood, what is your charge against Miss Bingley?”

“She claims to be the painter of the two landscape paintings in her front parlor when I can prove that she is not. Furthermore, I can prove to the audience’s satisfaction that they are the works of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Richard turned to Miss Bingley. “What do you say to this?”

“After all I have done to ease you into society and make your stay agreeable, this is how we are to be repaid?” Mrs. Hurst clamored.

Fitzwilliam entered the room then―an intimidating, brooding figure. Bingley walked beside him looking thoroughly confused. “What is this?” he asked.

Richard replied, “We are holding an impromptu judicial hearing.”

Bingley’s face fell. “At a ball?”

“I assure you, your guests are being thoroughly entertained.” There was an edge to Richard’s voice, but what he spoke was the truth. Everyone had crowded into the ballroom to listen.

Darcy frowned at Richard. “Stop encouraging them! Has not enough damage been done for one evening?”

Richard shook his head. “Quiet, man! I never dreamed I would witness the day Miss Bingley was humbled by a better woman, and here I am with a front row seat to the event!” Quieter, he whispered in Darcy’s ear, “If your Miss Elizabeth is to have any hope of recovering her reputation here, you will allow Georgiana to have her say.”

Now Darcy was as interested as everyone else. He nodded to his sister, urging her to continue.

She did, with an enthusiastic energy that terrified him. Spinning around and snapping her fingers to gain their attention, she crossed the room. “Follow me into the front parlor, and I will show you a common trick many artists do with their works to prove that they are the originator.”

Georgiana led, and the crowd followed. Darcy had to admire how confidently she spoke and how adeptly she maintained their attention. Once everyone had gathered in front of the two landscapes, she pointed to the branches of a tree on the first painting and the wing of a bird on the other. “There are her initials—E.B.—hidden in the limbs and on the wing.”

Several people leaned forward, uttering things like, “Clear as day.”

“Yes, there they are. E.B.”

“I see them!”

“There are the initials!”

Several more stepped forward to have a look.

Darcy did not need to. He felt like a fool. Had he not doubted that Miss Bingley had painted those landscapes? Had he not witnessed for himself Elizabeth’s love of color and her skill at drawing? Had he not observed a growing animosity between the ladies before this evening? He had credited it to the usual jealousy some females displayed around him. How vain he had been!

Of course, Elizabeth had noticed the theft, and she had suffered Miss Bingley’s condescending remarks and art lessons when she knew she possessed more talent than Miss Bingley in her little finger.

Bingley gave both paintings a good look. “You present a convincing argument, Miss Darcy, but as Caroline is my sister, I wish to be absolutely certain. Does someone have a knife?”

Richard, of course, offered the use of his scimitar, but it was too large for the delicate task of scratching off the layer of paint where Miss Bingley had signed her name. A smaller knife was produced, and Georgiana, who knew more about painting than anyone else there, agreed to do her best to remove the extra layer of paint without damaging the artwork. It took a few minutes, during which not one person stirred, but she eventually stepped away to allow Bingley to see.

“Mario Rossi,” he read.

Darcy exhaled a long breath. “Italian for Richard Roe or John Doe.” Even the name was a clue! How Elizabeth had kept this a secret for as long as she had was beyond his comprehension. She was too honest to lie well!

Georgiana’s voice shook with emotion. “I implore you not to talk behind Miss Elizabeth’s back. Are you not her friends, her neighbors? It is petty to delight in another’s misfortune, and I have learned to think more highly of you than that. I pray to God that none of you are ever in the position where you must put your reputation on the line to help your family... or make a mistake which is publicly aired.”

At this, she looked at Miss Bingley. “They know what you have done, and it is up to you to make reparation. I have said what I must, and I shall say no more on the subject. Any consequences you suffer are a result of your own behavior, but how you choose to react now will prove to everyone what sort of lady you are.”

Darcy was not so lenient. “Bingley, a word in private with you and Miss Bingley, please.”

Bingley was happy to oblige. The ball was over. Already, some of his guests, their curiosity satisfied, were casting unfavorable looks over their shoulders at Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst as they readied themselves to depart.

Once they were alone, Darcy rounded on Miss Bingley. “Who else did you inform of Miss Elizabeth’s paintings?”

She immediately began crying. “I did not mean it! This is all just a misunderstanding!”

“Spare me your crocodile tears! Who did you tell?”

Bingley stepped closer, visibly shaking and with his arms crossed. “Caro, as I live and breathe, if you do not answer Darcy this instant, I will call on my newspaper friend and have him print your lie in The London Times so all your friends can read about it!”

This led to her cooperation. She listed a dozen of the worst gossips of the ton . Formidable foes, but Darcy knew how to deal with them. Miss Bingley would be in for a rude awakening if she thought those same ladies would not turn against her the moment they realized who Mario Rossi was and how popular “his” paintings were about to become.

“I am taking the two landscapes with me. Send a bill to Darcy House for payment,” he tossed over his shoulder on his way out.