Attempting Elizabeth by Jessica Grey

the armrest and laying my head on the opposite headrest. It was not entirely comfortable. I lay there for a few minutes, not feeling sleepy at all. I kicked off Georgiana’s shoes. Pretty sure I’d had my shoes off when I fell asleep. It wasn’t like I could go find a pair of ten-year-old fuzzy sweatpants here, so this was as close as I was going to get.
    I stared up at the ceiling, praying for sleep. Nothing. It was the middle of the day and I wasn’t exactly a nap kind of person. I counted backward from a hundred, then from a thousand. Nothing.
    I got up and went in search of some alcohol. There had to be some somewhere, right? I’d had wine before I went to sleep, maybe that would help. I remembered a promising looking cabinet in another room. It was set up kind of like a study or office, with a desk and a few chairs. It was probably intended to be used by the man of the house. Though I doubted that Darcy visited Georgiana here in Ramsgate that often, I had a slight hope that it had at least been stocked in case he chose to visit.
    Bingo. The cabinet had a lock, but the key was, handily, already inserted. I guess the staff didn’t expect Georgiana to be pilfering her brother’s liquor cabinet. There was a decanter of something, probably brandy. Not that I was extremely familiar with hard liquor. I usually only had it in mixed in fruity-tasting girly drinks. Like the daiquiri I’d managed to dump all over myself right in front of Mark yesterday, or two days ago, or whenever the heck it was. I scowled at the thought of Mark as I grabbed the decanter. If he started seeing Ashley I was going to have to tell Charlie he wasn’t allowed to invite Mark over to our apartment. This assumed, of course, I ever managed to get back to reality.
    There was a pair of gorgeous cut crystal glasses sitting next to the decanter, but I eyed them suspiciously. They were likely leaded, and frankly, lead poisoning seemed a really long, drawn out way to go. If I was going to opt for the dying, I’d rather do it quickly. I grabbed the decanter and took it with me back to the sitting room.
    The thudding and thumping from upstairs had quieted. With any luck Mrs. Younge was done throwing her tantrum and packing and was getting ready to exit the premises.
    I unstopped the decanter and took a swig, spluttering and gasping as the brandy burned its way down my throat. It tasted like a cross between turpentine and cold medicine. I’m sure I wasn’t drinking it correctly. It was probably insanely good brandy and a connoisseur would be shocked at my guzzling it. However, I wasn’t going for refined, I was going for maximum effect.
    It occurred to me, belatedly, that the decanter was probably leaded too. Oh well. I took another swig. I could feel the burn of the brandy seeping out from my stomach and invading my limbs. A nice, pleasant sort of warmth. My brain hadn’t dulled enough yet for a nap to seem like a good plan.
    “To Georgiana,” I muttered as I raised the decanter up. The afternoon light coming in through the window sparkled through the crystal and made the liquor inside look like living, burning amber. I took another healthy swig. The taste was growing on me.
    I settled back on the settee, propping a pillow behind my head. It was embroidered in the same style as the sampler, and I began to wonder how many of the dratted things poor Georgiana had been forced to make in her time here.
    I studied the brandy decanter seriously. Such pretty shifting colors when held up to the light like this...and contemplated who to toast next.
    “Hmm, definitely not Wickham...or the odious Mrs. Younge...how about Darcy!” I’m not entirely sure who I was talking to, but I somehow felt less weird drinking alone if I kept up a running commentary. “That’s who I really want to see. How tragic to be stuck in Pride and Prejudice with no Darcy making an appearance. To Darcy!” I took another gulp. I was beginning to feel more than just comfortably